Discussing the conduct of lifeIt is no ordinary matter we are discussing, Glaucon, but the right conduct of life.
Sep. 25, 2010, at 9:10pm
The Friends of Newman have a web page dedicated to his influence on Pope Benedict. This passage highlights several of the themes we touched on at our gathering last night. It also makes me think how close he and Wojtyla were in their thinking.
For Newman, the middle term which establishes the connection between authority and subjectivity is truth. I do not hesitate to say that truth is the central thought of Newman’s intellectual grappling. Conscience is central for him because truth stands in the middle. To put it differently, the centrality of the concept of conscience for Newman is linked to the prior centrality of the concept of truth and can only be understood from that vantage point. The dominance of the idea of conscience in Newman does not signify that he, in the nineteenth century and in contrast to “objectivistic” neo-scholasticism, espoused a philosophy or theology of subjectivity. Certainly, the subject finds in Newman an attention which it had not received in Catholic theology perhaps since St Augustine. But it is an attention in the line of Augustine and not in that of the subjectivist philosophy of the modern age. On the occasion of his elevation to cardinal, Newman declared that most of his life was a struggle against the spirit of liberalism in religion; we might add, also against Christian subjectivism, as he found it in the Evangelical movement of his time and which admittedly had provided him with the first step on his lifelong road to conversion. Conscience for Newman does not mean that the subject is the standard vis-à-vis the claims of authority in a truth less world, a world which lives from the compromise between the claims of the subject and the claims of the social order. Even more, conscience signifies the perceptible and demanding presence of the voice of truth in the subject himself. It is the overcoming of mere subjectivity in the encounter of the interiority of man with the truth from God. The verse Newman composed in1833 in Sicily is characteristic: “I loved to choose and see my path but now, lead thou me on!” Newman’s conversion to Catholicism was not for him a matter of personal taste or of subjective, spiritual need. He expressed himself on this even in 1844, on the threshold, so to speak, of his conversion: “No one can have a more unfavourable view than I of the present state of Roman Catholics.” Newman was much more taken by the necessity to obey recognized truth than his own preferences - even against his own sensitivity and bonds of friendship and ties due to similar backgrounds. It seems to me characteristic of Newman that he emphasized the priority of truth over goodness in the order of virtues. Or, to put it in a way which is more understandable for us, he emphasized truth’s priority over consensus, over the accommodation of groups (Conscience and Truth, 10th Workshop for Bishops, February 1991, Dallas, Texas, USA; in: Benedict XVI and Cardinal Newman, p. 46).
Sep. 24, 2010, at 1:06pm
The other night, our highly patriotic and devout friends, Chuck and June, hosted a gathering at their home with Peter Lillback, author of the best-selling book about George Washington’s faith, titled, Sacred Fire.
The book is unwieldy at nearly 1000 pages, but the speaker was convincing, so I brought one home and began reading. These lines by Thomas Jefferson arguing for the disestablishment of religion in Virginia (which then required worship in the Anglican church) rang my personalist bell.
the plan of the holy author of our religion, who being lord of both body and mind, yet choose [sic] not to propagate it by coercions on either, as was in his Almighty power to do, but to exalt it by its influence on reason alone…
How great and wonderful! How rare and beautiful in the history of humanity! Religion that is proposed to our freedom; that eschews coercion of all kinds.
Sep. 24, 2010, at 12:39pm
Maggie Gallagher’s excellent National Organization for Marriage regularly sends subscribers a “marriage news” email comprised of links to recent articles about marriage. One in particular caught my eye today.
Here’s how it starts:
Putting the ‘hopeless’ in hopeless romantics, a new study of more than 1,400 spouses concludes that one of the flimsiest foundations for a marriage is, incredibly, love.
This sort of thing makes me crazy.
It goes on.
It seems a heretical claim to make at a time when two-thirds of the population believes in soulmates — those rom-com-anointed pairings viewed as “meant to be.” But researchers find marriages based on that ideal, although happy, are so fragile as to be 1 1/2 times likelier to end in divorce than unions steeped in traditional values — think child-bearing, fidelity and interdependence.
Note the implied definition of love. Note how it’s contrasted with “child-bearing, fidelity and interdependence.”
