Women in the Life of the Church

A section of Pope Francis' interview that appears not to have caught the attention of the media, be that the main stream media or that of Catholic bloggers, is the section in which he responds to a question about the role of women in the Church. This is something to which Pope Francis has made reference on other occasions, but this paragraph in his interview suggests a more systematic indication of his views on the subject.

“I am wary of a solution that can be reduced to a kind of ‘female machismo,’ because a woman has a different make-up than a man. But what I hear about the role of women is often inspired by an ideology of machismo. Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed. The church cannot be herself without the woman and her role. The woman is essential for the church. Mary, a woman, is more important than the bishops. I say this because we must not confuse the function with the dignity. We must therefore investigate further the role of women in the church. We have to work harder to develop a profound theology of the woman. Only by making this step will it be possible to better reflect on their function within the church. The feminine genius is needed wherever we make important decisions. The challenge today is this: to think about the specific place of women also in those places where the authority of the church is exercised for various areas of the church.”

 What are the suggestions tucked away in this paragraph?

A recognition that women are asking a question about their role in the Church that must be addressed.

The affirmation of a particular charism for "the woman" in the Church, who has a different make-up than a man. This charism is analogous to that of the Virgin Mary, who is "more important than the bishops".

Rather than an effort on behalf of women in the Church that is inspired by a feminist ideology ("female machismo", in Pope Francis' words - and Pope Francis identifies much that he hears about women in the Church as having such an inspiration), we need to engage in the development of a profound theology of "the woman".

Pope Francis draws an interesting distinction between dignity and function in talking of the role of women. The theological effort just referred to can be seen as one that first seeks to address the nature of the dignity of the place of women in the Church and then, consequently to that, to develop an understanding of their function. The function needs to follow from the dignity. Is there perhaps here an indirect reference to Pope John Paul II's Apostolic Letter Mulieris Dignitatem?

Pope Francis ends by identifying the challenge facing the Church on this question: the specific place of women in places where authority is exercised for various areas in the Church. His framing of the challenge in this way - in terms of an exercise of authority - seems somewhat un-Francis like until it is read alongside his earlier discussion in his interview of the idea of decision making as discernment.

A feminist agenda for Catholicism it is not.

A Big Heart Open to God

This is the title under which Thinking Faith have published the long interview with Pope Francis.

Read it directly yourself, and do not rely on extracted quotations which, when read in their place in the whole, might not at all convey the meaning that they gain in isolated quotation.

And read the whole. It is quite fascinating. And there are some particularly beautiful choices of phrase.

The confessor, for example, is always in danger of being either too much of a rigorist or too lax. Neither is merciful, because neither of them really takes responsibility for the person. The rigorist washes his hands so that he leaves it to the commandment. The loose minister washes his hands by simply saying, "This is not a sin" or something like it. In pastoral ministry we must accompany people, and we must heal their wounds.... 

The confessional is not a torture chamber, but the place in which the Lord's mercy motivates us to do better.. 

And the passages which, when quoted out of the context of the whole, make it look as if Pope Francis is downplaying doctrine or the Church's moral teaching .... Well, a number of them are passages in which Pope Francis is talking about the first stage of evangelisation as taught in, for example the Vatican II decree Ad Gentes, Pope Paul VI's Evangelii Nuntiandi or in the Directory for Catechesis, the stage of "primary proclamation". And seen in that context, the affirmation of the need to focus on the central mystery of God's love for us does not at all imply a rejection of doctrine or moral teaching but rather an appropriate placing of them in the Church's missionary effort. If one is looking for a single recurring motif in the interview, it is that of a "primary proclamation" of God's mercy.

UPDATE: George Weigel appears to understand Pope Francis' interview in the same way, though placing it within the background of Pope Francis' previous pastoral experience: The Christ-Centered Pope.

New translation: "And with your spirit"

The change from "And also with you" to "And with your spirit" in the new English translation of the texts of the Roman Missal is perhaps iconic of the whole process of the new translation. Some would criticise it as being archaic, as part of a process of "putting the clock back"; others might argue that it is not a phrase that ordinary Catholics can understand. Those who are supportive of the new translation point out - rightly - that the new translation is more immediately faithful to the Latin original, and that it makes more transparent the Scriptural roots of the text, in this case, in the writings of St Paul. These latter two points apply to a number of different aspects of the new translation. My own experience suggests that the introduction of "And with your spirit" is now fairly well embedded in parishes, and has gained the instinctive status previously held by "And also with you".

