The person as gift… 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.”
John Paul II
The Theology of the Body
Jul. 13, 2009, at 10:41am
I am just now reading an address by Archbishop Chaput on Catholics and the media about which I’ll have more to say soon. For now I just want to mention a personalist pet peeve of mine. It is the propensity seen everywhere lately to use the computer metaphor “hardwired” to refer to human nature, the sexes, or individuals. A friend of mine described her husband to me as “wired” to love fast cars. Men are frequently said to be “wired” to respond sexually to female flesh. Women are “wired” to love babies. It’s everywhere. The Archbishop does it in this address:
The great Jesuit defender of the American experiment, John Courtney Murray, argued that the natural law – the idea that human nature is hardwired with universal, basic understandings of right and wrong – gave all Americans a common language for their democracy, regardless of their creed.
I dislike it. I find it misleading, degrading, depersonalizing. Computers are inorganic and unfree. Persons, are genitum, non factum. Begotten, not made. And it is of the very essence of our nature and dignity (confer Josef Pieper’s Leisure, the Basis of Culture) that we have spirituality; that we are open to the world as it is, that we are capable of relating to it in truth and through freedom. We don’t find murder evil because we are “wired” to find it evil—as if we might have been wired otherwise by some omnipotent techie in the sky. We find it evil because it is evil and we have been endowed by our Creator with the moral and intellectual power to recognize it as such.
Not “wiring”, endowments. Gifts. Powers.
Let’s take care to cherish and promote human dignity in small matters as well as large.
Jul. 10, 2009, at 2:06pm
Touching our discussion about prudishness, I came across just now in a book by Greg Popcak, this remark by the great English convert to Catholicism, Fr. Ronald Knox:
Jansenism never learned to smile. Its adherents forget, after all, to believe in grace, so hag-ridden are they by their sense of the need for it.
I can recognize this clearly in the Irish Catholic milieu I come from. And it occurs to me as I type that this same dynamic is at work in the anti-NFP providentialists I have clashed with over the years. So full of mistrust of themselves are they—so concerned about the possibility of illegitimate motives in the practice of NFP—that they believe and teach that married couples are best off, morally, leaving the size of their family up to God.
I see it, too, in the courtship movement. Since sexual sin is such a near and present danger, the best thing, i.e. the safest thing to do (its proponents argue) is avoid all physical contact until the wedding day. Here is convert from Calvinism, Steve Wood, in his The ABC’s of Choosing a Good Husband:
Postponing all physical affection until marriage is insurance for a relationship that you really care about. The wisest answer to the “Just how far can we go?” is: “Zero,” “Nada,” “Zip.” Save all the fire for your marriage, and your relationship won’t get burned.
The more I think about it, the more sympathetic I become with Christopher West’s sense that prudishness, or Jansenism, is a much more serious and widespread problem in the Church than we commonly realize.
Jul. 10, 2009, at 11:46am
L.E. Ikenga, 40 Acres and a President
George Weigel, Caritas in Vertiate in Gold and Red
Christina Hoff Sommers, Persistent Myths in Feminist Scholarship
Peter J. Colosi, What’s love’s got to do with It
Mark Steyn, The State Despotic
Jul. 8, 2009, at 5:49pm
I am reading an extraordinarily touching and beautiful book, loaned to me by my friend Janene, called The Little Locksmith. It is the memoir of a woman born in Massachusetts to a happy, loving, bourgeois family at the end of the 19th century. In childhood she developed tuberculosis of the spine and was forced to spend ten years flat on her back in bed. When she finally arose, she found she had a hunchback. She also had all the spiritual sensitivity of the true artist, honed by suffering.
The whole thing is full of personalist resonance. And just now I came to a passage that seems to me to throw some light on the discussion of prudishness we had below. The quote is long, but so lovely and rich in perception I don’t think you’ll mind. In it, she has just emerged from a deep and long depression stemming (she later realized) from intense loneliness and “sexual starvation.” (She uses that term not to indicate a mere physical urge and need, but rather a soul-sickening yearning for love.) She writes at a time of dramatically changing social mores. It was the end of the Victorian era.
