An interesting exchange. (Thanks to Amy Welborn.)
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Pope, India, and religious freedom
Monday, May 22, 2006
Why Catholics Can't Sing
I was touched by Rob's cri de coeur about the dreariness of Catholic liturgical music and congregational singing. And I can't dismiss his despair about what passes for music in our churches as the lament of a not-yet-fully-assimilated evangelical convert still longing for "Amazing Grace" and "Rock of Ages." This cradle Catholic agrees entirely with Rob about not just the lousy singing but a body of music that. at best, combines the Carpenters with bad show tunes or Sesame Street singalongs. If you think I am just being some kind of snob, check out Thomas Day's terrific book. "Why Catholics Can't Sing: The Culture of Catholicism and the Triumph of Bad Taste." The book begins with this intriguing passage: "Contemplate this very odd situation. Today, a large number of Roman Catholics in the US who go to church regularly--perhaps the majority--rarely or barely sing any of the music. (I have heard a congregation of fifty elderly Episcopalians produce more volume than three hundred Roman Catholics.) If you think about it, this stands out as a most curious development in the history of Christianity." Day does not provide a simple explanation for why this is true (ie, it all went to hell in a handbasket because of Vatican II. Actually, it was pretty bad before that too.) Instead, he argues that "The uneven singing of the American Catholic congregation is really a symptom, not the disease itself. It is the result of a human history that stretches across the centuries, not the result of some recent artistic or musical development." I will leave it to our readers to turn to Professor Day for an explication of that history.
--Mark
They shoot horses, don’t they?
Today the on-line news services had a great deal to say about Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro’s accident at the Preakness Stakes. The photograph of Barbaro nobly pursuing the race with a broken hind leg jutting out spoke a great deal about not giving up on the goal of a lifetime—to win the triple crown. Today’s New York Times had a short article by Jane Schwartz, “We Care, But Why Do We Care So Much?”, (Here) about Barbaro. But, after reading her short story (the author wrote a book on another famous race horse, Ruffian, who was euthanized after a debilitating racetrack accident back in the mid 1970s), I came to realize she was addressing much more than a noble horse and a great jockey trying to save his horse. She was really writing about all of us in the human family and the cares and concerns that we may harbor.
Ms. Schwartz asks early on an important question about Barbaro’s racing accident: “Why do people care so much about the fate of an animal to which they have no personal connection?” Perhaps her question could be simplified by dropping the phrase “to which they have no personal connection?” She goes on, though, to answer, in a way, her question: it breaks the hearts of people when animals have to be destroyed.
Ms Schwartz is thinking beyond the Preakness Stakes incident and aftermath because she begins to introduce the real question: what if it, the horse, were a human being? She notes that good, meaning famous, horses “are treated the way every child should be treated…” The emphasis is mine. But we should pause and ask ourselves the question: how are children, how are people, in reality treated? Does it depend if they are famous or not like Barbaro? The author also notes that there seems to be a social pressure not to destroy the animal “even when that may be the most humane path.”
A few years ago I found myself on the periphery of a controversy involving the applications of several student groups that were seeking recognition by the student government so that they could qualify for campus funding and other university benefits. One group was “Law Students for Choice.” The University administration correctly stepped in and noted that it would be a problem for the institution which asserts a Catholic identity to recognize this group as a qualifying student organization. In response, some members of the university community then began to raise questions about a student pro-life group that was also seeking recognition around the same time. I don’t believe the latter group ever got by the student government board. Oddly enough, the Animal Rights group made it through to the finish line, so to speak, and on to become a recognized student group.
To go back to Ms. Schwartz’s remark that there seems to be social pressure against killing animals: it is harder to make the same claim on behalf of human beings in many contexts. Be the topic abortion, embryonic cloning, euthanasia, Darfur, or black market sale of human organs, does our society, do we, express the same caring for people as we seem to convey for animals?
And that is where we who are educators asserting the role of Catholic legal theory have a role to play. Ms. Schwartz concludes her essay by talking about miracles of famous race horses recovering from tragic accidents. Her last line is about what she identifies as the “real miracle” because so many people “are still capable of caring so much.” But, I ask, do they care about people as much as animals? If it is good to hope for animals, famous or not, is it also not a good to hope for people, be they famous or not? The answer to that question must be yes. But our culture, which is quick to display its empathy for a famous animal, does not always respond in a similar fashion when even one person, let alone thousands or millions, is forgotten by the same culture.
