I have just posted an essay that deals with some of the issues that have come up in the discussions on Catholic legal education, “An Explicit Connection Between Faith and Justice in Catholic Legal Education: Why Rock the Boat?” (forthcoming as part of a Detroit-Marcy Law & Religion Symposium). As Patrick might frame it, it attempts to respond to the questions of what can be “realistically” done in Catholic law schools where mission questions have not been a focal point for a number of years and where there are now faculties and student bodies which are quite religiously diverse. This may be counter-intuitive for some folks, but I strongly believe that one of the most important paths for Catholic legal education is to frame many of our discussions in the context of interfaith dialogue. I don’t believe that approach takes anything away from expressing Jesus as “Way, Truth and Life” – in fact, I think this approach is often a deeper invitation to discover the beauty and depth of that Way, Truth and Life – because it includes a profound respect for the identity of the other and the richness of their traditions. I’d be curious to know what you all think. To follow up on one of Patrick’s comments, from the essay you’ll see that I would also be concerned about thin mission statements – but I’m not sure it’s fair to make a sweeping generalization based on whether a school’s president is of that school’s religious order or lay – I think the questions and concerns there might be more complex. Amy
Tuesday, February 1, 2005
Catholic Legal Education and Interfaith Dialogue
Friday, January 14, 2005
Evangelization and Dialogue
Re the questions and observations about evangelization while aiding disaster victims, I thought this section of John Paul II’s message for World Mission Day on October 20, 2002 - Mission is Proclamation of Forgiveness might add an interesting dimension to the exchange:
5. The Risen Christ gives peace to his disciples. The Church, faithful to the Lord´s command, continues to proclaim and spread his peace. Through evangelization, believers help people to realize that we are all brothers and sisters and, as pilgrims on this earth, although on different paths, we are all on our way to the common Homeland which God, through ways known only to Him, does not cease to indicate to us. The main road of mission is sincere dialogue (see Ad Gentes 7, Nostra aetate 2); "dialogue does not originate from tactical concerns of self-interest," (Redemptoris Missio, 56) nor is it an end in itself. Dialogue, instead, speaks to others with respect and understanding, stating the principles in which we believe and proclaiming with love the most profound truths of the faith which are joy, hope, and meaning of life. In fact, dialogue is the realization of a spiritual impulse leading "to inner purification and conversion which, if pursed with docility to the Holy Spirit, will be spiritually fruitful." (ibid 56) Commitment for attentive and respectful dialogue is a conditio sine qua non for authentic witness of God´s saving love.
Re Rick’s question, is it unworthy of the Gospel to “evangelize” while aiding disaster victims? – I think it depends on how one understands evangelization. From this text and others (eg, Novo Millennio 54-56), I think John Paul II sees the potential for a profound harmony between genuine evangelization and respectful dialogue – and the hinge seems to be freeing oneself from “self-interest,” being grounded in one’s own inner purification and conversion, and asking the Holy Spirit for guidance on what words and actions are the most respectful and loving in any given circumstance. In all of these discussions, I think we also need to acknowledge the layers of misunderstanding and mistrust that surround and permeate the word “evangelization” – and that we have quite a bit of work to do to retrieve its deeper meaning.
Amy
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Wither Religiously Affiliated Law Schools: Thomas as a Hopeful Guide
Musing over Mark’s “struggles” with “deep skepticism” and faculty discomfort with the project to “make Catholic identity mean something” - I realized that I take great comfort from an appreciation of just how challenging this project is - so I'm not surprised or discouraged when it meets resistance or when it becomes evident that it will take time.