The great war between mothers and daughters was then only just beginning, and I was one of its most passionate fighters on the side of the captives. My friends probably thought of me as being much wiser than I really was partly because, as a partisan of the wistful daughters, I was always reiterating my belief that every human being must fulfill his or her own destiny. It must have been for these two reasons that my friends who were hesitating on the brink asked for my advice. They knew that I would be sure to give them the advice they wanted—that which was contrary to the world’s and to their New England consciences. They knew I would urge them to go ahead and risk everything.
I did urge them. For my conception of love was that it was merely another form of man’s assertion which he makes in every work of art, that life is not ordinary. I was a fanatic in my belief that life is not ordinary, and in my hatred for all the acts, manners, talk, and jokes which treat the mystery of life as if it were comic and obscene, to be handled with contempt and laughed at or kicked around like an old rag. I believed that the experience of being born, of living, and of dying was all a poem, and that it should be received—all of it, every part of it—with wonder and gratitude. I thought that love was a power, like the artist’s, which suddenly gave to a man and woman together the sense of wonder. When I saw a man and a woman in love regarding each other with an intense awareness of each other’s mystery and preciousness I believed that those two had for the time being cast off the corruptions of ordinariness which makes most people blind to the miracle of existence. I believed that their sudden vision was like a saint’s or an artist’s vision. And I knew that when two unextraordinary people are in this state their happiness is in great danger. It is new to them and they do not know how to hide it and protect it from its enemies, and therefore it is in grave peril at the hands of those traditional enemies of the ones who see visions, those members of society who make and enforce they rules which are hostile to anything they themselves cannot understand, and who take upon themselves the right ot treat the most sacred experiences in the manner of the police court. Whenever I heard or read in the newspapers about some poor devil of a hard-working respectable bank clerk or businessman whose career was suddenly ruined by the astounding discovery that he was keeping a mistress, I always used to imagine that he was a man who was merely trying to find for himself some reassurance that life is not ordinary—some escape from an existence that had been made intolerably unmiraculous for him by a prosaic wife. Most lives, I thought, lacking art, lacking religion, were choked and suffocated by the continual insistence of the personal, and of all its wearying insistent paraphernalia. I thought that husbands whose lives were so choked and suffocated with too much boredom and talk and anxiety and struggle wanted only a chance to worship love in the abstract, as it could be represented for them by an unknown woman or an anonymous girl in the darkness of an unfamiliar room. For this reason I believed that even prostitution should be regarded not as something evil, but as a sacred ritual as necessary for human beings as books and music and paintings are. I felt that my old favorite magic of transformation could show that it can be a good service just as easily as it can be a profane one.
Now, obviously I find her conclusion deplorable and her reasoning full of errors and problems. She projects her own romantic sensibility and poetry onto everyone else, overlooking the fact that sexual affairs (not to mention prostitution) can also be banal and prosaic and much worse than that. They might have nothing to do with love. Further, I find the whole notion of “love in the abstract” almost an oxymoron. But still, I understand what she means. And I think it may come close to what Christopher West has in mind when he speaks of prudishness.
Jul. 8, 2009, at 12:11pm
A New Statesman review of a book by public atheists Ophelia Benson and Jeremy Stangroom titled, Does God Hate Women? rivals Obama’s best in moral equivalency and obfuscation. It also appears to be inexcusably ignorant of Catholic teaching and ethos.
For instance, take this:
The first – especially beloved of the Vatican and Islamists – is that women are not being treated worse, just “differently”. They claim that it accords a woman special “dignity” to trap her in the home. But this is an abuse of language. As the authors note: “Permanent consignment to a limited and lesser role in the world is not what ‘dignity’ is generally understood to mean . . . The smallness and intimacy and relatedness of home are fine things, but not if one is confined to them permanently.”
Both Islam and Catholicism, you see, “confine” women to their homes. Now consider this passage from John Paul II’s Letter to Women:
Thank you, women who work! You are present and active in every area of life-social, economic, cultural, artistic and political. In this way you make an indispensable contribution to the growth of a culture which unites reason and feeling, to a model of life ever open to the sense of “mystery”, to the establishment of economic and political structures ever more worthy of humanity.