Most articles that begin this way proceed to suggest that variations of arranged marriages or marriages based on “reason and compatibility” are better than marriages based on romance. This one, happily, is better than that. It advocates a “both/and” approach.
The study, which appears in the September issue of the journal Social Science Research, finds that the highest-quality marriages combine the “new” and “old” approaches, leaving neither entirely behind at the altar.
This hybrid is defined by an embrace of the traditional norms of marital permanency and gender roles, coupled with a focus on the expressive dimensions of married life seen in soulmate partnerships. The caveat is that both spouses need to be embedded in shared social networks and religious institutions.
But I’m not satisfied. What we need to do is reject the reductive notion of spousal love assumed throughout—as if, in itself, it’s nothing more and nothing other than romantic attraction. Romantic/sexual attraction is the usual starting point for love; it gives conjugal love its distinctive form. But it’s no more the totality of love than the seed is the totality of the apple tree.
Nor can ever so much “reason and compatibility” compensate for the lack of it.
Sep. 22, 2010, at 3:14pm
As a parent with two children in college and three to follow soon, I sympathize with Roger Scruton’s recent article in the American Spectator. Given the condition of the average university in America today, one does wonder whether they are worth the money and time they take. And that’s not to mention the moral and religious risks they pose. It is understandable that more and more people are starting to look for alternatives.*
I have doubts, however, that the alternative that Scruton proposes is a good one:
I envisage an experiment in “distance learning,” in which students work from home, and attend lectures, receive tutorials, and engage in discussions through Internet connections. As the Internet becomes more interactive, the need for universities to establish themselves in physical space, rather than in cyberspace, is less evident. Virtual communities of scholarship might be more volatile than real communities of scholars. But they will be far more responsive to the demands of their customers, and far cheaper to run. They could provide most of what is provided by a humanities department, with the added advantage of choosing their professors from all over the world, and paying a proper market price for them.
The advantages of such a university in cyberspace are obvious and enticing. None of them, however, it seems to me, outweighs the huge disadvantage of faculty and students no longer dwelling together in physical proximity. A university education should be so much more than just passing on true information or getting students to understand certain ideas. It should be a formation of the whole person, and especially the whole mind. This kind of education, however, depends to a very large extent on what Newman calls “personal influence.”
In an earlier part of his article (which he seems to have forgotten by the time he gets to the cyberspace vision), Scruton himself quotes Newman on precisely this point: “the general principles of any study you may learn by books at home; but the detail, the colour, the tone, the air, the life which makes it live in us, you must catch all these from those in whom it lives already.”
About decade ago, a very helpful discussion [still available online] on the question of distance learning took place at Franciscan University. In one of his contributions to this discussion, our friend and teacher John Crosby, reflects some more on Newman’s idea of personal influence and the crucial role it plays in education. I’ll end this post with a section from it:
Newman writes of “that which nature prescribes in all education, the personal presence of a teacher, or, in theological language, Oral Tradition.” He goes on for a page or so to speak primarily of religious teaching and catechesis; this passage should be of particular relevance to our discussion since this is exactly the focus of the [distance learning] degrees that are being considered. He says:
It is the living voice, the breathing form, the expressive countenance, which preaches, which catechises. Truth, a subtle, invisible, manifold spirit, is poured into the mind of the scholar by his eyes and ears, through his affections, imagination, and reason; it is poured into his mind and is sealed up there in perpetuity, by propounding and repeating it, by questioning and requestioning, by correcting and explaining, by progressing and then recurring to first principles…
Clearly, if this is the way religious education occurs, if this is the way oral tradition is passed on in a university, then we should not expect much from audiotapes, which will filter out most of the modes of communication mentioned here by Newman.
Let us listen to Newman developing his thought:
No book can convey the special spirit and delicate peculiarities of its subject with that rapidity and certainty which attend on the sympathy of mind with mind, through the eyes, the look, the accent, and the manner, in casual expressions thrown off at the moment, and the unstudied turns of familiar conversation. The general principles of any study you may learn by books at home; but the detail, the colour, the tone, the air, the life which makes it live in us, you must catch all these from those in whom it lives already. You must imitate the student in French or German, who is not content with his grammar, but goes to Paris or Dresden.
