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).
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 ...
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.
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?
Just a quick word of thanks to Rick for his wonderfully thoughtful response -- particularly in light of the many good attention-requiring things on the plate right now (and not only figuratively speaking). It looks to me as though Rick and I might both be relying upon more or less the same, more or less choate, mode of evaluation in assessing the health legislation now before Congress. Where we might differ, if we differ at all -- for, as intimated in my previous two posts, I'm not entirely sure yet where I am on these things, hence whether or how much we might ultimately differ -- would be on a few empirical questions, and possibly to a marginal degree on the comparative weights we would attach to the goods and ills that the legislation would bring. I'll of course try to sort that out when I finally get round to the earlier promised attempt at 'applying,' to the proposed legislation soon to be before conference committee, that proposed mode of evaluation I sketched earlier. Looks like that'll have to be after Christmas -- which surely is as it should be in any event. I'll also of course be writing my members of Congress after the holidays, urging something like that thoroughgoing form of 'abortion-neutrality' that I proposed a couple of weeks back. Assuming as I have been doing that good faith which I have ascribed to self-professed 'pro-lifers' and 'pro-choicers' alike when they purport to be 'bracketing' the current abortion regime, without prejudice to the question of its merits or demerits, for purposes of advancing the shared aim of bringing affordable health insurnace to all, it will be only fair for me to hold both sides in the legislature to their own words!
While I am still not comfortable holding out as "guidance" to Bob my thinking about (how to think about) the healthcare-insurance-funding proposal, his recent detailed and thoughtful post certainly (more than) deserves a response.
Let me start with Bob's "two final points": The care that Bob takes, and urges us to take, to avoid assuming "too much of an uncharitable character" is commendable and to be embraced. That said -- and conceding, of course, that I do not and cannot know what is in the heart, or motivating the actions, of every legislator and citizen who is supporting the Senate proposal -- it seems to me that the facts (as I, probably imperfectly, understand them) make it hard to avoid the conclusion that for many of the Democrats in Congress -- including the relevant leaders -- and also for many of the leaders and activists in the party's base, it really is important and core (not merely incidental or regrettable) that the healthcare-insurance debate / legislation serve as a vehicle for increasing "access" to abortion. (Not only through funding (direct and indirect); my understanding is that the Senate proposal does not include the "conscience" protection for health-care providers that was included in the House bill.) And, it seems similarly clear that, for these people, the desire to increase "access" travels closely with the view that increasing "access" will also have the desired effect of entrenching the practice legally. Bob says "we owe it to most if not all of [the non-pro-life Democrats] to take them at their word when they say they seek not to increase abortion-funding, but to increase insurance-funding." I don't think this is, in fact, the word of these Democrats.
Back to Bob's first point. He says that he is "genuinely trying to work out a workable mode of ethical assessment, suitable for conscientious Catholic lawyers and indeed citizens more generally, of proposed legislation that bears effects upon the incidence and what might be called 'public meaning' of abortion even while directed at ends that have nothing to do with abortion." This is an important and worthy project. (In this particular case, though, as I suggested above, I'm not sure it should be conceded that this is a case of proposed legislation that is "directed at ends that have nothing to do with abortion.") I am not sure I have, or have professed to have, a "mode of assessment": I noted that the Senate proposal would have certain bad effects in terms of the incidence and public meaning of abortion. It seems clear to me that it would. And, that a piece of legislation is likely to have such effects is, I think, a good reason to withhold support. Would the possibility of such bad effects always compel, for me, the withholding of support? Probably not. (See, e.g., Bob's highway-funding example.) Here, (i) the bad effects strike me as pretty bad; and (ii) there are, in my view, other, garden-varietyreasons for withholding support of the proposal, which does not seem likely to me to result in sufficient good effects, at a reasonable cost. So, when I put all that together, I oppose the Senate proposal. I don't know if "all things considered" counts as a "mode of assessment", but I think that's what I'm doing.
As Bob points out, I said in an earlier post, "focusing (for now) only on the question whether or not the proposal facilitates and entrenches the unjustified exclusion of unborn children from the protection and solicitude of the law -- it seems to me that the answer to this question is "yes", and I'm comfortable holding the view that this answer provides a sufficient reason to hope the bill does not pass." For me, this answer does provide a "sufficient reason" in this case; and, I imagine that in the vast majority of cases (even if not in every imaginable case), this answer would provide, for me, a very weighty, even conclusive, reason to oppose proposed legislation. I do not think that, in saying this (jumping ahead to Bob's third set of points), I am saying that "the abortion effect of any proposed piece of legislation might be lexicographically prior to any other effect of that piece of legislation when it comes to assessing it with a view to whether it ought to be supported or opposed." For me, though, a proposal that seems likely not merely to result, indirectly, in a possible increase in the number of abortions, but to entrench more deeply a legal regime in which unborn children are excluded from the law's protections and religious objections to collaborating in abortions are under-protected, and to a cultural situation in which elective abortions are regarded as "health care" to which people have a "right" (at public expense), is almost always going to be a proposal that should, on balance, be opposed.
