Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

Stop shoring up the Imperium!

2011-01-16T12:01:00.005-05:00

This is an update for the purpose of, more than anything else, ensuring this blog isn't scuttled due to inactivity.

As to the title of this post, by now you should know where we stand, and that my thoughts on these matters have not changed at all (see MacIntyre, After Virtue):

A crucial turning point in that earlier history occurred when men and women of good will turned aside from the task of shoring up the Roman imperium and ceased to identify the continuation of civility and moral community with the maintenance of that imperium. What they set themselves to achieve – often not recognizing fully what they were doing – was the construction of new forms of community within which the moral life could be sustained so that both morality and civility might survive the coming ages of barbarism and darkness. If my account of our moral condition is correct, we ought also to conclude that for some time now we too have reached that turning point.

The New Evangelization: building these new local communities, islands and oases, with no division (but distinction!) between faith and culture, the spiritual and the political life, the individual, family, and local community, or the Church and the world. As the Fathers of the Extraordinary Synod in 1985 said (II.D-6):

The salvific mission of the Church in relation to the world must be understood as an integral whole. Though it is spiritual, the mission of the Church involves human promotion even in its temporal aspects. For this reason the mission of the Church cannot be reduced to a monism, no matter how the latter is understood. In this mission there is certainly a clear distinction—but not a separation—between the natural and supernatural aspects. This duality is not a dualism. It is thus necessary to put aside the false and useless oppositions between, for example, the Church’s spiritual mission and the diaconia for the world.

As for the rest: I'm finishing up my PhL at CUA, writing on the Order of the Universe in Aquinas, and am slated to be sent to Rome this coming fall semester to begin work on an STL, and then subsequently, another license in some other field. God willing, diaconate ordination for October of 2014; and a priest for the Archdiocese of Washington, June of 2015. Your prayers are most helpful. Thank you.

The Shack and Friedrich Schleiermacher

2009-06-29T14:28:00.008-04:00

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

2009-06-23T16:20:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-06-23T13:05:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-10T08:15:00.002-04:00

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

2009-05-17T20:50:00.008-04:00

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

2009-04-27T20:30:00.002-04:00

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?

2009-04-27T14:51:00.002-04:00

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

2009-04-01T06:25:00.003-04:00

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

2009-03-20T05:30:00.002-04:00

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.

Sentimentalism leads to the gas chamber

2009-03-12T06:01:00.002-04:00

Courtesy of Matthew Lickona, here is one of the most insightful quotes from the 20th century:

If the average Catholic reader cold be tracked down through the swamps of letters-to-the-editor and other places where he momentarily reveals himself, he would be found to be more of a Manichean than the Church permits. By separating nature nad grace as much as possible, he has reduced his conception of the supernatural to pious cliché and has become able to recognize nature in literature in only two forms, the sentimental and the obscene. He would seem to prefer the former, while being more of an authority on the latter, but the similarity between the two generally escapes him. HE forgets that sentimentality is an excess, a distortion of sentiment usually in the direction of an overemphasis on innocence, and that innocence, whenever it is overemphasized in the ordinary human condition, tends by some natural law to become its opposite. We lost our innocence in the Fall, and our return to it is through the Redemption which was brought about by Christ's death and by our slow participation in it. Sentimentality is a skipping of this process in its concrete reality and an early arrival at a mock state of innocence, which strongly suggests its opposite. Pornography, on the other hand, is essentially sentimental, for it leaves out the connection of sex with its hard purpose, and so far disconnects it from its meaning in life as to make it simply an experience for its own sake.

--Flannery O'Connor.

I find such ways of thinking exhibited exemplarily when I talk to Catholics who love films like "The Notebook" and avoid films like "The Departed", usually by recourse to some some standard that judges the former clean and noble, and the latter dirty and unedifying. Reminds me of O'Connor's aunt who wished she would write stories about nice things, rather than about violence and the grotesque.

American Religious Identification Survey

2009-03-11T18:35:00.002-04:00

Trinity College in Hartford recently published a study which is receiving a decent bit of press; it echoes the Pew Study that was done last year. The "American Religious Identification Survey" reveals, in a review of changes from 1990 to 2008, that particularly in the Midwest and Northeast, and to a lesser degree, all over the rest of the country, the non-religious of various stripes have nearly doubled as a part of the total population: 15% now! In the South, Catholicism seems to be on the rise, but with the caveat that this is in reality an inaccurate inflation due to Hispanic immigration. Mainline Protestantism continues to shrivel down to negligibility; even Baptists decreased as a proportion of the population. Evangelical, non-denominational, and Pentecostal style Christianity continues to grow, though not nearly at the pace of the non-religious.

The percentage of Christians in America, which declined in the 1990s from 86.2 percent to 76.7 percent, has now edged down to 76 percent. Ninety percent of the decline comes from the non-Catholic segment of the Christian population, largely from the mainline denominations, including Methodists, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Episcopalians/Anglicans, and the United Church of Christ. These groups, whose proportion of the American population shrank from 18.7 percent in 1990 to 17.2 percent in 2001, all experienced sharp numerical declines this decade and now constitute just 12.9 percent.

Most of the growth in the Christian population occurred among those who would identify only as "Christian," "Evangelical/Born Again," or "non-denominational Christian." The last of these, associated with the growth of megachurches, has increased from less than 200,000 in 1990 to 2.5 million in 2001 to over 8 million today. These groups grew from 5 percent of the population in 1990 to 8.5 percent in 2001 to 11.8 percent in 2008. Significantly, 38.6 percent of mainline Protestants now also identify themselves as evangelical or born again.

"It looks like the two-party system of American Protestantism--mainline versus evangelical--is collapsing," said Mark Silk, director of the Public Values Program. "A generic form of evangelicalism is emerging as the normative form of non-Catholic Christianity in the United States."

Again, we heard this bad news last year from the Pew Study:

More than one-quarter of American adults (28%) have left the faith in which they were raised in favor of another religion - or no religion at all. If change in affiliation from one type of Protestantism to another is included, 44% of adults have either switched religious affiliation, moved from being unaffiliated with any religion to being affiliated with a particular faith, or dropped any connection to a specific religious tradition altogether.

The survey finds that the number of people who say they are unaffiliated with any particular faith today (16.1%) is more than double the number who say they were not affiliated with any particular religion as children. Among Americans ages 18-29, one-in-four say they are not currently affiliated with any particular religion.

The Landscape Survey confirms that the United States is on the verge of becoming a minority Protestant country; the number of Americans who report that they are members of Protestant denominations now stands at barely 51%. Moreover, the Protestant population is characterized by significant internal diversity and fragmentation, encompassing hundreds of different denominations loosely grouped around three fairly distinct religious traditions - evangelical Protestant churches (26.3% of the overall adult population), mainline Protestant churches (18.1%) and historically black Protestant churches (6.9%).

While those Americans who are unaffiliated with any particular religion have seen the greatest growth in numbers as a result of changes in affiliation, Catholicism has experienced the greatest net losses as a result of affiliation changes. While nearly one-in-three Americans (31%) were raised in the Catholic faith, today fewer than one-in-four (24%) describe themselves as Catholic. These losses would have been even more pronounced were it not for the offsetting impact of immigration.

The ARIS interestingly also reported that only 70% believe in a personal God. Of course, I wonder, of these how many are actually Orthodox Christians? Probably half that, particularly if you throw out a lot of mainline Protestants, Jews/Muslims, Mormons and other sects, and all the bad Catholics. 13% of Americans seem to be evangelical/non-denominational types, and 16% Baptist. 4% are Pentecostal, and I'd bet only a fifth of the mainlines are orthodox, which is about 2%. If 25% of Catholics are orthodox, that leaves 6%. So that's a grand total guess of 41% of Americans being orthodox Christians of some kind. N.B.

As for Catholics, the news is not good. What we need is an in-depth study of the Catholic Church in America itself to let us know how things really are. But for starters, we can see that the Church is losing Hispanics and Asians, and more so, is rapidly fading in the Northeast. The latter though seems to be at least significantly because of demographic shifts. The Pew study, however, still makes it sound pretty bad.

What can we make of all this? In light of the limits of statistics, I'll give my account as the "man on the street", having lived and worked within Christian and Catholic culture throughout my adulthood.

For starters, as has been clear for some time, Protestant America is undergoing a thorough and radical change: but whether this is evolution or devolution is hard to say. Historical connections with the Reformation are fading to the margins; association with organizing Church bodies also seem to be on the way out. Is this a surprise to anybody? The Willow Creek model, non-denominational evangelicals, postmodern emerging church, Vineyard style charismatic movements, missional living--these all seem to me where Protestantism is growing the fastest, and especially, among the youth.

From the many conversations I've had with young Protestants across the spectrum, I wonder if we are reaching a time that is finally post-Reformation. Stragglers of course can be found; but for the most part, many in these segments have recovered or discovered and appropriated many elements of the Catholic tradition, and often do not at all possess a residual antagonism toward the "whore of Babylon". Monastic evangelicals, International House of Prayer, the influence of liturgical churches like Imago Dei in Portland, and individuals like Rich Mullins rediscovering the evangelical counsels, all point to these Catholic elements being re-appropriated, always in the name of living a more Biblical, intentional, and transformative Christianity.

Negatively however, the plagues of individualism and autonomy reign supreme. Many have commented on how fallacious it is to continually break off and re-appropriate some other tradition. Despite the sincere efforts of some Christians to counter this, the individual choice of the believer *as consumer* to move from one style to another forges the idea that faith begins first with my personal choice--ironically, quite far from the intentions of the original Reformers. Surely we can find an analogue with Catholics choosing which movement to join, which liturgical style to follow, usually concluding with an existence inside some sort of self-defined section within the Church.

Still, if some foresee a dark future for evangelicals, I wonder if the best parts of these new movements within Protestantism do not instead portend a future where real ecumenism and a rapprochement with the Catholic Church is emergent and vital. And in a way, I think some parts of Evangelical Protestantism, namely a willingness to buck opposition, a commitment to the personal study of the Word and a determination to live it out as faithfully as possible, and an openness to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, reveal a better position to be in, for the future, than can be said for Catholics.

Because make no mistake, the barbarians have been living among us for some time, as a great Catholic once quipped over 25 years ago. The future is now. Having attended Catholic schools of various kinds, worked in parish and youth ministry, and taught at Catholic high schools, I have seen a good bit in my adult life to have received a strong impression (the following are admittedly my claims and therefore unavoidably subjective):

For the most part, the Bishops and the institutional Church have blinders on, or only see parts or the surface of the problem. Most still judge "success" quantitatively, revealing a secret desire to return to the hey-days of the fifties. I cannot emphasize this enough. The idea that the problem is a decrease in numbers, whatever the category, is endemic in Catholic self-analyses; the notion that success or recovery means a return to former or higher numbers is pervasive. This proclivity, or even single-mindedness, to quantitative assessment has engendered a vast blindness and insouciance that continues to prevent real renewal in Catholic culture.

I have found an institutional condition of blindness toward several problematic realities:

• Most baptized Catholics are not practicing (if practicing means, as it should, weekly Mass attendance); to include these in any qualitative analysis is deleterious and futile.

• Many if not the majority of Catholics who attend weekly Mass are grossly under-catechized and probably are in need of what Pope John Paul called "kerygmatic catechesis"--that is, they have never been evangelized and converted to begin with.

• Following the above point, many if not the majority of Catholics who attend weekly Mass rarely ever receive the sacrament of Penance; in all probability, many if not a majority receive communion while habitually committing serious sins.

• Most Catholic parishes reveal a massive disproportion of boomers and retirees, which will create incredible problems and indeed a completely different and new Church once this belly of congregants passes away.

• Most Catholic church buildings, through their severely poor architecture, symbolically teach and indoctrinate at best Congregationalism and at worst modernism; either way, at least two generations may have nearly totally lost a sense of sacred imagination, sacramental vision, and liturgical understanding, simply because of a near total negligent ignorance on the part of the institutional Church to ensure these last sixty years that churches speak sacramentally, liturgically, and most importantly, orthodoxically.

• Furthermore, most Catholic liturgies are functionally Protestant or modernist, usually never rising above only the most banal, trite, hackneyed, and feckless forms of liturgical style. The institutional church still seems unwilling, perhaps unaware, or at worst, plainly unable, to change what surely must be the most serious crisis in American Catholic culture: the utter poverty of our liturgies. This particular problem itself effects all others, from catechesis, to the loss of the youth, to the loss of members to Protestant and other churches.

• The institutional Church seems unaware of the reality that Catholic schools, for the near most part, are at best works of mercy conducted under nearly total secular auspices (despite a religious sheen) for the sake of offering an alternative education to poor public alternatives, or at worst, a virtual fifth column serving to undermine, subvert, and destroy whatever living faith and Catholic culture might remain in the youth.

• Most Catholics remain completely clueless about the social teaching of the Church, and are content to follow the American-liberal understanding of politics and man's role in society. Furthermore, the typical capitalist-consumer-materialist vision of the economic life of man is taken for granted as reality. Catholics today now seem to be the best and most classic "Americans", (and not really distinctively Catholic at all) whether it comes to voting, shopping, going to war, punishing criminals, or sharing in the local common good.

• After the deluge which is the liturgical crisis, second to that is the crisis, which in reality is only a post-crisis now, of contraception. If the anecdotes are true (90% or so of Catholics, given the opportunity, use contraception), is there a better indicator of the disparity between nominally "Catholic" and really "Catholic"?

• The huge influx of Hispanic immigrants in this country is completely changing the future of Catholic culture; unfortunately, the institutional Church for the most part was caught unaware and unready, and even though Hispanics keep the reality of a rapidly crumbling Catholic culture from being obvious (due to mere quantitative analysis), they are rapidly (like in Central and South America) leaving the Church for Protestant and Pentecostal communities, or worse, sects. Furthermore, as immigrants divorced from their fatherland and culture, they are more vulnerable to the attacks and influence of popular culture, particularly to consumerism, materialism, and hedonism. Furthermore, they propitiate the importing of our American culture of death to their home countries, adding to the loss of intergral Catholic culture in those places. (For instance, spend some time watching Unavision and their colorful programming and ask yourself whether such is better, equal to, or in fact worse than what one typically finds on American network television.)

• Finally, priestly vocations are indeed down, although the 1950s highs were probably unhealthily inflated; but even worse for the Church, and I would add having still unimagined and uncalculated consequences, is the virtual near total decomposition and disappearance of religious communities of women in the United States. In thirty years, many American Catholics will not know or possibly never have met a consecrated sister or nun. Just in terms of the loss of prayer for the Church, not to mention apostolic action, this has to be judged catastrophic for Catholic culture.

All this points to the fact that, insofar as what the real health, numbers, and composition of the Catholic Church in America are, this remains unknown and unanalyzed. Again: quantitative analysis does little good; what we need is a qualitative analysis that can deal with, confirm, deny, mitigate, whatever, the claims I made above. If they are near true, as I think they may be, the institutional Church in America (never mind Europe, South and Central America, etc.) needs a major gut-check.

Nonetheless, God is sovereign. He reigns and his Kingdom will come, and the victory he plans and continues to bring about is sure. I do think that all these factors, along with the (ultimately positive in my view) changes happening within Protestantism, point to a future where Christianity and the Church will enter a new springtime. I do believe this means persecution, living underground, clear opposition to popular culture and "the world", but these are Gospel assurances of faithfulness and discipleship, in reality. Real hope, there. Not the hope of quantitative success ("we've got to get these numbers back to what they were!") but the hope of qualitative faithfulness. As Karl Barth said, success is not a gospel category; as Mother Teresa often remarked, God does not ask for success but faithfulness. On the micro level, in small communities, within certain orders, schools, parishes, households, perhaps even a few dioceses, the Church is thriving. But since the Church is more than autonomous, individual sections, and in this way not like Protestantism, the health of the body DOES matter, and indeed DOES influence how the subsidiary parts and elements live and thrive. Such is the justification for our concern.

Lenten Meditation

2009-03-09T17:32:00.002-04:00

This Lent, I continue to reflect on this passage from Book II of St. Augustine's Confessions, which I love very much. Indeed, the foolishness of sin, seeking the illusions of the lust of the flesh, the eyes, and the pride of life--when all I could ever want is found without limit in God himself:

For thus does pride imitate high estate, whereas You alone art God, high above all. And what does ambition seek but honors and renown, whereas You alone are to be honored above all, and renowned for evermore? The cruelty of the powerful wishes to be feared; but who is to be feared but God only, out of whose power what can be forced away or withdrawn— when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The enticements of the wanton would fain be deemed love; and yet is naught more enticing than Your charity, nor is anything loved more healthfully than that, Your truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity affects a desire for knowledge, whereas it is You who supremely knows all things. Yea, ignorance and foolishness themselves are concealed under the names of ingenuousness and harmlessness, because nothing can be found more ingenuous than You; and what is more harmless, since it is a sinner's own works by which he is harmed? And sloth seems to long for rest; but what sure rest is there besides the Lord? Luxury would fain be called plenty and abundance; but You are the fullness and unfailing plenitude of unfading joys. Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality; but You are the most lavish giver of all good. Covetousness desires to possess much; and You are the Possessor of all things. Envy contends for excellence; but what so excellent as You? Anger seeks revenge; who avenges more justly than You? Fear starts at unwonted and sudden chances which threaten things beloved, and is wary for their security; but what can happen that is unwonted or sudden to You? or who can deprive You of what You love? or where is there unshaken security save with You? Grief languishes for things lost in which desire had delighted itself, even because it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing can be from You.

My two favorite lines:

Sloth seems to long for rest; but what sure rest is there besides the Lord?
Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality; but You are the most lavish giver of all good.

Whether to pray...

2009-03-08T23:00:00.002-04:00

In the past I have had my moments doubting the efficacy of intercessory prayer, so it was a welcome admonishment when a dear friend, a Dominican deacon, corrected me.

In light of the primacy of God's will, and his directing all things, and the fact that our prayers cannot of course change God's mind, one might be tempted to think, well, intercessory prayer is pretty pointless then.

Not at all. Just because we should not have recourse to prayer as superstition, it does not follow that we should not pray for what we (or others) need.

First let us remember God's non-competitive transcendence to us: God plus the world is no greater than God alone. God and us can in no way be classified in the same category. But to say that God moves and causes all things and we are genuinely free and self-movers is not a contradiction: God himself is the first mover and cause of freedom, as well as the final cause and object that draws our freedom toward its end.

That being said, Thomas does well to remind us (ST 1.23.8):

Concerning this question, there were different errors. Some, regarding the certainty of divine predestination, said that prayers were superfluous, as also anything else done to attain salvation; because whether these things were done or not, the predestined would attain, and the reprobate would not attain, eternal salvation. But against this opinion are all the warnings of Holy Scripture, exhorting us to prayer and other good works.

Others declared that the divine predestination was altered through prayer. This is stated to have the opinion of the Egyptians, who thought that the divine ordination, which they called fate, could be frustrated by certain sacrifices and prayers....

Wherefore we must say otherwise that in predestination two things are to be considered--namely, the divine ordination; and its effect. As regards the former, in no possible way can predestination be furthered by the prayers of the saints. For it is not due to their prayers that anyone is predestined by God. As regards the latter, predestination is said to be helped by the prayers of the saints, and by other good works; because providence, of which predestination is a part, does not do away with secondary causes but so provides effects, that the order of secondary causes falls also under providence. So, as natural effects are provided by God in such a way that natural causes are directed to bring about those natural effects, without which those effects would not happen; so the salvation of a person is predestined by God in such a way, that whatever helps that person towards salvation falls under the order of predestination; whether it be one's own prayers or those of another; or other good works, and such like, without which one would not attain to salvation. Whence, the predestined must strive after good works and prayer; because through these means predestination is most certainly fulfilled.

So indeed, God wills a world-order in which our prayers are used to effect the predestination of the elect and other good things (we ought to pray for what we ought to desire--cf. ST 2-2.83.5-6). Ultimately, salvation always comes back to God's absolutely prior initiative to move a sinner from sin to grace, which Thomas points out, always depends first condignly (ST 1-2.114.5-6) on God's graciousness. And indeed, as Paul tells us, God wills all men to be saved. So prayers for others, as well as for ourselves, as long as we ask and desire what God has in fact revealed to be his will and desire, are always efficacious.

And what a wonderful thing that our Lord created a world in which we can participate in the mystery of salvation, even simply by prayer--that Christ allows a space for us to fill with our efforts, completing his work of redemption.

So pray earnestly for others, and be confident that God uses your prayers to effect his work of salvation! In a way without which, God's will is not done.

So I remind myself!

Thanks, Br. Jonah OP.

St. Thomas Aquinas on Predestination

2009-02-15T10:30:00.007-05:00

[I briefly introduce Aquinas's commentary on Romans, and then conclude with the selection from his lectures on the ninth chapter of the Epistle. See below after several paragraphs for the text.]

I am thrilled that The Aquinas Center for Theological Renewal of Ave Maria University has made available a number of Aquinas's commentaries on the epistles of St. Paul, putting them online. In particular, his commentary on Romans contains one of his most important discussions on the matter of predestination.

It is a too little known fact that must Catholics, if they think about these things at all, are materially semi-Pelagian. Unlike the Pelagians, who held that man could become good by his own efforts, the semi-Pelagians believed that the work of becoming holy was indeed an effect of grace. Man had to begin the change by freely choosing to leave sin and moving toward God. However, the Church continued to uphold St. Augustine's teaching that the first movement of conversion, both the ability to move from sin to the good, and the actual doing of the act, as well as the further cooperation with grace in the life of holiness after this first conversion, including all merit, are all effects of grace--and the Church condemned the semi-Pelagian compromise as heretical at the Council of Orange in 529.

Of course this debate was revisited during the Protestant Reformation, especially by John Calvin, who famously held (something like) the doctrine of double predestination, total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, and the irresistiblity of grace. Protestantism has continued to retain its own dissensions, effectively dividing Protestants into two sides on these matters.

The Catholic Church had its own disagreements, notoriously concluding in the mutual condemnations between the Dominicans and Jesuits, following their theologians Banez and Molina, respectively; the condemnations were ordered retracted by the Pope, and they were told that both opinions were allowed in orthodoxy. Since then the Jesuits adopted Bellarmine and Suarez's qualifications, and both orders remained acrimonious on these points. Their disagreements, I should add, had to do with how to interpret Aquinas.

Indeed, the Church had her own answer to Calvin's claiming Augustine's teachings for his purposes: the teaching of St. Thomas as the supreme interpretation of Augustine. The problem seemed to be though, what exactly did Aquinas teach on this disputed question?

Another too little known fact is that Bernard Lonergan in his earliest work as a theologian, an extended commentary on Aquinas's article (I-II.111.2) on operative and cooperative grace (a distinction of Augustine's), probably resolved this three hundred plus year old debate in the Catholic Church: he demonstrated that neither the Banezians nor the Molinists were faithful to Aquinas, nor did they grasp what was truly original and decisive in how he located Augustine's teaching within the greater theorem of Divine transcendence. Lonergan rightly saw that what was key was understanding exactly what the relation between God and the world means, and how Divine instrumentality follows from this. And as David Burrell has pointed out, following his teacher Lonergan, this is equally a matter of grammar and logic. This is too much to summarize in a blog post, but Lonergan demonstrated that fictitious concepts like physical premotion and middle knowledge (the key components of the Banezian and Molinist positions, respectively) are unnecessary. Augustine's original position is just as defensible today: the entire process of conversion and salvation is an effect of Divine grace; furthermore, freedom itself is caused by God. Grace and freedom are both motions given by the primary cause God, and as secondary causes bear a non-competitive relationship to their source. Predestination then is just as much Catholic doctrine as it ever has been, and (understood correctly) bears no threat to either God's universal salvific will, nor genuine human freedom and cooperation in the matter of sanctification. If you want to dive into Lonergan's resolution of this problem, see his Grace and Freedom, the first volume of University of Toronto's Collected Works of Lonergan. Then read J. Michael Stebbins's commentary, and David Burrell's Freedom and Creation in Three Traditions.

Since the fifties, Catholics have forgotten Augustine and the Church's teachings on predestination, almost as if they never existed. "Predestination" is now almost always commonly believed to be a Calvinist doctrine, and only that. Again, many Catholics today are materially semi-Pelagian (if not outright Pelagians!). Needless to say, this is an area needing serious catechesis.

I try to encourage Reformed Protestants I meet to read Aquinas on predestination. There are many similarities with Calvin (he's not all bad!), and a number of the doctrinal points Calvinists adhere to are similar to positions cleanly explained in Aquinas's works. (Suffice it to say, ultimately I find St. Thomas's explanations superior to Calvin, but open to a needed development, which I believe needs to happen through Balthasar's eschatology.)

Therefore in the interests of ecumenism, and otherwise pointing out what the Universal Doctor teaches on predestination (N.B. it is arguable that the Church's condemnations of Jansenism may qualify some of these positions), I'll post the key selection from Aquinas's Commentary on Romans, lectures 2 through 4 on Chapter 9 of the Epistle. (It is translated by Fabian Larcher and edited by Jeremy Holmes.) It is one of the most important texts for understanding Aquinas's teaching on predestination; furthermore, it is more comprehensive and easier to get at than other places in Aquinas (like the Summa). It also shows that Aquinas was indeed concerned in demonstrating his arguments from the authority of Scripture.
--------------------------

(10) [n. 755] And not only so, but also when Rebecca had conceived of one man, our forefather Isaac,
(11) [n. 757] though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad, in order that God's purpose of election might continue, [n. 760] not because of works but because of his call,
(12) she was told, “The elder will serve the younger.”
(13) [n. 762] As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.”

758. In regard to the first he does three things: first, he indicates the time of the promise and says that when they were not yet born, one of the sons of Rebecca was set over the other in virtue of the promise.

And just as his previous statement excluded the opinion of the Jews trusting in the merits of their forefathers, so this statement counters the error of the Manicheans who claimed that a person's life and death were controlled by the constellation under which he was born, against what is said in Jer (10:2) "Be not afraid of the signs of heaven which the heathens fear."

Then when he continues: though they had done nothing either good or bad, the Pelagian error is refuted which says that grace is given according to one's preceding merits, even though it says in Tit (3:5): "He saved us, not because of deeds done by us in righteousness, but in virtue of his own mercy."

Both of these are shown false by the fact that before birth and before doing anything one of Rebecca's sons is preferred to the other.

This also corrects Origen's error who supposed that men's souls were created when the angels were, and that they merited different lives depending on the merits they earned for the good or evil they had done there. This could not be true in the light of what is stated here, namely that they had done nothing either good or bad. Against this also is Job (38:7): "Where were you when the morning stars praised me together and all the sons of God made joyful melody?" For according to Origen's error, he could have answered: I was among those joyful sons of God.