Thinking Faith have just published what I think is the best consideration that I have seen of the significance of the phrase "And with your spirit".  I do not think there was much confusion about it among the ordinary faithful, as the lead paragraph of the article at Thinking Faith suggests. I found Fr Mahoney's account of the patristic and historical background to the suggestion that the phrase in some way relates to the grace of ordination of the celebrating priest very useful. I share with him the view that this interpretation seems fanciful and contrived.

It seems to me fundamentally correct to see the dialogue "The Lord be with you" /"And with your spirit" as being a greeting and a response to that greeting. This is the simple straightforward sense of how this dialogue occurs in the Liturgy, particularly at the beginning of the Eucharistic celebration. It has the nature of a greeting exchanged between the priest and the people.

Taken over into the Eucharist to express the people’s response to the celebrant’s greeting of, ‘The Lord be with you’, the phrase is to be understood fully as ‘And the Lord be with your spirit’.

It also seems to me correct to take the Scriptural origins of the phrase in a literal way, looking at how it occurs in the writings of St Paul. This does not, however, mean that we should underestimate its theological complexity. The account given by Fr Mahoney of St Paul's anthropology of body, spirit and soul is therefore, in my view, the correct way to explain the response and the one that is taken in the resource Become One Body One Spirit in Christ. I would want to add, perhaps, the suggestion that in writing of the "spirit" St Paul also refers to that in man which represents his orientation or openess towards God.

In passing, Fr Mahoney suggests that the debate about how the phrase "And with your spirit" is understood is a debate about whether the priest is seen as being separate from the people or as being one with them.

I wonder also if part of the modern popularity of this interpretation in terms of the grace of priestly ordination is because it can help to propagate the difference between priests and people which the Vatican Council tried so much to diminish and which others are now regrettably attempting to re-establish.

The reference to n.9 of the Decree on the Life and Ministry of Priests, where the community of life of the priest with the lay faithful is described, is quite apposite in giving a context to the greeting dialogue understood precisely as one of mutual greeting. I would not agree that, in this passage, Vatican II was making an effort to diminish the difference between priests and people, as this passage needs to be read alongside others in the Decree which discuss those particular gifts and office that a priest receives through ordination, and which do mark him out as different from the people. The relationship between priests and people as described in n.9 is one that should be our goal; but I do not think that it is reversed by a rightful consideration of the specific dignity of the priestly vocation through such initiatives as the Year for Priests.

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof ...

There is a custom in Europe that, on the Feast of the Epiphany, blessed chalk is used to inscribe the date and the initial letters of the names of the three Magi above the door of your house. Different explanations are offered of the exact meaning of the letters "C+M+B" that are inscribed, one being that it represents the Latin for "May Christ bless this house".

In January of this year, I did this for the first time (OK, the chalk would not write clearly on the paint of the door frame, so I compromised!). This was partly prompted by my frequenting a parish served by priests from Poland and partly by my having neighbours from other European countries. I did think about how I would explain the inscription to anyone who asked me about it, and it is interesting to see where I got to.

I ended up somewhat dissatisfied with explanations such as that about blessing of the house, though the custom does clearly have this aspect to it. They seemed a little bit fanciful, and I felt they were trying to "read into" the practice something that might not have been there in its original inspiration. The fundamental reference, determined because the practice is to place the inscription above the door at the entrance to your house, seemed to me to be to St Matthew's Gospel (Mt 2:10-11, with my emphasis added):

When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy; and going into the house they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshipped him.

One sense of this custom, then, is that every time we enter our own house we are reminded of the way in which the Magi entered the house and worshipped the child Jesus. A second sense is that we are encouraged to make our homes places where, like Mary, we worship God. We might also see it as an invitation to guests who visit our house to recognise and share in these two senses of the inscription. This seems to me the simple, straightforward sense of the practice based in its Biblical source.

But what interests me for the purposes of this post is how the idea of "the house" in the Gospel passage (the house where Mary and Jesus were staying) becomes a different idea (the house were we live today) in the custom of marking our door frames with the letters "C+M+B".

When it comes to considering the new English translation of the Domine, non sum dignus in the Communion Rite at Mass, I think that it is helpful to recognise a similar way in which a Gospel text is used. The new translation makes much more transparent than did the previous translation the reference to the Gospels (Mt. 8:8, with a parallel in Lk. 7:1-10):

Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.

The "under my roof" of the Gospel text (ie the house of the Centurion whose servant is ill, and to which Jesus has been invited) becomes, in the Liturgical text, the "under my roof" of the physical body and soul of the person about to receive the Eucharist, now seen as a "house" to which Jesus-Eucharist is invited. The act of a physical healing becomes the idea of a saving from sin through receiving the Eucharist. Again, I think the Biblical text itself should be allowed to speak to our understanding of how it is used and becomes a different idea in its Liturgical use.

