Alas, I am damned with a much less self-deprecating personality than my new soul--and younger--brother Bob Hockett (though for all I know he may recoil at learning that I think of him that way; the "soul", not the "younger", and certainly not the "brother"). Which means, for those who have been paying close attention to recent posts, that I utterly lack that wonderful--most wonderful?--virtue: humility. Please, dear Christians, and other believers, and even those of you who are wavering-, or even non-, believers, I deeply regret this state of affairs, which I, perhaps mistakenly, and if so, then surely brokenly, attribute to a deep insecurity owing to the circumstances of my biological wiring and, even more, my upbringing.
My addendum to Bob"s immediately preceding post:
When I read about our decent and admirable friend Robby's reliance on, and appropriation of, "the Tradition" (see Rick's post below), I think: Jean Porter (Notre Dame, Theology) and Cathy Kaveny (Notre Dame, Law and Theology), among others, are the ones who--unlike, IMn-HO, Robby and his magisterial mentors, John Finnis and German Grisez (yes, double entendre)--are accurately relying on, and appropriating, the Tradition. "The Tradition", as in Aristotle through Aquinas through ...
Just as theology--certainly not least, moral theology--must take seriously what contemporary science (cosmology, evolutionary biology, etc.) has to teach us, if it is to be at all credible (surely that claim is not controversial among us here at MOJ), so too must theology take seriously, if is to be at all credible--especially moral theology, if *it* is to be at all credible--the yield of modern and contemporary human experience. Think, here, human sexuality. I fully understand that for many of us this is hard to do--for some of us, impossibly hard: those whose socialization and psychology have bequeathed to them a profound aversion--I am inclined to say, an aesthetic aversion (though, of course, they do not experience it that way)--to unfamiliar modes of human sexuality.
(Black bonding sexually with white? Yuk! Female bonding sexually with female? Or male with male? Yuk squared! Indeed, more than "Yuk squared!": God forbid! Please, dear God, help me, empower me, to articulate an explanation, in support of that "God forbid!" ... indeed, in rational vindication of that *magisterial* "God forbids!")
(Females in male bodies? Males in female bodies? Surely this cannot be! Surely this is illusion born of, what? ... depravity? Please, please, dear God, turn back [this part of] the clock!)
Again, apologies to the great Robert Zimmerman (here):
... [S]omething is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
We are surely blessed to live in interesting times.
May we also be blessed, this Christmas Eve, to live with loving hearts--and not only with loving hearts, but also with open, truly open, minds.
"Some Catholics concede that the church admits the principle of doctrinal development, but they accuse [John] Noonan, in Richard Neuhaus's words, of too often equating development with 'a change, or even a reversal, of doctrine.' ... Noonan and theologian Avery Dulles recently has a polite, but sharp, exchange on the subject, with Noonan again insisting that 'the record is replete with mistakes -- the faithful can't just accept everything that comes from Rome as though God has authorized it.'" -- John T. McGreevy, "A Case of Doctrinal Development: John T. Noonan -- Jurist, Historian, Author, Sage," Commonweal, Nov. 12, 2000, at 12, 17. See also Thomas P. Rausch, SJ, Reconciling Faith and Reason (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2000), at 45-46: "A presentation of the Catholic tradition able to acknowledge not just development, but also change in the doctrinal tradition is a more honest one." Cf. Robert McClory, Faithful Dissenters: Stories of Men and Women Who Loved and Changed the Church (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000).
Merry Christmas!
Thanks very much to Rick for the pointer to Ryan Anderson's response to the nice NYT profile of Robby.
Funny, but I'd experienced a somewhat similar reaction to the piece last Sunday, in that it seemed pretty clear that the author was a little thin on the venerability of the natural law tradition, which in my reckoning antedates -- at least in fragmentary fashion -- even Aristotle in the writings of many of the pre-Socratics, as well as their counterparts farther east. (See, e.g., this little book: http://www.amazon.com/Little-Book-Big-Ideas-Law/dp/1556528272/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1261690840&sr=8-2.)
