Mirror of Justice

A blog dedicated to the development of Catholic legal theory.
Affiliated with the Program on Church, State & Society at Notre Dame Law School.

Friday, September 30, 2005

Questions for Robert Palmer

By Amy Uelmen

Thanks, Michael S., for pointing out Robert Palmer's essay in "The Law Teacher" - it's a great piece for our discussion.  I have a few questions, too.  For example, while we're at it, let's throw gender into the mix.  It seems, for Prof. Palmer, that the quintessential law school experience is where "arguments are laid bare under the cool, white light of legal analysis."  Yes, the world of experience and emotions exist - but they should be carefully controlled and cabined in by the neat lines between logic and belief.  For Prof. Palmer, reasoning in this way is "comfortable, fun." 

My question is, comfortable and fun for whom?  I find this way of reasoning grounded primarily in the "cool white light of legal analysis" to be strange, alienating, incomplete, and artificial.  What might women's perspectives have to say about this description of law school or law teaching?  Prof. Palmer's response to the reaction, "that's just the way I feel," or to statements of "belief", is to shrug and move on.  But how often, under those "feelings" and statements of belief can one find a world of "experience" which in a law school course can and should be explored and discussed in a "rational" way. 

Perhaps one of the unexplored beauties of our project to develop Catholic legal theory is its potential to draw not only from what seems to be the "cool, white light" of legal analysis," but from the deepest resources of all human experiences - and from the persepctives of both men and women.

When Prof. Palmer posits that "religious concepts are not readily applicable to much of the law school curriculum" - I think what's at work is an extremely limited notion of "religious concepts" and persepctives.  I'd like to ask him what is his definition of a "religious concept," and if he could give us a few examples.   A large part of our project, I think, consists of identifying what definition of "religious concept" is at work in the legal academy, and exploring how to re-frame that in a more complete and coherent way.  Much of our scholarship indicates that "religious concepts" have everything to do with the cultural fabric that shapes all areas of the law - including business law and contracts and property, tax and civil procedure - because questions of justice are at the heart of all of these courses.

Amy

Friday, September 2, 2005

Katrina's Moment of Truth

By Amy Uelmen

To chime in on the recent posts in response to the “fault lines” emerging from Katrina’s destruction . . . Like Rob, I was also struggling with a certain sense of the surreal as I compared the peaceful calm of the cool New York end-of-the-summer in New York, and the enthusiastic buzz of students beginning a new semester –– with the images of chaos and suffering coming through the internet and television.  How to “come alongside,” as Rob put it?  And how to process the shock of the images of total anarchy?   

At mass this morning I was able to name what was hardest for me to digest: the images of who was left behind, who was without water and medical help – images, as David Brooks has put it so well in his recent New York Times editorials, of economic and racial inequality.  The whole event enveloped me as a massive “moment of truth” for the entire country. 

True, we may want to discuss, as Steve suggests, the moral dilemmas of the use of force to reassert authority in the midst of anarchy.  But I believe we may come closer to the heart of “what we do best” when we reflect on the resources that  Catholic Social Thought may offer to inform a vision of justice and equality that emerges when we see every person as a child of God, and prioritize our own economic choices accordingly – to the point that they inform how I use material resources (e.g., how much gasoline I consume), what I buy, when I turn on the air conditioner, how through dozens of daily choices I respect the environment as a common patrimony for humanity…

But it can’t stop with personal choices and examples.  We are also in dire need of reflection on how to take it to the next level – to discuss how this vision can inform a push toward social structures which reflect a commitment in which no one – in this country or in any country – is left without what they need to lead a dignified human life. 

We have tremendous resources to draw on – not least of which, the profound vision of the unity of the human family – or as so well expressed in a beautiful line from this morning’s readings: “…in him all things hold together.”  (Col. 1:17).

Amy

Monday, August 15, 2005

The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church

By Amy Uelmen

In response to Rick's post about "truth in texts", some aspects of the Pontifical Biblical Commission's 1994 Document, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church run parallel to Karen Armstrong's critique.  I think it's a good departure point for any conversation on this topic - here's a taste:

Finally, in its attachment to the principle "Scripture alone," fundamentalism separates the interpretation of the Bible from the tradition, which, guided by the Spirit, has authentically developed in union with Scripture in the heart of the community of faith. It fails to realize that the New Testament took form within the Christian church and that it is the Holy Scripture of this church, the existence of which preceded the composition of the texts. Because of this, fundamentalism is often anti-church, it considers of little importance the creeds, the doctrines and liturgical practices which have become part of church tradition, as well as the teaching function of the church itself. It presents itself as a form of private interpretation which does not acknowledge that the church is founded on the Bible and draws its life and inspiration from Scripture.