In the light of Andrew Cameron-Mowat SJ's criticism of the revised translation on this point at Thinking Faith, I think it is useful to have some understanding of the dynamic of how the Biblical text is used in the Liturgical context. Since, in the Gospel text, Jesus has indicated that he will come to the house of the Centurion in the immediately preceding verse, the suggestion that the Liturgical text is intended for a situation where the faithful do not as a rule receive the Eucharist seems to me a reading into the text of something that is not there. To go on to argue that the previous translation - "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you .." - provides a better reading for times when many more people do receive the Eucharist is in consequence irrelevant.

AVs and AV nots

Like Fr Lucie-Smith I do believe that Christians have a duty to vote. I am not sure I buy his line that I should trust him because he is "a doctor - of moral theology", but it is perhaps right for pastors to remind their flocks of their duty to vote.

Sometimes, as in the case of the referendum on the alternative vote, it is not at all obvious that there is one "right" way to vote and a "wrong" way to vote. The decision about which way to vote is then more a question of prudential judgement rather than of immediately moral judgement. We do nevertheless have a duty, to the best of our ability and making use of the forms of social communication, to inform ourselves about the question and come to a prudential judgement. And then to go out and vote.

Thinking Faith has an article which looks at this in more detail.

This would seem to rule out the idea of our finding a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the question in hand, but we should not lose all hope of finding guidance, because the preceding paragraph states:

"The Church values the democratic system inasmuch as it ensures the participation of citizens in making political choices, guarantees to the governed the possibility both of electing and holding accountable those who govern them, and of replacing them through peaceful means when appropriate. Thus she cannot encourage the formation of narrow ruling groups which usurp the power of the State for individual interests or for ideological ends. (John Paul II, Centesimus Annus n.46)"

That one paragraph offers us, at least, some principles – some criteria which we might apply when considering the merits of different voting systems. Two of the principles are stated quite explicitly here: participation and accountability. A third is suggested by those final words about the undesirability of narrow ruling groups usurping power for their own interests – the principle of the common good, which is found throughout Catholic social teaching....

And their conlusion:

All in all, these considerations do not lead us to a very emphatic conclusion on the question of whether the Church’s teaching would encourage us to vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the introduction of the Alternative Vote. The Church’s teaching has given us clear criteria to judge by – the difficulty is that the evidence about how well AV might meet those criteria is extraordinarily mixed.

I expect that, if the referendum approves a change to the alternative vote system for parliamentary elections, the impact will be very different in different places. In "safe seats" used to having a large majority for one of the major parties it will probably not make much difference to the final outcome. In "marginals", where majorities are small and the seat changes hands from time to time, the impact of the alternative vote system might well lead to a different outcome. There is a potential for inappropriate minority parties to gain an undue influence. This differentiation of impact is of the nature of much legislation.

My own sense is that the introduction of an alternative vote system will, in general, make those standing for election more sensitive to wishes outside of the mainstream of political stances. In marginals this will be more acute than in safe seats, but I suspect it will still occur in safe seats. [In Barking and Dagenham, those council wards in which the BNP have done well, even at one point to the extent of having councillors elected, have not shown the BNP gaining anywhere near an overall majority; so I am not convinced that such parties would gain from an alternative vote (indeed the BNP stance is to oppose AV).] This gives Christians a greater opportunity to influence for the good in the political sphere - and, of course, a consequently greater duty to go out and vote in order to exercise that influence.

And, besides, if Mr Cameron is against it it must be a good idea (oops, political bias showing).

A thought for World AIDS Day

I wonder whether the language that we use when we talk about HIV/AIDS always helps.

We talk of "the fight against HIV and AIDS", or "the struggle against HIV and AIDS". While at the same time we try to oppose the stigmatisation of and discrimination against those who are living with HIV/AIDS. This language of warfare can be found in two of the contributions of the Catholic media to mark World AIDS Day this year, this report on the website of Vatican Radio and this article at Thinking Faith. I think this latter makes for interesting reading in the context of recent controversy about the Catholic approach to HIV/AIDS.

My first thought is that the use of a language of "fighting" or "struggling against" HIV/AIDS inadvertently supports a kind of stigmatisation. This is the language we might normally use about our opposition to or campaigning against people with whom we disagree or people who represent a threat to us. And, in its most extreme form, it does literally take the form of warfare. The context of our normal use of this language means that the difference between working to eradicate HIV/AIDS and to counter its effects among people affected by it and, in some rather indistinct manner, seeing those who carry the virus as being those against whom we "fight" and "struggle" is lost to conscious reflection.