In this last sentence Newman is comparing the learning that should take place in a university with the learning of a language. You can study French or German out of books for years; you can supplement your reading with audiotapes as much as you like: you will never learn to speak the language naturally until you go among the native speakers and immerse yourself in the spoken language. With this Newman wants to say that you can study theology or any other university subject out of books all you want, you will never really get initiated into your area of knowledge until you live in a community whose oral traditions convey that deeper knowledge that corresponds to speaking a language fluently.
* I should add, perhaps, that my own experience so far has been good. Nothing is perfect in this world, but my oldest two children are certainly getting a good intellectual and moral education. And just as Newman would have predicted, they get this education not only through the material they learn, but even more through the environment in which they live and the people with which they interact. Also, the fact that they are largely “on their own”—that is, out from under daily parental oversight— is crucial.
Sep. 19, 2010, at 1:35pm
From an article in the UK Guardian:
When Cardinal John Henry Newman died in August 1890, the Manchester Guardian’s obituary spoke of him as one of the very greatest masters of English style - the paper meant prose, not dress sense - and a man “of singular beauty and purity of character … an eminent example of personal sanctity”.
Today, 120 years on, the Roman Catholic church finally caught up and beatified him, the penultimate stage to his being made a saint.
And from the Pope’s homily at last night’s vigil Mass in Hyde Park, attended by 80,000 faithful:
As you know, Newman has long been an important influence in my own life and thought, as he has been for so many people beyond these isles. The drama of Newman’s life invites us to examine our lives, to see them against the vast horizon of God’s plan, and to grow in communion with the Church of every time and place: the Church of the apostles, the Church of the martyrs, the Church of the saints, the Church which Newman loved and to whose mission he devoted his entire life.
Note the themes of personal influence (Newman took the motto “Heart speaks to heart” when he was appointed Cardinal) and interpersonal communion. These emphases in Newman’s thought are among the reasons we consider him an eminent personalist, even though the term only came into use elsewhere and later in the history of philosophy.
Sep. 17, 2010, at 2:29pm
In a recent post at Contentions, Jennifer Rubin opines that in an effort to regain his popularity, President Obama has decided to “show some emotional connection to the American people.”
What makes this mock-worthy, of course, and also somewhat sad, is the fact that emotions cannot simply be manipulated like that. They are not at the disposal of our will. We can decide to fake them, but not to feel them. And the problem for Obama is that the difference between the two is usually pretty obvious to the onlooker. (Though Rubin brings up the interesting case of Bill Clinton whose play-acting was so convincing that he might be described as a “real phony”.)
Rubin’s post nicely illustrates something I have been reflecting on lately: namely, the mysterious fact that it is precisely the involuntariness of emotions that makes them so revealing of the person who feels them. Unlike deliberate acts of the will, which can be performed in spite of contrary habits, beliefs, and inclinations, emotions spontaneously embody and express a person the way he really is. Not the way he ought to be, or the way he wants to be, but the way he is right here and now.
Needless to say, not everything that happens in us and is involuntarily has this personalist and revelatory significance. Headaches and feelings of hunger are involuntary but can hardly be said to reveal the “real self”. What makes emotions different is that they are responses—personal, meaningful and spontaneous responses to a given reality. In an emotion, therefore, it is not just the body that is acting up, but the self. That is why a person is implicated in his anger but not in his hunger, and why he can be blamed for being aloof but not for feeling tired.
Roger Scruton has some deep insights into all this. Here is a quote from his book Sexual Desire, which makes the point well:
it would be wrong to think … that what is not voluntary is in some sense only a secondary and derivative expression of the self. On the contrary…a man is never so much represented to… another as when he blushes or laughs. The expression on a face is largely determined by involuntary movements; and yet it is the living picture of the perspective that “peers” from it, and hence the true and dominant image of the “self”.
So what happens when a person decides to emote? Even when such a decision is well-meant, the result can only be artificial. And the likelihood is that it will be perceived as such. It will look insincere. Fake. Like something designed to hide, rather than express the person behind it. Scruton gives a good example of this sort of thing:
The voluntary smile is not a smile at all, but a kind of grimace which, while it may have its own species of sincerity—as in the smile of Royalty, which as it were pays lip-service to good nature—is not esteemed as an expression of the soul. On the contrary, it is perceived as a mask, which conceals the “real being” of the person who wears it.