Looking into a distant mirror: in his wonderful book, Guide to Thomas Aquinas, Josef Pieper sets out Thomas Aquinas’s cultural feat against the backdrop of the Aristotilean “urge to investigate, on the plane of pure natural philosophy, the reality that lay before men’s eyes.” (30) By the time Thomas began teaching at the University of Paris, the medieval world was deeply suspicious of any premature harmonization of these two worlds; and one could already detect the fault lines of the threatened divide between what men “knew” and what they “believed.” (120) To use Pieper’s image, to draw together the ends of Odysseus’ bow would require a “superhuman strength.” (118-19)
As Pieper explained, Thomas’s challenge was not just to draw the ends together, but to do so in such a way that their “distinctiveness and irreducibility, their relative autonomy and their intrinsic justification, were seen and recognized.” (120) Further, the necessity of their union must be made apparent “not from the point of view of either of the two members of the union - neither simply from the point of view of faith nor simply from that of reason - but by going to a deeper root of both.” (120)
I see being at a school which cannot “start over” as a great blessing - both personally and intellectually. The rigor and skepticism of colleagues can push us to new dimensions of openness, dialogue, and intellectual depth - toward a synthesis in which the deepest roots of both faith and reason are understood and appreciated.
True, we may not have Thomas’s “superhuman” strength (or intellect!). But here too - with extraordinary beauty, Pieper describes Thomas’s work in the silence of his “inner cloister,” with a heart “wholly untouched and untroubled,” able “to listen to something beyond [the din of his times], something entirely different, which was the vital thing for him.” (97)
And when the resistance is hostile and the “culture wars” seem to paralyze hope for respectful and open conversation? Perhaps this is the moment to listen to “something beyond” the din, something - or someone - entirely different - someone who loved so deeply that he took on and identified with an experience of the darkest depths of doubt and skepticism: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mk 15:34).
Could this “method” - the capacity to fully enter into and go through the tunnel of doubt that our colleagues experience - with love and out of love - be the "vital" resource for the “struggle”?
Amy
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
What Catholics Want
For the past three years Fordham’s Institute on Religion, Law & Lawyer’s Work has coordinated a Faculty Colloquia on Jesuit Values and the Law School. Faculty interested in participating set the agenda for discussion themselves – this year they chose to focus on the relationship and potential tensions between individual conscience and religious teaching.
We kicked off this year’s colloquia yesterday with a discussion about Kerry’s Catholicism (readings included John F. Kennedy’s 1960 speech to the Greater Houston Ministerial Association, and Mario Cuomo’s most recent piece in the collection One Electorate Under God). We were graced by the presence of Peggy and Peter Steinfels who are now here at our Lincoln Center Campus to direct the new Fordham Center on Religion and Culture.
In our discussion of whether the church perpetuates a “single issue” approach to politics, one of the most interesting observations was that the press could pick up on any number of Bishop’s statements – both national (e.g., Faithful Citizenship) and local (numerous letters and statements published in diocesan newspapers) – not to mention the international! - which outline the breadth and depth of Catholic Social Thought’s applications to the most varied political issues and questions – but generally it does not. (I’m not sure if this is a case in point, but I have been shopping the op-ed below for a couple months with no success…).
As we look into what seems to be a mirror of our Catholic community in the press, to what extent do the distorted images we see distract us from the enormously important task of seeing how the various aspects of the life agenda fit together into a cohesive and coherent whole? (I'm not advocating that we get back into the Seamless Garment Party discussion - because I think the most profound answers to this question will emerge from a respectful exchange between the different parties).
What Catholics Want
By Amy Uelmen
Roman Catholics are among the most important swing votes in the upcoming elections. Although in decades past Catholics have supported the Democratic party, the current landscape reveals profound discomfort with both parties. Looking to the left, and then to the right, many Catholics sense that no political party and too few candidates share a consistent concern for human life and dignity. At this point, as the Bishops described in their recent statement on political participation, Faithful Citizenship, many Catholics feel “politically homeless.”
In these few weeks before the elections, what political candidate wouldn’t give his or her eye teeth to be able to read the Catholic mind for insight into what this swing vote really wants? Not that it is any easier to generalize on this than on the eternal question of what women want – but it may be possible to detect a few clues.
What do Catholics want from Democratic candidates? Talk the talk. For those who believe that an unborn fetus is a human life, as Catholics tend to believe, it is jarring when political rhetoric fails to acknowledge that abortion is a profound moral and human tragedy. Catholics want Democrats to back off from a rigid and individualistic rights rhetoric that calls no one to responsibility, inspires no sense of community or solidarity, and can ultimately leave women very much alone.