Bob says that he does not know enough, yet, to know if my "diagnosis" is mistaken. As I see / understand it, the Senate proposal moves the federal government away from a neutral posture towards abortion to, instead, directly subsidizing plans that provide it. (There are also direct-funding measures in the proposal and -- again -- removal of "conscience"-type protections.) It is clear to me that this will increase abortions and entrench in the law the government's approval of *purely elective* abortion as healthcare. If Bob has a reason for thinking that I am wrong about this, then I would certainly want to hear it, so that I could form a more accurate understanding of what, in fact, the proposal would do.
I appreciate, again, Bob's thoughtful post, and also the conversation.
When the Catholic Church or one of its institutions confers an honor on them,
how do we assess the appropriateness of this honor --by looking at the
recipient's stance on that one issue, or by looking at their entire life and
context?
THAT IS MY QUESTION.
I am not trying to rerun the
merits of the ND decision–I’m trying to focus on the standard of review. John,
I’m afraid you’ve: 1) shifted attention to the merits; and) granted summary
judgment to your own position, by reading the facts about Obama in the worst
possible way and reading the facts about the Popes in the most favorable light.
I’m not surprised when that happens with non-lawyers, but I did hope for more
from a fellow law professor. But maybe I didn’t run my argument with enough
rigor and detail. So let me try to state my case more fully.
Let me
stipulate that the underlying moral issues are all serious. Abortion and the
Holocaust are the intentional killing of the innocent–in body. Child sexual
abuse involves seriously maiming the innocent in their psyches. Let me also
stipulate that none of the three (Obama, Pius XII, or John Paul II) is directly
involved in these practices, nor is in a position directly to stop them, but can
make them more difficult, protest them, or support them. They can also make them
less likely to occur. Obama supports a constitutional right to abortion in our
pluralistic society (perhaps because he thinks it’s the best, prudentially, we
can do), but he also supports reducing the number of abortions. He doesn’t
think abortion is a good thing Pius couldn’t stop Nazi Germany by himself–but
did he ever call, directly, for its overthrow? Did he ever call upon Catholics
to rise up against it? Did he ever call upon Catholic soldiers to refuse to
fight for Nazi Germany? Not to my knowledge. He balanced other values,
prudently, in deciding upon the best course of action. He reduce the number of
Holocaust victims without ever directly calling into question the legitimacy of
the entire regime which made it legal. John Paul II was actually in a position
to shut down Maciel–instead he repeatedly and firmly shut down the investigation
of credible accusations of child abuse. This wasn’t an isolated incident. He
saved and protected Cardinal Law, possibly even from US prosecution.
While there are doubtless differences in detail, the fact is that all
three men arguably have a morally deficient stance toward grave moral and social
evil which they are in some position to protest or prevent. (John you present
Pius and JPII as merely making mistakes–I think it is likely they were culpably
negligent–especially JPII on the sex abuse claims). That is the premise of my
analogy–but not its point. Here is the point:
1. It is a fact
that in the case of the Obama commencement speech, many of those who opposed it
said that his stance on the abortion issue ALONE was disqualifying–No matter
what else he did, or promised to do, his pro-choice stance alone made him
inappropriate for a Catholic school to honor
2. In contrast those
who support the invitation argued that a) The appropriateness of the honor
needed to be assessed in the context of Obama’s whole life, not his stance on
one issue narrowly construed; and b) that in issuing the invitation they did not
endorse Obama’s stance on abortion.
3. Precisely the same
controversy–with precisely the same structure in fact happening with respect to
the canonization of JP II an Pius XII. How do I know that? I read the papers,
watch the news and read John Allen–like everyone else.
4. According
to John Allen (here) and others, says that in pushing forward the cases for sainthood:
a) the appropriateness of the honor needs to be addressed in the context of
their whole lives, not on the basis of one actions or set of actions; and b) in
naming the Pope a saint, the Church doesn’t mean to endorse the treatment of the
Holocaust or the sex abuse case.
5. According to those that are opposed to the case, the failure to act
appropriately on ONE issue –child sex abuse or opposition to the Holocaust ought
to be a bar to the conferring of the honor. What is striking to me is that the
language used by this quite balanced summary of the issue is how the language
use resonates with the language used by the prophetic pro-life movement.
Compare the language of this summary of Pius XII’s opponents to the language of
the Manhattan Declaration.
“Papal opponents focus on
the particular evil that Nazism represented and maintain that in such
circumstances religious leadership must be clear, forthright and outspoken. Nazi
aggression and brutality should have been explicitly condemned; Roman Catholics
might have been inspired to do more for Jews and other victims of persecution,
who would at least have had the comfort of knowing that the world was not
indifferent to their fate.” Jonathan Gorsky, "Pius XII and the Holocaust," here. Gorsky is an orthodox Jew who works for the Council of Christians and
Jews
“In as much as these truths are foundational to human dignity and
the well-being of society, they are inviolable and non-negotiable. Because they
are increasingly under assault from powerful forces in our culture, we are
compelled today to speak out forcefully in their defense, and to commit
ourselves to honoring them fully no matter what pressures are brought upon us
and our institutions to abandon or compromise them.” The Manhattan Declaration, here.