Now, it’s not necessarily wrong for politicians to wear a mask of the kind Scruton here describes. On the contrary, the mask can serve an entirely legitimate and even necessary function: to separate the private person from his public role, and to protect the former from being entirely absorbed into the latter. It also, and importantly, protects the objective character and dignity of the office.
But there are also masks that are less wholesome than that. There are ways of “dialing up the emotions” that are designed to flatter and manipulate, to distract and deceive, and so on.
I find myself straying from the main point I wanted to make, however, which is this: that while we normally think of free and deliberate acts as being human or personal in the most proper sense, there is every reason to think that (at least some) emotions are equally characteristic of and central to our personhood. No one, to my knowledge, has understood this better or analyzed it more clearly than Dietrich von Hildebrand (see especially chapter 8 of The Heart), who connects this truth with the fact that man is a created person, which means that the deeper depths of his own being way outstrip the limits of his self-possession:
Typical of man’s createdness is the existence of a depth dimension of his soul which does not fall under his mastery as do his volitional acts. Man is greater and deeper than the range of things he can control with his free will; his being reaches into mysterious deeps which go far beyond what he can engender or create.
Sep. 14, 2010, at 11:34am
After an almost overwhelmingly rich and full summer, we are back home in West Chester. Normal life has returned, and I have leisure to resume philosophical reading and thinking.
The other day someone asked me about phenomenology. What is it?
It’s not an easy question to answer, since there are so many different meanings of the term. But one way of explaining it is as a deliberate effort at rightly centered, disencumbered thinking—a thinking that is first of all a listening, a stripping away of all prejudices and pre-conceptions in order to be purely and intelligently present to an important reality. Perhaps it is person, or a moral experience. The aim is to let that person or experience speak for himself/itself, to disclose himself as he is, without my interference—without my interposing my own notions or premature responses or conclusions.
So, for instance, while a traditional account of human sexuality will typically come at it from a general schema whereby sexuality is the reproductive part of our “animal nature”, by which our species is propagated, a phenomenologist (at least one of our school) might instead enter reflectively into the experience of shame. He will examine it closely and conscientiously. What is shame? How is it different from other experiences? What does it reveal to us about human sexuality?
Notice how different this is from the subjectivism phenomenology is often accused of spawning. It’s not “What do I think about sexuality?”, but rather, “What is the truth about human sexuality that I find in my own experience?” Truth, always, is the central concern. Not “my truth”, not “truth for me”, but rather, “truth I find.” And because I find it, I grasp it immediately as truth to be appropriated by me, assimilated into my understanding, taken into my life. This is very different with mere deductions from premisses, no?
I thought of all this just now as I picked up and began reading again, after many months of neglect, Love’s Grateful Striving: A Commentary on Kierkegaard’s Works of Love. The author, M. Jamie Ferreira, begins chapter one by noting that in his preface to that book, Kierkegaard writes that his intended reader is that “single individual” who will first “deliberate” about whether to read these deliberation and then “lovingly deliberate” on these deliberations.
This is phenomenology and personalism combined. The single individual lovingly deliberating over important truths, and deliberating over them in order both to assimilate them and to share them with others, for love.
Jul. 10, 2010, at 11:55am
In Spain without much access to the internet, I’ve been reading the books on my son’s AP English summer reading list. It feels like it’s been a long time since I’ve read real literature.
There were two by Tobias Wolff, whose work I’d never come across before. In Pharaoh’s Army and Old School. I especially loved the latter, which was tender and touching and honest and insightful.
I marked this passage for our catalogue of great personalist insights.
“Arch” is the first name of Dean Makepeace, who had resigned his long-standing position at a prestigious boys’ prep school and now found himself adrift in the world.
In former times Arch had supposed that his sense of being a distinctive and valuable man proceeded from his own qualities, and that they would sustain him in that confidence wherever he happened to be. He’d never imagined that this surety was conferred on him by others, by their knowing and cherishing him. But so it was. Unrecognized, he had become a ghost, even to himself.