Much better, I think, would be the language of working on behalf of those suffering from the HIV/AIDS virus and working on behalf of communities that are affected by it. Within this style of language our attention is drawn to the positive steps that can and are taken to support those affected by the pandemic. Our attention is also drawn to people and to communities (who are affected by HIV/AIDS), and sees them as people to whom we offer solidarity, rather than being drawn to HIV/AIDS as some impersonal phenomenon distinct from the people affected, a phenomenon that is to be feared and fought at all costs.

I think the change of language that I am suggesting here is of particular importance with regard to the question of stigmatisation of those infected by HIV/AIDS, and is a vital contribution to overcoming that stigmatisation. But I also think that it influences our response to policy making at the national and international levels. It is much easier to accept the idea of promoting condom distribution within the context of an impersonal language of fight and struggle against HIV/AIDS, the impersonal language of international policy; and it is much easier to rally support to initiatives on the behalf of individuals and communities affected by HIV/AIDS when one has the more positive language suggested above.

As Pope Benedict XVI said in answering "that question" in his now famous interview, words that have not often been quoted:

Someone had asked me why the Catholic Church adopts an unrealistic and ineffective position on Aids. At that point, I really felt that I was being provoked, because the Church does more than anyone else. And I stand by that claim. Because she is the only institution that assists people up close and concretely, with prevention, education, help, counsel, and accompaniment. And because she is second to none in treating so many Aids victims, especially children with Aids.

I had the chance to visit one of these wards and to speak with the patients. That was the real answer: The Church does more than anyone else, because she does not speak from the tribunal of the newspapers, but helps her brothers and sisters where they are actually suffering.

In my remarks I was not making a general statement about the condom issue, but merely said, and this is what caused such great offense, that we cannot solve the problem by distributing condoms. Much more needs to be done. We must stand close to the people, we must guide and help them; and we must do this both before and after they contract the disease.

Another beatification?

One of the difficulties accompanying both John Henry Newman and Oscar Romero, seen as candidates for canonisation, is the way in which their life in the Church is "politicised" by ecclesial commentators. Liberal and conservative Catholics fight for "ownership" of Newman, and Romero is championed by liberal Catholics and ignored by conservatives. This is somewhat of a caricature, I know, but it does reflect a reality. What is really required is an attitude of openness and receptivity, which sees the lives and personalities of both as gifts of God, given for the spiritual good of the Church. We need to let the two speak for themselves.

In this context, Thinking Faith's article Another beatification? suggests an interesting point. This is that the concerns which characterise Newman's life are the same as those that characterise Romero's:

Among them are: his way of thinking, his search for objective truth, his faith in infallible authority, his concern for the role of the laity and church unity, and finally his trusting surrender to God’s providence. Each of these issues also figured prominently in the life of Archbishop Romero and gave depth to the religious faith he shared with others.

I do not know enough about Cardinal Newman and Archbishop Romero to verify these individual points; but all my reading of Archbishop Romero's original words suggests that he was completely loyal to the teaching of the Church. The suggestion of parallels between him and Newman is one that is worth pursuing.

 
One wonders whether the author of this article is airing what he senses as a grievance at the beatification of John Henry Newman occuring when, as yet, there appears to be no sign of Oscar Romero being beatified. Tucked away in the article is a classic of the "spirit of Vatican II", perhaps a product of editing or of hasty writing, perhaps not:

The great contribution of the Second Vatican Council was to offer a new vision of the Church, which saw it not as a hierarchical structure, but rather a communion of equals.

Er, chapter 3 of the Constitution Lumen Gentium on the Church is entitled in the Latin original: "De constitutione Hierarchica Ecclesiae et in specie de Episcopatu", translated in the version on the Vatican website as "On the hierarchical structure of the Church, and in particular on the Episcopate". There is, of course, an element of truth in this "spirit of Vatican II -ism" in that all the faithful are equal before God in terms of their being called to holiness, to growth in the spiritual life. But, as far as offices held in the Church are concerned, Lumen Gentium provides an explicit teaching on the difference of offices in the church. This slip is a shame, as I think the underlying idea that a commonality of concerns, and so a common worthiness as candidates for beatification and canonisation, can be found in the lives and missions of John Henry Newman and Oscar Romero in the Church is one that is worth exploring.

St Ignatius Loyola: Theology as a way of living

Fr James Hanvey SJ has written on St Ignatius Loyola for Thinking Faith, to mark St Ignatius' feast which falls today. The article's title is St Ignatius Loyola: Theology as a way of living.

"What Ignatius gives us is not a scholastic or academic theology; it is not a theory, but a theology that is lived and experienced.... What Ignatius opens up for us is the unity between the act of creation and redemption and the gift or grace of participation."