Certainly a shift in rhetoric will not resolve the central tension – Catholics want legal protection for the unborn, and the Constitution has been interpreted to require less. But it might open the door to a less polarized approach to the problem. If Democratic politicians were to acknowledge openly that abortion is not a glorious triumph for anyone, express appreciation for the ways in which many pro-life efforts are deeply attuned with classically democratic social justice goals, and express their own concrete commitments to work toward a society in which abortion is rare, Catholics might even begin to see the possibilities for something of a common project.
What do Catholics want from Republican candidates? Walk the walk. To capture fully the Catholic imagination, it is not enough to express an isolated commitment to lobby for more restrictive abortion laws. For Catholics the “life” agenda is much broader. “Each person’s life and dignity must be respected,” – the Bishops have stated – “whether that person is an innocent unborn child in a mother’s womb, whether that person worked in the World Trade Center or a market in Baghdad, or even whether that person is a convicted criminal on death row.”
Catholics want Republicans to be broader, more consistent and more concrete in their work for social justice. Whether at the lively surface or imbedded deep within their subconscious, Catholics are inspired – or haunted – by the words of Jesus, “Whatever you did to the least, you did it to me” (Mt. 25:40). As Faithful Citizenship insists, “Our faith reflects God’s special concern for the poor and vulnerable and calls us to make their needs our first priority in public life.” Of course this special concern includes unborn children. But Catholics want Republicans to appreciate that it also embraces all people who struggle to feed, house, and clothe their children in order to provide for them a dignified human existence – in the United States and in every other country.
It should be no surprise that what Catholics want does not neatly line up with any political party’s platform. And to further complicate matters, in the church of “here comes everybody,” to borrow James Joyce’s phrase, one will always find a full spectrum of political perspectives on how best to resolve social problems.
So there is no magic formula for capturing “the” Catholic vote – Catholics will never vote as a bloc. But there is still much to be gained from an effort to understand how Catholic sensibilities may enrich our current political debates. In fact, by listening to what Catholics want, political candidates may even catch the pulse of some of the deepest yearnings in the electorate as a whole.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Confessions of the "Rambo" Within
I am just back from the Journal of Law & Religion Symposium at Hamline – “The Sacred and the Secular: Encountering the Other from the Interpersonal to the International” – profound, thought-provoking, and at times moving discussions of the struggles to generate an “open” politics and theology in our world today. (Co-blogger Michael Perry contributed fascinating reflections on the possibility for an international “ecumenical politics.”)
Combing through the postings over the past week, what came to mind was the central somewhat anguished and unanswered question which ran through the symposium discussions – how to draw into the dialogue those who don’t seem to be open to dialogue – especially when they seem set on excluding others from the conversation.
Then… I have to confess that the Gospel from Sunday’s mass (10/24/04, Lk. 18:9-14) caught me up short. “The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank thee that I am not like other men . . .’” How many times – even just in the past week – have I thought, “I thank God that I am not one of those people who talks in such a way as to exclude others...”?
But in truth, there is a “Rambo” within me – every time I think I understand the other without completely listening with love and giving them a chance to fully express themselves; every time I steamroll over another, using with delight the rhetorical tricks in my lawyer’s bag; every time I fail to move beyond the other’s way of expressing herself in order to appreciate what’s underneath the words. My “bullying” may be more subtle (perhaps) – but in the eyes of God, perhaps just as destructive of the body of Christ…
As Rob put it so beautifully in his reflections on the legacy that his stepfather Bob left him, “The intellectual expression of faith cannot be mistaken for the life of faith.” I have been musing about the life of Igino Giordani, an Italian politician and member of the Italian parliament in the 1940s and 50s, whose process for beatification was opened this past June – known in the 30s as the “hammer of the heretics” for his strong and decisive polemical style. In the late 40s, when he met the Focolare spirituality, he felt God’s invitation to become instead the “mantle of the heretics” (in Italian there’s a play on words – from “martello” to “mantello”) – a loving presence of Mary which covers over, takes in, warms, and trusts in the transforming power of love more than rhetoric.
How often can love reveal that what seems to be a move to exclude is actually an expression of pain – and is a response to one’s own sense of having been excluded? Here it seems a “mantle” is more effective than a “hammer” – especially if the goal is build up the body of Christ – and that love itself will bring the truth, in all its power and beauty, to full light.