He distilled no general rule from this understanding. Maybe a man of lordly self-conviction and detachment could forsake the place that knew him and not become a ghost. Arch could say only that he was not that man. He was attached. How could he have thought that he was free to leave his school?
Jun. 10, 2010, at 10:04am
It’s not every week that I that I find myself in perfect agreement with a Maureen Dowd opinion piece. But this is one of them. She tells the following appalling story:
A group of soon-to-be freshmen boys [i.e., 14 year olds] at Landon, an elite private grade school and high school for boys in the wealthy Washington suburb of Montgomery County, Md., was drafting local girls.
One team was called “The Southside Slampigs,” and one boy dubbed his team with crude street slang for drug-addicted prostitutes.
The young woman who was the “top pick” was described by one of the boys in a team profile he put up online as “sweet, outgoing, friendly, willing to get down and dirty and [expletive] party. Coming in at 90 pounds, 5’2 and a bra size 34d.” She would be a special asset to the team, he noted, because her mother “is quite the cougar herself.”
Before they got caught last summer, the boys had planned an “opening day party,” complete with T-shirts, where the mission was to invite the drafted girls and, unbeknownst to them, score points by trying to rack up as many sexual encounters with the young women as possible.
At the end of the column, she draws the only possible conclusion.
Young men everywhere must be taught, beyond platitudes, that young women are not prey.
Hear, hear! Only, I would like to add two thoughts.
1) I fear it is practically impossible so to educate young men while the culture around them is awash in pornography and celebrates moral relativism and sexual libertinism.
2) It is not only young men who must be taught that young women are not prey; young women also need to learn it.
Taking care not to commit the error of “blaming the victim”, we should look for ways of communicating to young women the role they play in ensuring that relations between the sexes are properly personal rather than brutal. This involves at least two things:
1) We have to encourage young women to value themselves as persons—as unique individuals, of infinite worth, free and responsible to dispose over their own destiny.
2) We have to encourage them to take care to present themselves to others as persons, not as objects, not as specimens of sexual attractiveness. A key element of this is modesty in dress and manner. We advocate modesty not (as the radicals feminists or modernists suppose) because we find sex or the human body shameful, but because modesty is essential for directing male attention to the personhood—the subjectivity and individuality, as opposed to the “flesh,” of the women he meets. When young women dress in a way that draws attention to their breasts or thighs or bare midriffs, they make it much harder for men to encounter them as a unique and incommunicable person—a person worthy of and calling for nothing short of love and respect.
And when they are treated as objects, it is much harder for them to realize their personhood to themselves.
Jun. 6, 2010, at 4:08pm
I will have more to say in coming days about the conference, and some reflections inspired by our experiences in Italy and France. Meanwhile, Zenit has an article. Here is a short piece of it [bolding is mine.]
Leading Church philosophers shared a wide range of views, from the philosophical differences between Thomists and Hildebrandians to insights into spousal and romantic love. One of the most impressive speakers was Metropolitan John Zizioulas of Pergamon, Greece. An Orthodox theologian, well respected in both churches, he also heads the Joint International Commission for Theological Dialogue between the Catholic and Orthodox churches.
Without prior knowledge of Von Hildebrand, he read “The Nature of Love” for the conference and found it to be one of the most significant books he’d ever read. In his address, he compared the book to Greek Patristic thought, examining commonalities, but mostly differences, between the two. Yet he praised many aspects of Von Hildebrand’s thought, such as his emphasis that “love alone” brings the human being into full awareness of his personal existence, that love involves “a transcendence of the human being from his self-centredness toward the other,” the importance of “beauty for love and personhood” (recalling Dostoyevsky’s words that “beauty shall save the world”), and Von Hildebrand’s emphasis on the “role of the heart in the experience of love.”
May. 18, 2010, at 11:41am
Had he lived, he would be ninety today.