759. Secondly, he shows what could be understood from that promise by which one of the twins in the womb was chosen over the other. He says: In order that God's purpose, by which one would be greater than the other, might continue, i.e., be made firm: and this not by reason of merits but of election i.e., inasmuch as God himself spontaneously forechose one over the other, not because he was holy but in order that he be holy, as it says in Eph (1:4): "He chose us in himself before the foundation of the world that we should be holy." But this is a decree of predestination about which the same text says: "Predestined according to the purpose of his will" (Eph 1:15).

760. Thirdly, he sets down the promise, saying, not because of works, for no works preceded it, as has been said: but because of his call, i.e., through the grace of God calling, for she was told, i.e., Rebecca, that the elder, i.e., Esau, will serve the younger, i.e., Jacob. This can be understood in three ways.

761. In one way, as referring to the persons involved, and then Esau is understood to have served Jacob, not directly but indirectly, inasmuch as the persecution he launched against him ended in Jacob's benefit, as it says in Pr (11:29): "The fool will serve the wise."

Secondly, it can be referred to the people who sprang from each, because the Edomites were once subject to the Israelites, as it says in Ps 60 (v.8); "Upon Edom I cast my shoe." This seems to fit Gen (25:23): "The nations are in your womb; the one shall be stronger than the other."

Thirdly, it can be taken figuratively so that by the elder is understood the Jewish people, who were the first to receive the adoption of sons, in accord with Ex 4:22, “Israel is my firstborn son,” and by the younger is understood the Gentiles, who were called to the Father later and were signified by the prodigal son (Lk c. 15).

The elder people in this case serve the younger, inasmuch as the Jews are our capsarii, guarding the books form which the truths of our faith are drawn: "Search the scriptures" (Jn 5:39).

762. Then (v. 13) he proves his point by the authority of the prophet Malachi speaking in the person of God Who says: Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.

A gloss on this says that the statement, the elder will serve the younger, was spoken from foreknowledge, but that the present statement results from judgment, i.e., that God loved Jacob on account of his good works, just as He loves all the saints: "I love those who love me (Pr 8:17), but he hated Esau on account of his sings, as it says in Si (12:3): "The Highest hates sinners."

But because man's love is preceded by God's love: "Not that we loved God, but that he has first loved us" (1 Jn 4:20), we must say that Jacob was loved by God before he loved God. Nor can it be said that God began to love him at a fixed point in time; otherwise His love would be changeable.

Consequently, one must say that God loved Jacob from all eternity, as it says in Jer (31:3): "I have loved you with an everlasting love."

763. Now these words of the Apostle identify in God three things pertaining to the saints, namely, election, by which is understood God's predestination and election. In God these are really the same, but in our understanding they differ. For it is called God's love, inasmuch as he wills good to a person absolutely; it is election, inasmuch as through the good he wills for a person, he prefers him to someone else. But it is called predestination, inasmuch as he directs a person to the good he wills for him by loving and choosing him. According to these definitions predestination comes after love, just as the will's fixation on the end naturally precedes the process of directing things towards the end.

Election and love, however, are ordered differently in God than in man. For in men, election precedes love, for a man's will is inclined to love a thing on account of the good perceived in it, this good also being the reason why he prefers one thing to another and why he fixed his love on the thing he preferred. But God's love is the cause of every good found in a creature; consequently, the good in virtue of which one is preferred to another through election follows upon Gods willing it—which pertains to His love, Consequently, it is not in virtue of some good which He selects in a man that God love him; rather, it is because He loved him that He prefers him to someone by election.

764. But just as the love, about which we are speaking, pertains to Gods eternal predestination, so the hatred about which we are speaking pertains to the rejection by which God rejects sinners.

It should not be supposed that this rejection is temporal, because nothing in the divine will is temporal; rather, it is eternal. Furthermore, it is akin to love or predestination in some respect and different in another.

It is akin in the sense that just as predestination is preparation for glory, so rejection is preparation for punishment: "For a burning place has long been prepared, yes, for the king it is made ready" (Is 30:33).

It is different in that predestination implies preparation of the merits by which glory is reached, but rejection implies preparation of the sins by which punishment is reached. Consequently, a foreknowledge of merits cannot be the reason for predestination, because the foreknown merits fall under predestination; but the foreknowledge of sins can be a reason for rejection on the part of the punishment prepared for the rejected, inasmuch as God proposes to punish the wicked for the sins they have from themselves, not from God; the just He proposes to reward on account of the merits they do not have from themselves: "Destruction is thy own, O Israel; thy help is only in me" (Hos 13:9).

(14) [n. 765] What shall we say then? Is there injustice on God's part? [n. 768] Let it not be!
(15) For he says to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.”
(16) [n. 775] So it does not depend on the one who wills or on the one who runs, but on God who has mercy.
(17) [n. 779] For the scripture says to Pharaoh, “I have raised you up for the very purpose of showing my power in you, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth.”
(18) [n. 783] So then he has mercy upon whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills.

765. After showing that by God's choice one is preferred to the other not from works but from the grace of the one calling [n. 748], the Apostle now inquires into the justice of this choice.

First, he raises a question;
secondly, he answers it [v. 14b; n. 768];
thirdly, he objects against the solution [v. 19; n. 786].

766. First, therefore, he says: It has been stated that God chose one and rejected the other without any preceding merit. What shall we say then? Does this enable us to prove that there is injustice on God's part?

It seems so. For it pertains to justice that things be dispensed equally to equals. But when differences arising from merit are removed, men are equal. Therefore, if without consideration of merits God dispensed unequally by choosing one and rejecting the other, it seems that there is injustice to Him; contrary to what is said in Dt (32:4) "God is faithful and without any iniquity"; "Righteous art thou, O Lord, and right are thy judgments" (Ps 119:137).

767. It should be noted that Origen fell into error trying to solve this objection.

For he says in his Periarchon that from the beginning God made only spiritual creatures and all were equal, lest he be charged with injustice for any inequality; later, differences among these creatures arose from differences of merit. For some of those spiritual creatures were turned to God by love, some more and some less; on this basis the various orders of angels were distinguished. Others turned from God, some more and some less; on this basis they were bound to bodies, either noble or lowly; some to heavenly bodies, some to bodies of demons, some to bodies of men. Accordingly, the reason or making and distinguishing bodily creatures is the sin of spiritual creatures. But this is against what is said in Gen (1:31): "God saw everything which he had made, and it was very good," which gives us to understand that goodness was the cause of producing bodily creatures, as Augustine says in The City of God (c.11).

768. Therefore, we must set aside this opinion and see how the Apostle solves the problem when he says: Let it not be!

In regard to this he does two things:
first, he solves the problem with respect to choosing the saints;
secondly, with respect to hating and rejecting the wicked [v. 17; n. 799].
In regard to the first he does two things:
first, he proposes the scriptural text from which the solution comes;
secondly, he draws the conclusion from it [v. 16; n. 775].

769. The text he adduces is from Ex (33:19) where the Lord said to Moses: "I will be gracious to whom I will and I will be merciful to whom it shall please me." But the Apostle quotes it according to the Septuagint version saying: For the Lord says to Moses: 'I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion. The meaning is that all our blessings are ascribed to God's mercy, as it says in Is (63:7): "I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord, the praise of the Lord for all the things the Lord has bestowed upon us"; and in Lam (3:22): "The mercies of the Lord that we are not consumed; because his commiserations have not failed.

770. The text Paul cites is explained in two ways in a Goss, so that it solves the question and the objection in two ways.

First, I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, i.e., on him who is worthy of mercy. To amplify this he repeats: I will have compassion on whom I have compassion, i.e., on whom I judge worthy of compassion, as it says in Ps 103 (v.13): "The Lord has compassion on them that fear him."

It follows from this that although he imparts his blessings from mercy, he is nevertheless excused from injustice; for he gives to those who should be given and does not give to one who should not be given, according to the correctness of His judgment.

771. But having mercy on one who is worthy can be understood in two ways: in one way so that one is counted worthy of mercy on account of preexisting works in this life, though not in another life, as Origen supposed. This belongs to the Pelagian heresy which taught that God's grace is given to men according to their merits.

But this cannot stand, because, as has been stated, the good merits themselves are from God and are the effects of predestination.

772. But there is another way in which one is considered worthy of mercy, not on account of merits preceding grace, but on account of merits subsequent to grace; for example, if God gives a person grace and He planned from eternity to give him that grace which He foresaw would be used well.

According to this the Gloss is saying that He has mercy on him who should be given mercy. Hence he says: I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, i.e., by calling and bestowing grace, I will have mercy on him to whom I know beforehand that I will show mercy, knowing that he will be converted and abide with me.

But it seems that not even this is a suitable explanation.

For it is clear that nothing which is an effect of predestination can be taken as a reason for a predestination, even if it be taken as existing in God's foreknowledge, because the reason for a predestination is presupposed to the predestination, whereas the effect is included in it.

But every benefit God bestows on a man for his salvation is an effect of predestination. Furthermore, God's benefits extend not only to the infusion of grace, by which a man is made righteous, but also to its use, just as in natural things God not only causes their forms but all the movements and activities of those forms, inasmuch as God is the source of all movement in such a way that when He ceases to act, no movement or activity proceeds from those forms. But sanctifying grace and the accompanying virtues in the soul are related to their use as a natural form is related to its activity. Hence, it is states in Is (26:12): "O Lord, thou hast wrought for us all our works."

773. Aristotle proves this in a particular way when he discusses the works of the human will. For since man is open to opposites, say to sitting or not sitting, it must be resolved by something else. But this is done by deliberation, which is followed by choosing one over the other. But again, since man has the power to deliberate or not to deliberate, it will be necessary that something move him to deliberate. But since this does not proceed ad infinitum, there must be some external principal superior to man which moves him to deliberate—and this principle is none other than God.

In this way, then, the very use of grace is from God. But this does not mean that sanctifying grace is superfluous, any more than natural forms are superfluous, even though God works in all, as it says in Wis (8:1): "Wisdom orders all things sweetly," because through their forms all things are inclined spontaneously, as it were, to that to which they are planned by God. Consequently, it is impossible that the merits which follow grace are the reason for showing mercy or for predestination; the only reason is God's will, according to which he mercifully delivers certain ones.

For it is clear that distributive justice has its field in things given as due; for example, if some persons have earned wage, more should be given to those who have done more work. But it has no place in things given spontaneously and out of mercy; for example, if a person meets two beggars and gives one an alms, he is not unjust but merciful. Similarly, if a person has been offended equally by two people and he forgives one but not the other, he is merciful to the one, just to the other, but unjust to neither.

For since all men are born subject to damnation on account of the sin of the first parent, those whom God delivers by His grace He delivers by His mercy alone; and so He is merciful to those whom He delivers, just to those whom He does not deliver, but unjust to none. Thus, the Apostle solves the question with a text which ascribes all to divine mercy.

774. Yet it should be noted that God's mercy is viewed according to three aspects: first, according to predestination by which He proposed from all eternity to deliver certain ones: "The mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting" (Ps 103:17); secondly, according to His calling and justifying, by which He saves men in time: "He saved us in his mercy" (Tit 3:5); thirdly, according to the bestowal of glory, when He frees from all misery: "Who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy" (Ps 103:4).

Therefore, he says: I will have mercy, namely, by calling and justifying, on whom I have mercy by predestining and having compassion and finally by crowning with glory him on whom I have mercy by calling and justifying.

This interpretation is more in keeping with the version before me: "I will be gracious to whom I will, and I will be merciful to whom it shall please me" where divine mercy is clearly ascribed not to merits but solely to the divine will.

775. Then (v. 16) he draws his conclusion from the authority he cited.

This conclusion can be understood in a number of ways; in one say thus: So a man's salvation depends not on man's will or exertion, i.e., it is not owing to anyone through any willing of his own or any outward action; but on God's mercy, i.e., it proceeds from the sole mercy of God. What follows from the authority cited is found in Dr (9:4): "Do not say in your heart, 'It is because of my righteousness that the Lord has brought me into this land.'"

776. But it can be understood in another sense: all things proceed form God's mercy; so it depends not on man's will to will or exertion to exert oneself, but each depends on God's mercy, as it says in 1 Cor (15:10): "it was not I but the grace of God which is with me," and in Jn (15:5): "Without me you can do nothing."

777. But if this is all that is understood in this word, since even grace without man's free judgment does not will or strive, he could have said the converse, namely, it does not depends on God's mercy but on man's will or exertion, which is offensive to pious ears.

Consequently, something more must be understood from these words, if first place is to be given to God's grace.

For an action is attributed more to the principal agent than to the secondary, as when we say that the hammer does not make the box but the carpenter by using the hammer. But man's will is moved to good by God, as it says above: "All who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God" (Rom 8:14); therefore, an inward action of man is not to be attributed principally to man but to God: "It is God who of his good pleasure works in you both the will and the performance" (Phil 2:13).

But if willing does not depend on the man willing or exertion on the man exerting himself, but on God moving man to this, it seems that man is not master of his own action, which pertains to freedom of will.

But the answer is that God moves all things, but in diverse ways, inasmuch as each is moved in a manner befitting its nature. And so man is moved by God to will and to perform outwardly in a manner consistent with free will. Therefore, willing and performing depends on man as freely acting; but on God and not on man, as initial mover.

779. Then (v. 17) he solves the above problem as it refers to rejection of the wicked.

First, he quotes an authority;
secondly, he draws the conclusion (v. 18).

780. He says, therefore: It has been shown that there is no injustice, when God loves the just from all eternity. But neither is there injustice in rejecting the wicked from all eternity. For out of God's mouth the Scripture says, I have raised you up, or according to another rendition: "Have preserved you" for the very purpose of showing my power in you, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth.

781. The first point to notice here is what God does in regard to the rejected. He shows this when he says: For this purpose have I preserved you, i.e. you had deserved to die for the evils you had done: Those who do such things deserve to die" (Rom 1:32), but I did not call you to die at once; rather I preserved you in life for this purpose, namely, of showing my power in you.

This interpretation can also be obtained from the version which reads: I have raised you up, i.e., although before me you deserved to be dead, I granted you life, as if I had raised you up. From this it appears that God works no injustice against the rejected, sine they deserved to be destroyed at once for their crimes; rather, the fact that He preserves their life proceeds from His exceeding goodness: "Correct me, O Lord, but yet with judgment; and not in thy fury, lest thou bring me to nothing" (Jer 10:24).

Another interpretation is this, I have raised you up for sin, that you might become worse. This should not be understood as though God causes sin in man; rather, it should be understood in a permissive sense, namely, that from His just judgment he permits some to fall into sin on account of previous sins, as it says above (1:28): "God gave them up to a base mind."

But it seems to me that still more must be understood here, namely, that men are moved to good and to evil y God through an inward prompting. Hence, Augustine says in his book On Grace and Free Will that God works in men's hearts to incline their wills whithersoever He wills, either to good through His mercy or to evil according to their deserts. Thus, God is aid very often to tire p men to do good, as it says in Dan (13:45): "The Lord raised up the holy spirit of a young boy." He is also said to raise up others to do evil, as in Is (13:1): "I will stir up the Medes against them and with their arrows they shall kill the children."

However, He stirs them to good and to evil in different ways: for he inclines men's wills to good directly as the author of these good deeds; but he is said to incline or stir up men to evil as an occasional cause, namely, inasmuch as God puts before a person, either in him or outside of him something which of itself is conducive to good but which through his own malice he uses for evil: "Do you not know that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But by your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath" (Rom 2:4-5) and "God gave his place for penance: and he abused it unto pride" (Jb 24:23).

Similarly, as far as in him lies, God enlightens a man inwardly to good, say a king to defend the rights of his kingdom or to punish rebels. But he abuses this good impulse according to the malice of his heart. This is plain in Is (10:6) where it is said of Assyria: "Against a godless nation I send him and against the people of my wrath I command him to take spoil and seize plunder..." and further on: "But he does not so intend, and his mind does not so think, but it is in his mind to destroy." That is the way it happened with Pharaoh, who, when he was prompted by God to defend his kingdom, abused this suggestion and practiced cruelty.

782. Secondly, there is need to consider the purpose behind God's doing certain things and permitting certain things.

For one must remember that God works in creatures to manifest Himself, as it says in Rom (1:20): "His invisible nature has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made"; hence these promptings are ordained to this manifestation both for those present, for the very purpose of showing my power in you, "and Israel saw the great work which the Lord did against the Egyptians Ex (14:3), and for those absent, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth.

Thus, it is clear that in this matter there in no injustice in God, because he uses his creature according to its merits for his glory. And it can be interpreted in the same sense if it be said I have raised you up, i.e., I have ordered your malice to my glory; for God orders the malice, but does not cause it.

783. Then (v. 18) he draws a conclusion from the two texts cited: from the text, I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, he concludes: Therefore he has mercy upon whomever he wills: "The Lord has mercy on them that fear him" (Ps 103:11); from the text, I have raised you up, he concludes, and he hardens the heart of whomever he wills: "You have hardened our heart, so that we fear thee not: (Is 3:17); "Some of them he blessed and exalted, and some of them hath he cursed and brought low" (Sir 33:12).
There seems to be no difficulty about God's mercy, once we grant what has been said above.

784. But two difficulties seem to exist in regard to hardening: first, hardening of heart seems allied to sin, as it says in Sir (3:27): "A hard heart shall fear evil at the last." Consequently, if God hardens the heart, He is the author of a sin—contrary to what is said in Jas (1:13): "God is no tempter to evil."

The answer is that God is not said to harden anyone directly, as though He causes their malice, but indirectly, inasmuch as man makes an occasion of sin out of things God does within or outside the man; and this God Himself permits. Hence, he is not said to harden as though by inserting malice, but by not affording grace.

The second difficulty is that this hardening does not seem ascribable to the divine will, since it is written: "This is the will of God, your sanctification" (I Th 4:3) and "He desires all men to be saved" (1 Tim 2:4).

The answer is that both mercy and justice imply a disposition of the will. Hence, just as mercy is attributed to the divine will, so also that which is just.

Therefore, the interpretation is that he has mercy upon whomever he wills through His mercy and he hardens whomever he wills through His justice, because those whom He hardens deserve to be hardened by Him, as was stated above in chapter 1.

(19) [n. 786] You will say to me then, "Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?"
(20) [n. 788] But who are you, a man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, "Why have you made me thus?" (21) [n. 791] Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honor and another for dishonor?
(22) [n. 793] What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience the vessels of wrath fitted for destruction,
(23) [n. 794] in order to make known the riches of his glory for the vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory.

786. Having solved the question proposed [n. 765], the Apostle objects to the solution, particularly to the last part, which states that God has mercy on whomever He wills and hardens whomever He wills.

First, he places the objection;
secondly, the solution [v. 20; n. 788].

787. First, therefore, he says: We have said that God has mercy on whomever He wills and hardens whomever He wills. You will say to me then: Why does he still find fault? i.e., what need is there to inquire any further into the cause of the good and evil done here, since all things are attributed to the divine will, which is a sufficient cause, since no one can resist Him? Hence he continues: For who can resist his will? "I applied my mind to seek and to search out by wisdom all that is done under heaven" (Ec 1:13).

Or in another way: Why does he still find fault? i.e., why does God complain about men when they sin, as in Is (1:2): "some have I reared and brought up, but they have rebelled against me." Therefore, He does not seem to have a just complaint, because it all proceeds from His will, which no one can resist. Hence he adds: Who can resist his will?

Or still another way: Why does he still find fault, i.e., why is man still required to do good and avoid evil: "He has showed you , O man, what is good and what does the Lord require of you but o do justice, and love mercy and walk with your God?" (Mic 6:8). For it is useless to require of someone that which is not in his power. But nothing seems to lie in man’s power, according to the above, in which all things seem ascribed to the divine will, which cannot be resisted. He adds: For who can resist his will? As if to say: no one. "There is none that can resist they majesty" (Est 13:11). And this seems to be the Apostle's meaning.

788. Then (v. 20) he answers the question.

To understand his answer it should be noted that with regard to the election of the good and the rejection of the wicked two questions can arise. One is general, namely, why does God will to harden some and be merciful to some; the other is particular, namely, why does He will to be merciful to this one and harden this or that one?

Although a reason other God's will can be assigned, in the first question the only reason that can be assigned in the second question is God's absolute will. An example is found among humans. For if a builder has at hand many similar and equal stones, the reason why he puts certain ones at the top an others at the bottom can be gathered from his purpose, because the perfection of the house he intends to build requires both a foundation with stones at the bottom and walls of a certain height with stones at the top. But the reason why he put these stones on the to and those others at the bottom seems to be merely that the builder so willed.

First, therefore, the Apostle answers the problem involved in the second question, namely why He has mercy on this one and hardens that one; secondly, the problem involved in the first question, namely, why He is merciful to some and hardens others [v. 22; n. 792].

In regard to the first he does three things:
first, he censures the questioner's presumption;
secondly, he cites an authority which solves the question [v. 21; n. 790];
thirdly, he explains the authority [v. 21b; n. 791].

789. First, therefore, he says: But who are you, O man, fragile and unknowing, to answer back to God. How would you answer Him, if He were to contend with you in judgment? "If one wished to contend with him, one could not answer him once in a thousand times" (Jb 9:3). Again, as it says in Jb (39:30): "He who argues with God let him answer him."

In this we are given to understand that man should not examine the reason for God's judgments with the intention of comprehending them, for they exceed human reason: "Seek not the things that are too high for thee" (Sir 3:22); "He that is a searcher of majesty shall be overwhelmed by glory" (Pr 25:27).

790. Then (v. 20b) he cites the authority of Is (29:16): "Shall the thing made say of its maker, He did not make me?"

Here it should be noted that if an artisan uses base matter to make a beautiful vessel for noble uses, it is all ascribed to the goodness of the artisan; for example, if from clay he fashions pitchers and serving-dishes suited to a banquet table. If, on the other hand, from such base matter, say clay, he produced a vessel adapted to meaner uses, for example, for cooking or such, the vessel, if it could think, would have no complaint. But it could complain, if from precious metals, such as gold and precious stones, the artisan were to make a vessel reserved for base uses.

But human nature has baseness about it from its matter, because as Gen (2:7) says: "God formed man of dust from the ground," and more baseness after being spoiled by sin, which entered this world through one man. That is why man is compared to dirt, in Jb (30:19) "I am compared to dirt and I am likened to dust and ashes." Hence, any good that man possesses is due to God's goodness as its basic source: "O Lord, thou art our Father, we are the clay, and thou art the potter, we are all the work of they hand" (Is 64:8). Furthermore, if God does not advance man to better things but leaves him in his weakness and reserves him for the lowliest use, He does him no injury such that he could justly complain about God.

791. Then (v. 21) the Apostle explains the words of the prophet.

As if to say What is molded, i.e., the vessel., should not say to the potter: Why have you made me thus?, because the potter is free to make anything he wishes out of the clay. Hence he says: Has the potter no right over the clay, to make without any injury to it out of the same lump of base matter one vessel for honor, i.e., for honorable use and another for dishonor, i.e., for meaner uses: "In a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver but also of wood and earthenware, and some for noble use, some for ignoble." (2 Tim. 2:20).

In the same way God has free power to make from the same spoiled matter of the human race, as from a clay, and without any injustice some men prepared for glory and some abandoned in wretchedness: "Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel" (Is 18:6).

792. Then (v. 22) he answers the first question, namely, why God wills to be merciful to some and leave others in wretchedness, i.e., to choose some and reject others.

Here it should be noted that the end of all divine works ins the manifestation of divine goodness: "The Lord has made all things for himself" (Pr 16:4). Hence, it was stated above that the invisible things of God have been clearly perceived in the things that have been made (1:20).

But the excellence of the divine goodness is so great that it cannot be manifested in one way or in one creature. Consequently, he created diverse creatures in which He is manifested in diverse ways. This is particularly true in rational creatures in whom is justice is manifested with regard to those he benefits according to their deserts and His mercy in those He delivers by His grace. Therefore, to manifest both of these in man He mercifully delivers some, but not all.

First, therefore, he gives an account of the rejections of the wicked; secondly, of the election of the good [v. 23; n. 794].

793. In both cases three differences should be considered.

First, with respect to the end; secondly, with respect to use; thirdly, with respect to the divine act.

Now the end of the rejection or hardening of the wicked is the manifestation of divine justice and power. Referring to this he says: What, i.e., But if God, desiring to show him wrath, i.e., retaliatory justice. For wrath is said of God not as an emotion but as the effect of retaliation: "The wrath of God is revealed from heaven" (Rom 1:18). Then he adds: and to make known his power, because God not only uses wrath, i.e., retribution, by punishing those subject to him, but also by subjecting them to himself by his power: “According to his work by which he can subject all things to himself” (Phil 3:21); “And they saw the Egyptians dead upon the sea shore, and the mighty hand that the Lord had used against them” (Ex 14:31).

The use which God makes of the wicked is wrath, i.e., punishment. And this is why he calls them vessels of wrath, i.e., instruments of justice that God uses to show wrath, i.e., retributive justice: “We were by nature children of wrath” (Eph 2:3).

But God’s action toward them is not that he disposes them to evil, since they of themselves have a disposition to evil from the corruption of the first sin. Hence he says fit for destruction, i.e., having in themselves an disposition towards eternal condemnation: “God saw that the wickedness of men was great on the earth, and that all the thought of their heart was bent upon evil at all times” (Gen 6:5). The only thing God does concerning them is that he lets them do what they want. Hence not without meaning does he say has endured. And the fact that he does not exact retribution immediately shows his patience; so he adds with much patience: “The most high is a patient rewarder” (Sir 5:4).

794. Then on the part of the good he likewise sets out three things.

First the end, when he says in order to make known the riches of his glory. For the end of the election and mercy shown the good is that he might manifest in them the abundance of his goodness by calling them back from evil, drawing them to justice, and finally leading them into glory. And this is the meaning of that he might show the riches of his glory, the riches concerning which he said above (2:4), “Or do you despise the riches of his goodness?” “God who is rich in mercy” (Eph 2:4).

And it is significant that he says in order to make known the riches of his glory, because the very condemnation and reprobation of the wicked, carried out in accord with God’s justice, makes known and highlights the glory of the saints, who were freed from such misery as this.

Second he describes their use, when he says for the vessels of mercy. He names them vessels of mercy because God uses them as instruments to show his mercy: “These were men of mercy” (Sir 44:10).

Thirdly he sets out God’s action in their regard. For God does not merely endure them, as though they were of themselves disposed to the good, but rather he prepares and disposes them by calling them to glory. Hence he says which he has prepared beforehand for glory: “Preparing the mountains by your power.”

795. Even to this point the Apostle uses an incomplete and suspensive construction, so that the meaning is: If God wants to do this, to have mercy on some and harden others, what can justly be said against it? As though to imply: Nothing. For he does not will to harden them in such a way that he compels them to sin, but rather he endures them so that they may tend to evil by their own inclination.

John Updike, R.I.P.

2009-01-27T18:59:00.004-05:00

John Updike, one of the truly great masters of American prose, has died.