In any event, I thought I would take this opportunity quickly to register the fact that I think of myself, too, as an heir to and devotee of this tradition, albeit nowhere near as distinguished a one as are Robby, John Finnis, or many here at MoJ. I also find in the work of Aristotle and Thomas, as well as that of the that fellow who I believe to be insufficiently appreciated as a sort of neo-Aristotelian himself -- yep, Kant, by way of the Aristotelian Wolff -- much that informs my own humble attempts at action-theoretic, practical-rational, moral, and political-philosophic thinking. And for what it might be worth to confine myself to saying this only cryptically right now, the account of distributive justice that I think most compelling -- an account I have tried to work out over the years and of which I believe we can be just as clear and just as sure (if not even moreso) as we are about other spheres of morality such as the sexual and the filial -- is an account that I believe to be thoroughly rooted in the natural law tradition.
But more of all that in the days ahead. For now, let it suffice to say ...
Joy to the World!
Bless you all and Merry Christmas,
Bob
A few days ago, Bob noted a recent NYTM profile of our own Robby George ("The Conservative-Christian Big Thinker"). Robby's friend and colleague, Ryan Anderson, discusses the profile in this post. A bit:
. . .But the Times profile did misunderstand one pretty important aspect of George’s work.
Throughout the article, George is depicted as having manufactured an entirely new moral and political philosophy, which he now “sells” to the leading Evangelicals and Roman Catholic bishops of America to advance social-conservative causes.
Without a doubt, George and the other so-called “new natural lawyers” are innovative, but their innovations are in the service of reviving and refining what Isaiah Berlin called the central tradition of Western philosophy, the tradition that runs through Aristotle and Aquinas. Rather than manufacturing novel philosophical theories, George and his colleagues see themselves as appropriating and building on the wisdom of the ages to tease out the purposes and meanings of various social practices. In other words, this is philosophically critical conservative thought at its best. . . .
Here are some interesting reflections, by Ross Douthat, on the significance, meaning, and implications of Christmas:
. . . The Christian story is not, for instance, a theological or philosophical treatise. It's not a set of commands or insights about our moral duties. Nor is it a road map to the good life. It has implications for all of those questions, obviously; certainly, Jesus of Nazareth wasn't exactly silent on "the concept of justice" during his lifetime, and Christians have been deriving theologies, philosophies and codes of conduct from his example ever since. But fundamentally, the Christian story is evidence for a particular idea about the universe: It recounts a series of events that, if real, tells us something profound about the nature of God, and His relationship to His creatures, that we couldn't have been expected to understand or accept in precisely the same way without the Gospel narratives. . . .
Consider, for instance, the way in which the dominance of the Christian story has actually sharpened one of the best arrows in the anti-theist's quiver. In Western society, especially, the oft-heard claim that the world is too cruel a place for a good omnipotence to have created derives a great deal of its power, whether implicitly or explicitly, from the person of Christ himself. The God of the New Testament seems more immediate, more personal, and more invested in his creation than He had heretofore revealed Himself to be. But this arguably makes Him seem more culpable for the world's suffering as well. Paradoxically, the God who addresses Job out of the whirlwind is far less vulnerable to complaints about the world's injustice than the God who suffers on the Cross - or the human God who cries in the manger. For many Christians, Christ's suffering provides a partial answer to the problem of theodicy. But for many atheists and agnostics, it only sharpens the question: How can a God who loves mankind enough to die for us allow us to suffer as much as we do?
Take that question away, and all the arguments that spin away from it disappear as well. Which is just one small reason why a world in which nobody had any reason any longer to believe that God had been born in human flesh to a poor Jewish woman in Bethlehem, or died a miserable death on a Roman cross, would be a world in which atheists as well as believers found themselves arguing about life, the universe and everything in very different ways than they do now.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
John Allen's column this week: "Lessons the Irish church can learn about sex abuse," here.
And this from MOJ friend & Trinity College Dublin law prof Gerry Whyte: "A second Irish bishop has now offered to resign in the aftermath of the Murphy
report." The story is here, and opens with this: "Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin Jim Moriarty has offered his resignation to Pope
Benedict, admitting he should have challenged the 'prevailing culture' within
the Catholic Church that allowed criminal acts against children to take place."
May we not fairly wonder--indeed, should we not wonder, even urgently and fiercely--how many American bishops could have said (could say) the same thing--indeed, should have said (should say) the same thing--but, being corporation men, and thereby, and sadly, corrupted, lacked (lack) the virtues to have done (to do) so: inter alia, self-awareness, courage, honesty, and perhaps that most wonderful of all virtues, humility. What authority--what kind of authority--do these men presume to claim?