This is the theological vision that Fr Hanvey finds in the Spiritual Exercises and in St Ignatius' life.

The article is in my view a worthwhile read, though I do think you need to have to hand the text of the Spiritual Exercises and Sacred Scripture in order to look up the references in Fr Hanvey's footnotes. Rather than reading the article on-line, I found it easier to download the .pdf version and read it in print. In particular, I think that the second paragraph of the article contains a well articulated warning against using the Spiritual Exercises as a basis for a psychoanalytical and person-centred practice in spirituality. According to Fr Hanvey,

Ignatius "always offers an uncompromising 'theology'.

Two brief, linked comments.

I think the Spiritual Exercises are clearly about a theology that is lived and experienced, something embedded in their nature as being a structure for a retreat rather than for a course in academic study, and intrinsic to the very structure of their meditations which consistently seeks to engage the individual in the encounter with the mystery of Christ. But that does not mean that the theology expressed in the Exercises lacks what one might term doctrinal content. Such content is assumed.  In the section of his article headed "Some key themes", Fr Hanvey chooses to consider

... the extraordinary relational way of thinking and seeing that marks the Ignatian vision; the refusal to distort these into some logical form or process ..

Clearly, the meditations of the Spiritual Exercises are profoundly relational in that they do not try to "teach doctrine" to the person following the Exercises but instead seek to engage the person into a growing relationship with God. There is is a deeply relational intent in the Exercises in this sense. But the assumption of doctrinal content means that one should not take the presentation of the relational intent as in some way representing an overcoming of an idea of doctrinal content, as a suggesting that we can live our faith relationally instead of doctrinally.

Both of these points can be exemplified by reading the Contemplation to attain the love of God (Spiritual Exercises nn.230-237), to which Fr Hanvey refers in his penultimate paragraph. I quote below just one paragraph of this contemplation, with added italics to highlight the doctrinal (and scholastic?) element and added bold to identify the move to the relational aspect:

235. SECOND POINT: This is to reflect how God dwells in creatures: in the elements giving them existence, in the plants giving them life, in the animals conferring upon them sensation, in man bestowing understanding. So He dwells in me and gives me being, life, sensation, intelligence; and makes a temple of me, since I am created in the likeness and image of the Divine Majesty.

Then I will reflect upon myself again in the manner stated in the first point, or in some other way that may seem better.

[The first point, being referred back to here, asks the retreatant to "ponder with great affection how much God our Lord has done for me ...Then I will reflect upon myself, and consider, ...what I ought to offer the Divine Majesty, that is, all I possess and myself with it". Clearly relational.]

Does the Fatherhood of God matter?

We have recently listened to the parable of the Prodigal Son, as the Gospel for the fourth Sunday of Lent (Year C). The Gospel passage is Luke 15:1-3, 11-32 (you will need to scroll down to Chapter 15).

Thinking Faith, the Jesuit on-line journal, published The Prodigal Father - A Postmodern Homily, commenting on this parable. An original version of the article was published in New Blackfriars, from which I assume that it reflects a line of thought that is abroad in wider theological circles.

At a first reading, this article appears very plausible; it is only a careful reading that enables one to see - and critique - its methodological and theological content. At heart, I believe that it expresses a rejection of the idea of God as Father, a rejection that has serious implications.

Firstly, the questions of methodology. It is certainly the case that a parable from Scripture might speak to our present day situation in a way that has not been the case in the previous life of the Church, and so we might interpret it in a different way. This can be considered as a principle of development of doctrine, in the sense that John Henry Newman would intend, and the encounter of the parable with novel circumstances is something that he would see as prompting such a development. But such a development would be subject to judgement against the seven "notes of genuine development of an Idea" that are delineated in Newman's Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine: preservation of its type, continuity of its principle, a power of assimiliation, logical sequence, anticipation of its future, conservative action upon its past and a chronic vigour. When one reads the first paragraph of Desmond Ryan's article; recognises the methodological twist of the reference to "transactional analysis" in the fifth paragraph; and sees how the vertical/horizontal contrasting in the seventh and eighth paragraphs is presented to caricature different caring/cared for relationships; there is a question as to whether or not the methodology really does represent that of a development of doctrine with regard to the parable. There is not a preservation of type or conservative action upon its past in Desmond Ryan's understanding of the parable.