6. In my
view, the standard for naming someone a saint–a role model Catholics trust to
intercede on their behalf in the heavens –ought to be higher than the standard
than that for commencement speakers. And while I don’t agree with you and
others who opposed the Obama commencement address and honorary degree, for the
life of me I can’t see how the same people are so sanguine about making Pius XII
and JP II saints–given the issues.
Finally, I
have to say, John, I’m utterly flummoxed why you can’t see the analogy. But I’ve
done my level best to lay it out for you fully.
And the question
I have for you John, is why do you think a prophetic stance like the Manhattan
Project is appropriate in the case of abortion–and not in the case of the actual
Holocaust or child sexual abuse? The fact that you can't seem to see any
problem with the canonization process (especially with the abolition of the
Devil's Advocate position) is hard for me to understand.
So begins a recent post by Cathy Kaveny over at dotCommonweal.
The purported source of her confusion is the Holy See's recent decision to declare Pius XII and John Paul II "venerable" and the negative reaction of many prelates and other Catholics to Notre Dame's decision to honor President Obama as the University's commencement speaker and award him an honorary degree.
Pius, she says, "was at best lukewarm in his opposition to Nazism and the original Holocaust" and John Paul was "apparent[ly] negligen[t] in failing to investigate the charges against Maciel and the Legionaries [of Christ]."
Yet, says Cathy, in canonizing Pius [n.b. an action that has yet to take place] "the Church really doesn’t mean to endorse his approach to Nazism. And in canonizing Pope John Paul II, the Church really doesn’t mean to endorse his handling of the Maciel case." This is because "their whole lives cannot be reduced to one position, one action, one set of judgments."
But this, says Cathy, "was essentially the argument made by Notre Dame about the commencement invitation" to the President. And this is the source of her bewilderment. After all, President Obama's position was only to "acquiesce in [the] legality of abortion, claiming that this is the best we can do realistically and pragmatically.”Thus, the reader is left to conclude that it was wrong to oppose Obama’s speaking at Notre Dame since doing so reduced his whole political agenda to a single issue.
Doing her best to channel Jon Stewart, the difference says Cathy, with deliberate irony, is that "Obama was a commencement speaker –not a candidate for sainthood" and we have come to expect perfection in the former but not in the latter.
I appreciate the attempt at humor, but the analogy Cathy draws raises serious questions.Are the cases really that much alike?
Many people of good will -- including many contemporaries of Pius and not a few professional historians -- will take issue with Cathy's description of Pius’ response to the Holocaust as "lukewarm." Whether that characterization is historically accurate is certainly open to dispute, as is the wisdom of recognizing Pius as "venerable," given the sensitivity of Catholic-Jewish relations. This, however, is beside the point.
It can be conceded, at least for the sake of argument, that the prudential judgment that Pius exercised in responding to the Holocaust may well have been mistaken. The same could be said of John Paul's response to the allegations regarding Marciel. But this is where Cathy’s analogy breaks down. Whereas one may well question whether Pius should have been more outspoken in his opposition to the persecution of the Jews and other targeted groups, no one contends (or rather no reasonable person contends) that he favored such persecution, that he thought the Nazi laws that authorized such persecution were just, or that he approved of the atrocities carried out by the Third Reich.
In short, whatever Pius may have failed to say or do in response to the Holocaust, he never said that gassing Jews was a good thing, or something that should be permitted, or subsidized, or expanded.Likewise, even if John Paul was negligent in his oversight of the Legionaries and their leader, no one contends that the Pope approved of the abuse and deceit that was perpetrated by Marciel.
Neither Pius nor John Paul ever personally endorsed, let alone vowed to put the weight of their office behind an action that is gravely evil.
The President, by contrast, clearly favors abortion. He believes that laws creating a right to abortion are just and that the common good demands that the state pay for the procedure when women can’t afford it.He thinks that widely available legal abortion is a good thing -- far preferable to the alternative -- and he has invested political capital to see that the abortion regime is not only preserved but expanded, both in this country and abroad.
Moreover, President Obama not only believes that abortion should be recognized as a legal and constitutional right, but that the lethal exercise of that right may be a good thing in the individual case.
As then Senator Obama famously remarked on the campaign trail, if one of his daughters had an unintended pregnancy he wouldn't want her "punished with a baby" -- a moment of unscripted candor that reflects his true beliefs about abortion. Notwithstanding Obama's furrowed brow and the earnestness with which he voiced misgivings about the procedure in more guarded moments, these comments together with his political actions reflect the President's belief that abortion isn't really such a bad thing.It reflects his view that abortion is a legitimate alternative, even perhaps the best way of solving a specific kind of “problem.”
So unlike Pius who is faulted for not having spoken out about the Shoah, Obama’s problem isn’t reticence. It’s that he has said the wrong things and believes the wrong things, and that he has worked to turn his thoughts and words into law.
Surely if Pius or John Paul had championed the free exercise of an act that the Church considers both deeply sinful and profoundly unjust neither would be considered “venerable” let alone a candidate for sainthood.Shouldn’t we withhold our honor from secular figures who do the same?