3. I know of course that simply saying thank you is not enough. Unfortunately, we are heirs to a history which has conditioned us to a remarkable extent. In every time and place, this conditioning has been an obstacle to the progress of women. Women’s dignity has often been unacknowledged and their prerogatives misrepresented; they have often been relegated to the margins of society and even reduced to servitude. This has prevented women from truly being themselves and it has resulted in a spiritual impoverishment of humanity. Certainly it is no easy task to assign the blame for this, considering the many kinds of cultural conditioning which down the centuries have shaped ways of thinking and acting. And if objective blame, especially in particular historical contexts, has belonged to not just a few members of the Church, for this I am truly sorry. May this regret be transformed, on the part of the whole Church, into a renewed commitment of fidelity to the Gospel vision. When it comes to setting women free from every kind of exploitation and domination, the Gospel contains an ever relevant message which goes back to the attitude of Jesus Christ himself. Transcending the established norms of his own culture, Jesus treated women with openness, respect, acceptance and tenderness. In this way he honoured the dignity which women have always possessed according to God’s plan and in his love. As we look to Christ at the end of this Second Millennium, it is natural to ask ourselves: how much of his message has been heard and acted upon?
Yes, it is time to examine the past with courage, to assign responsibility where it is due in a review of the long history of humanity. Women have contributed to that history as much as men and, more often than not, they did so in much more difficult conditions. I think particularly of those women who loved culture and art, and devoted their lives to them in spite of the fact that they were frequently at a disadvantage from the start, excluded from equal educational opportunities, underestimated, ignored and not given credit for their intellectual contributions. Sadly, very little of women’s achievements in history can be registered by the science of history. But even though time may have buried the documentary evidence of those achievements, their beneficent influence can be felt as a force which has shaped the lives of successive generations, right up to our own. To this great, immense feminine “tradition” humanity owes a debt which can never be repaid. Yet how many women have been and continue to be valued more for their physical appearance than for their skill, their professionalism, their intellectual abilities, their deep sensitivity; in a word, the very dignity of their being!
But, as they say, read the whole thing.
Jul. 7, 2009, at 12:58pm
I think I could spend the day posting the new encyclical paragraph by paragraph. Number three raises a point that came up in the Personalist Project’s recent discussions on forgiveness. In my experience, conventional Christian “forgiveness thinking” downplays truth in the name of charity. But more on this later. (Hint: The idea that to insist on truth is “harsh,” together with demands that it be set aside in the name of peace and “unity” are, I claim, prime characteristics of dysfunctional relationships—relationships where selves are suffocated for lack of due breathing space.)
Meanwhile, here’s the paragraph.
3. Through this close link with truth, charity can be recognized as an authentic expression of humanity and as an element of fundamental importance in human relations, including those of a public nature. Only in truth does charity shine forth, only in truth can charity be authentically lived. Truth is the light that gives meaning and value to charity. That light is both the light of reason and the light of faith, through which the intellect attains to the natural and supernatural truth of charity: it grasps its meaning as gift, acceptance, and communion. Without truth, charity degenerates into sentimentality. Love becomes an empty shell, to be filled in an arbitrary way. In a culture without truth, this is the fatal risk facing love. It falls prey to contingent subjective emotions and opinions, the word “love” is abused and distorted, to the point where it comes to mean the opposite. Truth frees charity from the constraints of an emotionalism that deprives it of relational and social content, and of a fideism that deprives it of human and universal breathing-space. In the truth, charity reflects the personal yet public dimension of faith in the God of the Bible, who is both Agápe and Lógos: Charity and Truth, Love and Word.
Jul. 7, 2009, at 12:23pm
A reader who listened to Bishop Sheen’s talk on marriage, linked below, sends in this question:
This is good. I wonder, however, what Archbishop Sheen would say regarding intimacy during affective dryness. Michael Healy’s [June 3rd, available at our downloads page] talk seems to indicate that only romantic love can save acts of intimacy from various perversions (or inordinacies). Doesn’t dryness imply a lack of romantic love? If so, it would seem that there should be no intimacy during dryness.