A second methodological question is very subtly hidden in the article. This is a question about the attitude that one holds towards the content of revelation. The attitude of faith is one of receptivity, of being open to receive what is given in Scripture and the life of the Church. This is not to deny the possibilities of development - see above - but it is to have a certain trust that what is received is genuinely of faith. The phrases (my emphasis added) "hence Christians have constructed this man as a model for God", "We need to push our way back into the story and leave this old moral behind" and "scripture must be reclaimable by all, even by the men and women of this age of suspicion" subtly betray the author's attitude of being closed towards what is received. This parable is received as a parable about the Fatherhood of God, and any development needs to respect that.

One needs to note that the "pathological" forms - priests infantilising their congregations, teachers ignoring the developmental needs of their children etc - cited by Desmond Ryan are not examples of dependent relationships that are normal. They are precisely "pathological" because a priest who does infantilise his congregation is not being a good priest (father), a teacher who ignores the needs of their children is not being a good teacher (father). These examples represent bad "fatherhood" as if it is normal "fatherhood". Most priests do not infantilise their congregations and most teachers do not ignore the needs of their pupils.

The rejection of the idea of dependence in relationships by Desmond Ryan is problematic.

As creatures, we have a fundamental dependence on God, and this is expressed by our recognising God as our Father. It is the acceptance of this dependence by the returning son which makes him a model for us; it is its rejection by the second son which leads the father in the parable to issue to him a call for conversion, a conversion that the first son has already experienced. This fatherhood is what we experience in the life of the Church - the ministry of the priest, of the bishop, of the teacher etc - when that is lived out to its best. This relationship of dependence to God is, at root, rejected by Desmond Ryan in favour self-reliance. It is a rejection of the Fatherhood of God.

There is, however, an interesting aspect of Desmond Ryan's article that I think is worthy of further development. There is the terribly ironic attack on the "dominance ... of fatherhood over brotherhood .." in the penultimate paragraph - which seems to miss the point that the relationship of brotherhood that is praised has its origins in the common relationship of fatherhood which is attacked. Desmond Ryan's opposition of vertical and horizontal is clearly false, based on the idea that fatherhood is purely vertical and does not give rise to the horizontal relationship. It is case of a Christian "both/and", not an "either/or". What would be interesting would be to develop a reading of the parable of the Prodigal Son in the light of the Old Testament sibling rivalries to which Desmond Ryan refers in his fourth paragraph. Both sons encounter a conversion to their Father, the first living it in his return home the second receiving it as a call from the Father to join the feast. Could something of this also be seen in the Old Testament stories?

St Paul and Ecumenism

This is the title of an article from the Jesuit on-line magazine Thinking Faith, published to mark the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The writer of the article is Bishop John Arnold, an auxiliary in Westminster Diocese.

If you do read the article, you might appreciate my questions about it:

Does the article actually tell me anything about St Paul and ecumenism? Well, no.

What does "recognising the diversity of the Early Church" mean? The article has taken about half its length to describe the situation of the different cities to which St Paul wrote letters, thereby describing the diversity of the situations in which the Church of the times lived, but is it right to describe this as "diversity of the Church"?

"(St Paul) has a personal encounter with Christ and he has to try to work out what that means. Of course, there was almost nothing to assist him. The Gospels were still unwritten. There were no guides to Christian prayer or Christian living; this new faith was discovering itself. Paul, and the first generation of Christians, had to find out for themselves what it meant to believe in Christ and to put that belief into practice in their lives". Did not the first Christians receive their faith by the preaching of those who knew Christ himself, and then from those who knew those who knew Christ, etc.? Doesn't the Acts of the Apostles, and indeed Paul's own letters, bear witness to this? Whilst one can accept that early Christians, like Christians today, were exploring the meaning of their faith, to describe it as "discovering itself" indicates a certain ideology.

There is also a reference to the "state of inter-Church relations today". While one might accept this as a use of words simply reflecting every day usage, in the context could we have expected the more careful distinction between Churches and ecclesial communities?

As I finished reading the article, I asked two questions:

What does the article actually say?

And, following on from that and given that Thinking Faith is to an extent at least an academic journal, what about the role of the editor?

PS. "Suddenly, the hundreds of laws and regulations that had shaped his childhood, adolescence and early manhood have lost their foundation". But St Paul repeatedly refers to the Jewish origins of Christian faith, and of the dialogue between Jewish and Gentile in the nature of the Church.

"They have given us a window when what we need is a door"

There are a number of interesting commentaries available about the situation in Gaza.