From October 10-17, the youth of the Focolare sponsored “World Unity Week” during which, among other activities, they disseminated a calendar of activities and commitments to help their peers discover how to build unity in their daily lives – ranging from increasing their awareness of how consumerism influences their daily choices, to concrete service reaching out to the elderly and marginalized in their community, to giving up a meal in solidarity with our fasting Muslim brothers and sharing the money they would have spent with the poor. Here was their Saturday commitment: “Expand your horizons: talk with a person from a different country, background, or perspective about an issue covered often in the media. Try to appreciate the positive, even if you differ. Share your discoveries with others!”
I was inspired, edified and humbled to see how fifteen year olds kids were able to take on some of the greatest challenges in our culture with straightforward simplicity, openness, and concrete commitment. Following their example, I have decided to make every day of this pre-election week “expand your horizons” day – in the hopes of disarming the “Rambo” within.
Amy
Thursday, October 7, 2004
Intrinsic Evil: Sense and Sensibility
Behind the scenes, Susan and I have continued the exchange on "intrinsic evil."
We agreed that discussion about the theological concept of intrinsic evil certainly does not preclude a prudential political analysis about the means to reduce the evil - but current political debates often skip this second step. One reason for this may be that candidates who emphasize the moral categories are significantly weaker on the more practical and prudential aspects of the political analysis.
However, there is a second element. While one side in this debate tends to emphasize moral categories and ignore practical and prudential aspects of the policy analysis, the other side tends to be unwilling to entertain the moral dimensions at all. As Susan put it so well, "I think you have to have two sides willing to discuss the issue in moral terms before the issues of effectiveness of approach will make it to the table." (On abortion, for example, if the party line is that nothing less than total free access to abortion under all circumstances can even be on the table, many are not about to engage in a discussion of effectiveness of achieving the moral aim.)
Perhaps this is, in some ways, an expression of what David Brooks in his 10/2/04 NY Times oped framed as a tension between "Sense and Sensibility." He saw in last week’s debates not so much "a clash of ideologies, or a clash of cultures. It was a clash of two different sorts of minds. . . . The atmosphere of Kerry's mind is rationalistic. He thinks about how to get things done. He talks like a manager or an engineer. The atmosphere of Bush's mind is more creedal or ethical. He talks about moral challenges. He talks about the sort of personal and national character we need in order to triumph over our enemies. His mind is less coldly secular than Kerry's, but also more abstracted from day-to-day reality."
"Each cast of mind comes with its own strengths and weaknesses. The mechanically minded Kerry is much better at talking about realities like securing the Iraqi border. On the other hand, he is unable to blend his specific proposals into guiding principles. . . . . Bush, by contrast, is steadfast and resolute. But his weakness is statecraft. That is the task of relating means to ends, of orchestrating the institutions of government to achieve your desired goals. Bush sometimes acts as if it's enough for a president to profess his faith. But a coach can't just dream up a game plan. He has to understand what his specific players can and can't do, and adapt to those realities."
Yet another example of the need for variety in political parties and political perspectives - and the potential in the course of the exchange to balance each other out?
Amy & Susan
Tuesday, October 5, 2004
Intrinsic Evil: Help Me Out
In response to Steve’s post, “Some things matter more than others” - let’s take as a given that “Not all moral issues have the same moral weight as abortion and euthanasia” – or as some have put it, these are “intrinsic evils” – as compared with areas requiring some prudential judgment in their application (such as capital punishment and war).
It’s not crystal clear to me what this means for political life – and especially for the decision about how to cast one’s vote. To cite that abortion is an intrinsic evil, as if that then clinches the argument on how to vote, seems to skip a few steps – regarding the function of law and the formation of public policy.
In fact, it seems that the heart of voting in many ways is all about those issues which do require prudential judgment – and in choosing the person whose prudential judgment you trust more.
It’s also not clear to me that just because an issue requires some prudential judgment in its application it is therefore “less important” than other issues. For example, perhaps capital punishment is one of those areas – but it seems that the state’s execution of an innocent person, to take an extreme case, or on the basis of a system that is racially discriminatory, is not therefore “less important” – and certainly not less tragic and less disturbing than an abortion. In fact, if we consider how this example touches on the role and power of the government in ways that are more direct than the series of decisions which lead to an abortion, it could also be more disturbing. Or to take a more complex case (perhaps), I’m just not clear on how a mistaken application of the just war principles – e.g., failure to insure that war was truly a “last resort” – is any less important or less tragic than abortion.