Maybe Dr. Healy or someone else could take it up.
Jul. 7, 2009, at 10:56am
David Brooks mars an otherwise excellent column about the relation between rules of etiquette, personal dignity and the public good with a gratuitous dig at Sarah Palin and strange admiration for Obama.
Whatever policy differences people may have with him, we can all agree that he exemplifies reticence, dispassion and the other traits associated with dignity. The cultural effects of his presidency are not yet clear, but they may surpass his policy impact. He may revitalize the concept of dignity for a new generation and embody a new set of rules for self-mastery.
To me, Obama comes across as detached, unserious and full of self-regard. On several occasions, most conspicuously toward his predecessor in office, he has been egregiously, cringe-makingly discourteous. I find in him none of the marked moral seriousness and conscientious respect for others that are the core of personal dignity.
You can find George Washington’s “Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation” here.
It would be interesting for the Personalist Project to develop a 21st century code of etiquette. Proposals in this direction are welcome. I’d also like to know who readers sees as exemplars of true personal dignity in our day. I’ll mention a few who have influenced me. Each one has made me feel the “apostolate of being” that is personal dignity, and made me regret painfully my own sloppiness.
Alice von Hildebrand and Tom Howard, the encounter with whom more than twenty years ago caused a radical revision in my aspirations for life.
Ayaan Hirsi Ali, whom I heard speak and met briefly at a Brandley Foundation Symposium. It came through in her height and stunning beauty, her way of carrying herself, the gentle strength and musicality of her voice, and above all her moral fearlessness.
Samuel Alito. Jules and I got to hear him speak at an ISI dinner in April. He was thoroughly unpretentious. There was nothing particularly great in his speech. But his physical bearing radiated rectitude, piety, modesty, moral seriousness, self-control.
Jul. 7, 2009, at 9:09am
New papal encyclical issued today.
Its first lines are notably personalistic.
Charity in truth, to which Jesus Christ bore witness by his earthly life and especially by his death and resurrection, is the principal driving force behind the authentic development of every person and of all humanity. Love — caritas — is an extraordinary force which leads people to opt for courageous and generous engagement in the field of justice and peace. It is a force that has its origin in God, Eternal Love and Absolute Truth. Each person finds his good by adherence to God’s plan for him, in order to realize it fully: in this plan, he finds his truth, and through adherence to this truth he becomes free (cf. Jn 8:22). To defend the truth, to articulate it with humility and conviction, and to bear witness to it in life are therefore exacting and indispensable forms of charity. Charity, in fact, “rejoices in the truth” (1 Cor 13:6). All people feel the interior impulse to love authentically: love and truth never abandon them completely, because these are the vocation planted by God in the heart and mind of every human person.
Jul. 6, 2009, at 3:04pm
The indefatigable Bill Drennen has thoughtfully challenged a point I made earlier regarding Christopher West’s Hefner/JPII comparison and Chesterton’s famous assertion that a man who is knocking on the door of a brothel is really looking for God. My point was that, while I understand West’s and Chesterton’s meaning, their way of expressing it is problematic for this reason: it obscures the dramatic difference between moral goodness and badness.
It is true, as Bill points out, that all men experience a certain restlessness and incompleteness in their hearts for which they try to find a remedy. Objectively and ultimately speaking that remedy is God and God alone. In this sense all are indeed “looking for God”: John Paul II, Hugh Hefner, the prostitute and her client, you and me.
What I want to stress, however, is that from the moral point of view—from the point of view of our character and well-being as persons—it makes all the difference in the world how each of us chooses to deal with this restlessness. There are two radically different possibilities—in our lives as a whole and in each of our acts. (This, BTW, is the kernel of truth in the “fundamental option” moral theory. It’s also what “conversion” is all about.) There is what John Paul II has called the “utilitarian” approach, which scans the world for anything that can satisfy our desires and cravings, or there is the “value-responding” approach (von Hildebrand’s term) which looks expectantly out into the world for things that are truly good and beautiful, and tries to live in accord with them. A person with this attitude does not simply use (and then discard) people and things, but respects and appreciates them for what they are. He finds happiness in so doing. His happiness and peace are not so much the direct aim of his moral acting, but a gift and a fruit of living in harmony with the world of values.