A time ago I offered an excerpt from a recent novel of his, Villages, which was not intended to flatter. So as penance, I now offer this memoriam.

Villages, like several of Updike's books, was principally about sex (which, perhaps, Updike thought most things were really about). Updike might be most famous for such novels, notably Couples, which described sex in ways that Lawrence or Miller never dreamed. Indeed, no one illustrated the fatuity, banality, and emptiness of the post-war suburban American ethos like Updike. I'll quote again from Villages, briefly:

Sex is a programmed delirium that rolls back death with death's own substance; it is the black space between the stars given sweet substance in our veins and crevices. The parts of ourselves conventional decency calls shameful are exalted. We are told that we shine, that we are splendid, and the naked bodies we were given in the bloody moment of birth hold all the answers that another, the other, desires, now and forever.

That indeed may be the final word Updike had to offer us (although he wrote several other books after that one), testifying to a definitively modern worldview (which I find tragic, and for which I read Pascal in response): seemingly an empty one. There may be a way to read that passage within the context of Pope John Paul's Theology of the Body--that's a piece for another day. But I prefer to think that Updike was raging against the dying of the light at that point; besides, there is more to him than just sex--simply put, the mastery of his writing--and for that I love him.

"A & P" is a classic and maybe the best known of his stories, although it's from the earliest part of his career. The last scene is a portent of so many of Updike's later concerns as a writer. I love that last sentence:

"Did you say something, Sammy?"

"I said I quit."

"I thought you did."

"You didn't have to embarrass them."

"It was they who were embarrassing us."

I started to say something that came out "Fiddle-de-doo." It's a saying of my grand- mother's, and I know she would have been pleased.

"I don't think you know what you're saying," Lengel said.

"I know you don't," I said. "But I do." I pull the bow at the back of my apron and start shrugging it off my shoulders. A couple customers that had been heading for my slot begin to knock against each other, like scared pigs in a chute.

Lengel sighs and begins to look very patient and old and gray. He's been a friend of my parents for years. "Sammy, you don't want to do this to your Mom and Dad," he tells me. It's true, I don't. But it seems to me that once you begin a gesture it's fatal not to go through with it. I fold the apron, "Sammy" stitched in red on the pocket, and put it on the counter, and drop the bow tie on top of it. The bow tie is theirs, if you've ever wondered. "You'll feel this for the rest of your life," Lengel says, and I know that's true, too, but remembering how he made that pretty girl blush makes me so scrunchy inside I punch the No Sale tab and the machine whirs "pee-pul" and the drawer splats out. One advantage to this scene taking place in summer, I can follow this up with a clean exit, there's no fumbling around getting your coat and galoshes, I just saunter into the electric eye in my white shirt that my mother ironed the night before, and the door heaves itself open, and outside the sunshine is skating around on the asphalt.

I look around for my girls, but they're gone, of course. There wasn't anybody but some young married screaming with her children about some candy they didn't get by the door of a powder-blue Falcon station wagon. Looking back in the big windows, over the bags of peat moss and aluminum lawn furniture stacked on the pavement, I could see Lengel in my place in the slot, checking the sheep through. His face was dark gray and his back stiff, as if he'd just had an injection of iron, and my stomach kind of fell as I felt how hard the world was going to be to me hereafter.

The very beginning of his seminal account of the 1950s, Rabbit Run, is another perfect piece of writing, and maybe my favorite literary basketball scene:

Boys are playing basketball around a telephone pole with a backboard bolted to it. Legs, shouts. The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires. Rabbit Angstrom, coming up the alley in a business suit, stops and watches, though he's twenty-six and six three. So tall, he seems an unlikely rabbit, but the breadth of white face, the pallor of his blue irises, and a nervous flutter under his brief nose as he stabs a cigarette into his mouth partially explain the nickname, which was given to him when he too was a boy. He stands there thinking, the kids keep coming, they keep crowding you up.

His standing there makes the real boys feel strange. Eyeballs slide. They're doing this for themselves, not as a show for some adult walking around town in a double-breasted cocoa suit. It seems funny to them, an adult walking up the alley at all. Where's his car? The cigarette makes it more sinister still. Is this one of those going to offer them cigarettes or money to go out in back of the ice plant with him? They've heard of such things but are not too frightened; there are six of them and one of him.

The ball, rocketing off the crotch of the rim, leaps over the heads of the six and lands at the feet of the one. He catches it on the short bounce with a quickness that startles them. As they stare hushed he sights squinting through blue clouds of weed smoke, a suddenly dark silhouette like a smokestack against the afternoon spring sky, setting his feet with care, wiggling the ball with nervousness in front of his chest, one widespread white hand on top of the ball and the other underneath, jiggling it patiently to get some adjustment in air itself. The cuticle moons on his fingernails are big. Then the ball seems to ride up the right lapel of his coat and comes off his shoulder as his knees dip down, and it appears the ball will miss because though he shot from an angle the ball is not going toward the backboard. It was not aimed there. It drops into the circle of the rim, whipping the net with a ladylike whisper. "Hey!" he shouts in pride.

"Luck," one of the kids says.

"Skill," he answers, and asks, "Hey. O.K. if I play?"

There is no response, just puzzled silly looks swapped. Rabbit takes off his coat, folds it nicely, and rests it on a clean ashcan lid. Behind him the dungarees begin to scuffle again. He goes into the scrimmaging thick of them for the ball, flips it from two weak grubby-knuckled child's hands, has it in his own. That old stretched-leather feeling makes his whole body go taut, gives his arms wings. It feels like he's reaching down through years to touch this tautness. His arms lift of their own and the rubber ball floats toward the basket from the top of his head. It feels so right he blinks when the ball drops short, and for a second wonders if it went through the hoop without riffling the net. He asks, "Hey whose side am I on?"

In a wordless shuffle two boys are delegated to be his. They stand the other four. Though from the start Rabbit handicaps himself by staying ten feet out from the basket, it is still unfair. Nobody bothers to keep score. The surly silence bothers him. The kids call monosyllables to each other but to him they don't dare a word. As the game goes on he can feel them at his legs, getting hot and mad, trying to trip him, but their tongues are still held. He doesn't want this respect, he wants to tell them there's nothing to getting old, it takes nothing. In ten minutes another boy goes to the other side, so it's just Rabbit Angstrom and one kid standing five. This boy, still midget but already diffident with a kind of rangy ease, is the best of the six; he wears a knitted cap with a green pompon well down over his ears and level with his eyebrows, giving his head a cretinous look. He's a natural. The way he moves sideways without taking any steps, gliding on a blessing: you can tell. The way he waits before he moves. With luck he'll become in time a crack athlete in the high school; Rabbit knows the way. You climb up through the little grades and then get to the top and everybody cheers; with the sweat in your eyebrows you can't see very well and the noise swirls around you and lifts you up, and then you're out, not forgotten at first, just out, and it feels good and cool and free. You're out, and sort of melt, and keep lifting, until you become like to these kids just one more piece of the sky of adults that hangs over them in the town, a piece that for some queer reason has clouded and visited them. They've not forgotten him: worse, they never heard of him. Yet in his time Rabbit was famous through the county; in basketball in his junior year he set a B-league scoring record that in his senior year he broke with a record that was not broken until four years later, that is, four years ago.

He sinks shots one-handed, two-handed, underhanded, flat-footed, and out of the pivot, jump, and set. Flat and soft the ball lifts. That his touch still lives in his hands elates him. He feels liberated from long gloom. But his body is weighty and his breath grows short. It annoys him, that he gets winded. When the five kids not on his side begin to groan and act lazy, and a kid he accidentally knocks down gets up with a blurred face and walks away, Rabbit quits readily. "O.K.," he says. "The old man's going. Three cheers."

To the boy on his side, the pompon, he adds, "So long, ace." He feels grateful to the boy, who continued to watch him with disinterested admiration after the others grew sullen. Naturals know. It's all in how it feels.

But above all, it is Updike's classic essay, "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu", from 1960 in the New Yorker, that most moves me. Baseball, America, perfect writing. If reading Updike on Ted Williams doesn't make your eyes water, can you really belong here?

Really, the best:

Understand that we were a crowd of rational people. We knew that a home run cannot be produced at will; the right pitch must be perfectly met and luck must ride with the ball. Three innings before, we had seen a brave effort fail. The air was soggy; the season was exhausted. Nevertheless, there will always lurk, around a corner in a pocket of our knowledge of the odds, an indefensible hope, and this was one of the times, which you now and then find in sports, when a density of expectation hangs in the air and plucks an event out of the future.

Fisher, after his unsettling wait, was wide with the first pitch. He put the second one over, and Williams swung mightily and missed. The crowd grunted, seeing that classic swing, so long and smooth and quick, exposed, naked in its failure. Fisher threw the third time, Williams swung again, and there it was. The ball climbed on a diagonal line into the vast volume of air over center field. From my angle, behind third base, the ball seemed less an object in flight than the tip of a towering, motionless construct, like the Eiffel Tower or the Tappan Zee Bridge. It was in the books while it was still in the sky. Brandt ran back to the deepest corner of the outfield grass; the ball descended beyond his reach and struck in the crotch where the bullpen met the wall, bounced chunkily, and, as far as I could see, vanished.

Like a feather caught in a vortex, Williams ran around the square of bases at the center of our beseeching screaming. He ran as he always ran out home runs—hurriedly, unsmiling, head down, as if our praise were a storm of rain to get out of. He didn’t tip his cap. Though we thumped, wept, and chanted “We want Ted” for minutes after he hid in the dugout, he did not come back. Our noise for some seconds passed beyond excitement into a kind of immense open anguish, a wailing, a cry to be saved. But immortality is nontransferable. The papers said that the other players, and even the umpires on the field, begged him to come out and acknowledge us in some way, but he never had and did not now. Gods do not answer letters.

Kunstler's forecast for 2009

2008-12-29T17:02:00.002-05:00

Here's the preview; check out the whole thing:

There are two realities "out there" now competing for verification among those who think about national affairs and make things happen. The dominant one (let's call it the Status Quo) is that our problems of finance and economy will self-correct and allow the project of a "consumer" economy to resume in "growth" mode. This view includes the idea that technology will rescue us from our fossil fuel predicament -- through "innovation," through the discovery of new techno rescue remedy fuels, and via "drill, baby, drill" policy. This view assumes an orderly transition through the current "rough patch" into a vibrant re-energized era of "green" Happy Motoring and resumed Blue Light Special shopping.

The minority reality (let's call it The Long Emergency) says that it is necessary to make radically new arrangements for daily life and rather soon. It says that a campaign to sustain the unsustainable will amount to a tragic squandering of our dwindling resources. It says that the "consumer" era of economics is over, that suburbia will lose its value, that the automobile will be a diminishing presence in daily life, that the major systems we've come to rely on will founder, and that the transition between where we are now and where we are going is apt to be tumultuous.

Note especially Kunstler's prediction for the economy, below. It amazes me how many people believe we can borrow ourselves out of this mess: businesses borrowing from the government; the government borrowing from China, et al. And most of the Average Joe's conspicuous consumption came from credit, which he will find difficult to obtain, forcing him to change his lifestyle, thereby further undermining the many businesses that depend on the purchasing of undulgent goods and services; even worse, the cash he has will be worth much less as inflation will destroy his purchasing power.

We'll turn around early in 2009 and discover that we are a much poorer nation than we thought because from now on credit will be extremely hard to get for anyone for anything. The businesses that survive will have to keep going on the basis of accounts receivable. This is the area where the crash of giants will be heard. I've been saying since publication of The long Emergency that comprehensive downscaling in all our activities, from farming to business to schooling to governance, will be the categorical imperative of the years ahead. Giant enterprises requiring giant loans to get from quarter to quarter will tend to not make it. Borrowing from the future will become a practical impossibility as past bad debts from previous borrowings continue to unwind, cease performing, and get written off.

But there is always hope; I take much from Kunstler's prediction about changing demographics:

With all the economic hardship, we ought to expect a lot of demographic churning, people leaving hopeless places and moving on to something more promising. I believe we will see them move to smaller towns and smaller cities. The reorganization of the rural landscape into smaller-scaled farms has not begun to occur -- though 2009 might be very hard on agribusiness, given the shortage of capital and if oil begins to march up in price by late winter. Eventually, the rural landscape will require the labor of many more people than is currently the case.

Happy new year!

the change we need

2008-12-28T10:46:00.003-05:00

From the Distributist Review:

So what is wrong with the Republican Party? Let me suggest that the problem is that they have no idea of what they ought to conserve; they have no idea of what constitutes liberty. Indeed, the only common theme among the factions is economic, and in that what they are trying to conserve is economic liberalism, the doctrine of laissez-faire capitalism. They have forgotten that this was the very doctrine that destroyed conservatism in the 19^th century, and while it is now over 200 years old, it will never be conservative.
What conservatism ought to conserve is the proper scale of things; government at its lowest possible level, strong families as the foundation of society, small manufacturing, small farms, strong communities. Low taxes, to be sure, but taxes commensurate with the tasks we ask government to perform. We know that the key to lowering taxes is to localize government as much as possible and reduce its scale. But you cannot have localized governments in the face of commercial institutions that are bigger than most states—indeed, bigger than most nations. These institutions declare themselves “too big to fail,” when in truth they are too big to succeed without massive government support....

Distributists know that the key to shrinking government and ending oppressive taxation is to shrink the need for government. Great and global institutions require big government and large military and regulatory apparatuses. And these require big taxes. And while they create great wealth, for some, they create great dependency for the mass of men, a dependency that expresses itself as the welfare state. The small farm is better for food, but it is also better for community; the small manufacturer, tied by bonds of economy and affection to his locality is the basis of a sane economy.

The unchecked assumption that brings the house down

2008-12-17T17:12:00.004-05:00

The magisterial Patrick Deneen, reflecting on the graphic history of the stock market, points out the glaring blind spot in all our prognosticating:

Our entire political, economic and social system is based upon the idea that this line - notwithstanding temporary ups and downs - will continue its upward trajectory forever. The recent efforts of the worlds' governments - whether called "conservative" or "liberal" - has been to reinstate the upward climb of economic growth at any cost, whatever the later or ultimate consequence. Every aspect of our society is premised upon the permanence of this growth - the infinite inflation of the ultimate bubble.

But what if industrial life has been the greatest misallocation of resources in the history of the world, and the far bigger bubble (a totally unsustainable way of life--naturally, morally, spiritually) is starting to collapse? What then? The core sympathy behind the modern narrative is that life has been getting progressively better and better, even exponentially, in every way. To see that civilization has not been getting better and better (despite superficial advances)--that we recently came through the bloodiest, deadliest, cruelist, most dehumanizing century in the history of the world, and now in light of building on the sand of secularism, individual choice, sexual depravity, violence as entertainment, and reckless material consumption, we are teetering on collapse--is to see things from the perspective of having left the cave.

Can civilization collapse? Can it collapse again?

we just don't get it

2008-12-10T05:55:00.005-05:00

Amidst the furor over our deflationary spiral and the collapse of the economy, where now apparently we are willing to get nothing for something, we have forgotten about the greater crisis looming: peak oil. If you haven't thought about it, you really can't appreciate how disasterous the implications of decreased oil production will be. (For an idea, see James Howard Kunstler's Long Emergency.) And still we are trying to get Detroit Auto back on track, which is like giving a bailout to a furious crack addict. An addict who is meanwhile piping to our children.

Kunstler, on Obama's recent clamor for public works projects:

President-elect Obama has announced his intention to kick off a massive "stimulation" program when he hits the White House "running" in January. Early indications are that it will be directed at things like highway repair. If so, we will be investing long-term in infrastructure that we probably won't be using the same way in ten years. But I doubt there is any way around it. The American public can't conceive of living any other way except in a car-centered society. Anyway, some parts of our highway-bridge-and-tunnel system are already so decrepit that they pose a menace right now, and the clamor to direct "stimulation" there is already very strong -- backed by all the fraternities of engineers.

Stimul[i] aimed at perpetuating mass motoring will be a tragic waste of our dwindling resources. We'd be better off aiming it at fixing the railroads (especially electrifying them), refitting our harbors with piers and warehouses in preparation to move more stuff by boats, and in repairing the electric grid. Unfortunately, our tendency will be to try to rescue the totemic touchstones of everyday life, things familiar and comfortable, regardless of whether they have a future or not.

The ominous forces gathering out there will defeat these efforts and everyday life will reorganize itself some other way consistent with the single greatest trend: the force of contraction. Every sign we see is pointing in that direction, from the inability of the earth's ecology to support more human beings, to the dwindling of mineral and energy resources, to the destruction of farmland, to mischief in the climate. We just don't know how badly things will fall apart in the meantime, or how kind (or cruelly) people will act in the process.

And Kunstler said it well way back in May:

Years ago, U.S. negotiators at a U.N. environmental conference told their interlocutors that the American lifestyle is "not up for negotiation." This stance is, unfortunately, related to two pernicious beliefs that have become common in the United States in recent decades. The first is the idea that when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true. (Oprah Winfrey advanced this notion last year with her promotion of a pop book called "The Secret," which said, in effect, that if you wish hard enough for something, it will come to you.) One of the basic differences between a child and an adult is the ability to know the difference between wishing for things and actually making them happen through earnest effort.
The companion belief to "wishing upon a star" is the idea that one can get something for nothing. This derives from America's new favorite religion: not evangelical Christianity but the worship of unearned riches. (The holy shrine to this tragic belief is Las Vegas.) When you combine these two beliefs, the result is the notion that when you wish upon a star, you'll get something for nothing. This is what underlies our current fantasy, as well as our inability to respond intelligently to the energy crisis.

I couldn't agree more

2008-11-04T05:55:00.002-05:00

Patrick Deneen on what American democracy has amounted to:

This is the creature perfectly suited for polling: a perfect monad of unaltered interests who can answer simplistic questions asked to solicit simplistic answers. This is what we now call democracy. This is what we will celebrate tomorrow.

Much like the current Supreme Court, ruled by one vote: America, ruled by the tyrannical majorities of the vulgar masses of Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Florida.

An election post

2008-11-04T05:21:00.002-05:00

Things are busy, but I thought it important to put out at least one last post on the election:

What must one do? As the Bishops have made clear (in Faithful Citizenship):

When all candidates hold a position in favor of an intrinsic evil, the conscientious voter faces a dilemma. The voter may decide to take the extraordinary step of not voting for any candidate or, after careful deliberation, may decide to vote for the candidate deemed less likely to advance such a morally flawed position and more likely to pursue other authentic human goods.

Obama and McCain both support using existing embryonic stem cells for research. This is an intrinsic evil.

There is a candidate who does not support an intrinsic evil: Chuck Baldwin, the Constitution Party candidate.

But in light of the fact that third-party candidates have no hope for success, and because of the ignoring of them by the media a protest vote does not get much press, my opinion is that a vote for McCain is defensible (mainly for reasons of abortion; I find him seriously problematic in many other areas).

Still, there is the other option mentioned by the Bishops, the MacIntyre option:

When offered a choice between two politically intolerable alternatives, it is important to choose neither. And when that choice is presented in rival arguments and debates that exclude from public consideration any other set of possibilities, it becomes a duty to withdraw from those arguments and debates, so as to resist the imposition of this false choice by those who have arrogated to themselves the power of framing the alternatives.

In light of all the statements by so many bishops, and the clear positions of Catholic Social Teaching, it seems clear that a vote for Obama is indefensible, because of his vigorous support for abortion policies and legislation (as I have outlined in posts earlier). The most common canard offered by those Catholics who argue voting for Obama for proportional reasons--that by helping poor mothers with affordable health care and social programs, he will reduce abortions--ignores the imperative that we must oppose the legal status of the right to abortion. It also ignores the fact that many abortions, if not an equal amount, occur not just because of poverty, but are committed by women who are not poor but do not want any more children, or any, because of the inconvenience children bring.

Nonetheless I want to add: I am confidant Obama will win. But I do not think it is the end. I doubt Congress will agree to pass FOCA. I doubt that both Ginsberg and Stevens will die or step down in the next four years (and I doubt that McCain would have picked the right justices, regardless). And I think the next four years of an Obama presidency will prove to be an enormous disillusionment for many Americans (not the hard left or party hacks, of course). In four years, I predict (for the little it's worth) Obama will have a very tough time getting reelected, and I hope that conservatives will get their act together by then, in time for a opportunity to effect some important change. (Although, being a pessimist, I think the GOP will continue to be dominated by neoconservatives, and orthodox Catholics will be left even more in the wilderness; but this may not be a bad thing, as far as the life of the Church is concerned. Strangers and sojourners.)

Peñalver and Weigel on voting for Obama

2008-10-15T19:41:00.011-04:00

George Weigel adds to the debate about whether one can vote for Obama in light of his pro-abortion stance. (I discussed this issue earlier here.) Meanwhile, Robert George thoroughly substantiates the claim (was anyone doubting this?) that

Barack Obama is the most extreme pro-abortion candidate ever to seek the office of President of the United States. He is the most extreme pro-abortion member of the United States Senate. Indeed, he is the most extreme pro-abortion legislator ever to serve in either house of the United States Congress.

George could have also pointed out that the Freedom of Choice Act, which Obama has promised to legislate, would probably dash the hopes of ever bringing judicial review to Roe v. Wade.

Eduardo Peñalver, like many of the Commonweal band, thinks Weigel's argument is false. He also believes Pope John Paul and Cardinal George were mistaken in asserting that the right of the unborn to not be murdered must be protected by law. Somehow he believes, like segregation, this issue just gets embroiled in a legislative and judicial quid pro quo: ideally, such laws would be superfluous, since no one would be doing these actions anyway. I wonder, in what society have laws against murder ever been unnecessary? Drawing the analogy with segregation, Peñalver claims, "the state may sometimes choose (for any number of valid reasons) not to interfere with private conduct, even though that means that some private parties might thereby be permitted to engage in racial subordination."

This is obviously false for both cases: the law does not prohibit private acts of segregation, but public ones. Furthermore, abortion is never "private conduct", which should go without saying, for similar reasons that polygamy isn't, and so on.

Peñalver also falls into the mistake of seeing abortion and war as equivalent evils. Even though the invasion and overthrow of Iraq was unjust, this does not mean it is equivalent with abortion, which is murder. The crime of waging an unjust war does not share in the same moral genus as murder, for a number of reasons. Now, if non-combatants are targeted and killed as a policy of war, or if the war is simply the murder of civilians (not really war) as Vikings would wage, that's different. One can see the evil that war brings, and the tragedy that the deaths involve, but as a teacher of the law, Peñalver should be able to judge that an unjust war is evil for reasons that are different than why abortion is evil. Furthermore, the tiff over evils as "intrinsic" is a red herring: masturbation is an intrinsic evil, but surely no one would say that once committed, both abortion and masturbation are simply evil, and we should be equally concerned about the occasions of each. Abortion is intrinsically evil, war is not, but that is not the issue: it is possible to weigh the proportion of an offense against the common good. And as John O'Callaghan pointed out (see post below):

Obama’s position is that our federal constitutional order can, does, and should exclude a class of human beings from the protection of law, while McCain’s position is that it should not. This is a difference of justice at the foundation of any social order; one position destroys the conditions necessary for the common good, while the other does not. It is difficult to imagine what proportionate reasons there are for ignoring a position that destroys the conditions necessary for the common good.

It is debatable whether we are even still technically at war with Iraq, or in fact now are just doing large scale police work for the new Iraq. Perhaps it is better to say, we are trying to hold together a nation constantly threatened by civil war and terrorism. Either candidate will have to deal with this fact on that level. Now it is true that McCain's militarism and imperialist zeal gives much cause for concern. But in truth, Obama has not separated himself that much from McCain in these matters, but seems open to the use of war as statecraft in not-altogether-dissimilar ways. Moreover, Obama will not be able to withdraw from Iraq immediately, nor is it certain that this would now, the situation being what it is, be the best thing. But even under the argument that Obama will get us out in one year, while McCain will leave us there for ten, let's say, there fails to be an equivalence with abortion.

Abortion is easily the greatest crime of modernity, if not history. Because of its hidden nature, it doesn't demand the emotional reaction that other visible atrocities possess, like the Holocaust. Certainly though, any faithful Catholic (or human being with a not-yet-dulled-conscience) after a bit of reflection should be able to grasp the enormity of this evil. Nonetheless, its consequences are not so hidden. It is a hinge in the culture of death. The disavowal of life which proves inconvenient, or facing the responsibility of caring for lives that depend on a true sense of solidarity, surely draws the lines in what the alternatives in cultures would offer.

The more difficult question is alluded to at the end of his article: the "likelihood of progress on abortion against the likelihood of progress on Iraq." I'm sure that the latter is more likely than the former. After the debate last night, with McCain's lameduck responses on abortion, and the reality of what a reformer president like McCain would do if given the chance to nominate a Supreme Court Justice in a Democratic congress, it is far from a sure thing that we will get a Roberts or Alito. But as a friend of mine pointed out, unlike Bork who was too honest, Roberts and Alito showed how a constructionist candidate can get through the hearings: say little, sound very smart on the law, smarter than the questioners, avoid direct answers on Roe, etc. Someone like that could get through again, it's possible. But would another Justice like those two be nominated again? Under Obama, never. Under McCain, perhaps.

But far worse, if Obama wins (which he probably will), and Congress passes and the president signs a bill like the FOCA, then the conservative Justices will probably respect the legislated law of the land, since none of them think abortion is in the constitution, either way. Well, at least we know that with Scalia.

In the end, a real serious consideration needs to be made: one candidate will surely do more than has ever been done before to instantiate abortion rights as a part of American law, and another may continue to hold together a weak status quo that is keeping that from happening, and may possibly give the Supreme Court the chance to send the issue back to States which would seriously decrease the abortions in this country. Is this issue so critical that it is a game changer, forcing a vote for faithful Catholics? On that, I'm not sure. It does seem clear however that is indeed a critical issue.

I'll conclude with a response Cardinal George gave to a question of John Allen's, just the other day:

Therefore, in your eyes it’s not purely a matter of prudential judgment whether Roe v. Wade should be overturned?

It can’t be. If you’ve got an immoral law, you’ve got to work to change that. You’ve got children being killed every day. It goes on forever. That’s the great scandal, and that’s why there’s such a sense of urgency now. There’s no recognition of the fact that children continue to be killed, and we live, therefore, in a country drenched in blood. This can’t be something that you start playing off pragmatically against other issues.

not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea

2008-10-13T14:21:00.004-04:00

Thus Pope Benedict began his encyclical Deus Caritas Est, speaking of the fundamental nature of Christianity.

Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.

Rocco Palmo posted an address the Pope gave to the Bishops of Switzerland a couple years ago. In it he speaks of how too often being Christian is reduced to "being a good person," an ethical model, or the promulgation of moral laws. These subsidiary matters must never be mistaken for the central reaity:

what matters above all is... one's personal relationship with God, with that God who revealed himself to us in Christ. Augustine repeatedly emphasized the two sides of the Christian concept of God: God is Logos and God is Love - to the point that he completely humbled himself, assuming a human body and finally, giving himself into our hands as bread.