The fundamentalist approach is dangerous, for it is attractive to people who look to the Bible for ready answers to the problems of life. It can deceive these people, offering them interpretations that are pious but illusory, instead of telling them that the Bible does not necessarily contain an immediate answer to each and every problem. Without saying as much in so many words, fundamentalism actually invites people to a kind of intellectual suicide. It injects into life a false certitude, for it unwittingly confuses the divine substance of the biblical message with what are in fact its human limitations.

Amy

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Deeper than Rudenstine

By Amy Uelmen

There may be interesting connections between the recent evolution-creationism debates (and posts) and Dean Rudenstine’s definition of faith as “a willingness to accept belief in things for which we have no evidence, or which runs counter to evidence we have." The source of the tension in both cases is the presupposition that one language (either that of “science” - or that of faith) is sufficient to describe human life or experience. I am recently back from a terrific conference on the Science-Faith Dialogue put together by Metanexus. (I have no hidden science background! As part of their “Global University” track I was presenting the Focolare’s two-week interdisciplinary international summer school for college and graduates students to explore the connections between faith and academic life). The tribute to Teilhard de Chardin included a terrific presentation by John Haught (Georgetown). In his recent book, Deeper than Darwin (2003), he explores how both science and religion can be bearers of “truth,” and describes science and religion as different but compatible “reading levels.” “Even though Darwinism is illuminating, it by no means tells us everything we need to know about life, even in principle.” The developing science-faith dialogue, and the description of different “reading levels” may have much to teach us as we grapple with similar arguments, and with “red state-blue state” tensions in the legal education forum.

Wednesday, May 4, 2005

Questions for John Breen on his Critique of Jesuit Legal Education

By Amy Uelmen

I agree with Mark – if you’re interested in this topic, John Breen’s latest essay is a well-researched terrific read.  If you’ve read my “Why Rock the Boat” musings you’ll see that we fundamentally agree – our diagnoses of Catholic legal education are similar, and we agree that it’s not enough to sprinkle the Jesuit law school literature with rhetoric about a commitment to justice which arises from “contact” with injustice (through clinics and service components); instead it is crucial that we develop the intellectual “concepts” which can foster a deeper and more solid understanding and commitment to justice.

That said, I do have a few questions for John, and also for our larger group.

First, on John’s characterization of clinical education.  I agree that the commitment to justice needs to pervade the entire curriculum – but I wonder if the division between the “affective” work of the clinic and the intellectual “rational scrutiny” of the more doctrinal classes isn’t a bit too strong, and perhaps a bit afield of the Jesuit tendency to bring analytical reflection into every educational experience.  Perhaps this is a more feminine take—(eg, feelings and the emotional dimensions of empathy can and do lead to significant analytical work)—but I have the sense that there is quite a bit of room for deeper groundings in the Catholic intellectual tradition to extend into the clinical context as well.  A couple months ago during our regular conversation about Jesuit values and the law school, our Jesuit guest from the Graduate School of Education sparked a fascinating discussion about the parallels between the Ratio Studiorum and clinical education.  I think here there would be much to explore. 

Second is an observation about history.  On p.405, he notes that many sincerely claim to be unfamiliar with the Catholic intellectual tradition – but then explains that it is not some “new fangled academic trend.”  OK, it’s clear that the roots are 2000 years old. To be fair, shouldn’t we admit that what we are trying to do in the professional school context is in many ways completely new?  For example, if we dig into Fordham’s history, we won’t find courses and developed arguments about the connections between the Catholic intellectual tradition and juridical categories and systems.  And I don’t think Fordham was the only law school whose mission could in a sense be described as providing access to otherwise excluded ethnic groups.  The sense of Catholicism that did come into the picture was largely ethnic or even tribal, characterized by expressions of personal piety, but not a whole lot of work in bringing the Catholic intellectual tradition to bear on legal education.  If this is true, there is no golden age for Jesuit law schools—we are carving the path right now.  I think that brings to our endeavor a certain humility and patience—and I know it definitely softens my own critique quite a bit.  If we ourselves are just starting to work this out now, it’s understandable that the intellectual connections are not completely clear for our colleagues.