I think the Church has hardly begun to realize and assimilate the greatness of his legacy of philosophical personalism. A few favorite quotations:
From The Person: Subject and Community:
The present age is a time of great controversy about the human being, controversy about the very meaning of human existence, and thus about the nature and significance of the human being. We know that such situations in history have frequently led to a deeper reflection on Christian truth as a whole, as well as on particular aspects of it. That is also the case today. The truth about the human being, in turn, has a distinctly privileged place in this whole process. After nearly twenty years of ideological debate in Poland, it has become clear that at the center of this debate is not cosmology or philosophy of nature but philosophical anthropology and ethics: the great and fundamental controversy about the human being.
From Love and Responsibility:
A person is an objective entity, which as a definite subject has the closest contacts with the whole (external) world and is most intimately involved with it precisely because of its inwardness, its interior life.
From Theology of the Body:
… the gift reveals, so to speak, a particular characteristic of personal existence, or even of the very essence of the person. … [Alone] man does not completely realize his essence. He realizes it only by existing “with someone”—and, put even more deeply and completely, by existing “for someone.”
From The Way to Christ:
... the battle which each person—and particularly each Christian—fights for humanity and human values is the noblest of battles. It is a frontline battle, and final victory is worth the risk of some losses.
From Redeemer of Man:
Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible for himself, his life is senseless, if love is not revealed to him, if he does not encounter love, if he does not experience it and make it his own, if he does not participate intimately in it.
From a letter to Henri de Lubac, written when he was still a Cardinal:
I devote my very rare free moments to a work that is close to my heart and devoted to the metaphysical sense and mystery of the person. It seems to me that the debate today is being played out on that level. The evil of our times consists in the first place in a kind of degradation, indeed in a pulverization, of the fundamental uniqueness of each human person. This evil is even more of the metaphysical order than of the moral order. To this disintegration planned at times by atheistic ideologies we must oppose, rather than sterile polemics, a kind of “recapitulation” of the inviolable mystery of the person.
May. 17, 2010, at 11:37am
Next week Jules and I are heading over to Rome for a grand conference on Dietrich von Hildebrand’s philosophy of love.
It’s not too late to join us! Or, if you can’t be there in person, to watch the talks live-stream. Read all about it or register here.
May. 11, 2010, at 1:43pm
The Pope had sobering words about Church scandals today. They are sobering, but cheering too, because they are true, and offer hope for healing.
“Today we see in a truly terrifying way that the greatest persecution of the church does not come from outside enemies but is born of sin within the church,” the 83-year-old pontiff said in response to a question about the scandal, submitted in advance.
“The church has a deep need to learn to do penance, accept purification, and to learn to ask forgiveness,” he said. But he added that “forgiveness cannot be a substitute for justice.”
Do penance; accept purification; ask forgiveness; and do not imagine that the demand for justice is vindictive and unforgiving.
May. 11, 2010, at 1:27pm
Check out this hilarious performance of John Cage’s (in)famous composition, 4′33″ (pronounced Four minutes, thirty-three seconds), and then ask yourself: How is it possible? How can we, human persons, made in the image and likeness of God, be such fools?
May. 8, 2010, at 11:24am
The New York Times has an obituary portrait (hat tip Jen Rubin) of a courageous white woman, who did what she could to fight the vicious system of apartheid in South Africa.
Over decades of volunteer work — counseling thousands of black South Africans, plotting legal strategy, writing pamphlets, holding silent vigils and speaking out in churches and at universities — Mrs. Duncan moved far beyond the traditional sphere reserved for white women of her day.
She helped people whose families were being torn apart by laws that kept black workers in the cities to serve whites while exiling their kin to impoverished rural “bantustans,” or homelands. She invited those who sought her advice to sit on the same side of the desk with her as she pored over their identity documents, especially the books blacks were required to carry to prove they were authorized to be where they were. With no formal legal training, Mrs. Duncan became an authority on the notorious pass laws, which governed the movement of blacks. She sent people with a chance of successfully challenging them to the Legal Resources Center, a human rights organization that took on such cases with financial support from American foundations and South African corporations.
What a witness to human dignity!
The Sowetan, a daily newspaper that serves a black readership, wrote in its lead editorial on Thursday: “Our sorrows and fears lifted a little whenever her ample figure hove into view. She took up the cudgels and fought tirelessly, without profit or reward, against members of her own race who enslaved us.”
May she receive her eternal reward, and may her tribe on earth increase!