He later continues:

I think that this is the great task we have before us: on the one hand, not to make Christianity seem merely morality, but rather a gift in which we are given the love that sustains us and provides us with the strength we need to be able to "lose our own life". On the other hand, in this context of freely given love, we need to move forward towards ways of putting it into practice, whose foundation is always offered to us by the Decalogue, which we must interpret today with Christ and with the Church in a progressive and new way.

I often reflect on this in my job of trying to teach Ethics to high school Juniors. I often hear the response from students when I ask about the meaning of being Christian: it's about being a good person, doing the right thing, having a good intention. That reflexive response betrays the influence of a banal Kantianism (and perhaps, Protestant legalsim) in American culture (or maybe even a nominalist voluntarism if you want to go back even farther). Sometimes I hear: Christianity helps us become virtuous people, and if we are virtuous, we will be happy. Perhaps the influence of trickle-down virtue ethics, there. But not really the Christian life, as it in fact is.

An emphasis on the Decalogue has certainly become gauche in light of all the emphasis and ra-ra on virtue ethics in recent years. (Full disclosure: I have often been an advocate for such an emphasis.) Aristotle has been revitalized, and it is becoming more and more common to see teleological and virtue ethics emphasized in high school (and college) curricula.

But the Pope has an important point here. It is important to appreciate the discontinuity with Aristotle as well. The Pope did this himself in his encyclical on love:

The divine power that Aristotle at the height of Greek philosophy sought to grasp through reflection, is indeed for every being an object of desire and of love —and as the object of love this divinity moves the world—but in itself it lacks nothing and does not love: it is solely the object of love.

Alasdair MacIntyre in After Virtue and Dependent Rational Animals emphasized this from several other angles as well, particularly in regards to Aristotle's deficient appreciation of humility and the value of dependence on others in itself. Interestingly, an overemphasis on virtue ethics can sometimes have the same effect that liberal protestantism had: rendering sterile the Christian scandal, expunging it of the personal, of destiny and the cosmic, leaving it merely ethical in the end. (Certainly those such as Pinckaers seek to avoid this, and explictly locate a virtue ethics within a theological morality--but nonetheless, I feel the tendency remains, and metastisizes under less capable teachers.)

Fundamentally the problem amounts to this: even after I have understood Aristotle's Ethics, even if I am living and practicing the virtues as he explains, I find that the deepest questions in my heart, the most haunting problems in my life, remain unanswered. This is the same for my students. If we are simply teaching ethics, or rather, teaching Christianity as an ethical philosophy, the questions that really matter remain untouched. Questions like:

- do I have a personal destiny and call?
- is there a meaning and purpose in time, in the universe?
- can I find and possess real beauty?
- is there an end and solution to all this suffering in the world? a meaning to what seems senseless?
- what will happen when I die?
- will I find love? will I always be lonely in the end?
- will I always be condemned by the past? is real healing possible?
- why am I here at all, rather than not?
- what is this thing I call my self?

These are questions that transcend ethics; and they are questions that will remain unanswered if Christianity is left on the level of morals or social justice.

Christianity is fundamentally an encounter with an event, with a love that creates me and draws me and defines me, an enounter that truly takes life as you know it and radically alters it by virtue of a new horizon, a persepctive that comes in the radical surprise and gift of love, a love that the world has never before known.

Within the acceptance of Christianity, which is a surrender of love to a Person, and a new view of reality as now utterly charged and rendered through the speech of this Person, the set of moral commandments is transformed from the deontological to the interpersonal. These commands, previously seen as cold impositions or contstraints, are now revealed as invitations to love; in light of the Son, we know that obedience is the foundation for love of the Father. Not obedience in the sense of moral duty, but obedience in the sense of abandonment to an Other. Rather, it is the duty of vocation, to listen and discern and follow the will of God, a will that is manifested in very concrete, particular, and non-ethical commands. Not, when in this situation, do or don't do this; but, go here and do this thing now (i.e. marry this man; be a priest; prophesy to these people). The Decalogue thus becomes a reality of love and invitation for us in all those particular moments when we can respond to the invitation to love (i.e. the Good Samaritan, who otherwise broke many of the Jewish ceremonial laws as Samaritan).

The question of, what exactly are we doing when we teach high school religion, is a whole other problem, and a rather difficult one--but at the least, in the encounter with persons who have not yet known Christ, nomatter whom, the methodology and presentation must be: reflect on yourself; what are the deepest desires of your heart; what are the questions you burn to have answered, but never are; what are you seeking? And in the dialogue the interlocuter (teacher, missionary) has the same role: to help clue the person onto what this answer must look like, what it must be in order to be the kind of answer that really satisfies, and then, either to wait for an apostle to present that news that an answer has been given, or in fact to be sent as an apostle and communicate that good news of an answer to this person, waiting. (That distinction contains within it the whole difference between the religion teacher, and the actual apostle sent by the Church, by the way.)

And in the end, it must always be, the introduction or awakening to a Person who loves me more than I could have ever anticipated or expected, who spared nothing, even to the point of giving everything, for me.

what they say now: what they will do then

2008-10-13T13:31:00.002-04:00

In the post below, I wrote at some length why I find it difficult to justify voting for a candidate for the executive office who vigorously supports abortion rights and has promised to expand those protections. This is not to say there are not any issues on which Obama has taken a superior position.

Whispers in the Loggia has a story about African Archbishop John Onaiyekan, who just opined how he would vote for Barack Obama, arguing that it would be no sin indeed:

“Of course I believe that abortion is wrong, that it’s killing innocent life,” he said. “I also believe, however, that those who are against abortion should be consistent.

“If my choice is between a person who makes room for abortion, but who is really pro-life in terms of justice in the world, peace in the world, I will prefer him to somebody who doesn’t support abortion but who is driving millions of people in the world to death,” Onaiyekan said.

“It’s a whole package, and you never get a politician who will please you in everything,” he said. “You always have to pick and choose.”

This seems to be the central claim of more than a few Christians supporting Obama: "true, Obama supports abortion, but in reality, McCain is not going to do much to really change the status quo, and perhaps Obama won't either (if we're lucky). Besides, McCain's pro-imperialism and enthusiasm for armed conflict as diplomatic means equates to driving millions in the world to death."

Not to slander a bishop, but that's a bit exaggerated. And the fact remains: millions ARE driven to death under the guise of a medical operation, every year. We might not be so lucky either, with the question of Obama not doing much to further abortion.

But there is a fundamental insight beneath all this:

throughout this election season it has been tempting to wonder, what indeed will they do when in office. The implication is, the campaign is a lot of show and flourish, but campaign promises (and positions) often remain on the dust heap of campaigns. Presidential agendas change and are influenced by the vicissitudes of unforeseen conditions. Indeed, all truisms.

But I can't help thinking that with either McCain or Obama, there is much left undiscovered. Perhaps more than any election I know of, we've witnesses two candidates who say so much without really saying anything; candidates who change positions, move from one policy idea to the other, all in order to respond to the uber-sensitive publik who capriciously dictates from the poles.

Honestly, I think we don't know what either candidate will really do. We know what they are saying now, but it seems since they will say nearly anything to get elected, once they get there, they'll have to do something, and except for threats of a legacy and an eventual re-election campaign, as for what they might do, we don't really know. The best indication for this is probably what the candidates did, said, stood for, BEFORE the election craziness got going, back when they were just senators (although they've both always had stars in their eyes).

On that basis, we know Obama is very liberal, policy-wise, and very pro-abortion. On the flip side, we know McCain is relentlessly an opportunist, victim to whatever pseudo-reformist high-horse he deems fashionable. We also know he is even more neo-conservative (that is militaristic-imperialist) than Bush, and far less grounded (for what it's worth) in any coherent set of Christian principles or worldview.

Despite what they say now, we must judge them on what they did and said in the past--despite any of their protesting. After all, epistemologically, there is no other way to get a accurate gauge on what if anything these two stand for. Surely the uber-Machiavellian nature of the modern elective campaign process puts up a nearly insurmountable obstacle to knowing and judging whether what they are promising now will bear any relation to what they will do then.

disingenuous

2008-10-12T22:49:00.004-04:00

Professor Douglas Kmiec continues his efforts to obscure what in fact seems rather clear.

On the one hand, more bishops preach about the difficulty, if not outright impossibility, of voting for a pro-choice candidate. On the other, the ranks of prominent Catholics advocating a vote for Obama despite his pro-choice laurels, remain.

Michael Sean Winters over at the America Magazine blog is steadfast in his support. With Winters however there is no note of turning, of regret toward a failed and decrepit GOP; he, along with many others, seemed to embrace Obama immediately upon arrival. Certainly there are many "Catholics" in the public square for whom the Church's teaching on sexuality, inter alia, has fallen by the wayside. For that wandering throng, "thinking for yourself" and freely choosing what beliefs make sense, and discarding those which do not, demonstrate the absence of true Faith in any theological sense, as faith properly speaking is an assent to propositions by definition beyond understanding (i.e. these Catholics are no different than classic liberal Protestants). At least with Winters and those who share his ken, right belief is not dispensable, nor does free thinking come before religious assent.

Yet with Winters, and a number of other prominent writers and public figures, despite having affirmed their adherence to Church teaching and that they are indeed believers first, voting for anything but the Democratic party is beyond the pale. I take it they are genuinely convinced that the DNC's platform will bring about a just social order and work for the common good, within the classic models of national politics, legislation, and executive promulgation. F.D.R. remains the model par excellence, and a vigorous governmental advocate the best insurer of the common good. I do not mean to be dismissive here: think Daniel Patrick Moynihan. But the means are not far from governmental socialism. The GOP (nor anything within the broader Burkean conservative tradition) could never be a serious alternative.

What is newsworthy is that a number of conservative Catholics (notoriously more reliable on matters of orthodoxy than the left side), whom the GOP used to be able to resolutely depend on, are beginning to turn to Obama. Kmiec is the most notorious (probably because of his Republican background within the Reagan administration), but former Franciscan University board member (and also law professor) Nicholas Cafardi recently penned his apology for Obama at the National Catholic Reporter. It includes such confident affirmations:

I believe that abortion is an unspeakable evil, yet I support Sen. Barack Obama, who is pro-choice. I do not support him because he is pro-choice, but in spite of it....
Despite what some Republicans would like Catholics to believe, the list of what the church calls "intrinsically evil acts" does not begin and end with abortion. In fact, there are many intrinsically evil acts, and a committed Catholic must consider all of them in deciding how to vote.

Last November, the U.S. bishops released "Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship," a 30-page document that provides several examples of intrinsically evil acts: abortion, euthanasia, embryonic stem-cell research, torture, racism, and targeting noncombatants in acts of war....
Obama's support for abortion rights has led some to the conclusion that no Catholic can vote for him. That's a mistake. While I have never swayed in my conviction that abortion is an unspeakable evil, I believe that we have lost the abortion battle -- permanently. A vote for Sen. John McCain does not guarantee the end of abortion in America. Not even close.
Let's suppose Roe v. Wade were overturned. What would happen? The matter would simply be kicked back to the states -- where it was before 1973. Overturning Roe would not abolish abortion. It would just mean that abortion would be legal in some states and illegal in others. The number of abortions would remain unchanged as long as people could travel.

Now then, there are a number of interesting things going on here. It seems more than a bit incongruous to slide from "unspeakable evil" to "support". One wonders how much Cafardi thought about that concession. It is hard to imagine G.E.M. Anscombe, for instance, allowing such a "despite". Nonetheless he continues with a list of "intrinsically evil" acts: "abortion, euthanasia, embryonic stem-cell research, torture, racism, and targeting noncombatants in acts of war."

True enough--all evil. Nor can the prudential decision to vote for a candidate rest on one issue disregarding many. However, Cafardi never seems to consider the question of proportionality. The magnitude of the crime of abortion far outweighs the other crimes mentioned in the list. For anyone genuinely interested in subscribing to Catholic social teaching, the crime of abortion--how long it has grown, how many are killed, the intrinsic relationship it bears on the culture of death in many other ways--manifests a character no other crime (save perhaps mass murder on the scale of genocide or world war) can match. There is a basic fact of proportion owed consideration here. Instead, Cafardi thinks Obama can be supported thanks to a neat trick: although he is resolutely pro-choice, he will reduce abortions:

There's another distinction that is often lost in the culture-war rhetoric on abortion: There is a difference between being pro-choice and being pro-abortion. Obama supports government action that would reduce the number of abortions, and has consistently said that "we should be doing everything we can to avoid unwanted pregnancies that might even lead somebody to consider having an abortion." He favors a "comprehensive approach where ... we are teaching the sacredness of sexuality to our children." And he wants to ensure that adoption is an option for women who might otherwise choose abortion.
Obama worked all of that into his party's platform this year. By contrast, Republicans actually removed abortion-reduction language from their platform.

Cafardi might want to do his homework as to Obama's consistency here. Consistent since when? As Mark Stricherz over at the America Election Blog pointed out:

Take the issue of abortion. For all of the talk about Obama’s interest in reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies, he has not stood up to the abortion industry a single time; he always gives in to their requests and demands. Obama’s lack of moral courage was most evident in his votes, as an Illinois state senator, against the born-alive infant protection act. As Steven Waldman, the pro-choice founder of Beliefnet, wrote of Obama’s record on this issue,

The episode does show him to be a down-the-line pro-choice legislator. In fact, the charge that Obama is the most pro-choice candidate in years may well be true (though the other Democrats were pretty pro-choice too). When I read through the legislative history, I came to believe that Obama's general impulse was: when it doubt, side with NARAL. If you're ardently pro-life, you are absolutely justified in being scared of Obama for that reason alone, without having cast him as a serial killer.

When in doubt, side with NARAL: that impulse shows as much moral fortitude as always siding with the neighborhood bully or far worse.

Others have reference d Obama's (or rather his supporters) duplicity on this matter, as when he spoke in January of this year on the anniversary of Roe:

Thirty-five years after the Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade, it’s never been more important to protect a woman’s right to choose. Last year, the Supreme Court decided by a vote of 5-4 to uphold the Federal Abortion Ban, and in doing so undermined an important principle of Roe v. Wade: that we must always protect women’s health. With one more vacancy on the Supreme Court, we could be looking at a majority hostile to a women’s fundamental right to choose for the first time since Roe v. Wade. The next president may be asked to nominate that Supreme Court justice. That is what is at stake in this election.

Throughout my career, I’ve been a consistent and strong supporter of reproductive justice, and have consistently had a 100% pro-choice rating with Planned Parenthood and NARAL Pro-Choice America.

When South Dakota passed a law banning all abortions in a direct effort to have Roe overruled, I was the only candidate for President to raise money to help the citizens of South Dakota repeal that law. When anti-choice protesters blocked the opening of an Illinois Planned Parenthood clinic in a community where affordable health care is in short supply, I was the only candidate for President who spoke out against it. And I will continue to defend this right by passing the Freedom of Choice Act as president. . . .

But we also know that Roe v. Wade is about more than a woman’s right to choose; it’s about equality. It’s about whether our daughters are going to have the same opportunities as our sons. And so to truly honor that decision, we need to update the social contract so that women can free themselves, and their children, from violent relationships; so that a mom can stay home with a sick child without getting a pink slip; so that she can go to work knowing that there’s affordable, quality childcare for her children; and so that the American dream is within reach for every family in this country. This anniversary reminds us that it’s not enough to protect the gains of the past–we have to build a future that’s filled with hope and possibility for all Americans.

The Dean of the Notre Dame department of Philosophy, John O'Callaghan, recently put forth a rebuttal to Kmiec's argument whether a Catholic can vote for Obama, clarifying the importance of proportionality:

The question isn’t whether a Catholic “can” support Obama. The Church has made it clear that a Catholic can, as She has made it clear that a Catholic can support any pro-choice candidate for office, even one with as absolute a pro-abortion position as Obama’s, so long as the support is not directed at the pro-choice position, and one has proportionate reasons for tolerating the evil of the pro-abortion position. In arguing that a Catholic “can” support Obama, Kmiec is adding nothing to what the Church has already made clear.

The question is whether a Catholic “should” support Obama. And Kmiec has for a while been deploying several arguments to convince Catholics that they “should” support Obama over McCain....

Decisions and choices are defined by their objects—what are they about? Obama’s position is that the decision to have an abortion is a legitimate moral choice made by an individual that must be protected from any interference by any governmental entity. The relevant choice that he is “pro” with respect to is the beginning of an act of abortion. And Kmiec understates the point when he says that Obama’s position is not “fully compatible with” Catholic teaching—it is fully incompatible with Catholic teaching....

Obama’s position is that our federal constitutional order can, does, and should exclude a class of human beings from the protection of law, while McCain’s position is that it should not. This is a difference of justice at the foundation of any social order; one position destroys the conditions necessary for the common good, while the other does not. It is difficult to imagine what proportionate reasons there are for ignoring a position that destroys the conditions necessary for the common good.

Obama's polity "destroys the conditions necessary for the common good" because it excludes a whole "class of human beings from the protection of law." This is indeed the basic logic behind the Catholic Church's advocacy over the years against Roe in this country. And it is the logic, have no doubt, that continues to inspire Bishops to write letters strongly cautioning against voting for a pro-choice candidate, lest one be complicit in sin. There is no equivalence between the Democratic Party and the Republican Party here: this is no algebraic equation where one can cross out like terms in order to find an answer. One cannot so comfortably support Obama in light of this. The objections of the Bishops (and other Catholics) can be summarized by saying: if one supports a candidate defending an "unspeakable evil", one should appear suitably agonized over having to therefore support an "unspeakable evil." Perhaps there remains a confusion here over intentions: as one learns studying the classical analysis of double (or side) effect, one cannot simply direct intentions. I cannot close one eye and vote for Obama, oblivious to his resolute defense of abortion rights, merely intending to vote for him on the basis of more supportable issues.

On that note I want to return to a line Cafardi mentioned:

Obama worked all of that into his party's platform this year. By contrast, Republicans actually removed abortion-reduction language from their platform.

This is ignorant at least, disingenuous at worst. I looked up the respective platforms of the two parties. I shall not need to identify which said what.

The [...] Party strongly and unequivocally supports Roe v. Wade and a woman’s right to choose a safe and legal abortion, regardless of ability to pay, and we oppose any and all efforts to weaken or undermine that right.

The [...] Party also strongly supports access to comprehensive affordable family
planning services and age-appropriate sex education which empower people to make informed choices and live healthy lives. We also recognize that such health care and education help reduce the number of unintended pregnancies and thereby also reduce the need for abortions.

The [...] Party also strongly supports a woman’s decision to have a child by ensuring
access to and availability of programs for pre- and post-natal health care, parenting skills, income support, and caring adoption programs.

--------
--------
Faithful to the first guarantee of the Declaration of Independence, we assert the inherent dignity and sanctity of all human life and affirm that the unborn child has a fundamental individual right to life which cannot be infringed. We support a human life amendment to the Constitution, and we endorse legislation to make clear that the Fourteenth Amendment’s protections apply to unborn children. We oppose using public revenues to promote or perform abortion and will not fund organizations which advocate it. We support the appointment of judges who respect traditional family values and the sanctity and dignity of innocent human life.

We have made progress. The Supreme Court has upheld prohibitions against the barbaric practice of partial-birth abortion. States are now permitted to extend health-care coverage to children before birth. And the Born Alive Infants Protection Act has become law; this law ensures that infants who are born alive during an abortion receive all treatment and care that is provided to all newborn infants and are not neglected and left to die. We must protect girls from exploitation and statutory rape through a parental notification requirement. We all have a moral obligation to assist, not to penalize, women struggling with the challenges of an unplanned pregnancy. At its core, abortion is a fundamental assault on the sanctity of innocent human life. Women deserve better than abortion. Every effort should be made to work with women considering abortion to enable and empower them to choose life. We salute those who provide them alternatives, including pregnancy care centers, and we take pride in the tremendous increase in adoptions that has followed [party] legislative initiatives.

In case there is any doubt, here is what Obama has stated clearly in his Blueprint for Change:

Obama has been a consistent champion of reproductive choice and will make preserving a women’s right to choose under Roe v. Wade a priority as president. Obama also supports expanded access to contraception, health information and preventive services to reduce unintended pregnancies.

And even more ironically, he proffers this concession on his website:

Barack Obama understands that abortion is a divisive issue, and respects those who disagree with him. However, he has been a consistent champion of reproductive choice and will make preserving women's rights under Roe v. Wade a priority as President. He opposes any constitutional amendment to overturn the Supreme Court's decision in that case.

Cafardi, Kmiec, and others, as O'Callaghan points out, simply ignore the fact that both Obama and the DNC resolutely support and advocate a pro-abortion agenda, and notably, desire to expand abortion rights with the Freedom of Choice Act. Respecting the nature of abortion as an "unspeakable evil", and the most destructive constitutive element of the culture of death, it indeed continues to remain doubtful that a faithful Catholic could support a candidate advocating such an agenda.

[And in order to prevent any confusion: this is not a defense for voting for McCain, or Republicans for that matter, but only an argument for why one cannot vote for a strongly pro-choice candidate for president. I do not think the former simply follows from the latter. In fact, I believe one should not vote for McCain, for different reasons; and I think the Republican Party has its own problems that places it fundamentally at odds with the Catholic worldview. But that is a post for another day.]

I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.

2008-10-12T10:52:00.002-04:00

The quote is from George Orwell, "Why I write".

I have decided to return to blogging. Faith, politics, art, the quotidian, and the rest, shall all be considered for review.

The search is what anyone would undertake if he were not sunk in the everydayness of his own life.

2008-09-09T23:00:00.000-04:00

To become aware of the possibility of the search is to be onto something. Not to be onto something is to be in despair.

All bets are off. I am now teaching theology at DeMatha Catholic High School near Washington DC.

The phases of fire are craving and satiety.

2007-11-28T21:18:00.000-05:00

Well, much has changed. That's an understatement, I suppose.

I've been absent from blogging since June; after a good bit of transition, several life-changing decisions, and the traversing of many miles, I awoke to find myself in Peoria, Illinois--where anything will play, apparently, as long as it is beige and sleepy enough.

At some point I may start blogging again, but I think it will be under a different form--and when it happens, I'll provide the link. Until then, I've provided a side-bar of some of my favorite posts.

How am I?

From Walker Percy's The Last Gentleman:

For until this moment he had lived in a state of pure
possibility, not knowing what sort of man he was or what he must
do, and supposing therefore that he must be all men and do
everything. But after this morning's incident his life took a
turn in a particular direction. Thereafter he came to see that
he was not destined to do everything but only one or two things.
Lucky is the man who does not secretly believe that every
possibility is open to him.

Not with a bang but with a whimper.

2007-06-11T18:59:00.001-04:00

"Made In America" was perfect. I think Chase created the perfect ending to an amazing work of art; he somehow managed to remain innovative and authentic, despite the mass pandering of hungry fans for closure. Among the many reviews of this last episode, I am still amazed at the lack of a grasp for Chase's main tool: irony. The use of irony seperates a good from great work of art, particularly in creating that subtlety that distinguishes it from kitsch.

Chase's ending was triumphant, and despite what some have said, wonderfully tragic. The tragedy is the banality of the Soprano family at the end. The purpose of la cosa nostra was to prevent the onslaught of industrial modernity, particularly in how it destroyed local culture and prevented the organic life of the family. Despite all the evil means, the creation of the peculiar Italian version of the timeless mob embued it with this distinctive characteristic; no one makes movies (or at least, good ones) about Russian mobs, Japanese mobs, etc.

In this light, I see Sopranos as a deeply conservative work of art, with an equally conservative (if, perhaps, ultimately despairing) message, accomplished through thoroughly ironic methods. This is not to say that Chase intended to trick the viewer: the objective intelligent critic will receive an even greater delight (as St. Thomas points out, the purpose of art) in recognizing the careful irony. An artist cannot take responsibility for the viewer; that most viewers of the Sopranos seemed to revel in the literal canvas and missed the deeper meanings, all the worse for them.

The ending of the episode is was simply that--an ending. Rather than postulate what happened after the screen went black--which is an absurd question, since there is no show after the sudden black--the abrubtness itself of the ending should be our point of reflection: it immediately reminded me of T.S. Eliot's "Hollow Men." I've always thought that unresolved endings are superior to all bathetic ones which wrap everything up. In this way I suppose I reveal my sensibilities as thoroughly modernist: but I do believe this is truer to the purpose and aims of art.

With the Sopranos, it indeed worked perfectly. Nothing else needed to be said. Whatever might have happened afterwards was irrelevant: in the order of meaning, the ending had been purchased. So it does end for the Sopranos, with the slouching into suburban despair and diversion, the last vestages of the old world and its values dead or dying, and what was la cosa nostra is given its epitaph by cheesy pop songs, by a typical American diner, and the suffocation of any hope for the children Meadow and A.J. More than anyone else, I think the show was about them. Carmela, who wanted to let her children find a straight way for her children to succeed and be happy, ended up leading them back into that hole through her own Tony-esque machinations. (She is not all that different from him, after all.) The possible portents to an impending disaster allowed us to recognize even more the tragic end for this family; typical signs for a typical gangster ending, which from the camera (viewer's) perspective look ominous, are revealed to be a farce in the face of the flatness of what the Family has wrought.

In this episode, the overwheming theme was death; not in grandiose fashion, but in fact, in reality, how it is for most--the senseless end without incident or consequence. So too, the death of this show in its final episode. At once both ripe with the accumulated meaning of six seasons, and yet, senseless.

This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Limitations of the Welfare State

2007-05-20T11:20:00.000-04:00

The excellent blog, Reasons and Opinions, had some interesting thoughts, apposite of a discussion at Mirror of Justice, on the recent election in France, and the merits/demerits of the modern European welfare state. For my part, aside from momentary prudential considerations, there seems to be a deep price to pay for statist-socialism. On the other hand, I do not consider the neo-liberal American alternative to be all that different.

On this note, George Will had some recent prescient words:

Two decades ago, the sociologist Daniel Bell wrote about "the cultural contradictions of capitalism" to express this worry: Capitalism flourishes because of virtues that its flourishing undermines. Its success requires thrift, industriousness and deferral of gratifications, but that success produces abundance, expanding leisure and the emancipation of appetites, all of which weaken capitalism's moral prerequisites.
The cultural contradictions of welfare states are comparable. Such states presuppose economic dynamism sufficient to generate investments, job creation, corporate profits and individuals' incomes from which comes tax revenue needed to fund entitlements.
But welfare states produce in citizens an entitlement mentality and a low pain threshold. That mentality inflames appetites for more entitlements, broadly construed to include all government benefits and protections that contribute to welfare understood as material well-being, enhanced security and enlarged leisure.
The low pain threshold causes a ruinous flinch from the rigors, insecurities, uncertainties and dislocations inherent in the creative destruction of dynamic capitalism. The flinch takes the form of protectionism, regulations and other government-imposed inefficiencies that impede the economic growth that the welfare state requires.
So welfare states are, paradoxically, both enervating and energizing -- and infantilizing. They are enervating because they foster dependency; they are energizing because they aggravate an aggressive (think of burning Peugeots) sense of entitlement; they are infantilizing because it is infantile to will an end without willing the means to that end, and people who desire welfare states increasingly desire relief from the rigors necessary to finance them.