I’d also be curious to hear people’s reactions to John’s idea of a mandatory first year jurisprudence course which includes significant study of major figures in the Catholic intellectual tradition.  Maybe Richard Meyers and Greg Sisk could give us a sense of the experience of schools starting from scratch on curriculum.  For those of us at religiously diverse schools in large metropolitan areas (eg, Fordham has a large Jewish student population), how would this play out? 

And back to Mark’s point for a sec—about how others are not open—I was edified by Cardinal Ratzinger’s observation in response to a question about the public image of the Church as a severe and ossified tribunal—that instead of just piling on in a critique of the media, “one must also ask how the Church herself, instead of simply scolding the media, can properly adapt her public presentation.” (Salt of the Earth 171).  Similarly, I think our task is to focus not so much on what have been the reactions to perceptions of the project, but to consider how we can do better in how the life of faith and its connection to the intellectual endeavor is presented.  The very process of working harder on the presentation often leads to a new trust that in itself generates a more open conversation.   

On the question of hiring for mission.  Not that Georgetown doesn’t have work to do—but as an alum, I’ll just throw in that I learned enough about justice from my first year torts professor—who is Jewish and not particularly religious—to fire me up to a commitment to work for justice for the rest of my life.  In considering the current configuration of faculties at Jesuit law schools now, I wonder if some of the hope lies in finding ways to respectfully help all the faculty, including those of other or no religious traditions—to connect up (with “concepts”) how they are actually already furthering the mission—and the intellectual endeavor—in very substantial ways.

Finally, personally I’d deeply discount the extent to which “website” research can capture what’s really going on at any given school.  Fordham’s deeply intellectual conversation with the faculty has been going on for four years and BC has a similar endeavor – but that’s not going to show up in a website, because that’s not within the website genre.  I think it would be more productive to talk with each other to see how the issues are complex and hopeful at the same time.  The web is a wonderfully anonymous way to try to capture mounds of information—but ultimately it can do it's own injustice by giving the impression of getting inside an institution while remaining very much at a superficial level. 

Thanks for listening, and sorry to go on.  But this is important stuff—and I think really at the heart of our reason for existence in the blogosphere.      Amy 

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Thoughts About "Greatness"

By Amy Uelmen

Picking up on the “Great” Catholic university and law school thread – I agree with our readers’ comments that the vision definitely needs to move beyond providing an “avenue of social mobility for the children of the immigrant Church,” and that the universal call to holiness is a good place to start in appreciating how faith can penetrate into every area of the curriculum and every area of the practice.  I also agree wholeheartedly that “greatness” can also be linked to an open interdisciplinary exchange.  In the essay at the side bar have I have reflected on some of these themes and outlined the argument for moving toward “an explicit connection between faith and justice” which moves beyond a generic social justice / public interest agenda.  (Being the technological wizard that I am, I have not yet figured out how to do the fancy links here!). 

But I also want to throw two concerns into the mix:

The first is about variety:  to what extent does focusing on a generic “great” fuzz over the most important (and perhaps most difficult) questions about the particularities of institutional identity?  I would argue it’s important to move beyond a one-size-fits-all hope for “greatness” in order to ask questions about “greatness” in the context of a given institution’s specific spirituality, history and location.  For example, what it means to be a great Jesuit law school in the city of New York will differ in substantial ways from what it means to be a great Jesuit law school in Los Angeles, or a great Augustinian law school near Philadelphia, a great Holy Cross law school in South Bend, or a great diocesan law school in Minneapolis, etc.  I think part of the trap in some of the discourse about “greatness” is the sense that one model is better than another – which fails to fully appreciate that there really could—and should—be a variety of “great” approaches.  

The second is about openness: I think it’s important to note that the conversation goes both ways – not only an awareness of the impact that Catholic teaching and traditions can have on our field, but also as Gaudium et Spes invites, to develop a dialogue in which the Church also learns from “the world.”  I agree whole-heartedly that Catholic law schools should be a place for critical assessment of prevailing legal culture, but I also think that we need to be careful that this doesn’t slip into a sense that the primary purpose is to shore up troops for the culture wars.  So perhaps in thinking about the “ingredients” – it would be important not only to have faculty grounded in the Tradition and convinced that their Catholic faith is relevant to the way they think about law – but also to highlight their capacity (or openness to developing a capacity) to enter into dialogue with their colleagues of other faith traditions and backgrounds – so as to present something of a model of the Church in dialogue with others, and with the discipline itself.  This, I think, is one of the most important gifts we can give our students as they head into practice.