That is where educators concerned about Catholic legal theory have a crucial role to play—a role so crucial that it, too, could be the goal of a lifetime. There is something about educating inquiring minds (be they students, readers of articles, judges, legislators, administrators, and citizens with whom we come into contact) concerning the inestimable value of every human being whose future, both in this world and the next, should not be fraught with decisions and attitudes that many would find barbaric if they were directed toward a horse. I am sorry for Barbaro, and I am sorry for Ruffian, the famous horse that is the subject of Ms. Schwartz’s book to which I made previous reference. But I am far more sorry for those children, born and not; those mature men and women struggling with the problems and conflicts of life; those aging elders left alone to die; those disabled persons who do not seem to exist, all who are viewed by a culture and its political and legal institutions as being dispensable because they are not famous—and if they are not famous, then they are unknown. And it becomes easy to imagine that they do not exist. That is the challenge for us: to demonstrate that they do exist and merit the primary concern of a people that are “capable of caring so much.” God has expressed his love for them. Might we not do the same if we are capable of caring so much? Surely the New York Times is not the only venue in which such caring can be displayed. RJA sj
Hymns and the Common Good
Forgive a slight detour from Catholic legal theory. I'm almost always glad to be Catholic . . . except when I'm singing Catholic worship songs, at which time I get the unmistakable sensation that I'm at a very sleepy campfire sing-along. This does not mean that I want to bring back the Gregorian chant. Traditional Protestant hymns have long provided an inspirational, rousing, and accessible worship form that I have yet to experience in a Catholic parish. Apparently, I need to read Christopher Brown's new book, Singing the Gospel: Lutheran Hymns and the Success of the Reformation, in which he focuses on the role of hymns in the life of a 16th century German town, Joachimsthal.
A reviewer notes that:
We live in a world where technique, allied to advertising, is determinative in all areas of our life, not just in the technical ones. Because we read the past in our image, a study like Brown's tempts us to view 16th-century Lutheran hymn singing as a skillful technique, a means to get people to buy into Lutheranism. We then jump to the conclusion that if we could only find a comparable technique, we could get people to buy into our version of Christianity. Sometimes this perspective is even considered evangelical and missional. But it widely misses the mark, partly because the freedom of the Christian message itself breaks the tyranny of such manipulative intent, and also because it misconstrues the Christian community in Joachimsthal and the Lutheran understanding of the faith.
The Christians in Joachimsthal did not believe in a technique. They believed in the God who "calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies" the church, as it says in Luther's Small Catechism. Proclamation then was not about technique. It was about the centrality of God's gracious action and the comfort the recipients experienced. Hymns were not gimmicks. They were part of the fiber of life together under God.
The reviewer also makes the broader observation that many of the differences in sacred music stemmed from theological differences in understanding the role of music:
Lutherans tied their music to proclamation, Roman Catholics used it as intercession for the purpose of satisfying a debt, and Calvinists saw it as congregational prayer.
I'll be the first to admit that, in the past, Protestants occasionally became a bit exuberant in their whole hymn-as-proclamation theme (see, e.g., this classic), and that the "seeker-sensitive" movement has reduced a lot of today's Protestant worship music to technique. But what is the role of today's Catholic liturgical music? If Gregorian chants served to erase the debts of the faithful, what mountain of eternal debt are we accumulating every time we sing "On Eagle's Wings" or "Morning Has Broken?"
Rob
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Weigel on Europe's "Two Culture Wars"
An interesting read:
[Recent events in
] are a microcosm of the two interrelated culture wars that beset Spain
today. Western Europe
The first of these wars—let us, following the example of Spain’s birth certificates, call it “Culture War A”—is a sharper form of the red state/blue state divide in America: a war between the postmodern forces of moral relativism and the defenders of traditional moral conviction. The second—“Culture War B”—is the struggle to define the nature of civil society, the meaning of tolerance and pluralism, and the limits of multiculturalism in an aging Europe whose below-replacement-level fertility rates have opened the door to rapidly growing and assertive Muslim populations.
Dionne on "states' rights" . . . and subsidiarity?
MOJ-folks might find E.J. Dionne's recent op-ed, "States' Rights -- for the Right Ideas", of interest. The piece is focused primarily on the recent health-care-related moves in Massachusetts. He opens with this:
Liberals and Democrats in search of new ideas might surprise everyone by embracing the cause of states' rights.
No, that doesn't mean abandoning federal enforcement of civil rights, or environmental or worker safety statutes. That old states' rights idea should stay dead.