I have said it before, and I suppose it will never fail bearing repeating, but the modern (conservative-liberal) vision of the state is built upon a set of principles that are opposed to what the Church teaches is the truth about man, the world, and his vocation in it. This does not mean that there cannot be good things in the reality of the modern state, in what politicians do, in the law. But I would hold that the good therein derives, not from those modern principles, but only inasmuch as they follow them, from those authentic principles based on the truth of human nature and its corporate vocation.

So to me, it comes as no surprise to read one often accused of being liberal strongly opposing the welfare state:

Samuel Johnson said that a pensioner was a slave of the state. That is his definition in his famous dictionary. Of coarse, he himself was glad of his pension, human nature being what it is, and poverty being hard as it is.
We believe that social security legislation, now balled as a great victory for the poor and for the worker, is a great defeat for Christianity. It is an acceptance of the Idea of force and compulsion. It is an acceptance of Cain's statement, on the part of the employer. "Am I my brother's keeper?" Since the employer can never be trusted to give a family wage, nor take care of the worker as he takes care of his machine when it is idle, the state must enter in and compel help on his part. Of course, economists say that business cannot afford to act on Christian principles. It Is impractical, uneconomic. But it is generally coming to be accepted that such a degree of centralization as ours is impractical, and that there must be decentralization. In other words, business has made a mess of things, and the state has had to enter in to rescue the worker from starvation.

Of course, Pope Pius XI said that, when such a crisis came about, in unemployment, fire, flood, earthquake, etc., the state had to enter in and help.
But we in our generation have more and more come to consider the state as bountiful Uncle Sam. "Uncle Sam will take care of it all. The race question, the labor question, the unemployment question."[....]
Yes, the poor have been robbed of the good material things of life, and when they asked for bread, they have been given a stone. They have been robbed of a philosophy of labor. They have been betrayed by their teachers and their political leaders. They have been robbed of their skills and made tenders of the machine. They cannot cook; they have been given the can. They cannot spin or weave or sew-they are urged to go to Klein's and get a dress for four ninety-eight.

Bought and paid for? Yes, bought and paid for by their own most generous feelings of gratitude. Of course, they feel grateful. In spite of their talk about taxes and justice, they are grateful to the good, kind government that takes care of them. St. Teresa said that she was of so grateful a temperament she could be bought with a sardine. St. Ignites said that love is an exchange of gifts. The government gives its paternal care and the people give their support to that particular governing body. Naturally they do not want change.

But who is to take care of them if the government does not7 That is a question in a day when all are turning to the state, and when people are asking, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Certainly we all should know that it is not the province of the government to practice the works of mercy, or go in for Insurance. Smaller bodies, decentralized groups, should be caring for all such needs.

The first unit of society is the family. The family should look after its own and, In addition, as the early fathers said, "every home should have a Christ room in it, so that hospitality may be practiced." "The coat that hangs in your closet belongs to the poor." "If your brother is hungry, it is your responsibility."

"When did we see Thee hungry, when did we see Thee naked?" People either plead ignorance or they say "It is none of my responsibility." But we are all members one of another, so we are obliged in conscience to help each other. The parish is the next unit, and there are local councils of the St. Vincent de Paul Society. Then there is the city, and the larger body of charitable groups. And there are the unions, where mutual aid and fraternal charity is also practiced. For those who are not Catholics there are lodges fraternal organizations, where there is a long tradition of charity. But now there is a dependence on the state. Hospitals once Catholic are subsidized by the state. Orphanages once supported by Catholic charity receive their aid from community chests. And when it is not the state it is bingo parties!

THE poor mother of six cannot reject the one hundred and eighty dollars. She cannot say, "Keep your miserable, puny, insufficient $180 which you give men in exchange for my husband." She has poverty, Involuntary poverty.

But we must reject it. We must keep on talking about voluntary poverty, and holy poverty, because it is only it we can consent to strip ourselves that we can put on Christ. It is only if we love poverty that we are going to have the means to help others. It we love poverty we will be free to give up a job, to speak when we feel it would be wrong to be silent. We can only talk about voluntary poverty because we believe Christians must be fools for Christ. We can only embrace voluntary poverty in the light of faith. ("More About Holy Poverty. Which Is Voluntary Poverty," The Catholic Worker, February 1945.)

Dorothy Day.

Too comfortably with us...

2007-05-14T18:48:00.000-04:00

The Sopranos is perhaps the finest dramatic work of contemporary culture. This is not news. The purpose of art is not to produce edifying material. The Sopranos does not do that. Nor is it at all sentimental. Amazingly, a television show which has managed to escape the common fatuity of that medium.

Watching last night's episode, Kennedy and Heidi, (also reviewed at Commonweal's blog) it occurred to me, perhaps The Sopranos has been portraying all along the limits and terrain of Kierkegaard's Aesthetic stage. Aside from the dramatic tension served by the varying successes of the mob business itself and its inner family politics, over the years we have seen these characters, now familiar to us, seek in repetition some lasting satisfaction. The murders and the farcical moments seem to fade to a gray background, but what is prominent and lasting is the spiraling emptiness, the terrible groping and strangling for every last thing. In the aesthetic stage, man is at most a consumer, seeking after this pleasure, that fancy, whatever momentary object that can distract and divert him from the emptiness and despair inside.

The reality this show presents to us is indeed a very real Hell, but more along the lines of C.S. Lewis's Great Divorce than other varieties. The glaring absence in this universe of The Sopranos, however, is the lack of a message in the bottle, a word from beyond, the possibility of salvation intervening from without. At least thankfully, there is no ridiculous liberal sentimental salvation from within, out of man's own resources. Note the comical import of A.J.'s final comment to his psychiatrist, "why can't we all just get along?" What was a punch-line fifteen years ago because of the L.A. riots, now demonstrates the poverty of what any humanistic salvation can do, to quote another infamous line, "like a patient etherized upon a table." There is a wickedness deep at root that psychology cannot even comprehend, that the mafioso throughout the seasons cannot really grasp; it is that heart of darkness that destroys all it touches. It is the naked selfishness of Tony, manifested in his libido dominandi, that cannot tolerate rivals, that cannot bear the delight of others. It is the avarice and vanity of Carmela, who knows the truth and yet loves the world and its comforts more than real freedom. It is the ressentiment of Christopher that ends in addiction and weakness. It is the feebleness and impotency of A.J., and the hypocrisy of Meadow.

What lies in this heart of man should not surprise. What is truly sad is that in this show's universe, God is absent and sends no message of salvation. I don't know if there is any character that really represents Kierkegaard's ethical stage in the show--but there is no possibility of a conversion to the religious stage, because there is no word from above. The closest thing is the partial omniscience of psychiatry, but that too is exposed by David Chase as ultimately sterile.

This last season, in my opinion, has been the best of them all. And I sense Chase building to something, subtly, a message. There may have been a peek in this last episode. Several devices, uncommon perhaps for the prominence in which they appeared, at last came out as hermeneutical keys: The Departed (the soundtrack of which Christopher plays), the song "Comfortably Numb" sung by Roger Waters and Van Morrison, and the Wordsworth sonnet "The World is too much with us". The Departed is noteworthy for a rare cross-media reference, especially in that it is a current one, so close to the show's intentions. It might normally be seen as a competitor, save for the obvious reverence Chase holds Scorsese in. And we know what his movies were all about: "My whole life has been movies and religion. That’s it. There is nothing else." The Departed is a vision of sin and the nihilism it can only bring: all the characters, good and bad, are brought down by their involvement in evil.

All the more in The Sopranos. Even though a casual viewer may delight in being titillated by the casual violence, the vulgar and comical dialog, and of course the gratuitous T&A shots, the thoughtful viewer will have seen sin de-romanticized. Goodfellas has done this in the venue of a feature film; The Sopranos has done it with far more depth in ten years of television.

And what are we left with in the end? "Is there anybody in there... is there anyone home?" Note the irony of Roger Waters's words: "I can ease your pain," if only you can "tell me where it hurts." Of course, this is the last thing Tony can do. Oh how he wishes he knew; if only he could diagnose the despair. But he cannot. Walker Percy spent his life as a philosopher and a novelist pointing out how we cannot objectify or figure out the self; despite all the knowledge of science, man remains just as much a mystery to himself, nor can he save himself from his own despair, the eventual inanity and boredom of a vain life. Christopher, for his part, has exhausted his resources: "the child is grown, the dream is gone." He has been, as Tony is becoming, "comfortably numb."

But unknowable to himself. Such is the nature of the repetition and rotation of the Aesthetic stage. It is a viciously circular movement of distraction. How interesting then that in those brief moments of transcendence (before the fall back into the sphere of immanence) afforded by drugs, A.J. and Tony have such disparate experiences. For A.J., his is a moment right out of a Walker Percy novel. In the equilibrium provided for by his anti-depressants, and the sudden word from without provided by the classroom, A.J. sees all in a sudden fury just how terrible the world is. "Getting and spending, we waste our powers." (Written on the board in A.J.'s classroom. Note the professor poses Wordsworth's sonnet as a question to the classroom, and of course, to us, the viewer, after which we are immediately transported to Tony's Vegas escape.) Yes, but even worse than Wordsworth imagined. Who wouldn't be depressed, who wouldn't go crazy seeing how screwed up the world is, this is A.J.'s prescient insight, one which his psychiatrist cannot share, as he merely plays his role as scientist, and does not see the world as man. But A.J. does. The utter poverty of his existence, laid before him after beating the Somalian bicyclist, cannot be explained or medicated away.

Tony has his moment of transcendence too. Indeed, in six seasons, the world has been too much with him. He has "given his heart away, a sordid boon!" Getting and spending. A heartless consumer. Death, as it often has, once again creeps towards Tony by means of the murder of Christopher and the mourning of his family. The abyss has stared back at Tony. Once again, a diversion. He flees like a child who cannot face reality, and flies in a surrealistic moment to Vegas. If Wordsworth saw all that was corrupt and fallen in the industrial decadence and malaise of the modern city, surely Las Vegas is the apotheosis of that symbol, the greatest production of our techno-industrial society predicated on consumption. There, better than any other place, man can even forget he is a self.

Tony escapes the sphere of immanence, first conventionally in sexual adventure with a new object of erotic satisfaction, without the complications of duty, sympathy, friendship, sacrifice--just raw physical sex. This movement of transcendence is brought to a pitch in the ingestion of peyote, a hallucinogenic. Then a Wordsworthian movement from the Technopolis to the D.H. Lawrence-esque desert can occur. The body is brought to the peak of its sensory powers by the drug, even overcoming the feeble mind in disorientation, so much so that the rules of life seem to bed--as Tony wins without fail in roulette. The final moment of the episode comes in juxtaposition to A.J.'s cruel insight and awakening: in the majestic sun of the desert and its awesome landscape, Tony is moved by nature (in direct opposition to Wordsworth's complaint), and cries, "I get it!" Has he had a genuine transition of the kind Worsworth advocated, a movement from the industrial darkness to the purity of nature? Perhaps in this fantastical moment he has grasped the gratuity of existence, even, creation--but I doubt it. I take those last lines, that last scene, ironically. I cannot but take it that way because of A.J.'s epiphany. Tony's ecstasy is provided for by a life built upon the very evil A.J. has despaired of. Most importantly, Tony's ecstasy is temporary and illusory--certainly it is not trustworthy. It is drug-induced, after all, twisted in the placid affection of a stripper.

Wordsworth has no answer or remedy, beyond a wishful longing for that lost age of paganism. We do not have to wait long to see how that fails. W.B. Yeats, more than anyone else, tried to seriously resurrect the pagan life and vision, and ended in defeat. Robert Frost eventually came to a Platonic contempt of the matter of which he wrote so beautifully. Romanticism as a movement is a lesson in exhaustion. Perhaps only T.S. Eliot, alone in his generation, successfully moved out of the Romantic tradition and recovered the metaphysical vision that he eventually received as "Ash Wednesday", courtesy of Dante, John of the Cross, and Pascal.

I don't think David Chase is up to that. But what was he up to in this, perhaps the greatest of all Sopranos episodes thus far? The world is too much with us--yes it is, and it cannot save us. But what else? Will there be a word from without, a message in the bottle, the possibility of good news? Will Tony end like Don Giovanni, plunging into hell consumed by his lustful passions, still striving after them? Will he descend into the freeze of Lucifer's jaw, having betrayed his closest friends? Or will his end be not a bang, but a whimper, into forgetful nothingness?

Only three episodes left.

The Politics of Abortion

2007-05-11T09:16:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite blogs, Reasons and Opinions, has a post linking the current interest in Pope Benedict's comments over whether politicians who support abortion should be denied communion, or have even automatically excommunicated themselves, and whether the Mexican Bishops in fact said this, to an older post where he looks at the consternation in the Catholic conservative community over N. Pelosi receiving communion without a public rebuke from her bishops.

I have sympathy for some of the points Morning's Minion makes, but ultimately I take a different position.

I do believe this issue is of fundamental importance, so here goes an outline at the exigencies for (in my opinion) the reasonable and faithful position.

First, it is a fact that because abortion is a clandestine affair, it conveniantly exists in a realm far removed from more immediate concerns. It is only after one has done work in active pro-life ministry, whether working with mothers, protesting at abortion "clinics", or even pre-natal medical work, that one begins to feel the seriousness of this evil.

In thinking and discussing this issue, I believe it is helpful to use a more viseral analogy. So I turn to the Holocaust.

When discussing political realities and options, the morality of what kind of support or cooperation is material, etc., try substituting "the Holocaust" for "abortions". I do think this clarifies things. In fact, we tend to be (rightly I think) rather harsh on those whom even had a remote cooperation in the Holocaust. I do not think we are as harsh with the tragedy of abortion. But make no mistake it is as evil in its magnitude (if perhaps not in the malicious intent of its perpertrators--but that is of course not why we oppose the evil, not for the malicious intent, but for its great consequences) as what Nazi Germany accomplished over sixty years ago.

It may be true that such American politicians casually adopt a pro-choice position, but this does not erase their culpability. Particularly since their great crime is manifest: NOT doing what can very much be done to stop this tremendous evil. Although the legality of abortion was procured by the Judiciary in the United States, this does not preclude the responsibility of the other branches of our government. In fact, this is how our government works. They do indeed have the power and prerogative, and in this case, MUST use it, and many do not. In fact, most "Catholic" representatives do not work to change abortion.

I find the objection that a culture where abortion is criminal only encourages more (and unsafe) abortions to be fallacious. Certainly it is just as possible to create laws and policies that will aid and assist mothers who are in such situations, just as much as it is possible to outlaw abortions.

And just as much as I do not buy the argument that Bishops in Germany and elsewhere in Europe who did not condemn the Nazis were being prudent unpersuasive, so to do I not excuse the Bishops today who seem to do little to raise the public consciousness and admonish our political representatives.

However, I think there is a serious problem in the way the "pro-life" agenda has been instantiated in the American Catholic consciousness. For one, it fails as a litmus test. Politicians are usually not honest, and early on in their careers (for it takes quite a bit of manuevering to succeed in politics) became formed in such a way, learning the expediency in taking certain positions and saying certain things, so as to appear a certain way, so as to remain in power. Political rhetoric is deeply corrupted in this country, and I hold that the default position of hearing such rheotric by a voter must be distrust. It is a reality that many politicians have used pro-lifers, and furthermore, jejune conservative Catholics have wittingly or not supported these machinations by requiring such a litmus test, instead of teaching and promoting an informed and conscientious inquiry into the reality of American politics. The reality as I see it is, most "pro-life" politicians have no intention of (let alone understanding) promoting a Catholic worldview, commonweal, social ethic, etc. Most are deeply instrumentalist/consequentialist/utilitarian of a realpolitik stripe, deeply intrenched in the modern liberal (in the wide sense) ethos (both convservatives and liberals; see Macintyre), fundamentally inimical to the Christian understanding of man, society, the common good, and the nature and destiny of the world.

In a word: the "pro-life" label we put such a premium on is one of the most superficial and easily manipulated labels in politics.

Secondly, I think voting pro-life is the last thing we should do to fight abortion; I mean that literally. It only works when it follows a host of other coordinated and logical efforts to resist and attempt to change the culture of death. Too often, as long as one votes pro-life, the attitude is, I've done my bit for king and country, and now I can wait until the next presidential election to concern myself with such things again.

However, I do think the Bishops should take a more vigorous, and more antagonistic stance with most of our political representatives; I think it is far more worthwhile to clarify the opposition between God and mammon, to stand for principle and the Truth, and to aid the Church in living its mission (i.e. not confusing itself with a worldly organization but rather faithfully living its prophetic and eschatological mission).

I understand that most Catholics in this country default to a John Courtney Murray kind of benign cooperation between the United States and the Church, and believe a love of America and a love for the Church coalesce--what I am arguing for relates to a more fundamental paradigm shift, a different set of principles for thinking about the relationship between the Mystical Body of Christ and the nation-state.

Love in the Ruins

2007-05-07T11:14:00.000-04:00

There is an interesting video up (probably not for long) at the NYTimes website, on the role of sex in the lives of various middle-aged people. The title of the short is "Naked", but I think it could just as well be called, "sex in a society where Christianity isn't even a glint in the eye." Of course, Christianity is not mentioned, but should be, since the film is motivated by the spirit of the erotic, which Walker Percy (following Kierkegaard's observation) points out in Lost in the Cosmos is a consequence of the Christian event, the opposition between the spirit and the flesh, or as he titles it, "the demoniac spirit of the erotic." There is a helpful article by John Desmond that explains this nicely:

In the section in Lost in the Cosmos titled "The Demoniac Self," Percy made a rather strange statement. He said: "Soren Kierkegaard ... said that Christianity first brought the erotic spirit into the world . . . Kierkegaard wrote: 'Sensualism, viewed from the standpoint of Spirit, was first posited by Christianity.'" Percy then explained that what Kierkegaard meant was that while sensualism had indeed existed in paganism, it did not exist "as a spiritual category," but as "an expression of harmony and unison." To clarify his remark, Kierkegaard added: "In the Greek consciousness, the sensuous was under the control of the beautiful personality or, more rightly stated, it was not controlled, for it was not an enemy to be subjugated, not a dangerous rebel who should be held in check." In contrast to the Greeks, Kierkegaard argued that in the Christian era the sensuous-erotic becomes "a qualified spirituality, that is to say, so qualified that the Spirit excludes it; if I imagine this principle concentrated in a single individual, then I have a concept of the sensuouserotic genius. This is an idea which the Greeks did not have, which Christianity first brought into the world, even if only in an indirect sense".

Kierkegaard's language here is typically abstract and complex. What does it mean to say that the sensuous-erotic is a "qualified spirituality," one that is "so qualified that the Spirit excludes it"? Kierkegaard seems to say that, under Christianity, the sensuous-erotic spirit in human beings is an ambiguous power which can be exercised toward the love of God and fellow humans, or exercised as a destructive force if not controlled, or as Kierkegaard says, "excluded by the Spirit." Adopting Kierkegaard's view of the sensuous-erotic, Percy argued that it is not to be confused with the ordinary biological sex drive, but understood, in Kierkegaard's terms, rather as "the inspiration of the flesh by the spirit of the flesh." Kierkegaard called the spirit of the flesh "demoniac," which, Percy says, implies "possession of the soul by an unbenign spirit". A person so possessed by an "unbenign spirit" is what Percy called a "demoniac self." Percy saw what he called the modern "autonomous self," i.e. the unbelieving self, as possessed by this demoniac spirit and by a secret love of violence. According to Percy, this combination of autonomy and the secret passion for violence led to millions of brutal killings in the twentieth century and now threatens the future of the race.

The overwhelming impression I had from watching this film was, how pathetic. Sex is either, a release, uninteresting, animalistic terror, middle-aged pastime, or controlling imposition. The Catholic understanding of sex as a sign--that points to and illustrates the deeper spiritual reality of the gift of self, which is ulteriorly referred to the image in which God created us, His own Trinitarian life, and is the very substratum of reality, in that it reveals and aids man in loving God above all, through the sacramental mediation of an Other--of course was entirely absent.

I once wrote a paper applying Percy's (which is really C.S. Peirce's) intepretation of the triadic structure of human knowing (centered on the concept or inner word as sign) to John Paul II's hermeneutics of the gift, otherwise known as his catechesis on the theology of the body. The body is the preeminant sign. Or as Percy would say, the body is not simply there, it cannot be explained dyadically or binomially, but means something, and this meaning is an irreducible third thing.

But back to my original point: we should be very worried. For as Percy prophesied, when sex is no longer the preferred mode of transcendence, when it loses its power to catapult one from the world of immanence, and instead remains just another instrument of malaise and ennui, all that does remain is the love of violence. The successor to the age of free love? The age of total war and violence. How naïve we are to think we have moved past that age.

Christianity: a social principle for creating a just world, or...

2007-04-30T09:23:00.000-04:00

a re-birth into a new other-worldy reality?

It seems easy to predict that Obama-mania will rise to a pitch in the second half of 2007. The notion of a political messiah is incredibly attractive to many, and Obama does seem to move down that vein.

In today's paper, the NY Times has an article about Sen. Obama's Christian faith and his relationship with his pastor. I am trying to maintain a distance from this political election and its manic fever, and I do not want to give in to the temptation to judge a person based on fleeting media reports. Nonetheless, I am struck by Obama's own (or at least, the appearance created by the writer of the article) understanding of his faith, as well as his pastor's understanding of what it means to be Christian.

If anything, this article reassures me in my conviction that Sen. Obama is simply more of the same, and really does not bring a new kind of debate or discussion to politics (certainly not the one that is needed; see Macintyre, et al.). And his seemingly fresh and unconventional relationship to his faith seems to be more of the same Secular City bru-ha-ha.

In other words, 19th century Liberal Protestantism is by no means dead. Christianity, under that guise, is about effecting social change in the world, inspired by the loving witness of the great non-violent and forgiving prophet, Jesus Christ. Things like, his Divinity, the covenantal fulfillment of Israel, spiritual metanoia, the predestination of all creation in Christ, the Resurrection of the body, the giving of the Holy Spirit and the importance of His gifts, all are marginal, unimportant, and even non-existent.

Here is something to my point:

Mr. Obama has written that when he became a Christian, he “felt God’s spirit beckoning” and “submitted myself to His will and dedicated myself to discovering His truth.” While he has said he shares core Christian beliefs in God and in Jesus as his resurrected son, he sometimes mentions doubts. In his second book, he admitted uncertainty about the afterlife, and “what existed before the Big Bang.” Generally, Mr. Obama emphasizes the communal aspects of religion over the supernatural ones.

Entirely different than saying, there are social consequences to accepting the articles of Faith as first principles.

“The problems of poverty and racism, the uninsured and the unemployed, are not simply technical problems in search of the perfect 10 point plan,” Mr. Obama says in one of his standard campaign lines. “They are rooted in both societal indifference and individual callousness — in the imperfections of man.”

He often makes reference to the civil rights movement, when liberals used Christian rhetoric to win change.

Using Christian "rhetoric" for social goals is the classic modus operandi of the liberal Secular City movement. Forget all that messy mythological stuff; let's just focus on the social aspects of Christianity that everyone can agree on, right?

Wrong. What is presented is simply a castrated, impotent form of Christianity. If recent Biblical Criticism can teach us anything, it's that Christianity absolutely did not begin as a kind of political beneficence, or as a message for social change. Rather, it began, in very sectarian manner, as the eschatological fulfillment of the Jewish religion centered on the notion and reality of the Messiah and the Kingdom of God.

Mr. Obama reassures liberal audiences about the role of religion in public life, and he tells conservative Christians that he understands why abortion horrifies them and why they may prefer to curb H.I.V. through abstinence instead of condoms. AIDS has spread in part because “the relationship between men and women, between sexuality and spirituality, has broken down, and needs to be repaired,” he said to thunderous applause in December at the megachurch in California led by the Rev. Rick Warren, a best-selling author.

He may say so but I don't think he understands, as shown by a recent statement on the Gonzales decision:

I strongly disagree with today's Supreme Court ruling, which dramatically departs from previous precedents safeguarding the health of pregnant women. As Justice Ginsburg emphasized in her dissenting opinion, this ruling signals an alarming willingness on the part of the conservative majority to disregard its prior rulings respecting a woman's medical concerns and the very personal decisions between a doctor and patient. I am extremely concerned that this ruling will embolden state legislatures to enact further measures to restrict a woman's right to choose, and that the conservative Supreme Court justices will look for other opportunities to erode Roe v. Wade, which is established federal law and a matter of equal rights for women.

As we get closer to next year's presidential election, the temptation to concede to political messianism will increase. Many Catholics, including orthodox ones, will present a rhetorical argument that so much depends upon the election of a moral candidate. What is missed of course, from looking at merely surface positions (which in fact are debatable as really being held by the politician in question, with any conviction, or merely enthused about in an election year), is how the political reality as such in contemporary America is hostile to any real substantive discussion or inquiry into the nature of the common good and how we should go about seeking it. Christianity will be used as fodder for the maintenance of the same regime, and the questions that really need asking will go unasked, the solutions that are really needed not even guessed at or imagined.

Beyond this though, the continued use by many, of Christianity as an impetus for social reform, remains deeply disturbing, especially because so many Christians listen sympathetically. Stanley Hauerwas in Resident Aliens makes the provocative claim that the worse thing that happened to the church is the acceptance of the Niebuhrian thesis that the church must transform the culture. It does not follow that such a position leaves Hauerwas with Niebuhr's "Christ against culture" alternative. Rather, the purpose and job of the church is simply that first: to be the church. Being the church is no simply denominational thing; being the church entails a whole range of actions, relations, practices, virtues, concerns, speech, etc. Any social effect the Gospels have will be a consequence of first being faithful to Christ and what it means to live the Gospel in the church (in ways like mercy, forgiveness, accountability, etc.).

If this sounds a bit naive or pedestrian, such a thesis I believe has much in common with David Schindler's thesis that it is only as the Church that the Church can offer salvation. If it tries to find a middle ground with liberalism, adopting its notions of freedom, the market, community, nature/grace, it will inevitably fail, because it has adopted principles (the principles of modernity) that are fundamentally at odds with the view of reality Christianity supposes.