What is the path to that kind of openness?  Here, perhaps, an appreciation for a “theology of littleness” as “a basic category of Christianity” (Ratzinger, Salt of the Earth p.20), might be the best way to cultivate the openness and leads to true greatness. 

Amy

Monday, April 25, 2005

Salt of the Earth

By Amy Uelmen

I took Peter Steinfel’s advice – to “get a clearer sense” of Pope Benedict XVI’s “vision of the world” and sense of his priorities, I spent the weekend reading Peter Sewald’s book-length interview with Cardinal Ratzinger, The Salt of the Earth: The Church at the End of the Millennium (Ignatius Press 1997).  I was deeply impressed by the breadth of his sweeping vision, and—I would venture to say—his mystic depth.  Below are a few of my favorites—but I’d encourage anyone who wants a window into what’s ahead to read the book.  Topics include his personal biography and reflections on the “canon of criticism,” and current questions for the new millennium (institutional renewal, dialogue with other religions, dialogue with the world, etc.).  Because the questions are posed by a secular journalist, the resulting text is frank, open, spontaneous, and very readable.

In response to the question, how many ways are there to God: “As many as there are people.  For even within the same faith each man’s way is an entirely personal one.  We have Christ’s word: I am the way.  In that respect there is ultimately one way, and everyone who is one the way to God is therefore in some sense also on the way of Jesus Christ.  But this does not mean that all ways are identical in terms of consciousness and will, but, on the contrary, one way is so big that it becomes personal for each man.” (32)

In response to a question about the public image of the Church as a severe and ossified tribunal: “ . . . one must also ask how the Church herself, instead of simply scolding the media, can properly adapt her public presentation.  In the inner life of faith, where the real core of the faith is proclaimed, individual elements can be correctly related to one another, and in that case such prohibitions could have their proper place in a much larger and positive whole. . . . The Church has to consider how to establish the right proportion between internal proclamation, which expresses a common structure of faith, and how she speaks to the world, where only part of what she says will be understood.” (171-72).

On priesthood, he reflects that demands for women’s ordination are understandable when clericalism dominates, when “importance is attributed to the person of the priest . . . He is the real center of the celebration.  In consequence, one has to say: Why only this sort of person?  When, on the contrary, he withdraws completely and simply present things through his believing action, then the action no longer circles around him.  Rather, he steps aside and something greater comes into view . . .” (176). 

On the role of the Bishop: “The officeholder ought to accept responsibility for the fact that he does not proclaim and produce things himself but is a conduit for the Other and thereby ought to step back himself . . . he ought to be one who serves, who is available to the people and who, in following Christ, keeps himself ready to wash their feet. In St. Augustine this is marvelously illustrated. . . . he was really constantly busy with trivial affairs, with footwashing, and [he was ready] to spend his great life for little things, if you will, but in the knowledge that he wasn’t squandering it by doing so.  That would, then, be the true image of the priesthood.  When it is lived correctly, it cannot mean finally getting one’s hands on the levers of power but, rather, renouncing one’s own life project in order to give oneself over to service.” (192-93).

On a celibacy: “The renunciation of marriage and family is thus to be understood in terms of this vision: I renounce what, humanly speaking, is not only the most normal but also the most important thing.  I forego bringing forth further life on the tree of life, and I live in the faith that my land is really God—and so I make it easier for others, also to believe that there is a kingdom of heaven.  I bear witness to Jesus Christ, to the gospel, not only with words, but also with this specific mode of existence, and I place my life in this form at his disposal.” (195)

“History as a whole is the struggle between love and the inability to love, between love and the refusal to love.  This is also, in fact, something we are experiencing again today, when man’s independence is pushed to the point where he says: I don’t want to love at all because then I make myself dependent and that contradicts my freedom.  Indeed, love means being dependant on something that perhaps can be taken away from me, and it therefore introduces a huge risk of suffering into my life.  Hence the express or tacit refusal . . . Whereas the decision that comes from Christ is another: Yes to love, for it alone, precisely with the risk of suffering and the risking of losing oneself, brings man to himself and makes him what he should be.  I think that that is really the true drama of history . . . Yes or no to love.” (283)