I don’t mean to downplay the moral tragedy of abortion or the importance in political life of clearly identifying abortion as an intrinsic evil. However, translating this conviction and concern into a legal agenda and specific public policy requires a few additional steps – and these steps do seem to involve prudential judgment about what would be the most effective course of action to reduce abortion and increase respect for life in our society.
So other than insuring that we understand something is really bad, how does that fact that something is an intrinsic evil advance the political anlaysis?
These are really honest questions – does anyone know of a good analysis of how the moral category of “intrinsic evil” is connected with political judgments and voting in particular – that can answer some of these questions?
Amy
Christian Love in Politics
In response to the discussion about Mark's proposed “Seamless Garment Party,” I wanted to expand on Michael Scaperlanda’s point and Michael Perry’s doubts – I too wonder if the real challenge is not so much to come up with the perfect political platform – but rather with a process for 1) appreciating and encouraging the ways in which current platforms contribute to the common good – and 2) critiquing and challenging current platforms for the ways in which they do not…
It seems like political variety is built into the very dynamic of Catholic Social Thought – for example, some will be drawn to emphasize subsidiarity over solidarity; and others the reverse – but this is not necessarily a bad thing – in fact, perhaps it is in this very dynamic of exchange, of the capacity to listen to the other, and to appreciate how a diversity of viewpoints can enrich political discourse and problem-solving – that we can find the deepest hope for the renewal of political life.
Following up on thoughts about the Christian Democrats and other European models – it’s interesting to note that some of the very latest discussion in Europe is focused not on beefing up the Christian identity of one particular party, but rather on how a Christian spirit of love can increase understanding and animate collaboration for the common good between politicians and citizens of different political parties.
For example, this past May several of the Catholic Ecclesial Movements gathered in Stuttgart, Germany with their ecumenical counterparts to showcase a “Europe of the Spirit.” In the address, “A United Europe for a United World,” Focolare founder Chiara Lubich described the modus operandi for politicians animated by a spirit of Christian love:
“The choice to become politically active is an act of love by which [politicians] respond to a personal calling, or they provide an answer to a social need, to a problem in their city, to the sufferings of the people, to the needs of their times. Believers discern that it is God Himself who calls them; those with non-religious convictions respond to a human need that awakens their conscience: in both cases, they are motivated by love. They become aware of the fact the root of politics is service, love; this leads to understanding that political opponents too might have made their choices out of love. Consequently, they must respect them – indeed, the politicians of unity are also interested in bringing their adversaries’ good projects to fruition. In fact, if such projects answer an authentic need, they are an integral part of that common good which can only be built together. Furthermore, these politicians are not satisfied with loving on their own; they seek to lead others to love, allies or adversaries, because politics is relationship; it is shared projects.”
Her next point emphasizes Vince’s point about the international dimensions built into Church teaching and perspectives:
“A further expression of fraternity in politics is to love the country of others as we love our own. In fact, humanity’s greatest dignity would be to no longer feel that it is a collection of peoples living side by side and frequently in conflict with one another, but rather, through mutual love, it is a single people enriched by one another’s diversity in unity, safeguarding each one’s identity.”
This – I think – sets out the real challenge for the renewal of political life. (I touch on this a bit in my Spirituality of Communion piece as well).
Amy
Thursday, September 9, 2004
Beyond the Rules
What do debates over the Church teaching on the death penalty, the communion controversy, and legal ethics students struggling with the implications of Enron all have in common?
Last night here at Fordham as part of our Catholic Lawyers' Program we kicked off our three-part series “Catholics & the Death Penalty” series with a discussion about the lawyers' roles - featuring Kings County DA Charles J. Hynes and the New York Capital Defender, Kevin Doyle. As Hynes has in some cases sought the death penalty, and Doyle is an outspoken opponent – and both are devoutly Catholic - I had anticipated something of a debate. Instead, they agreed, in large part, that the death penalty is bad policy and a waste of resources. Where they differed – and this was fascinating – was in how they thought about religion’s application to their professional life. Hynes’ principle reason for not applying recent Church reflections on the death penalty? The Pope’s statements haven’t been clear enough – they leave, in some sense, a “loophole” for “rare” cases. He’s waiting for a clear pronouncement of a hard and fast rule.