An unqualified “all are looking for God” idea, on the other hand, can leave the impression that saints and scoundrels are not so different from each other, morally speaking. We’re all looking for the same thing, all doing our best. Sin is nothing more and nothing other than ignorance—a problem of not understanding where to find the good we all seek. The truth is much more serious and much uglier than that.
Much more needs to said, and what I have said could be further clarified and expanded upon. But I’ll leave that for later (if anyone cares to take it up with me), and turn now to some of Bill’s specific objections:
1) First, Bill proposes: Even though God is not exactly WHAT the sinner seeks, he is the reason for (i.e. the WHY of) the seeking.
I answer: I understand and agree with what you’re getting at, but I don’t like the formulation, for two reasons. First, in the sense explained above (2nd paragraph) God is, ultimately, BOTH the what AND the why of our seeking. And second, usually it is precisely the answer to the question “why?” that makes the moral difference between men clear. Why is he going to visit that woman? Because he loves her and wants to propose marriage? or to find a cheap and convenient release for his sexual urges? (This is what St. Anselm refers to when he writes that every act has not only a “what” but also a “why”.)
The difference you are getting at (I think) is more like the difference between a blind urge, which impels, spurs, or prods a person to do something (e.g. the feeling of being hungry), and a genuine motive, which is an objective reason for acting in a certain way (e.g. a perfectly cooked steak). What do you think?
2) Bill says: Not every bad choice is a conscious and explicit choice of self over God.
I answer: True. When we gossip, tell a small lie, fail to speak up when we know we should, and so on, we are commonly not thinking about God. (If we were, we probably wouldn’t do it.) But our stance toward Him, is nevertheless involved in each case. That’s why, if we’re serious about holiness, we confess it as a sin and ask for forgiveness. Even in the case of grave sins, such as adultery, we may not be thinking about God or fully realize the effects they have on our communion with Him. But regardless, a rejection of God is implied and accomplished.
3) Bill says: The “love of self to the contempt of God” is very rare and a sure sign of an advanced stage of corruption.
I answer (along similar lines): It is true that we rarely find this attitude in a fully conscious, explicit and deliberate form. It requires sincere and deep reflection on our own behavior to recognize it (such as Augustine’s famous reflections on stealing a pear from a neighbor’s orchard). There is also the important difference between one bad act, and a vice. In the latter case, it is not just one act but our moral character that is (mal)formed.
Jul. 6, 2009, at 2:51pm
To begin to answer to the question below, let me take a short excursion into metaphysics.
When we examine “Being” philosophically, we see that the first crucial divide is the one between Creator and creatures. On the one hand, Absolute Being, Infinite Perfection, on the other: metaphysical dependence and contingency. No creature can account for its own existence; it was God’s gift. The second most radical divide is between personal and non-personal being. On one side, we have the Absolute Person, God, but also angels and human beings. On the other, all impersonal creatures: animals, plans, rocks and minerals.
I recall once hearing Cardinal Schonborne give a talk on evolution in which he mentioned that the difference between a chimpanzee’s DNA and ours is minimal, but this “insignificant” difference is the abyss between someone who can say I, somethone who can pray, someone who can love another not because of needs, but because of his beauty and goodness. Because man has an immortal soul, every single organ of his body is elevated to a totally different level. This is why an eagle’s superb eye sight does not perceive and therefore cannot contemplate beauty. This is why the amazing sensitivity of dogs to “decibels” does not enable them to be moved to tears by sublime music.
When God created Adam and Eve, He made them kings of creation. They were masters over material nature. Nature was to feed them, and provide for their needs. All impersonal creatures were given to serve human ends (which of course, does not mean that this ownership could not be abused—something which happened, alas, after original sin).