The new states' rights means enhancing the ability of states to solve problems that our current federal government won’t confront. These days the real opponents of allowing our 50 laboratories of democracy to step up are conservatives who fear the power grass-roots progressives can wield at the state level. . . .
The federal government should solve problems or, failing that, give states the room, the incentives and the opportunities to solve problems for themselves.
Two quick thoughts: First, it is not clear to me that Dionne is really endorsing "laboratories of democracy"-style federalism. He is simply happy about the fact that one particular state has enacted a policy that he likes. That is, when Dionne says that the "old states' rights idea" should "stay dead", he is not talking about an "idea" of "states' rights" at all, but just about policy outcomes. Second, I agree that "[t]he federal government should solve problems" -- at least, it should solve those problems that it is (a) authorized and (b) competent to solve. I wonder, though - - has Dionne -- with the words "failing that" -- inverted subsidiarity?
Immigration and the family
The questions about immigration, legal and otherwise, continue to surface. Mary Ann Glendon has just published, in her characteristic fashion, a thoughtful essay in the newest issue of First Things (Here). She takes the occasion not only to tackle the topic but to offer insight into other issues related to questions dealing with immigration that affect American and western culture. One of these issues concerns the family. There was a time when the family was a potent auxiliary resource for dealing with a multiplicity of social and economic issues. However, with its dissolution and redefinition, this fundamental unit of society seems no longer capable of serving as a safety net to the degree that it once did. Mary Ann's reflection once again serves as a catalyst for thinking about how Catholic legal theory might address some of these problems that confront us today. RJA sj
Saturday, May 20, 2006
The Sad Truth About Fr. Maciel
Grant Gallicho, over at dotCommonweal, has said (here) that the following editorial "is well worth reading." Having just read it, I concur. Excerpts follow. To read the whole editorial, click here:
National Cathiolic Reporter
May 26, 2006
The sad truth about Maciel
The
decision by the Vatican in the case of Fr. Marciel Maciel Degollado,
founder of the Legionaries of Christ, that he be restricted in his
public ministry after being found guilty of multiple acts of sexual
abuse spanning decades brings some resolution to a particularly
disturbing chapter in recent church history.
. . .
Maciel was an imposing international figure who commanded intense loyalty, raised enormous sums of money, won the special favor of Pope John Paul II and other high Vatican officials, and indignantly protested his innocence until the evidence became overwhelming.
It would be difficult to overstate the significance of the lessons to be drawn from this episode.
One need only follow the path of the first accusers - the ridicule and vilification they encountered, the institutional scorn and derision they had to overcome to even begin to state their case - to understand the difficulty of bringing charges against a revered church leader. The church owes them a debt of gratitude.
The case illustrates, too, the long time it often takes for victims, some shattered in their childhood, to begin to deal with such deep wounds. Often they do so taking on the dual burdens of reestablishing their lives while raising the specter of extreme disorder and sickness at the highest levels of the community.
| |||
What has become clear in such cases is that the effects of these crimes can play out with severe damage over such a long period of time that it is difficult to see how justice can be achieved, for either the victim or the accused. The prospects of justice are further dimmed by the growing understanding that the abuse is most likely the result of illness, not criminal intent.
Those complexities seem to be understood widely among Catholics who have long turned the focus of their anger from individual acts of abuse to the deliberate concealment of sexual predators and protection of those guilty of harming children.
It is the cover-up, including the payment of huge sums early on to procure silence, that continues to infuriate Catholics who have no way to expect or demand accountability on the part of their leaders. The cover-up is the product of secrecy, privilege and a lack of accountability that are major elements of the clerical culture in which the sex abuse scandal flourished. While sexual abuse of children and cover-up of the crimes occurs widely throughout the general culture, that fact should provide little comfort to an institution that professes the Christian Gospel. What has made the scandal infinitely worse than it need be is not the fact that abuse occurs. That is, perhaps, an inevitability in any sizeable institution. It was made worse because officials either ignored or downplayed the claims of victims and went to great lengths in many cases to protect the abusers.
* * *
For all of the commendable achievements of Pope John Paul II, his blindness to this cancer within the church and his unwillingness until the last years of his long reign to understand the urgency of the problem will be seen as serious flaws of his tenure. His inaction sent signals that he both tolerated and encouraged the debilitating culture of deceit.
The case of Maciel, whose victims ranged from youngsters in his charge to young priests, is the most dramatic example of the late pope's failure. Vatican officials today explain that John Paul did not have the information with which to judge the case. That's the very point, however. One can only conclude he failed to listen to the victims and believed for far too long that the scandal was the malicious work of those who opposed the Legion because of its loyalty to him.