May. 3, 2010, at 9:22am
Sandro Magister has a good analysis of Friday’s Vatican statement on the initial findings of the Visitation of the Legion. I was glad and grateful to see that the statement made a point of not limiting its indictment to Maciel’s gravely immoral, even criminal double life, but extended it to system he created to enable that life.
The apostolic visit has been able to ascertain that the behavior of Father Marcial Maciel Degollado has had serious consequences for the life and structure of the Legion, such as to require a process of in-depth revision.
This aspect of its call for reform is particularly interesting from a personalist perspective:
the need to review the exercise of authority, which must be joined to the truth, to respect the conscience, and develop itself in the light of the Gospel as authentic ecclesial service.
In practice, the Legion emphasis on authority was detached from truth and replaced all individual, conscientious discernment with formal obedience.
Magister adds this observation:
With this statement, the Holy See has overturned the dominant model of recent reporting on pedophilia. Instead of letting its agenda be dictated by the newspapers, instead of responding case by case to the deluge of accusations, this time the Holy See has taken the initiative.
May. 1, 2010, at 6:31pm
John Zmirak has posted a thoughtful article over at Inside Catholic touching on an issue much on my mind in recent years, viz., the relation between justice and mercy.
This is the stuff of many long discussions. For now, just a few summary paragraphs:
There’s one sure test for determining whether an action really lives up to the theological virtue we hope we’re practicing. It’s simple: Does this action violate any natural virtues along the way? For instance, a citizen who listens to clerics pontificate about politics and follows their lead in supporting policies that destroy the sovereignty and civic order of his country may think that by deferring to churchmen he is practicing the virtue of Faith. But if the laws he favors violate Justice, he’s deeply mistaken. A priest who fears that his congregation won’t obey the moral law, so for the sake of their salvation he decides not to preach on controversial topics like contraception—how sound is his Hope for their souls?
Simple Justice is what each of us owes the other in an unconditional debt. We cannot violate that Justice in pursuit of Faith, Hope, or Charity. When we contemplate any action that stokes in us the sentiment that we’re being “more radically Christian” and really “living the gospel” by going beyond “merely natural” virtues, every alarm bell in our conscience should start going off. We can no more attain theological virtues by violating the natural ones than we can build the dome on a cathedral by pulling steel from its foundations.
We cannot practice Charity toward the poor through confiscation from the rich; only if something is owed the poor in simple Justice should the state make sure they get it (as Pope Leo XIII taught in Rerum Novarum). At the height of the high Middle Ages, the Church never furthered the salvation of souls by confiscating non-Christian children, baptizing them, and rearing them in the Faith. At age 18 I wondered why not, till a wise priest explained to me that the natural rights of pagan parents could not be torn away in such a “higher cause.” Likewise, the natural rights of parents, and the state that represents them, to defend their children from rape cannot be sacrificed on the altar of priestly solidarity, compassion for “troubled brother priests,” or the need to avoid bad publicity for the Church
May. 1, 2010, at 6:26pm
We have reached the reductio ad absurdum of rights proliferation. Discovery News now features an earnest article titled, “Do Nature Films Deny Animals Their Right to Privacy.” (Hat tip Mark Steyn, in the Corner.)
Imagine if a film crew, without your permission, stormed into your home and filmed you in your most private moments. Makers of wildlife documentaries do just that to non-human animals, and are denying these animals their right to privacy, according to new research published in the current issue of Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies.
But, shouldn’t we consider what grounds my concern with privacy? Isn’t it precisely the personal subjectivity, the interior existential plenitude, the self-possession and individual moral agency that characterizes all human beings but which animals plainly lack?
Dr Mills said, “It might at first seem odd to claim that animals might have a right to privacy. Privacy, as it is commonly understood, is a culturally human concept. The key idea is to think about animals in terms of the public/private distinction. We can never really know if animals are giving consent, but they often do engage in forms of behavior which suggest they’d rather not encounter humans, and we might want to think about equating this with a desire for privacy.”
Couldn’t we just consider it a natural preference for quiet and safety? Seems to me an appeal human decency and kindliness toward creatures in the wild should suffice for promoting more humane filming practices.
We can’t extend human rights to animals without completely vacating the meaning the of the term.