Because of his dignity as a person, man can never be used as a mere instrument, a mere tool whose purpose is to “serve” others, as if he were a lemon that can be squeezed and its rind discarded. This is so true that God respects human freedom—taking the “risk” that men might abuse this freedom.
This was Kant’s great insight when he defined a person as a being who is an end in himself, never to be used as a mere means.
But from this, we should not draw the conclusion that man is his own end. Man, being an imperfect creature cannot be his own “fulfillment”. To be person is to be called to be in communion with others. Animals “flock” together. Man is called to love—which is not an instinct, but a sign of his nobility and capacity to transcend himself. He is called, primarily, to be in communion with His Creator, through adoration, praise, gratitude. He is called upon to “love his neighbors”—persons like himself made to God’s image and existence. By transcending himself, he fully finds himself.
To suppose that man “does not need” anything beside his own being, is to forget that he is but a frail and imperfect creature. “Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.” (St. Augustine, Confession I, 1)
Jul. 6, 2009, at 10:40am
A reader from Australia has raised a question that I think many share about how the personalistic norm articulated by Kant and then adopted and adapted by JP II, viz. “a person is an end in himself, and never to be used as a mere means” relates to the call to love that is likewise of the essence of personal existence.
Here’s the question:
I have just recently come across personalistic philosophy by John Paul II. Forgive my lack of knowlege in this subject but I have a qestion about love.
I am Catholic and practicing. I try to live out theology of the body. I know I need to love but why, if I am made for my own end, my own sake? I don’t need to live for anyone, I am my own person and my existence needs no addition to my happiness. Now I am sounding really individualistic. Why do I need to limit or sacrfice my freedom to acommodate for another? Isnt that diminshing my dignity as a person? Do persons really need love when our personhood is enough? To be honest, I am not satsified with the answer,‘God is love and that we have to image the trinity.’ It’s too abstract.
Jul. 2, 2009, at 3:17pm
A question from a reader for the philosophers:
I just “happened” upon your website and applaud your efforts to promote a
personalist agenda (particularly rooted in Christian metaphysics).
I’m wondering if you can point me in some directions? I am keenly
interested in Christian personalist expressions and have read material from
different approaches: Martin Luther King Jr., Bowne, Norris Clarke, Dietrich
von Hildebrand, Josef Seifert and John Crosby come to mind. I have been
helped by all of these authors to see that human dignity is objectively
grounded in the perfections contained in being a person (ultimately
reflecting the ultimate person). Unfortunately, here in Canada it is
sometimes hard to get my hands upon good material, particularly from the
school of phenomenological realism. I sense that this particular school has
a good approach to epistemology (an area I’m very interested in) and is a
good antidote to skepticism. I’ve been particularly interested in good
rebuttals of Descarte’s spiritus malingus argument.
Any help you might be able to give, either in dialouge or pointing me
towards written material, would be wonderful.
Jul. 2, 2009, at 1:32pm
I found linked today at the Dawn Patrol this treasury of free audios by Bishop Fulton Sheen. I listened to two of them. “Marriage Problems” and “Sex as a Mystery.” Both are very good. I take them as representing the best of pre-John Paul II Catholic thinking on sex and marriage. They contain much wisdom. But, it seems to me, they lack a depth dimension present in the Theology of the Body and in Dietrich von Hildebrand’s philosophy of love and marriage. They are not the “new thinking about mankind” that, as I said in my last post, we need to meet the crisis of our day.
I would love to know what others think.
Jul. 2, 2009, at 10:45am
This morning I came across this 1964 quote of Albert Einstein, whom Time Magazine named “Man of the [20th] Century.” It comes from an article about nuclear war prevention:
The unleashed power of the atom has changed everything except our ways of thinking. Thus we are drifting toward a catastrophe beyond comparison. We shall require a substantially new way of thinking about mankind to survive.