Thinking Faith, the Jesuit on-line journal, has published a briefing on the current war in Gaza and its historical background. The author of the briefing is Paul Rogers, Professor of Peace Studies at the University of Bradford and Global Security Consultant to an organisation called the Oxford Research Group (ORG). His international security monthly briefings are available from the ORG website at http://www.oxfordresearchgroup.org.uk/. The briefing is interesting because of some of the key points made:

- an entrenched Israeli view that security for their own country can only be achieved through the exercise, and the threat of the exercise, of overwhelming military force
- an indication that American military aid has been crucial in the training of Israeli forces for the current war in Gaza
- ...mirrored by a view of Hamas that only strong (military) resistance to Israel is a feasible way of achieving gains for the Palestinian people
- that Arab states such as Egypt do not support Hamas, and are as concerned about the potential of organisations like Hamas to destabilise their own countries as Israel is about the threat that it poses to them
- the implications of Hamas (and Hezbollah elsewhere) as a kind of advocate for a population who are disadvantaged, when the government in countries like Egypt is run by political/social/economic elites
- Israel's look to the wider situation of the Middle East, in relation to the threat of countries like Iran to their own security.

There is an interesting missing component from the Thinking Faith article. This might be understandable considering its provenance as an adaptation of a security briefing, but it might also indicate a limitation to the work of, say, the Department of Peace Studies at Bradford University. There is no effort in the article to present principles for moral judgement as to the right and wrong of the actions of the different parties to the situation in Gaza, Israel and Hamas perhaps primarily, but, in the background, governments such as those of the United States and of Egypt.

Caritas Jerusalem, a section of Caritas Internationalis, an international Catholic aid organisation, have sent an account of the situation in Gaza, that can be read at Independent Catholic News and here. Two medical centres run in Gaza by Caritas Jerusalem have been destroyed by Israeli bombs. Many families have abandoned their homes and are sheltering in schools. Children and families are suffering more than anyone else. The parish priest of Gaza has described the deepening crisis in Gaza as "inhumane and criminal". Referring to the tens of thouasands sheltering in schools, short of food and water, he also says: "The Israeli agression has made these people live like animals and our school is the zoo". Caritas Jerusalem's General Secretary summarises the situation by saying that "They have given us a window when what we need is a door".

The website of the Catholic Bishops Conference of England and Wales carries the text of the comment of the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem here: "violence, no matter where it comes from or whatever form it takes, must be condemned".

In his message for the World Day of Peace, written before the present war in Gaza began, Pope Benedict asked that people everywhere should feel "personally outraged" by injustice and the violation of human rights in the world, as a condition for redressing these wrongs:

8. One of the most important ways of building peace is through a form of globalization directed towards the interests of the whole human family. In order to govern globalization, however, there needs to be a strong sense of global solidarity between rich and poor countries, as well as within individual countries, including affluent ones. A “common code of ethics” is also needed, consisting of norms based not upon mere consensus, but rooted in the natural law inscribed by the Creator on the conscience of every human being (cf. Rom 2:14-15). Does not every one of us sense deep within his or her conscience a call to make a personal contribution to the common good and to peace in society? Globalization eliminates certain barriers, but is still able to build new ones; it brings peoples together, but spatial and temporal proximity does not of itself create the conditions for true communion and authentic peace. Effective means to redress the marginalization of the world's poor through globalization will only be found if people everywhere feel personally outraged by the injustices in the world and by the concomitant violations of human rights. The Church, which is the “sign and instrument of communion with God and of the unity of the entire human race” will continue to offer her contribution so that injustices and misunderstandings may be resolved, leading to a world of greater peace and solidarity.

Have we been sufficiently "personally outraged" by the events in Gaza?

Thinking Faith: An Advent Narrative

The Jesuit on-line journal Thinking Faith has posted an interesting article about Pope Benedict XVI's first Encyclical, Deus Caritas Est. It is well worth a read.

The author of this article, Dominic Robinson SJ, points out a close comparison between Pope Benedict's themes of eros and agape in the encyclical and the same themes in the writing of Hans Urs von Balthasar. A particular book in which von Balthasar presents this theme is entitled in English translation Love Alone is Credible. This is a book I chose to study for one of my examinations at the Gregorian University in first semester theology. How I had failed to recognise its parallels in Deus Caritas Est now that I have had them pointed out defeats me altogether! Dominic Robinson writes:

Balthasar also uses the terms agape and eros to characterise the eternal drama of God’s love for humanity played out in the appearance and descent of Christ. The eros of our longing for the meaning of our earthly existence is echoed in the agape of the perfect image of the God who meets us in the event of the incarnation. Christ, lover and beloved, our Advent hope, turns us towards a vision of our future glory for which we naturally long, and which will surely be sealed in his coming. This is undoubtedly a timely theme in a world where so many are searching for a sense of value, dignity and identity, but in which the figure of Jesus Christ has, perhaps in a strange twist even at Christmas, become much less obvious as the focal point of culture and human identity.