Liberation theology (or how one conceives it) proves the great example here. Liberal Christianity can only result in a full-blown liberation theology, the kind which eliminates the supernatural and eschatological in favor of a this-worldly social liberation, and makes the central content of the Gospel this message of social liberation. As John Milbank has shown, this is a logical consequence of adopting the principles of the Rahnerian school (which in effect, naturalizes the supernatural), rather than the de Lubacian, which would see the flowering of the natural only in its supernatural revelation and destiny. An authentic theology of liberation is still very much needed, that will probably still be seen as threatening and radical by many, but in fact will proceed from very different principles thereby leading to different conclusions. (Jim Wallis vs. Dorothy Day, if you like.)

There CANNOT be a sufficient secular politic or philosophy. If the most we can offer is "social justice" and "equality", or if that is what Christianity, when all is said and done, moves us to work for, we have indeed lost everything for a mess of pottage.

The only true liberation that will work, that can offer what the world really needs, is the Kingdom of God, the Eucharist, the life in the Holy Spirit. Because we have implicitly adopted the modern exclusion of the sacred from the public realm of discourse, we have conceded to the failure of all worldly attempts at salvation.

Saint Louis University: Catholic and Jesuit? Depends on whom you ask...

2007-04-25T12:03:00.000-04:00

Being many months since I last picked up the blogger’s gauntlet, here is a nice controversial topic to get things going.

Over at Open Book, Amy Welborn has a post that has generated a bit of discussion. It’s not the usual hackneyed bash-the-Jesuits thing (well, some of the comments go that way), but a point of disapproval over a “Jesuitical” finessing of Establishment Clause law.

More to the point, the Supreme Court of Missouri has recently decided that Saint Louis University (self-described as a “Jesuit, Catholic University”), sued by The Masonic Temple of St. Louis for violating Federal and State Establishment laws because of public funding for a new University sports arena, does not violate such establishment laws, because the University is not “controlled by a religious creed,” among other consequent distinctions.

This may come as a surprise to Catholics and other Jesuit University alumni. Even more surprising is the claim that “the university is not a religious institution simply because it is affiliated with the Jesuits or the Roman Catholic Church.” First Amendment scholars who are familiar with Bradfield v. Roberts might not be as surprised. However, in the present case, the Missouri Court elaborates on what “control” might mean:

Mere affiliation with a religion does not indicate that a higher education institution is "controlled by a religious creed" for purposes of Missouri's establishment clause. "Control by a religious creed" suggests that that the religious component dictates the institution's administration and oversight. "Control by religious creed" is likely to include a religious doctrine as the core decision-making model for the university and will also be marked by efforts to indoctrinate the faith or support a particular religious denomination. "Control by a religious creed" is not shown simply by a historical link to a particular religion or by devotion to the ideals of a sect. A university's motivation or aspiration to follow certain teachings does not indicate that it is "controlled by a religious creed" such that religion dictates the corporate management of the university. Appreciation for the ideals and ideas of a religious order do not show a university is "controlled" by that religion without a showing that adherence to those teachings directs the administration and operation of the institution.

This is indeed the central part of the argument. There are several implications:

1) SLU is merely affiliated with either the Catholic Church or the Jesuits.

2) For an institution to be religious means that a religious creed dictates administration, provides the “core decision-making model” for the institution, and seeks to indoctrinate that faith at the institution.

3) In the concrete this means that “adherence to” the teachings of the Catholic Church and ideals of the Society of Jesus, adherence that directs the “administration and operation” of the University, would put Saint Louis University in violation. It does not, because SLU on the contrary is merely affiliated with the Catholic Church and the Society of Jesus; this affiliation apparently can include a “historical link” to Catholicism, “devotion to the ideals” of the Catholic Church or the Society of Jesus, “motivation or aspiration to follow certain teachings” of the Catholic Church or the Society of Jesus, and “appreciation for the ideals and ideas” of the Society of Jesus, all without equalling "control" or "indoctrination."

Furthermore, the Court adds that “SLU’s president exercises restricted control over the university,” serving at the pleasure of an independent lay Board of Trustees. In fact then, SLU is run by a lay (or secular) board, a board that (and this is key to the argument) is independent from any direct influence of the Catholic Church or the Society of Jesus.

In the Court’s opinion, “SLU’s mission is education, not indoctrination, and its focus is on development of students, not on the propagation of the Jesuits’ faith.” The fact that there are many references to religion (e.g. “greater glory of God,” “God’s creation,” “spirit of the Gospels”) in SLU’s guiding documents does not change this.

SLU avoids violating the Federal Establishment Clause (which, apropos of Lemon v. Kurtzman means ‘excessive entanglement’ between religion and state) since it is not “an institution in which religion is so pervasive that a substantial portion of its functions are subsumed in the religious mission.”

A reading of this decision allows only two possible interpretations in my opinion:

1) Saint Louis University is only nominally Catholic or Jesuit, and despite any evidence in mission statements or what not, it is not substantially working for a religious mission, and is in fact a secular university that makes use of a few Jesuits as administrators (although always making up a minority of total administrators), and receives inspiration from the Catholic Church and Society of Jesus insofar as it assists its secular mission, “the encouragement of learning and the extension of the means of education.”

2) The Court has surprised us all with a very generous reading of the First Amendment, implying that only institutions that suffer dictatorial religious control shall not be supported by public funding. In other words, as long as the Government is not involved in the administration of a church or creed itself (which any institution serving “indoctrination” would thereby be subsumed under) it can involve itself all it wants in various religiously affiliated institutions.

At Amy’s blog, some readers have taken this as an opportunity to harangue the Jesuits (deservedly or not) for continuing to sabotage and abandon good Catholics and the Church, as well as condemning Jesuit schools of high learning in general for their heterodox ways.

I’ve defended the Society today elsewhere, so I’ll not repeat myself (other than to reiterate, the abuse does not justify negating the proper use).

However, according to this decision, and what seems to be the case, the Jesuits (today at least) are no longer really in control of their universities, but only merely affiliated. Of course individual Jesuits may be incompetent or may be exemplary in their respective positions, but as a corporate body, it seems that they cannot change these schools in any kind of direct way any longer. For me, this seems to point to the importance of having patience with the present attempts of the Society of Jesus to continue to faithfully live out its charism and renew itself, particularly in its educational apostolates.

Still, the question remains: can we call these (and most Catholic universities then) “Catholic”? Or are our Catholic universities in fact “secular” in mission and identity (at least, insofar as the Constitution may be concerned)?

What hasn’t been mentioned is, in my mind, the greater responsibility possessed by the local ordinary. It is his responsibility as Bishop to hold “Catholic” institutions accountable, as well as protect or warn his flock. A Bishop can always tell a University they cannot call themselves Catholic, offer the sacraments on campus, as well as tell the Jesuits not to operate in the diocese.

In the end, I am left wondering, what does it mean after all to be a Catholic University? Does it mean much of anything anymore?

What I found most disappointing was SLU's own defense before the Court, as reported by the St. Louis Post-Dispatch:

The school also pointed out to the court that despite its Jesuit tradition, the university does not require employees or students "to aspire to Jesuit ideals, to be Catholic or to otherwise have any specific religious affiliation. Of the 1,275 faculty-staff members at the university, fewer than 35 are Jesuit (which equates to approximately 2.7%). Fewer than half the students who attend SLU identify themselves as Catholic."

The fundamental need in catechesis today

2007-02-06T12:04:00.000-05:00

Nowadays, it's difficult to meet an adult of forty years of age who is not a skeptic. Young people stand and look, and when they see that one after another their expectations for happiness are unfulfilled, they think that there is no answer and resign themselves to that. Someone who has his own happiness at heart cannot be indifferent when he finds a person who wants to live intensely for the whole of his life...

Only something real and present is able to draw hearts and challenge nihilism. People are more and more apathetic, because there are no proposals fascinating for the "I." It is only when the Mystery reveals its face that man finds the energy to adhere to it. We need the Mystery to be present, we need a living presence we can fall in love with. We need a carnal attraction like that of a child for its mother. Nothing less than this is enough for man.

It needs the presence of another man. It needs the Mystery to have become flesh. In Christ, concepts that were abstract become flesh and blood. This unheard-of realism, this involvement with the Mystery, is the only possible way of being saved. No reduction of Christianity to something merely spiritual or to ethics is enough to arouse people... Christ is contemporary to man by means of the Church. His Body is the tangible and historical sign, which carries the Mystery in its womb.

Christianity is able to embrace the whole of what is human and bring it to fulfillment, without any reduction...

It happened in the past that Christianity was reduced to morality or little more than a correct discourse. As John Paul II said, we have exchanged the astonishment of the Gospel for a set of rules... When we see Christ's capacity to respond to men, to forgive, and his tenderness, it is impossible not to say, "We have never met a man like this."...

It is time to offer a Christianity that is not reduced in its nature. But the problem is the method. We have to present the Christian proposal, while giving people the chance to try it out to see if it is true, and showing that it is reasonable to belong... Only something present and real can re-awaken us. This is the battle.
(Fr. Julian Carron, from TRACES, vol. 8.3, 2006)

Fr. Dulles on what the Jesuits are all about

2007-01-29T18:19:00.000-05:00

Our esteemed man in red, Cardinal Avery Dulles, S.J., has written a really admirable piece on what the Jesuit charism is, and what it can offer for the Church in this new millennium. It's quite good, and I hope it gets photocopied and given out to every Jesuit novice in formation in North America (maybe even elsewhere?). It's too bad the whole article is behind the America firewall, but here is a selection. After clarifying the founding principles of the Society--that is, a religious order focused on the greater glory of God above all, centered on Jesus Christ the way that leads to life, and fundamentally oriented toward the service of the Church--in typical Dulles fashion he then helpfully elaborates this Jesuit charism in ten features:

1. Dedication to the glory of God, the "ever greater God," whom we can never praise and serve enough. This gives the Jesuit a kind of holy restlessness, a ceaseless effort to do better, to achieve the more or, in Latin, the magis. Ignatius may be said to have been a God-intoxicated man in the sense that he made "the greater glory of God" the supreme norm of every action, great or small.

2. Personal love for Jesus Christ and a desire to be counted among his close companions. Repeatedly in the Exercises Jesuits pray to know Christ more clearly, to love him more dearly and to follow him more nearly. Preaching in the towns of Italy, the first companions deliberately imitated the style of life of the disciples whom Jesus had sent forth to evangelize the towns of Galilee.

3. To labor with, in and for the church, thinking at all times with the church in obedience to its pastors. Throughout the Constitutions, Ignatius insists on the teaching of the doctrine that is "safer and more approved," so that students may learn the "more solid and safe doctrine."

4. Availability. To be at the disposal of the church, available to labor in any place, for the sake of the greater and more universal good. Regarding the Society as the spiritual militia of the pope, St. Ignatius sees the whole world, so to speak, as his field of operations. Inspired by this cosmic vision, he admits no divisions based on national frontiers and ethnic ties.

5. Mutual union. Jesuits are to see themselves as parts of a body bound together by a communion of minds and hearts. In the Constitutions, St. Ignatius asserted that the Society could not attain its ends unless its members were united by a deep affection among themselves and with the head. Many authors quote in this connection the term used by Ignatius of his first companions: "friends in the Lord."

6. Preference for spiritual and priestly ministries. The Jesuits are a priestly order, all of whose professed members must be ordained, although the cooperation of spiritual and lay coadjutors is highly valued. In the choice of ministries, Ignatius writes, "spiritual goods ought to be preferred to bodily," since they are more conducive to the "ultimate and supernatural end."

7. Discernment. Ignatius was a master of the practical life and the art of decision-making. He distinguished carefully between ends and means, choosing the means best suited to achieve the end in view. In the use of means he consistently applied the principle: "tantum...quantum," meaning "as much as helps," but not more. In this connection he teaches the discipline of indifference in the sense of detachment from anything that is not to be sought for its own sake.

8. Adaptability. Ignatius always paid close attention to the times, places and persons with which he was dealing. He took care to frame general laws in such a way as to allow for flexibility in application.

9. Respect for human and natural capacities. Although Ignatius relied primarily on spiritual means, such as divine grace, prayer and sacramental ministry, he took account of natural abilities, learning, culture and manners as gifts to be used for the service and glory of God. For this reason he showed a keen interest in education.

10. An original synthesis of the active and the contemplative life. Jerome Nadal (1507-80) spoke of the Jesuit practice "of seeking a perfection in our prayer and spiritual exercises in order to help our neighbor even more." According to Nadal, it is a special grace of the whole Society to be contemplative not only in moments of withdrawal but also in the midst of action, thus "seeking God in all things."

Dulles then overviews the teaching and guidance the Popes since Paul VI have given the Society as it has sought to renew itself according to the call of Vatican II. Finally, he mentions the main challenges facing the Society for the near future.

He concludes:

The greatest need of the Society of Jesus, I believe, is to be able to project a clearer vision of its purpose. Its members are engaged in such diverse activities that its unity is obscured. In this respect the recent popes have rendered great assistance. Paul VI helpfully reminded Jesuits that they are a religious order, not a secular institute; that they are a priestly order, not a lay association; that they are apostolic, not monastic; and that they are bound to obedience to the pope, not wholly self-directed.

Pope John Paul II, in directing the Jesuits to to engage in the new evangelization, identified a focus that perfectly matches the founding idea of the Society. Ignatius was adamant in insisting that it be named for Jesus, its true head. The Spiritual Exercises are centered on the Gospels. Evangelization is exactly what the first Jesuits did as they conducted missions in the towns of Italy. They lived lives of evangelical poverty. Evangelization was the sum and substance of what St. Francis Xavier accomplished in his arduous missionary journeys. And evangelization is at the heart of all Jesuit apostolates in teaching, in research, in spirituality and in the social apostolate. Evangelization, moreover, is what the world most sorely needs today. The figure of Jesus Christ in the Gospels has not lost its attraction. Who should be better qualified to present that figure today than members of the Society that bears his name?

This is the best summary of what it means to be a Jesuit that I have ever seen in print. The only thing I would like to see is how "Justice" fits into that charism today. Granted, that is a complicated and not-yet-sorted-out issue, but fundamentally I think there is an important truth there, although I do think it is hard to get at in light of a lot of sloppy cliches and rhetoric that is thrown around out there. But if I could be so bold as to add an eleventh point:

11. Faith at the service of Justice. Vatican II has given the contemporary Church a clarified vision that sees evangelization and the preaching of the Gospel as not merely an interior or individual concern, but one that includes the entire cosmic and anthropological orders. Concretely, evangelization entails a transformation of the world and culture, the social and political realms, so that the whole world and all of man's life becomes a reflection of and a means toward humanity's union with God brought about in Jesus Christ. Because of the central importance Jesus Christ has in their charism, and because of their understanding of nature and grace that recognizes the integrity of nature and at the same time its always-oriented character toward the supernatural, Jesuits can serve with particular effectiveness a ministry toward this task, which includes as a part, teaching and preaching about the church's Social Teaching and the imperative of building a just world, as well as assisting the laity by impelling and initiating movements in which the laity can effect this work of justice (and ultimately charity).

Sloppy mistakes

2007-01-29T17:26:00.000-05:00

Most contemporary Catholic theology now lies beyond the pale. Perhaps this is me mistaking trendiness for what the silent majority actually holds, but again and again I read things or talk to people about theology at Catholic schools, and about what is taught, and by whom.

Theology is only a science if we retain a shared set of principles that are beyond questioning. Traditionally this has been understood to be, formally, the authority of God revealing, and materially, the Creed. It is indeed one thing to accept these pricniples as defined, and then disagree over secondary conlusions derived therefrom.

But it seems that it is the principles themselves that are called into question today. There is no part of the Creed, or the very fact of Divine Revelation, that is not seriously called into question by so many theologians, in most Catholic schools.

In the current issue of Commonweal, there is an article that attempts to defend Roger Haight, S.J., as a Catholic theologian. Prescinding from any personal judgment upon his beliefs, it is not too hard to look at Jesus: Symbol of God and see the obvious: when Jesus Christ is only seen as a mediated human experience of the divine, not all that different from other like phenomena in other parts of the world (it seems especially from the East which just HAS to have a lot to teach us), and in fact could do with a bit more syncretistic updating, then, you are beyond the pale.

You are no longer doing "theology" in any real sense, but merely philosophy, and a bad one at that. Of course, such thinkers refer to all sorts of hermeneutical qualifications and postmodern caveats that preclude such a simple assent to Divine Revelation as clear and unambiguous; the simple rejoinder is, Revelation is not knowledge in any normative sense, but rather, NEWS. And with News, you either believe the news or you don't. Of course corraboration may be a part of clarifying the validity of the statement, but as long as it is News, we need an act of faith, otherwise it would be knowledge and it could be proven. The articles of Faith, of course, cannot be proven; they can only be believed. So the medium itself prevents such philosophical hairsplitting. And once you believe, it becomes even more clear that the message, on the contrary, precludes those earlier intellectual postures.

In my opinion, the biggest movement in the history of contemporary theology that allowed this to happen was the weakening of the inspired innerancy of Scripture.

If you believe Scripture is inerrant, that God is the primary author, and that "since everything asserted by the inspired authors or sacred writers must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error [i.e. not 'clandestinely, with confusion, and in fragmented form'] that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation"(Dei Verbum 11), and in the Church which gives us this Revelation, then such confusion cannot follow. If you think, as SO many Catholics do today, that Scripture is really just a collection of stories, without historical accuracy, that basically tell us about God and his Son Jesus Christ, but with the admixture of error and personal prejudice, in the end amounting to something like the story of Johnny Appleseed--something with a kernal of historical truth but since amplified into myth or fable...

then you are indeed, beyond the pale. Without a return in preaching to an unequivocal commitment to the inerrancy of Scripture as taught in Vatican II, I do not see how any theological or catechetical renewal in the West can happen.

Back to the article:

"Admittedly, Haight’s affirmation of religious pluralism is not easy to reconcile with traditional Catholic notions about salvation, or with recent magisterial teaching on the “gravely deficient situation” of other faiths. Rather, the strength of Haight’s position lies in its realism-and in its confidence in God’s generosity and mystery. The greatest failing of Haight’s critics, it seems to me, is that they never come to grips in an intellectually coherent way with the fact that our world is filled with people for whom other forms of Christianity and other ancient religions are obvious ways to holiness."

So I respond: the intellectual coherent position is there for the world to see. It was spelled out in Dominus Iesus, and has been defended ably by the likes of DiNoia, Shanley, Dulles, not to mention de Lubac, Congar, and Danielou before them. Who all, I may add, accept the articles of the Creed as beyond reproach, unlike Haight, and so, unlike Haight, are Catholic theologians.

But this one really is the best:

"If the history of early Christianity teaches us anything, it is surely that they were making this thing up as they went along."

Priceless.

The reports of the death of modernity have been greatly exaggerated...

2006-11-21T09:18:00.000-05:00

The religion of scientism is very much alive and kicking; we are not that far from 19th century pop-scientific triumphalism as we may like to think.

Young Republicans: meet the new boss, same as the old boss...

2006-11-05T17:00:00.000-05:00

There is a worthwile article in the current American Conservative on the growing alienation (or rather, ignorance) of contemporary young Republicans from the intellectual roots of the conservative movement. In particular, the article suggests an immersion in the works of Kirk, Weaver, and Nisbet (and perhaps Buckley?) would offer a moment of clarity, and expose the incongruity between the Bush administration's (and current Republican leadership) idea of conservatism (especially in its fondness for militarism) and the classical ideals of the conservative movement as it was born in the fifties. Conservatives today are much more fond of Hannity and Coulter, who seem willing to justify the current administration (and the war in Iraq) at all costs, rather than follow the logical force of their conservative principles to their needed adversion, a critique of Bush and contemporary Republicans as false.

This article reminded me of the sympathies I held as a 19 year old. I used to "believe" in the Republican party, in its apparent "goodness" in contrast the the abortion-supporting machinations of the Democratic party. Growing up during the Clintoned 90s aided that contrarian attitude. In college I read a lot of Kirk, and some Weaver and Nisbet. I had advanced to the position desired by the author of the above article: a youth animated by the original convictions of the conservative movement, particularly as envisioned by Kirk, beginning in Burke, having its "roots" in all good things stretching back to Israel. All the while however, there remained an itch: where was Christianity in all of this? In Kirk it was here and there, but fundamentally, it played more the role of an example of certain conservative principles. Not that there wasn't a concern for the protection and fundamental importance of the "religious sphere", but it seemed ethereal in the face of the immediate concerns of the temporal realm, concerns that for the political conservative--resistance to the welfare state, judicial constraint, the defense of the economic private sphere in property and the free market, the privilaged protection of Judeo-Christianity and its humanistic Anglo cultural extensions--remained paramount. Where did the New Evangelization fit in here, the proclamation of the Gospel--which on the contrary, the modern Popes and especially Vatican II, seemed to claim was of primary temporal importance?

It wasn't until I read David Schindler's Heart of the World, Center of the Church: Communo Ecclesiology, Liberalism, and Liberation, that the suspicians and intimations I had continued to acquire found their home in a systematic understanding of the whole: the vision of Gaudium et Spes and Pope John Paul, the vision that only in Jesus Christ revealing the Father and his love, only in the Incarnation is man fully revealed to himself, and only by the transformation of the world (and all of its cultural constitution) into the image of the Church, the Spouse of Christ, is liberation really achieved. In other words, there is no liberation, political or any other kind, none at all, than the liberation brought by the grace of Christ in the Church his Body. Liberalism in a nutshell consists in replacing this unequivocal Gospel vision of liberation with secular varities (and imitations), and consequently vanquishing the theological (that is, the explicit Gospel) to a "private sphere" where it eventually dies, having become entirely subordinate to the secular political order. And what I thought would escape this, American conservatism, I found was in fact just another version of this liberalism, particularly in its enthusiastic embrace of the free market and the separation of Church and state.

In no time I began to hear typical conservative rhetoric differently. Reading magazines like National Review took on a whole new character. The more I studied the culture-changing imperative of the Magisterium in the last fifty years, the more I undestood how inimical the two approaches are. And in reading the work at the root of modernity--Machiavelli, Hobbes, Bacon, Descartes, Locke, Kant, and even Whigs like Burke--I saw how neatly they all fit together, moving from a common lot of shared principles, wholly different and antagonistic to the ones that inspired the Medieval order which they sought to replace. And in reading authors like Peter Maurin, Dorothy Day, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, G.K. Chesteron, Hilaire Belloc, and Alasdair MacIntyre, I saw for the first time a different approach, an approach beyond the categories of liberal-conservative, and in studying Aristotle, Augustine, St. Thomas, and the modern Popes in their social teaching, I grasped the principles of such an approach, principles that indeed make a quasi-comfortable alliance with modern liberals and conservatives (i.e. both liberals at root) difficult if not impossible. For in the end, we are working and fighting for different things:

The empire of our Redeemer embraces all men. To use the words of Our immortal predecessor, Pope Leo XIII: "His empire includes not only Catholic nations, not only baptized persons who, though of right belonging to the Church, have been led astray by error, or have been cut off from her by schism, but also all those who are outside the Christian faith; so that truly the whole of mankind is subject to the power of Jesus Christ." Nor is there any difference in this matter between the individual and the family or the State; for all men, whether collectively or individually, are under the dominion of Christ. In him is the salvation of the individual, in him is the salvation of society. "Neither is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given to men whereby we must be saved." He is the author of happiness and true prosperity for every man and for every nation. "For a nation is happy when its citizens are happy. What else is a nation but a number of men living in concord?" If, therefore, the rulers of nations wish to preserve their authority, to promote and increase the prosperity of their countries, they will not neglect the public duty of reverence and obedience to the rule of Christ. What We said at the beginning of Our Pontificate concerning the decline of public authority, and the lack of respect for the same, is equally true at the present day. "With God and Jesus Christ," we said, "excluded from political life, with authority derived not from God but from man, the very basis of that authority has been taken away, because the chief reason of the distinction between ruler and subject has been eliminated. The result is that human society is tottering to its fall, because it has no longer a secure and solid foundation."
When once men recognize, both in private and in public life, that Christ is King, society will at last receive the great blessings of real liberty, well-ordered discipline, peace and harmony. Our Lord's regal office invests the human authority of princes and rulers with a religious significance; it ennobles the citizen's duty of obedience. It is for this reason that St. Paul, while bidding wives revere Christ in their husbands, and slaves respect Christ in their masters, warns them to give obedience to them not as men, but as the vicegerents of Christ; for it is not meet that men redeemed by Christ should serve their fellow-men. "You are bought with a price; be not made the bond-slaves of men." If princes and magistrates duly elected are filled with the persuasion that they rule, not by their own right, but by the mandate and in the place of the Divine King, they will exercise their authority piously and wisely, and they will make laws and administer them, having in view the common good and also the human dignity of their subjects. The result will be a stable peace and tranquillity, for there will be no longer any cause of discontent. Men will see in their king or in their rulers men like themselves, perhaps unworthy or open to criticism, but they will not on that account refuse obedience if they see reflected in them the authority of Christ God and Man. Peace and harmony, too, will result; for with the spread and the universal extent of the kingdom of Christ men will become more and more conscious of the link that binds them together, and thus many conflicts will be either prevented entirely or at least their bitterness will be diminished.

If the kingdom of Christ, then, receives, as it should, all nations under its way, there seems no reason why we should despair of seeing that peace which the King of Peace came to bring on earth—he who came to reconcile all things, who came not to be ministered unto but to minister, who, though Lord of all, gave himself to us as a model of humility, and with his principal law united the precept of charity; who said also: "My yoke is sweet and my burden light." Oh, what happiness would be Ours if all men, individuals, families, and nations, would but let themselves be governed by Christ! "Then at length," to use the words addressed by our predecessor, Pope Leo XIII, twenty-five years ago to the bishops of the Universal Church, "then at length will many evils be cured; then will the law regain its former authority; peace with all its blessings be restored. Men will sheathe their swords and lay down their arms when all freely acknowledge and obey the authority of Christ, and every tongue confesses that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father." [Pope Pius XI, Quas Primas (On the Feast of Christ the King), n. 18-20.]

Many years before William F. Buckley called for conservatives to stand athwart and shout, Dorothy Day continued to articulate Peter Maurin's great vision of a Catholic political order (The Catholic Worker, February 1940):

For the sake of new readers, for the sake of men on our breadlines, for the sake of the employed and unemployed, the organized and unorganized workers, and also for the sake of ourselves, we must reiterate again and again what are our aims and purposes.

Together with the Works of Mercy, feeding, clothing and sheltering our brothers, we must indoctrinate. We must "give reason for the faith that is in us." Otherwise we are scattered members of the Body of Christ, we are not "all members one of another." Otherwise, our religion is an opiate, for ourselves alone, for our comfort or for our individual safety or indifferent custom.

We cannot live alone. We cannot go to Heaven alone. Otherwise, as Péguy said, God will say to us, "Where are the others?" (This is in one sense only as, of course, we believe that we must be what we would have the other fellow be. We must look to ourselves, our own lives first.)