It strikes me that the same thing could be said about other lately-unleashed catastrophic powers. I am thinking specifically of the unleashing of sex that has been happening across the course of the last 100 years. The other night I watched part of an excellent PBS program on the history of Jazz that made clear how much the power and appeal of Jazz had to do with its sexual connection. Allan Bloom (I think it was) later said the same thing about rock and roll: “Young people know that rock has the beat of sexual intercourse.” (Speaking for myself, I didn’t know it when I was young. Now I think it’s true. And whether we knew it or not, it had the effect of setting loose a primitive power of sex in society. Rap music strikes me as a evoking a consciously loveless sexual force.) There was the legalization of birth control, radical feminism, the sexual revolution…
This unleashing plainly calls for “a new way of thinking about mankind.” It strikes me that we have that new way of thinking in personalism. It strikes me further that, in the mysterious economy of redemption, personalism was taking shape at almost the very same historical moment as the scientific, economic and cultural developments and disasters that led us to our present moral condition. We were never bereft of a solution. The turn toward liberalism in morals and religion that coincided with the beginnings of industrialization and scientism, was personalistically addressed by John Henry Newman in the 19th century. Max Scheler’s value philosophy and his analysis of shame came early in the 20th. Dietrich von Hildebrand’s books on Marriage and Purity rehabilitating the role of love in marriage and in human life and deploring artificial contraception on grounds of love were written in the 1920’s—before Margaret Sanger became a household name. Gaudium et Spes, Humanae Vitae, Love and Responsibility all came out in the 1960’s, just before the sexual revolution exploded on the scene.
It seems to me that in John Paul II’s personalist anthropology and his Theology of the Body, we have the new thinking that is more than capable of meeting and overcoming the power of evil in our present generation. The old ways of thinking won’t cut it.
Jul. 1, 2009, at 1:54pm
As my friends know, I have had a book on courtship on the back burner for years. Yesterday I got an email from someone who had read this article of mine, asking whether I’ve published anything on the topic since. I haven’t. But now that the Linde is up and running, I shall try again. I find I write best in dialogue with others, so if you have thoughts or questions or objections or feedback, please do write!
My hope is to apply the personalist insights of JP II and Dietrich von Hildebrand to the question of courtship. I am particularly interested in trying to throw light on the role of love in courtship—something that I think tends to be oddly neglected in popular Catholic teachings on dating. Here is a paragraph from that article:
Just last night, reading George Weigel’s biography of John Paul II, I was struck by this line: “Love, for Karol Wojtyla, was the truth at the very core of the human condition…” (p.101) Similarly, he saw it as the core of authentic courtship. In the experience of falling in love, Wojtyla shows, the meaning of the universe is mysteriously revealed, and with it the lover’s personal vocation: to give myself in love to this other, and to receive the gift of his love for me.(5)
Jul. 1, 2009, at 1:54pm
“Love is the test of truth,” the pope said. “Ever more we must be measured by this criterion, that truth becomes love and that love makes us truthful.”
Jun. 26, 2009, at 7:42pm
Here is an insightful and sobering analysis in the American Thinker of Obama’s cultural identity from an American woman of West African descent. (Hat tip Rush Limbaugh.)
She charges him with having absorbed from his father a marxist ideology out of resentment against the ravages of colonialism in Africa.
Like many educated intellectuals in postcolonial Africa, Barack Hussein Obama, Sr. was enraged at the transformation of his native land by its colonial conqueror. But instead of embracing the traditional values of his own tribal cultural past, he embraced an imported Western ideology, Marxism. I call such frustrated and angry modern Africans who embrace various foreign “isms”, instead of looking homeward for repair of societies that are broken, African Colonials. They are Africans who serve foreign ideas.
Like imperialists of Old World Europe, the ACP sees their constituents not as free thinking individuals who best know how to go about achieving and creating their own means for success. Instead, the ACP sees his constituents as a flock of ignorant sheep that need to be led—oftentimes to their own slaughter.
Like the European imperialist who spawned him, the ACP is a destroyer of all forms of democracy.
Her argument puts me in mind again of what I learned from Desmond Tutu about African “ubuntu” philosophy and its relation to Christian personalism.
Jun. 26, 2009, at 12:38pm
It seems the very least those of us who are serious about defending human rights and promoting the dignity of the person can do is listen to those who are trying to make injustice known. The Stoning of Soraya M., based on a true story, opens in theaters this weekend.