Faced with compelling evidence and repeated warnings, John Paul exhibited no sense of the need to investigate credible claims immediately. Instead, he lavished on Maciel the perks of privilege. He gave him a place of honor during some of his international travels, bestowed special benefits upon his order and even hailed him as "an efficacious guide to youth," a horrible and tragic misreading of reality.
The level of Maciel's deception and the gullibility of church officials is difficult to comprehend. Late last year, the Vatican's top official for religious orders, speaking of Maciel as he stepped down from leadership of the Legionaries, called him "the instrument chosen by God to carry out one of the great spiritual designs in the church of the 20th century."
Vatican Secretary of State Cardinal Angelo Sodano came to his friend Maciel's defense, hailing "the great work that you do."
That Maciel was able to dupe his order, donors and Vatican officials straight up to the pope so convincingly and for so long is further evidence that the hierarchical culture sometimes works overtime to shield itself and those it favors from hard truths.
The Maciel case reveals much about who in the community is listened to; about how isolated certain levels of the church can be from what is going on in local communities; about how blind officials have been to one of the most debilitating scandals to hit the church in centuries. We risk repeating a worn warning because we think it is important to the integrity and very life of the church. The sex abuse scandal is merely the most sensational and disturbing symptom of what happens when the model of priestly service offered by Christ, which the church at its best has realized for two millennia, is distorted into a system of secrecy, privilege, distance from the people and a lack of accountability to anything or anyone save the clerical culture itself.
Perhaps
it is sign of a major breakthrough that the Congregation for the
Doctrine of the Faith was able, finally, to deal honestly with this
notorious case and risk the wrath of those who simply do not want to
believe that such things happen.
. . .
[T]hen-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger . . . finally took the time to begin reviewing briefs of the abuse cases from the United States, gradually becoming convinced that there was more to the claims of the victims than they first believed. Ratzinger, who initially shut down the probe of Maciel, then allowed the investigation to go forward, an investigation that involved interviewing witnesses on several continents and extensive questioning of victims. In the end, it was Pope Benedict XVI who signed off on the recommendation of those in the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, who found Maciel guilty and advised that he be removed from active ministry.
For all of the missteps earlier on, the church ultimately got it right - and it must have required no small amount of courage to do so. We would have preferred a fuller accounting of the documentation and some comment from those who saw the files on Maciel and who privately say the evidence was overwhelming.
From the United States to Ireland, to England to Australia and New Zealand to Mexico and in various parts of Africa - in short, throughout much of the world - the specter of clerical sexual abuse of the vulnerable is an issue that cannot be ignored. More important, though, is the institutional cover-up of such abuse by the highest levels of church leadership. Pastors, bishops, archbishops and cardinals, on up to the pope, in one way or another all those levels have been involved in denying, covering up, revictimizing victims and disparaging those who have attempted to reveal the breadth and depth of the problem.
The decision on Maciel provides a chance to reverse that pattern, to stop blaming everyone else and the general culture and to look deeply at the culture within the church that allowed the scandal to persist, eroding the church's authority, credibility and moral standing in the world.
It is time for the church to provide answers for why and how such widespread deceit and denial occurred.
_______________
mp
Amnesty International and Abortion
Thanks to Richard Stith, MOJ-readers have learned about AI's misguided, objectionable proposal to endorse abortion rights (here). There is an informative article on the proposal and the ensuing controversy in The Tablet, May 6, 2006, at 8-9: Hugh O'Shaughnessy, "Conscience Under Fire." Unfortunately, there seems to be no electronic copy to which to link.
_______________
mp
Friday, May 19, 2006
The Moussaoui deliberations
Ann Althouse has this post, commenting on a Washington Post story about the deliberations in Moussaoui case. According to the story:
Only one juror stood between the death penalty and Zacarias Moussaoui and that juror frustrated his colleagues because he never explained his vote, according to the foreman of the jury that sentenced the al-Qaeda operative to life in prison last week.
The foreman, a Northern Virginia math teacher, said in an interview that the panel voted 11 to 1, 10 to 2 and 10 to 2 in favor of the death penalty on three terrorism charges for which Moussaoui was eligible for execution. A unanimous vote on any one of them would have resulted in a death sentence.
Apparently, the hold-out not only "never explained his vote", but never identified himself as the hold-out, either. Professor Althouse has some interesting thoughts on the matter.