If we do not keep indoctrinating, we lose the vision. And if we lose the vision, we become merely philanthropists, doling out palliatives.

The vision is this. We are working for "a new heaven and a new earth, wherein justice dwelleth." We are trying to say with action, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." We are working for a Christian social order.

We believe in the brotherhood of man and the Fatherhood of God. This teaching, the doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ, involves today the issue of unions (where men call each other brothers); it involves the racial question; it involves cooperatives, credit unions, crafts; it involves Houses of Hospitality and Farming Communes. It is with all these means that we can live as though we believed indeed that we are all members one of another, knowing that when "the health of one member suffers, the health of the whole body is lowered."

This work of ours toward a new heaven and a new earth shows a correlation between the material and the spiritual, and, of course, recognizes the primacy of the spiritual. Food for the body is not enough. There must be food for the soul. Hence the leaders of the work, and as many as we can induce to join us, must go daily to Mass, to receive food for the soul. And as our perceptions are quickened, and as we pray that our faith be increased, we will see Christ in each other, and we will not lose faith in those around us, no matter how stumbling their progress is. It is easier to have faith that God will support each House of Hospitality and Farming Commune and supply our needs in the way of food and money to pay bills, than it is to keep a strong, hearty, living faith in each individual around us - to see Christ in him. If we lose faith, if we stop the work of indoctrinating, we are in a way denying Christ again.

We must practice the presence of God. He said that when two or three are gathered together, there He is in the midst of them. He is with us in our kitchens, at our tables, on our breadlines, with our visitors, on our farms. When we pray for our material needs, it brings us close to His humanity. He, too, needed food and shelter. He, too, warmed His hands at a fire and lay down in a boat to sleep.

When we have spiritual reading at meals, when we have the rosary at night, when we have study groups, forums, when we go out to distribute literature at meetings, or sell it on the street corners, Christ is there with us. What we do is very little. But it is like the little boy with a few loaves and fishes. Christ took that little and increased it. He will do the rest. What we do is so little we may seem to be constantly failing. But so did He fail. He met with apparent failure on the Cross. But unless the seed fall into the earth and die, there is no harvest.

And why must we see results? Our work is to sow. Another generation will be reaping the harvest.

When we write in these terms, we are writing not only for our fellow workers in thirty other Houses, to other groups of Catholic Workers who are meeting for discussion, but to every reader of the paper. We hold with the motto of the National Maritime Union, that every member is an organizer. We are upholding the ideal of personal responsibility. You can work as you are bumming around the country on freights, if you are working in a factory or a field or a shipyard or a filling station. You do not depend on any organization which means only paper figures, which means only the labor of the few. We are not speaking of mass action, pressure groups (fearful potential for evil as well as good). We are addressing each individual reader of The Catholic Worker.

The work grows with each month, the circulation increases, letters come in from all over the world, articles are written about the movement in many countries.

Statesmen watch the work, scholars study it, workers feel its attraction, those who are in need flock to us and stay to participate. It is a new way of life. But though we grow in numbers and reach far-off corners of the earth, essentially the work depends on each one of us, on our way of life, the little works we do.

"Where are the others?" God will say. Let us not deny Him in those about us. Even here, right now, we can have that new earth, wherein justice dwelleth!

Top Books That Have Influenced Me

2006-11-01T19:22:00.000-05:00

Several bloggers of late have made lists of the top twenty books that influenced their thinking, theologically (e.g. here, here, and here). What a great idea. I'll chime in. Aside from the Bible (The Gospel of John, 1 John, Romans, Ephesians, and Isaiah especially) and other general literary influences, here are the top twenty books that have influenced my theological thinking.

20. Thomas Dubay, Fire Within.

Started me on a journey almost ten years ago now, and convicted me deeply of what theology ultimately is all about.

19. Walter Kasper, The God of Jesus Christ.

Kasper's Jesus the Christ might be his greatest work for its threshing magnificence, but this work is the best concise theology of God in print. His treatment of Trinitarian theology is second to none. It brought a lot together for me.

18. Joseph Ratzinger, Introduction to Christianity.

When I finally read this, Ratzinger's best work, it came more as a confirmation of my own theological development: the possibility of relevance, historical consciousness, doctrinal sensibility, and systematic creativity, all within the absolutely fundamental locus of the event of Jesus Christ.

17. Dorothy Day, Selected Writings.

The more I read of her the more I believe she should be the next Doctor of the Church.

16. Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations, vol. I.

Helped me see Rahner in a more positive light, and find a more generous hermeneutic for reading his later works. Really remarkable stuff here.

15. Roch Keretszy, Jesus Christ.

The systematic fourth part is still the definitive compendium of the best of theological development in Christology. A book I turn back to again and again.

14. Louis Dupre, Passage to Modernity.

An incredible analysis of the real undercurrent in the history of the West, and the real elan that has brought us to this post-modern age.

13. Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island.

12. Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation.

Merton has continued to provide an immense influence; I am still amazed at his insights, his originality and clarifying vision.

11. John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis.

Will probably end up being the most important Church document written after Vatican II, giving the Church its definitive hermeneutic as well as concretely setting the agenda for the New Evangelization. Programmatic, and a wellspring.

10. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Love Alone is Credible.

A wonderful and beautiful summary of his project.

9. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Razing the Bastions.

The greatest anticipation and justification for the true spirit of Vatican II I have ever read. And a still-refreshing source for renewal today.

8. David Burrell, Freedom and Creation in Three Traditions.

Burrell is the best reader of St. Thomas I have found (Brian Shanley is up there too, and Brian Davies has been quite helpful). You get the best of Gilson, Fabro-W.N. Clarke-Te Velde participation metaphysics, Lonergan's grasp of transendence and method, and Wittgensteinean grammar, all in a broad historical sympathy. This and Knowing the Unknowable God are the best commentaries (in a broad sense) on the first 26 questions of the Summa. They are also a superlative model of theological method.

7. Henri de Lubac, The Mystery of the Supernatural.

A still seminal work that revealed a fundamental divide in theological method to me, despite any imprecision or incompleteness on de Lubac's part.

6. Robert Barron. I can't really pick one book: it is more the overall direction of his thought that continues to affect me deeply since I had him as a teacher five years ago.

5. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Explorations in Theology, Vol. I.

A great example of how much Balthasar can bring to theological method. Several essays in here almost run like soundtracks in the back of my head. At root: the utter and irreducible newness of Jesus Christ, who reveals the great previously unknown thing, that God is love.

4. David Schindler, Heart of the World, Center of the Church.

In a way, no book was a greater impetus to my theological orientation as a whole than this collection of Schindler's critiques of integralism and liberalism. The introduction alone is worth the purchase of the book: it gave me an introduction and still indispensible foundation for appreciating the call of Vatican II (and as seen through de Lubac, Balthasar, Ratzinger, and the communio school) for the transformation of the world and culture, particularly in its radical Christocentrism,(by means of GS 22), and understanding of the Church as given over for the life of the world toward the final and total cosmic recapitulation of the marriage between Christ and the world. This work started me thinking critically about capitalism and the free market (i.e. liberalism). In fact, it started me thinking about so many things.

3. Bernard Lonergan, Grace and Freedom: Operative Grace in the Thought of St. Thomas Aquinas.

I have only got into Lonergan these last couple years, but I have been thoroughly surprised by how much he brings to the table. The clarity he offers to theological reasoning is outright astounding and very attractive. This work in particular is a sort of secret gem: those who have spent the time going through it know it belongs at the top of any list of the greatest theological works of the 20th century, especially since it anticipated the greatest advances of Thomistic scholarship, as well as cutting the Gordian knot of the Banezian-Molinist divide in one fell swoop, by retrieving the all important "insight" of Thomas's, God's transcendent relation to creation, long forgotten by the (de facto) Scotist-Suarezian neo-Scholastics. I don't know if I can say enough about this book. If you look warily at Lonergan because of his later Method in Theology, don't be dissuaded. Many others who do as well still hold Grace and Freedom to be magisterial (e.g. Romanus Cessario, Brian Shanley, Avery Dulles).

2. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae.

I may not always agree with him, but he has taught me so much. Having gone through most of the Summa over two years at the ITI is a lode I will mine for the rest of my life. So many hidden treasures inside. And I have to say, anyone who has not intimately gone through it and learned what Thomas has to offer (quite a lot) is indeed deficient, full stop.

1. St. Ignatius, The Spiritual Exercises.

In my humble opinion, Ignatius began a theological revolution with this work. Don't expect explicit conclusions. Not a work of theology, but rather (besides an excellent guidebook for a retreat) a movement of principles containing implicitly some of the most foundational theological developments of the last five hundred years. If explicit Christocentric theology is the solution, the Exercises are the impetus. E.g. If no Exercises, then: no ressourcement theology, no Vatican II, no John Paul II.

MacIntyre's critique of the market-cum-state

2006-10-21T17:08:00.000-04:00

Dorothy Day often said the greatest enemy of the Church is the state: that is, the modern buerocratic state inimical to subsidiarity, solidarity, and the practice of the virtues of the common good. She was always a firm opponent of capitalism-as-we-know-it (that is, she was not against private ownership of property but believed that capitalism-as-we-know-it is opposed to the Church's social teaching) and argued for distributism instead.

Alasdair MacIntyre has spent his entire life arguing against the modern nation state and market capitalism (which he sees as two sides of the same coin). In a way, all his work, particularly post-After Virtue, can be see as an attempt to provide the philosophical underpinnings for a critique of the modern market-cum-state.

I can't emphasize enough how important I think this critique is. Most political discourse is, I believe, already defeated by its presupposition of the modern state and market as a neutral given; on the contrary, I have come to the conclusion that is must be resisted and the work of building a new culture of life (i.e. islands and oases) is as much a work of creativity and imagination, conceiving new forms and practices independent of this status quo.

Most have heard MacIntyre's famous quip that modern liberals and conservatives are in reality two sides of the same coin, and thus in reality, liberal-liberals or conservative-liberals (whose differences in the end amount to little insofar as this dialectic perpetuates the status quo of the market-cum-state). In fact, the market and the state, and the way in which these two poles are dialectically co-opted by Republicans and Democrats, posit the same conclusion: two sides of the same coin. Therefore, to serve or aid one is to serve or aid the other, full stop.

There is a great summary of MacIntyre's political thought in a paper by Ronald Beiner: "Community Versus Citzenship: MacIntyre's Revolt Against the Modern State" (Critical Review 14 [2000] n. 4; pp. 459-479). It is really the best summary I have found, and I highly recommend a close study. Here is a selection (pp. 464-469); nota bene.

MacIntyre’s Political Philosophy

MacIntyre is not the only one of our four thinkers to disown the communitarian label, but his denials have been more adamant and more fleshed-out than those of the other three. So a good place to start our consideration of MacIntyre’s politics may be with a careful examination of his explanations of why he doesn’t consider himself a communitarian.

Basically, there are two reasons. The first is that he considers it a “mistake to suppose that there is anything good about local community as such.... Local communities are always open to corruption by narrowness, by complacency, by prejudice against outsiders and by a whole range of other deformities, including those that arise from a cult of local community.” This is a perfectly good reason not to enshrine community as such as a normative standard: the standard, rather, is the quality of social practices that various communities enable us to realize. What concerns MacIntyre is the flourishing of humanly worthwhile practices and the virtues and excellences that they bring into play, and he is interested in communities insofar as they provide sites for these practices and virtues (and for no other reason). This is a good reason for rejecting the communitarian label, and other communitarians such as Sandel and Taylor would be in full agreement with MacIntyre on this point.

The second, more distinctive reason is that MacIntyre associates communitarianism with the project of applying the language of common good to the modern nation-state, and he thoroughly and wholeheartedly rejects this project. As he puts it: “The communitarian mistake [is] to attempt to infuse the politics of the state with the values and modes of participation in local community.”

For anyone who takes the basic structures of modern political life as given, it is not easy to fathom the depth of MacIntyre’s hostility to the state as a mode of organizing political activity. His essay, “Poetry as Political Philosophy,” probably conveys the tenor of his antistatist rhetoric as well as any of his writings. The purpose of the essay is to investigate a thesis that MacIntyre attributes to W. B. Yeats, namely “that no coherent political imagination is any longer possible for those condemned to inhabit, and to think and act in terms of the modernity of the twentieth-century nation-state,” and there is no question but that MacIntyre affirms the truth of what he takes to be Yeats’s insight.

MacIntyre highlights Yeats’s image of the modern nation-state “as a tree dead from half-way up.” Insofar as Yeats himself intends to apply this image specifically to the Irish state of the 1920s and 1930s, he understates the generality of his insight: what Yeats sees and condemns in the Irish state “belong[s] to it not as Irish, but as state. They are features of the modern state as such... [expressing] the imaginative poverty not of a particular regime or type of regime, but of the structure of every modern state.” To overcome the “imaginative sterility of the modern state” and to engage in “a less barren politics,” one must seek out other forms of institutionalized community, beyond the boundaries of “the conventional politics of the contemporary state.”

It’s not obvious where MacIntyre gets his view that what defines communitarianism is a commitment to the nation-state as the primary location for community (and that therefore he’s not a communitarian). To be sure, other communitarians don’t necessarily rule out the nation-state as a possible location for community, but neither do they privilege the nation-state as the preferred location for community. In truth, Sandel, Taylor, and Walzer tend to be ambivalent about whether they want an enhanced community at the level of the polity as a whole, or whether they want a decentralized politics that would enhance community in more local settings at the expense of the national political arena; they sometimes fudge this question rather than express a clear preference. It seems implausible, however, to insist that a preference for the nation-state is what defines their communitarianism; rather, the most that one can say is that they stand closer to the commonsensical mainstream view that certain important forms of human community are realized (or can be realized) at the national level, whereas MacIntyre embraces the quite radical view that genuine community, and the goods that a genuine community subserves, are entirely ruled out within the horizon of the modern state.

MacIntyre’s attitude to the state can be summed up in the simple injunction: “Have no truck with the Devil!” In place of state-related politics, he substitutes what he calls “the politics of local community.” MacIntyre is very clear about the sorts of communities that qualify as communities of common good: “fishing communities in New England over the past hundred and fifty years...Welsh mining communities [instantiating] a way of life informed by the ethics of work at the coal face, by a passion for the goods of choral singing and of rugby football and by the virtues of trade union struggle against first coal-owners and then the state... farming cooperatives in Donegal, Mayan towns in Guatemala and Mexico, some city-states from a more distant past.” Communities of this sort qualify as possible sites for common good. It is equally clear, for MacIntyre, that the politics of the national state don’t come anywhere near qualifying as a possible site of common good. Why not?

Modern nation-states are governed through a series of compromises between a range of more or less conflicting economic and social interests. What weight is given to different interests varies with the political and economic bargaining power of each and with its ability to ensure that the voices of its protagonists are heard at the relevant bargaining tables. What determines both bargaining power and such ability is in key part money, money used to provide the resources to sustain political power: electoral resources, media resources, relationships to corporations. This use of money procures very different degrees and kinds of political influence for different interests. And the outcome is that although most citizens share, although to greatly varying extents, in such public goods as those of a minimally secure order, the distribution of goods by government in no way reflects a common mind arrived at through widespread shared deliberation governed by norms of rational enquiry. Indeed the size of modern states would itself preclude this. It does not follow that relationships to the nation-state, or rather to the various agencies of government that collectively compose it, are unimportant to those who practice the politics of the virtues of acknowledged dependence. No one can avoid having some significant interest in her or his relationships to the nation-state just because of its massive resources, its coercive legal powers, and the threats that its blundering and distorted benevolence presents. But any rational relationship of the governed to the government of modern states requires individuals and groups to weigh any benefits to be derived from it against the costs of entanglement with it.

Our formulation above should probably be qualified somewhat, as follows: “To the extent that you must have truck with the Devil, in order to avail yourself of the necessary benefits that it confers, you should not fool yourself into thinking that receiving these benefits joins you in a relationship to the Devil expressive of a common good.”

Central to this conception is an understanding of rational deliberation. Members of a community can join in a politics of common good only when it is possible for them “to come through rational deliberation to a common mind.” Clearly, political association on the modern scale cannot imaginably meet this standard. According to

the conception of political activity embodied in the modern state, . . . there is a small minority of the population who are to make politics their active occupation and preoccupation, professional and semiprofessional politicians, and a huge largely passive majority who are to be mobilized only at periodic intervals, for elections or national crises. Between the political elites on the one hand and the larger population on the other there are important differences, as in, for example, how much or how little information is required and provided for each. A modern electorate can only function as it does, so long as it has only a highly simplified and impoverished account of the issues that are presented to it. And the modes of presentation through which elites address electorates are designed to conceal as much as to reveal. These are not accidental features of the politics of modern states any more than is the part that money plays in affording influence upon the decision-making process.

Given the theoretical standards by which MacIntyre defines a genuine deliberative community, it would be ludicrous to characterize this general system as a process of shared rational deliberation. Without moral-political deliberation there is no possibility of arriving at “a common mind,” and without a common mind shaped by shared rational deliberation, there is no common good. The conclusion, following inescapable from MacIntyre’s premises, is that politics as we know it in the modern world cannot be characterized as anything other than “fragmentation through the conflicts of group interests and individual preferences, defined without reference to a common good.”

Two responses seem called for. The first is to recognize the theoretical force and philosophical stringency of the notion of a common good that MacIntyre here applies. Only very special kinds of communities and very particular types of social situation permit one to speak of a common good (“a common mind arrived at through widespread shared deliberation governed by norms of rational enquiry”), and one can pretty much define modernity as that constellation of social life that rules out, or at least drives to the margins, precisely those kinds of community and types of social situation that warrant the language of a common good. The second response is to note just how harsh a picture this account gives us of the politics of the modern state. It more or less has the effect of disqualifying any concept of political community within the boundaries of modern social life.

It’s true that the goods provided by the modern state are not products of communal deliberation in any rigorous sense, but they are still goods, and expressive surely of some mode of political community, however attenuated (and capable, in principle, of building up more of a sense of political community in proportion to its goods being perceived as real ones). In Canada, for instance, there is more or less a national consensus, shared in even by political parties on the right end of the political spectrum, that a nationally funded public-health system is a shared civic good. The state, in providing this good, is seen as the agent of the national consensus. This doesn’t mean that there aren’t controversies about the adequacy and efficiency of the Medicare system; but it does seem to suggest that the state can provide civic goods, and that there is, in this respect, a civic community on behalf of which such goods are provided.

There is no question that MacIntyre’s political commitments remain those of a radical egalitarian, and that his revulsion against capitalism has not diminished at all from what it was at the start of his intellectual career. (As John Haldane has remarked: “In certain respects MacIntyre’s position is like that of old-style Christian socialists: at once critical of society for its failure to attend to the needs of the weak, the dispossessed, the overlooked and the socially marginalized, yet also firm in defense of traditional morality.”) This makes his root-and-branch rejection of state-based politics all the more startling, since so much of twentieth-century left-wing politics has revolved around hopes to make the state the agent of egalitarian transformations of the political community as a whole.

In a discussion in 1997, I asked MacIntyre how he squares his residual Marxism with his antipathy to the state, since, in our situation—in the political world in which we live—the state offers the only restraint upon the capitalist market, both in its provision of regulatory mechanisms and in its capacity as an agent of distributive justice. Here is the gist of his interesting reply.

MacIntyre said that what we’ve had since 1945 is the state-cum-market. The welfare state was invented by Bismarck, as well as Disraeli, Lloyd George, and Balfour—that is, not by social democrats, but by conservatives trying to preserve an orderly capitalist society. Operation of the resulting state/market produces a certain amount of disorder, which in turn needs to be corrected by welfare-state policies. Welfare is therefore bound to a cycle: the state promotes growth, it regulates the market with welfare, then it needs to cut back. It issues promissory notes that have to be paid for (in the context of U.S. politics) by Republican policies. Democrats and Republicans occupy different positions within this cycle, yet they are bound to the same process.

MacIntyre rejects the whole package, namely a growth economy managed by the state, with occasional corrections with welfare and so on. Consequently, the welfare state is not an alternative to the state/market; it is, on the contrary, part and parcel of the kind of state entirely implicated in the operation of market capitalism. Most political contests in the contemporary West revolve around competing views of what constitutes the right balance between state and market (the power of the market versus the authority of the state). For MacIntyre, by contrast, market and state are two sides of the same coin, and rather than choosing between them, or deciding how to give greater weight to one or the other, we should toss away the whole coin. MacIntyre doesn’t go so far as to assert that there are no goods associated with state-based politics; what he does assert is that the basic structures of the modern state, and the form of political community it makes available, are essentially and not just incidentally inimical to a common good-based politics (and it is precisely this insight into our prevailing political reality that, on his view, “communitarians” have failed to grasp).

Inspiring Jesuits II

2006-10-19T17:06:00.000-04:00

One Jesuit who long ago renewed my wounded hope in the Society is now the President of Gonzaga University, Robert Spitzer. (See his website for many examples of his magnaminity.) Fr. Spitzer is wonderful for so many reasons: he is a true genius; he's from Hawaii; he's legally blind enough not to be allowed to drive; he has a great laugh; calls Gonzaga's basketball success his "gift of the Holy Spirit"; conceived a wholly original program and method for teaching classical Aristotlean ethics, to groups as different as business executives and high school religion students; founded a one-of-its-kind pro-life organization in (of all places) Seattle, Washington; while still being a college President finds time to write articles on proving creation with astrophysics; he's as approachable as a child; he's as comfortable in quantum physics as he is in Biblical criticism; he took on Planned Parenthood in not allowing them to speak on Campus.

I first got to know Fr. Spitzer at Seattle University in the Spring of '98: I gravitated right away to the this professor of philosophy who was, first and foremost, a priest. Every morning he would say Mass for the faithful few in the upper Admin. chapel with reverence and devotion, and no matter how many incredible projects and activities he took on, it was always clear at the end of the day what was most important to him: his ministry. He stood out a bit from other Jesuits on campus, as he was never seen without clerics. But his constant enthusiasm and kindness toward students was rewarded with a massive following. I remember distinctly one time going down to Olympia (the state capital) to protest for March For Life with Fr. Spitzer, and another time when he engaged in a public debate at school on whether women should be allowed to be priests: I only mention these two events to point out how a Jesuit who is well-liked by his brothers, was appointed President of a Jesuit university by the Provincial of the Oregon province, and continues to inspire young men to enter the Society, has also managed to preserve his ministry as a priest and been a vigorous defender of the Church and orthodoxy, while nontheless courageous enough to reach out and minister to the universal Church, as well as avoid vituperative polemics. Not all good Jesuits are marginalized in the Order; in fact, not by a long shot.

Fundamentally, anyone who knows Fr. Spitzer will tell you that he really exhibits the fruits of the Spirit; and for this reason I think he is an important example for young Jesuits. It is because of Fr. Spitzer's virtues of humility, kindness, and patience that have translated into apostolic effectiveness, his ability to stand for the truth and yet pick his battles, his unwillingness to be caught up in conservative-liberal crossfire exchange and instead in simple magnaminity he focuses on being a Priest--because of his littleness, God has been able to use him is such an extraordinary way. To me he will always be an example of a Jesuit who exemplifies Ignatius's idea of a "priestly charism".

Here is a talk of his on Creation and astrophysics. Fun stuff.

Fr. Spitzer founded the Center For Life Principles; here is their website.

His book, Healing the Culture is a real gem, and very teachable (e.g. my Dad has been teaching it to high school Juniors for almost ten years now); it outlines his famous "four levels of happiness" moral philosophy.

Fr. Spitzer has some great stuff on educating in the Jesuit tradition. He is now writing a series on how Jesuit education is based on the transcendentals (his most recent one is here). Here is a selection from his first article on Jesuit education.

When I speak about Gonzaga, I say that we are trying to achieve the highest standards in the Jesuit educational tradition. People almost invariably ask, "What do you mean?" I normally give the "three-minute answer" which does not do justice to this deep, long-standing, remarkable enterprise. Thus, I decided to devote the next three issues of this column to "my take on Jesuit education.
The principles guiding the values of an Ignatian education derive from Part IV of the "Constitutions of the Society of Jesus," and from the "Ratio Studiorum" of 1599. The ultimate goal of the Ratio Studiorum was not merely to develop rhetorical, writing, and thinking skills, but to help students understand and articulate the wisdom, knowledge, and habits benefiting their souls and the souls of others. One might rephrase this goal in contemporary terms as "to prepare the students to pursue their ultimate personal good and the common good." The study of philosophy is central to helping students achieve this goal by providing essential background and foundations to understand and articulate: ·

Rationality (evidence, consistency, valid argumentation, and systematic avoidance of omissions)
The existence of God, and appreciating God's love and justice
The ultimate end/ends (goals) of the human person
The highest end/ends of the polis (community), or society (i.e., the common good)
The means for pursuing the goals for human personhood and the common good (i.e., ethics).

The order of this list is significant, for without an understanding of the foundations of rationality, one could not achieve a rational awareness of God as Creator; without an awareness of God, one could not achieve an awareness of the ultimate end of the human person (not only created by God, but destined for God). In this view, one could never hope to achieve an adequate awareness of oneself without some awareness of the one Being capable of satisfying human desire.

Since Augustine's time, Western philosophers believed that human desire was oriented toward an unconditional, perfect, and unrestricted end (in Truth, Goodness, Justice, Beauty, Being and Love). If this were true, human beings could never satisfy themselves, and indeed, could never be satisfied by anything except unconditional, perfect, and unrestricted Truth, Goodness, Justice, Beauty, Being and Love. Augustine's famous exclamation in Book I of the "Confessions" expresses it succinctly: "For Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee." If one believes that we are endowed with this desire for the unconditional, perfect, and unrestricted, then there are only two options: (1) One can come to affirm and relate to the God who alone can satisfy one's ultimate ends; or, (2) one can deny or reject God, and admit that life is absurd, for if God did not exist and human desire is satisfied only by the unrestricted, the human person is destined to be frustrated in the very ground and height of his/her nature.

This sets the stage for the fourth contribution of philosophy, namely, understanding and articulating the common good. For Suarez (an early Jesuit philosopher who first articulated a theory of rights resembling our contemporary one), the objective of society is to optimize the common good. This requires not only an awareness of the ultimate good for humans, but also a means of assuring that the good of the whole does not annihilate the good of some individuals. The actualization of these two potentially diverse objectives moved Suarez to articulate his theory of rights (the very first articulation of rights in history).

The third and fourth contributions reveal the need for the fifth, namely, ethics, principle, and virtue. Since the days of ancient Greece, many understood that ends do not justify the means. One cannot use an unjust means to pursue a just end; such means are inconsistent with, and therefore undermine, the good end.