Reflecting on the “substance” of faith: “The theology of littleness is a basic category of Christianity.  After all, the tenor of our faith is that God’s distinctive greatness is revealed precisely in powerlessness.  That in the long run, the strength of history is precisely in those who love . . .” (20)

Friday, April 15, 2005

Family Fest

By Amy Uelmen

In case you're interested, the Focolare's international "Family Fest" - is being televised on EWTN, this Saturday April 16 at 3:30 pm EST.  It's a festival of music and the stories and examples of families who are trying to live a culture of life, peace and unity in every point of the globe.  Nine sites in four continents will be linked directly by satellite: Rome, Manila, San Paolo, Toronto, Tokyo, Teheran, Algiers, Johannesburg, Zagreb, and Krasnojarsk (Siberia) - and many others countries will be represented at the gathering in Rome.  The program also includes a special tribute to John Paul II for all that he did to build up and strengthen family life.  (There is also a live Internet linkup beginning at 9 a.m. also on Saturday - www.familyfest2005.org - clink on info internet, and that brings you to the english translation).  Enjoy!

Monday, April 4, 2005

John Paul II's "Sunflower Field"

By Amy Uelmen

How to summarize in just a few words the influence that this great and holy man has had not only on my intellectual formation, but on my whole life?  As a law student, I had the gift of being part of the preparations for World Youth Day in Denver, and so yesterday was just flipping through some precious pictures-including one receiving communion from his hands.

 

Some of my college-age friends who had participated in World Youth Days in Rome (2000) and Toronto (2002) have been putting together a collage of their memories and impressions, and it was through their words that I was able to find my own.  They have been genuinely touched by his deep and personal love for the youth, as manifested by the tears in his eyes when he saw the huge crowds, and responded "John Paul II loves you, too," when they chanted, "John Paul II, we love you!”

One could be ambivalent about the World Youth Day format—fearing that huge and emotional gatherings with a “superstar” figure can easily fizz out in the flatness of ordinary life, and so they may not lend themselves to a deep appreciation of the cultural message that the Church has to deliver.  But what hits you when you read the impressions of these young people is the long-lasting and incredibly profound influence that John Paul II has had on their spiritual lives—how these have been genuine occasions for them to understand, as one put it, “how important we are to the Church and how important we are to him.”  “He managed to leave footprints of God's Love everywhere in the world and even on my heart.”  They have been touched by how concrete and selfless his love for them was—keeping up with exhausting travel schedules, even through driving rains.  “He is so selfless,” one wrote, “he inspires so many of us to think of others and not of ourselves.”  And of the last few years, his “joy through suffering” has been a profound example and lesson.  “He was a true sign of life, a life for God.” 

One young woman, remembering the kiss she received from him as a small child, compared it to the planting of a seed which, as she grew, helped her to be like a sunflower, turned toward God for direction in her life.  She concludes with a prayer, “May God bless you immensely for creating a sunflower field on earth by simply touching the lives of the youth with your life.”

With them, I am part of this JPII-generation “sunflower field”; and with them, the sense of profound loss now overflows with immense gratitude.  As Paul IV wrote in Evangelii Nuntiandi, people today “listen more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if they do listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.”  (n.41).  Thank you, John Paul II, for your witness of selfless love—of sanctity, in and for today’s world.   

Amy

Tuesday, February 8, 2005

Religious Lawyering in a Liberal Democracy

By Amy Uelmen

I have just posted a few pieces at the sidebar which address many of our issues.  Religious Lawyering in a Liberal Democracy: A Challenge and an Invitation, co-authored with my colleague and the founder of Fordham's Institute on Religion, Law & Lawyer's Work, Russ Pearce, sets out a brief history of the “religious lawyering” movement, describes the positive contribution it brings to the legal profession, and addresses some of the challenges it poses for a culture of professionalism.  Your thoughts and critique most welcome!  Also up are the brief remarks from the Guild of Catholic Lawyers of the Archdiocese of New York Charles Carroll Award reception last week.  The room was full of hope for bringing ahead the kind of conversation we are working on, thanks to the presence of folks like Susan Stabile and Rob Vischer.  I have also posted a piece just out in Logos, the Journal of Catholic Thought and Culture published out of the University of St. Thomas - its a brief biography of Focolare founder Chiara Lubich, with some background on her approach to inter-religious dialogue.  Enjoy!  Amy 

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