Similarly, I think much of the communion controversy debates have had a similar focus – on the “floor” of what crosses the line into mortal sin. Even those who respond with “single issue” concerns (eg, why peg just abortion?) are also prone to this – the focus is still on defining the negative rules.
All of this brought me back to conversations two years ago with my large legal ethics class. As they attempted to sort through the implications of Enron, what struck me was their focus on the line which is not to be crossed – and their apparent sense that as advocates they have an obligation to dance as close as possible to that line so as to obtain the maximum benefit for their clients.
Thinking about the task before us – that of developing “Catholic legal theory” – I used to think that the linchpin was simply to get folks to become familiar with the documents of Catholic Social Thought, and the implications would be evident, or would at least get a conversation going. Now I’m beginning to think that the even more challenging task is to get folks to move beyond a negative-rule-oriented lens which is focused largely on how to avoid sin (or a violation of the rules) toward some appreciation of the much larger, more positive, and certainly more constructive vision of how we can cooperate with God’s plans for humanity.
The task is formidable – and made harder by the fact that our case law and our culture are prone to define religion as another set of rule-based obligations to fulfill. (eg, take a look at the fascinating Second Circuit opinion in Seeger, 326 F.2d 846 – defining religion as “bowing to external commands”).
This is not to say that rules are not important, and that the Bishops are not right to point out what does cross the line into sinful material cooperation with evil. But if the general conversation stays there, don’t we risk losing sight of the much larger endeavor to which our faith calls us? If we’re constantly looking at the “floor” we may never even glimpse that “heaven and earth are full of your glory,” as we say in every mass.
Amy
Monday, August 2, 2004
Response to Steve’s Post on the “New Breed” of Priests
Steve, thanks for pointing out the LA times piece – in response to the piece and to your post, I was wondering, does anyone else find it incredibly reductive to describe faithfulness to the teachings of Pope John Paul II as resistance to the short list of “optional celibacy, women priests, the democratic elections of bishops and greater lay leadership” – and in an affection for somewhat exterior “Latin prayers, special vestments, bells and other traditional touches”?
John Paul II’s own description of the kind of “communion” which should set the tone for relationships between bishops, priests, and the laity, seems to articulate a much more complex (and inviting) vision. Take a look at John Paul II's map for the Church in the new millenium, Novo Millennio Ineunte n.45:
Communion must be cultivated and extended day by day and at every level in the structures of each Church's life. There, relations between Bishops, priests and deacons, between Pastors and the entire People of God, between clergy and Religious, between associations and ecclesial movements must all be clearly characterized by communion. To this end, the structures of participation envisaged by Canon Law, such as the Council of Priests and the Pastoral Council, must be ever more highly valued. These of course are not governed by the rules of parliamentary democracy, because they are consultative rather than deliberative; yet this does not mean that they are less meaningful and relevant. The theology and spirituality of communion encourage a fruitful dialogue between Pastors and faithful: on the one hand uniting them a priori in all that is essential, and on the other leading them to pondered agreement in matters open to discussion. To this end, we need to make our own the ancient pastoral wisdom which, without prejudice to their authority, encouraged Pastors to listen more widely to the entire People of God. Significant is Saint Benedict's reminder to the Abbot of a monastery, inviting him to consult even the youngest members of the community: "By the Lord's inspiration, it is often a younger person who knows what is best". And Saint Paulinus of Nola urges: "Let us listen to what all the faithful say, because in every one of them the Spirit of God breathes".
The LA Times piece also highlights the tension between the new generation (faithful to John Paul II / attracted by his vision for the Church) and an older generation of priests more focused on ecumenism and social justice. Read on, in Novo Millennio Ineuente, about John Paul II's profound commitments to ecumenism, inter-faith dialogue - and at least in my read, social justice... It seems like there's something much more complex going on than the LA times article suggests.
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