Jesuits appreciated the need for principles, because they realized that our capacity for rationalization is virtually infinite. I don't know about you, but give me five minutes and I can rationalize any action as being good through utilitarian criteria (a harms/benefits calculus). If we are capable of such rationalization, it will never be sufficient merely to solve ethical cases or make ethical arguments. We must steep ourselves in principles and virtues which may not be absolutely applicable in all circumstances, but must stand at the ground of all ethical questioning and thinking, and which, therefore, cannot, without trepidation, be compromised.

These five dimensions of the Jesuit educational tradition are by no means restricted to philosophy. They permeate the study of literature, history, politics, law, the social sciences, the natural sciences, the health sciences, and even engineering. Of course, they interact with theological and pastoral studies and reflect upon the community life and spiritual life of the students. They form a powerful ethos giving rise to faith, self-awareness, justice, love and above all, a life dedicated to the common good.

Read the rest here.

A great Jesuit and a great priest. Deo gratias!

Homage to Catalonia

2006-10-19T11:46:00.000-04:00

In these last few years I have grown rather disillusioned with politics, as well as having become somewhat radical (in the Augustinian-Schindlerian sense). At times however I can still be touched and moved by rare and fine political writing. I think chiefly here of Orwell. One of the most moving books I have ever read is his Homage to Catalonia, one of the more neglected masterpieces of the 20th century, his account of fighting with the Republican-Anarchists during the Spanish Civil War. Run, don't walk, to the bookstore and get it! Here is a favorite selection:

THE days grew hotter and even the nights grew tolerably warm. On a bullet--
chipped tree in front of our parapet thick clusters of cherries were forming.
Bathing in the river ceased to be an agony and became almost a pleasure. Wild
roses with pink blooms the size of saucers straggled over the shell-holes round
Torre Fabian. Behind the line you met peasants wearing wild roses over their
ears. In the evenings they used to go out with green nets, hunting quails. You
spread the net over the tops of the grasses and then lay down and made a noise
like a female quail. Any male quail that was within hearing then came running
towards you, and when he was underneath the net you threw a stone to scare him,
whereupon he sprang into the air and was entangled in the net. Apparently only
male quails were caught, which struck me as unfair.

There was a section of Andalusians next to us in the line now. I do not know
quite how they got to this front. The current explanation was that they had run
away from Malaga so fast that they had forgotten to stop at Valencia; but this,
of course, came from the Catalans, who professed to look down on the Andalusians
as a race of semi-savages. Certainly the Andalusians were very ignorant. Few if
any of them could read, and they seemed not even to know the one thing that
everybody knows in Spain--which political party they belonged to. They thought
they were Anarchists, but were not quite certain; perhaps they were Communists.
They were gnarled, rustic-looking men, shepherds or labourers from the olive
groves, perhaps, with faces deeply stained by the ferocious suns of farther
south. They were very useful to us, for they had an extraordinary dexterity at
rolling the dried-up Spanish tobacco into cigarettes. The issue of cigarettes
had ceased, but in Monflorite it was occasionally possible to buy packets of the
cheapest kind of tobacco, which in appearance and texture was very like chopped
chaff. Its flavour was not bad, but it was so dry that even when you had
succeeded in making a cigarette the tobacco promptly fell out and left an empty
cylinder. The Andalusians, however, could roll admirable cigarettes and had a
special technique for tucking the ends in.

Two Englishmen were laid low by sunstroke. My salient memories of that time
are the heat of the midday sun, and working half-naked with sand--bags punishing
one's shoulders which were already flayed by the sun; and the lousiness of our
clothes and boots, which were literally dropping to pieces; and the struggles
with the mule which brought our rations and which did not mind rifle-fire but
took to flight when shrapnel burst in the air; and the mosquitoes (just
beginning to be active) and the rats, which were a public nuisance and would
even devour leather belts and cartridge-pouches. Nothing was happening except an occasional casualty from a sniper's bullet and the sporadic artillery-fire and
air-raids on Huesca. Now that the trees were in full leaf we had constructed
snipers' platforms, like machans, in the poplar trees that fringed the line. On
the other side of Huesca the attacks were petering out. The Anarchists had had
heavy losses and had not succeeded in completely cutting the Jaca road. They had
managed to establish themselves close enough on either side to bring the road
itself under machine-gun fire and make it impassable for traffic; but the gap
was a kilometre wide and the Fascists had constructed a sunken road, a sort of
enormous trench, along which a certain number of lorries could come and go.
Deserters reported that in Huesca there were plenty of munitions and very little
food. But the town was evidently not going to fall. Probably it would have been
impossible to take it with the fifteen thousand ill-armed men who were
available. Later, in June, the Government brought troops from the Madrid front
and concentrated thirty thousand men on Huesca, with an enormous quantity of
aeroplanes, but still the town did not fall.

When we went on leave I had been a hundred and fifteen days in the line, and
at the time this period seemed to me to have been one of the most futile of my
whole life. I had joined the militia in order to fight against Fascism, and as
yet I had scarcely fought at all, had merely existed as a sort of passive
object, doing nothing in return for my rations except to suffer from cold and
lack of sleep. Perhaps that is the fate of most soldiers in most wars. But now
that I can see this period in perspective I do not altogether regret it. I wish,
indeed, that I could have served the Spanish Government a little more
effectively; but from a personal point of view--from the point of view of my
own development--those first three or four months that I spent in the line were
less futile than I then thought. They formed a kind of interregnum in my life,
quite different from anything that had gone before and perhaps from anything
that is to come, and they taught me things that I could not have learned in any
other way.

The essential point is that all this time I had been isolated--for at the
front one was almost completely isolated from the outside world: even of what
was happening in Barcelona one had only a dim conception--among people who
could roughly but not too inaccurately be described as revolutionaries. This was
the result of the militia--system, which on the Aragon front was not radically
altered till about June 1937. The workers' militias, based on the trade unions
and each composed of people of approximately the same political opinions, had
the effect of canalizing into one place all the most revolutionary sentiment in
the country. I had dropped more or less by chance into the only community of any size in Western Europe where political consciousness and disbelief in capitalism were more normal than their opposites. Up here in Aragon one was among tens of
thousands of people, mainly though not entirely of working-class origin, all
living at the same level and mingling on terms of equality. In theory it was
perfect equality, and even in practice it was not far from it. There is a sense
in which it would be true to say that one was experiencing a foretaste of
Socialism, by which I mean that the prevailing mental atmosphere was that of
Socialism. Many of the normal motives of civilized life--snobbishness,
money-grubbing, fear of the boss, etc.--had simply ceased to exist. The
ordinary class-division of society had disappeared to an extent that is almost
unthinkable in the money--tainted air of England; there was no one there except
the peasants and ourselves, and no one owned anyone else as his master. Of
course such a state of affairs could not last. It was simply a temporary and
local phase in an enormous game that is being played over the whole surface of
the earth. But it lasted long enough to have its effect upon anyone who
experienced it. However much one cursed at the time, one realized afterwards
that one had been in contact with something strange and valuable. One had been
in a community where hope was more normal than apathy or cynicism, where the
word 'comrade' stood for comradeship and not, as in most countries, for humbug.
One had breathed the air of equality. I am well aware that it is now the fashion
to deny that Socialism has anything to do with equality. In every country in the
world a huge tribe of party-hacks and sleek little professors are busy 'proving'
that Socialism means no more than a planned state-capitalism with the
grab-motive left intact. But fortunately there also exists a vision of Socialism
quite different from this. The thing that attracts ordinary men to Socialism and
makes them willing to risk their skins for it, the 'mystique' of Socialism, is
the idea of equality; to the vast majority of people Socialism means a classless
society, or it means nothing at all. And it was here that those few months in
the militia were valuable to me. For the Spanish militias, while they lasted,
were a sort of microcosm of a classless society. In that community where no one
was on the make, where there was a shortage of everything but no privilege and
no boot-licking, one got, perhaps, a crude forecast of what the opening stages
of Socialism might be like. And, after all, instead of disillusioning me it
deeply attracted me. The effect was to make my desire to see Socialism
established much more actual than it had been before. Partly, perhaps, this was
due to the good luck of being among Spaniards, who, with their innate decency
and their ever-present Anarchist tinge, would make even the opening stages of
Socialism tolerable if they had the chance.

Of course at the time I was hardly conscious of the changes that were
occurring in my own mind. Like everyone about me I was chiefly conscious of
boredom, heat, cold, dirt, lice, privation, and occasional danger. It is quite
different now. This period which then seemed so futile and eventless is now of
great importance to me. It is so different from the rest of my life that already
it has taken on the magic quality which, as a rule, belongs only to memories
that are years old. It was beastly while it was happening, but it is a good
patch for my mind to browse upon. I wish I could convey to you the atmosphere of that time. I hope I have done so, a little, in the earlier chapters of this
book. It is all bound up in my mind with the winter cold, the ragged uniforms of
militiamen, the oval Spanish faces, the morse-like tapping of machine-guns, the
smells of urine and rotting bread, the tinny taste of bean-stews wolfed
hurriedly out of unclean pannikins.

The whole period stays by me with curious vividness. In my memory I live over
incidents that might seem too petty to be worth recalling. I am in the dug-out
at Monte Pocero again, on the ledge of limestone that serves as a bed, and young
Ramon is snoring with his nose flattened between my shoulder-blades. I am
stumbling up the mucky trench, through the mist that swirls round me like cold
steam. I am half-way up a crack in the mountain-side, struggling to keep my
balance and to tug a root of wild rosemary out of the ground. High overhead some
meaningless bullets are singing.

Inspiring Jesuits!! (There lives the dearest freshness deep down things...)

2006-10-14T18:14:00.000-04:00

I have been posting quite infrequently of late: there has been a lot going on in my life, not the least a full load of teaching English to Juniors. I am trying to purify my intentions toward my work, that it may become in the deepest sense, an apostolate. I'm not there yet.

In the meantime, I thought I would try to do a little occasional series on inspiring Jesuits, as part of my constant effort to upbuild that least order, and hopefully edify others and perhaps inspire them to consider discerning this order.

[N.B. This is not a list of "the few good Jesuits" as I know there are many good Jesuits out there. These are just ones that inspire me.]

The first is a young priest that soon enough many will hear of. I am hard pressed to think of another young priest that fills me with so much hope about the New Springtime; and he is a Jesuit! Fr. Dave Meconi, SJ, recently finished his doctoral work at Oxford, and is already a well-published authority on Augustine, as well as being a regular on the orthodox Catholic journal circuit. He is strong, attractive, charismatic guy: a superlative example of an atheltic, popular, smart, and cool dude who despite wordly options becomes a priest. I first met him when he used to come by Franciscan University of Steubeville, stumping for vocations.

Here is a story about his ordination in 2003 (here is the original link to the story as it appeared in Company Magazine):

He was a good little kid,” says Phyllis Braganini, mother of David Meconi, SJ. David’s older sister, Anne Brancheau, takes it a step further, “He was a great kid, extraordinary if you ask me.” She goes on to say that David is a wonderful uncle to her three children, Ben, Samuel, and Sarah. “They love him. He’s crazy Uncle Dave. Whenever he calls, they all crowd around the phone to hear what he’s saying, even if he’s just shouting German words at them.”

As David neared ordination, people everywhere, his family, friends, and fellow Jesuits all said “he’ll make a great priest.” While he’s a tremendously gifted scholar, who will study next year at Oxford University and has already published articles in numerous scholarly journals, it’s not the academics people are talking about. Rather it’s his ability to relate to people, to make connections with students, his nieces and nephews, his mother, the many lay people he encounters in his ministry, and fellow Jesuits from the U.S. and around the world.

Fr. Peter Ryan, SJ, an associate professor of theology at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary in Emmitsburg, MD, and a good friend of David’s, says with “unmixed enthusiasm” that “we need priests who can connect on the human level with typical lay people, and David is a natural at that. He’s a steady, well-integrated man whom people look up to. And he has a great zeal for souls. This was evident during his time in regency at Xavier University, when with the help of Fr. Matt Gamber, SJ, he invited students to participate in Mass, penance, and Eucharistic Adoration. The student response was quite remarkable. Indeed, stunning. One reason was surely that the students understandably looked up to Dave. They were attracted to him because he is so personable, joyful, and zealous. But Dave is not interested in adulation. He used his gifts to attract students not to himself but to the Lord Jesus Christ and his holy Catholic Church.”

David grew up in Paw Paw, a small town in Western Michigan, where his family still runs the St. Julian Winery. Even as a boy who loved cracking people up with practical jokes, David demonstrated a desire to serve others, to help other people. “When he was in school, my mom would get mad at him because he was always giving his things away,” recalls his sister Anne. “There were some kids around Paw Paw that didn’t have much. If Dave thought they didn’t have a winter jacket, he’d give them his. There was one boy he sort of adopted. He just brought him over to the house, opened his closet doors and said ‘take whatever you need’.”

David shoveled sidewalks and mowed the lawns of elderly neighbors very often for little, if any, money. He and one of his closest friends in high school set up an intramural sports league for Paw Paw grade schoolers because they didn’t think the kids had much to do. The league continues today. David was well liked by his peers. He played football and baseball, finished very near the top of his class and was voted homecoming king his senior year.

In 1983 he enrolled at Hope College in Holland, MI. Three and a half years later, he graduated with a degree in economics and a minor in religious studies. Thoughts of a religious vocation crossed David’s mind from time to time in college. At one point, his mother says, he returned from school and said matter of factly, “I’m going to be a priest.”

After graduation, though, he moved to Chicago and clerked for S&P 500 futures trading at the Chi-cago Mercantile Exchange. “It was the late 80s. Reagan was president. Things with the economy were good,” David says, recalling the time he spent at the “Merc.” Even though he was making what his sister Anne describes as “really good money,” David wasn’t excited about what he was doing.

“I liked it there,” he says, “but not for the right reasons.” In what may have been the first concrete step towards a religious vocation, David found himself drawn to the Church and began attending daily Mass at the Cathedral in Chicago. “I felt like Moses,” David says: “’Today I set before you life and death.’ There was comfort, money, and wealth at the Merc. Then when I was at Mass I saw all these people who wouldn’t even be allowed on the observation deck at the Merc, much less on the floor: the homeless, the poor, the old, and the stinky. I knew one could become a saint working on the floor of the Merc but I also knew I wasn’t one of them.” He left his job in 1987 and began work on an MA in theology at Yale University. In the spring semester he transferred to Notre Dame University.

In the fall of 1988, he transferred again, this time to Marquette University, where he soon met Fr. Donald J. Keefe, SJ, a professor of theology. “He was the first Catholic intellectual I’d ever met, a man who was available for students and knew the tradition backwards and forwards. He took his life seriously as a priest and as an academic. I’d never seen a priest who didn’t have a parish,” David recalls. “That life was attractive to me. He was a tremendous influence.” Under the guidance of Fr. Keefe, David poured himself into his studies. He was amazed by the breadth of knowledge displayed by his classmates. He worked side by side with them during the day. After class he’d go see Fr. Keefe. “He caught me up on 2,000 years of philosophy. I had to read every night to catch up with the other guys.” Fr. Keefe also became a close friend of David’s and his spiritual director.

“I’ll remain eternally grateful to him,” David says of Fr. Keefe, who is now professor emeritus of theology at Sacred Heart Seminary in Detroit, MI. In fact, in a gesture of gratitude and respect, David asked Fr. Keefe to vest him during the ordination liturgy. Some of David’s gratitude no doubt comes from an encounter which took place just after he’d finished his degree at Marquette. “I was thinking about religious life,” David says, “but I had a full ride to go to the University of Toronto for a Ph.D. in theology. I had my bags packed, the car loaded up, and I was literally pulling out of town, when I stopped by to see Fr. Keefe. ‘Why are you going to lock yourself into a program for six years?’ he asked me. ‘If you’re serious about the priesthood, then don’t go somewhere you can’t think about it for six years’.” Fr. Keefe suggested instead that David go study for a year in Rome.

“Rome?”

He had his bags packed to go to Toronto. But Fr. Keefe told him he could help him find classes to take at the various theology schools in Rome. And David had family in Faleria, a town not far from Rome. Two weeks later he was on a plane. To Europe, not Toronto.

One of the first people David met there was Fr. Peter Ryan, who was also studying theology at the time. “He put me over the edge,” David says of Fr. Ryan. “Talking to him about who the Jesuits were, and my own prayer life. He was convincing.” He also became David’s spiritual director. “It’s amazing,” David recalls, “you’re looking, you’re looking, and then God just puts the right people in your life.”

He spent a year in Rome and then came back to the States, where he studied for one more year before entering the Jesuit novitiate, Loyola House, in 1992. In his second year there, David was assigned to St. Ignatius College Prep in Chicago for his “long experiment”. He helped teach Greek and Latin there. The experience was, for him, a powerful one. David worked closely with Frank Raispis, a long-time classics teacher at the school. He found in Frank a powerful affirmation of his own vocation.

“He was really the one that convinced me this is what I wanted to do with my life: spend it teaching kids in the Jesuit tradition. He was doing exactly what I wanted to do.”

After completing the novitiate and taking first vows, David moved on to the Jesuit First Studies Program at Loyola University Chicago, where, because of the many classes he’d taken prior to entering the Society, he was able to continue teaching at St. Ignatius while working on a further philosophy degree with Fr. Leo Sweeney, SJ, a now deceased Loyola University philosophy professor.

David completed the First Studies Program in two years and then began a four-year regency teaching undergraduate philosophy, Latin, and Greek at Xavier University in Cincinnati, OH. “I didn’t want to go at first,” he says, “but after a semester I was hooked. I loved it. The ability to engage students more earnestly in terms of their life choices appealed to me. Everyone has to go to high school, but once people get to college you can start to ask them more serious questions. ‘Why are you here? Who are you gonna marry? Why? When?’”

Joe Mordente, a theology teacher and track coach at Montini Catholic High School in Lombard, IL, met David at Marquette. They became close friends and Joe, who says he was “overjoyed” when he learned that David had decided to become a priest, later visited Xavier University while David was completing his regency. He says that while teaching a full load of philosophy courses, David had also helped organize weekly mass and confession because he wanted to set the students “hearts on fire with the Catholic faith.” Joe goes on to say that during his visit “there must have been 60 kids who attended Holy Mass at 9:00 P.M. on a Thursday night and a dozen or more who went to confession. Everywhere we walked on campus that weekend students would either hail Dave from afar or come running over to say hello, wanting to be in his company even for a moment. How they loved him. It was like seeing a modern day re-enactment of John 10: 1–21. I thought, ‘he is to them—in a certain sense—their ‘good shepherd’.”

During his regency, David connected with Fr. Richard Tomasek, SJ, director of spiritual formation of the seminarians in the theology school of the Pontifical College Josephinium in Columbus, OH, who became his spiritual director. Fr. Tomasek says David is “bright, and funny, committed to the faith, and committed to the Society of Jesus.” But the reason he’ll make a “great priest,” according to Fr. Tomasek is “because he can meet people both in their strengths and joys and in their weaknesses and sorrows, and also because he loves the Lord and is zealous to help people know and follow the Lord. It helps that he is a great teacher and preacher besides.”

During summer 2000, David traveled to Berlin, where he studied German for “28 hours a day.” He was preparing for theology studies, which he was slated to begin in the fall at Jesuitenkolleg, a Jesuit theology school in Innsbruck Austria. In three years in Innsbruck, David completed an S.T.L., the licentiate in sacred theology, and also published a number of scholarly articles.

The experience in Innsbruck was profound. David says he was blessed to be part of an extremely prayerful community. “We had daily Mass, and daily prayer. Every couple months we did a weekend of silence. It was a real highlight for me to live with guys from Romania, Hungary, and Poland, guys who know what it’s like to be beaten up for the faith.”

“Since arriving in Innsbruck,” he says, “I’ve been explicitly praying for benefactors. Being there was such a great opportunity. I’ve only grown in my gratitude. In adolescence you very often don’t know where food comes from. You just expect it to be there. As you get older, you learn to appreciate where things come from. Benefactors and supporters have become more and more important as time has passed and I’ve become more attentive and thankful.”

During fall 2002, David’s mom Phyllis, his sister Anne, and his brother Mark, traveled to Innsbruck for his ordination to the deaconate. Anne says she was struck by the genuine kindness of David’s Jesuit brothers in Austria. “Everyone was so friendly and welcoming. The Jesuits are a great bunch of people.” His mother echoes the same sentiments.

“The Jesuits seem to be the finest people; so dedicated, so holy, so happy to serve. I can’t think of any better place for Dave.” David will spend this summer serving at St. Xavier Parish in Cincinnati, OH, before once again heading overseas, this time to Oxford, England, where he’ll pursue a Ph.D. in theology. His specialty is the fourth century and he’s already working on a book about an obscure form of Christian poetry. “We’re so proud of him,” his mother says.

David, for his part, is excited about his ordination. Throughout formation, he says, the greatest grace has been “the ability to serve others. To be known and identified as a Jesuit opens doors in other people’s lives. It’s a privilege. People ask for prayers and spiritual direction. They ask you to help them see God. There’s not much better than that.” Since his ordination to the deaconate in October, he’s done a few baptisms. “I’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like, people asking you to assist in what’s probably the most important event up to that point in their lives and I hope the priesthood will be a continuation of those experiences and even more significant experiences.

"'You see, a good burp is to the rumbling stomach what praise is to the satisfied heart!' St. Augustine’s comparison here (Sermon 255) captures not only the “earthiness” of late antiquity but a timeless truth as well: When we take care to notice how God has filled our days with his goodness, we will do nothing other than praise and thank him. For all earthly beings are invitations to divine friendship and when I look at my life, I am astounded to see how God has blessed me with his fidelity, with so many incredibly beautiful friends, and with a Jesuit vocation which allows me to serve the Lord and his family in so many ways. Priestly ordination is a time to look at one’s life, and I can’t help but smile and thank Jesus Christ for deigning to need us and to rely on us to bring him to others."

Here is a link to an article he wrote, "John Paul II and the Femininity of Holiness".

Here is another, "A Christian View of History".

The Fool for Christ

2006-10-04T19:04:00.000-04:00

For this great feast, one of my favorite writers on one of my favorite saints. From Thomas Merton's No Man Is an Island:

These thoughts on vocation are evidently incomplete. But there is one gap that needs to be filled in order to avoid confusion. We have spoken of the active and contemplative lives without, so far, referring to the vocation which St. Thomas rates higher than any other: the apostolic life in which the fruits of contemplation are shared with others.

Instead of speaking of this vocation in theory, let us look rather at its perfect embodiment in one of its greatest saints: Francis of Assisi. The stigmatization of St. Francis was a divine sign of the fact that he was, of all saints, the most Christ-like. He had succeeded better than any other in the work of reproducing in his life the simplicity and poverty and the love of God and of men which marked the life of Jesus. More than that, he was an Apostle who incarnated the whole spirit and message of the Gospels most perfectly. Merely to know St. Francis is to understand the Gospel, and to follow him in his true, integral spirit, is to live the Gospel in all its fullness. The genius of his sanctity made him able to communicate to the world the teachings of Christ not in this or that aspect, not in fragments expanded by thought and analysis, but in all the wholeness of its existential simplicity. St. Francis was, as all saints must try to be, simply "another Christ."

His life did not merely reproduce this or that mystery of the life of Christ. He did not merely live the humble virtues of the divine infancy and of the hidden life at Nazareth. He was not merely tempted with Christ in the desert or weary with Him in the travels of His apostolate. He did not only work miracles like Jesus. He was not only crucified with Him. All these mysteries are united in the life of Francis, and we find them all in him, now singly and now together. The risen Christ lived again perfectly in this saint who was completely possessed and transformed by the Spirit of divine charity.

St. Thomas's phrase contemplata aliis tradere (to share with others the fruits of contemplation) is not properly understood unless we have in mind the image of a St. Francis walking the roads of medieval Italy, overflowing with the joy of a message that could only be communicated to him directly by the Spirit of God. The wisdom and salvation preached by Francis were not only the overflow of the highest kind of contemplative life, but they were quite simply the expression of the fullness of the Christian Spirit--that is to say of the Holy Spirit of God.

No man can be an apostle of Christ unless he is filled with the Holy Ghost. And no man can be filled with the Holy Ghost unless he does what is normally expected of a man who follows Christ to the limit. He must leave all things, in order to recover them all in Him.

The remarkable thing about St. Francis is that in his sacrifice of everything he also sacrificed all the "vocations" in a limited sense of the word. After having been edified for centuries by all the various branches of the Franciscan religious family, we are surprised to think that St. Francis started out on the roads of Umbria without the slightest idea that he had a "Franciscan vocation." And in fact he did not. He had thrown all vocations to the winds together with his clothes and other possessions. He did not think of himself as an apostle, but as a tramp. He certainly did not look upon himself as a monk: if he had wanted to be a monk, he would have found plenty of monasteries to enter. He evidently did not go around conscious of the fact that he was a "contemplative." Nor was he worried by comparisons between the active and contemplative lives. Yet he led both at the same time, and with the highest perfection. No good work was alien to him--no work of mercy, whether corporate or spiritual, that did not have a place in his beautiful life! His freedom embraced everything.

Francis could have been ordained priest. He refused out of humility (for that too would have been a "vocation" and he was beyond vocations). Yet he had in fact the perfection and quintessence of the apostolic spirit of sacrifice and charity which are necessary in the life of every priest. It takes a moment of reflection to reconcile oneself to the thought that St. Francis never said Mass--a fact which is hardly believable to one who is penetrated with his spirit.

If there was any recognized vocation in his time that Francis night have associated with his own life, it was the vocation of the hermit. The hermits were the only members of any set of religious persons that he consistently imitated. He frequently went off into the mountains to pray and live alone. But he never thought that he had a "vocation" to do anything but that. He stayed alone as long as the Spirit held him in solitude, and then let himself be led back into the towns and villages by the same Spirit.

If he had a thought about it, he might have recognized that his vocation was essentially "prophetic." He was like another Elias or Eliseus, taught by the Spirit in solitude, but brought by God to the cities of men with a message to tell them.

All the many facets of the vocation of a St. Francis show us that we are beyond the level of ordinary "states of life." But it is for that very reason that, whenever we speak of the "mixed life" or the "Apostolic vocation" we would do well to think of it in terms of a Francis or of an Elias. The "mixed life" is too easily reduced to its lowest common denominator, and at that level it is nothing more than a form of the active life. As such, it suffers by comparison with the contemplative life. Why? Because the dignity of the apostolic life, in the teaching of St. Thomas, flows not from the element of action that is in it but from the element of contemplation. A life of preaching without contemplation is nothing but an "active life," and though it may be very holy and meritorious, it cannot lay claim to the dignity ascribed by St. Thomas to the life which "shares with others the fruits of contemplation."

But in proportion as the mendicant friar approaches the ideal of his founder, in proportion as he lives the poverty and charity of Francis or Dominic, and plunges into the loving knowledge of God which is granted only to little ones, in proportion as he abandons himself to the Holy Spirit, he will far outstrip the contemplative perfection of those whose contemplation is given them for themselves alone.