He continues to highlight the work of a Lutheran theologian and of the Protestant thinker Karl Barth (who profoundly influenced von Balthasar) in a similar vein, suggesting a quite fascinating ecumencial possibility of this thought.

..continuity [between eros and agape] will also constitute Balthasar’s discourse, just as it is also a key message of Deus Caritas Est. Agape and eros come together in a new way which proclaims how Christ’s infinite love transforms all our finite human desires. Thus the drama of this encounter of Advent hope with Easter joy transcends the perceived dualism surrounding the motifs agape and eros in the Lutheran and Roman Catholic traditions.

At a rather more subtle level, Dominic Robinson offers a reflection on the thought of Hans Urs von Balthasar that is genuinely and totally Balthasarian. It is thoroughly Christocentric. One of the more frustrating aspects I found in reading On the Way to Life (a document commissioned by the Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales Department for Education and Formation and written by Frs James Hanvey SJ and Tony Carroll SJ of the Heythrop Institute for Religion, Ethics and Public Life and intended to offer an analytical basis for renewing religious education and catechesis) was its citations of von Balthasar in support of a perspective that was contrary to any genuinely Balthasarian vision.

I wonder whether we will now see an end to the fashion of quoting von Balthasar to support non-Balthasarian views by some of Dominic Robinson's colleagues at Heythrop College....

Byzantium 330-1453

This is the title of an exhibition running at the Royal Academy of Arts in London until 22nd March 2009. Zero and I are going to see it on 19th December, so I read with interest Thinking Faith's review of the exhibition. Their account indicates some disappointment - with regard to insufficiency in the labelling of some exhibits that makes them a bit inaccessible to Joe Blogs on a visit and with regard to weak presentation of the religious context, say, of the icons on display. However, it also suggests that there is an opportunity here to see a range particularly of icons that are rarely seen by the public.
My attention was caught by a reference to an icon of the Virgin Hodegetria (the Virgin indicating the way to Jesus). I hadn't come across this before, but then put "Virgin Hodegetria" into a Google Images search. There seem to be a number of icons with this title, the essential feature of the icon being that the Virgin Mary indicates with her right hand towards the Christ child held on her left arm.

I will be interested to see an example of representation of a culture profoundly influenced by Christian belief, and hope to gain some understanding of the relation of faith and culture of the Byzantine empire.

Thinking Faith - Dialogue and the Church

Though entitled "Dialogue and the Church", this series of three articles from the Jesuit on-line journal Thinking Faith is really about dialogue with other Christian churches, that is, about ecumenical dialogue. The articles can be found here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three.

The author, Paul Murray, is a contributor to an idea that he terms "Receptive Ecumenism". Given that the formal theological dialogues that might be represented by, for example, ARCIC, have not produced the progress towards corporate unity that was their original hope, "receptive ecumenism" gives priority to the partners in dialogue identifying what they might learn/receive from the others without compromising their own belief.

In Part One, there is a reflection on the meaning of the word "Catholic" as "in accordance with the whole". The first context for this reflection is a vision of "Catholic" as embracing everything in creation and onwards, towards and embracing Jesus Christ. As a question of dialogue, this means that everything in this world can express something of the truth of God. The second context might be described as "Petrine" and "Pauline". The Petrine principle is seen as the centripetal instinct which holds all things together in a unity of faith. The Pauline principle, however, is an opposite principle which seeks to take the fullness of the faith out into encounter with the nations. The two principles are complementary. Paul Murray suggests that the Catholic Church is rather good at recognising the Petrine principle, but that we could gain from the Protestant denominations a stronger sense of the Pauline principle.

Indeed, it may be that we as Roman Catholics need to re-receive the authentically Pauline dimension to our Catholicity from our Protestant brothers and sisters and the practices and structures that operate in their churches.

We can, of course, imply that the Protestant denominations would gain from a stronger appreciation of the Petrine principle. But what I found very interesting in this article was its implicit suggestion that to talk about the Petrine office or principle is something that is of the essence of ecumenical dialogue, and not at the periphery. Recent events in the Anglican communion, for example, show by their demonstration of the results of its absence, how vital a decisive reference point for doctrinal unity is.

Part Two presents a kind of "hermeneutic of continuity" as far as the idea of dialogue and the Catholic Church is concerned. The argument is that "a very considerable number" of Catholic theologians engaged with modern thought and culture before the Second Vatican Council. Paul Murray cites Newman and Rosmini from the 19th century and Adam, Guardini, de Lubac, Congar, Lonergan and Rahner as examples from the 20th century. So the idea that dialogue was absent from the life of the Church before Vatican II is not accurate.

In the documents of the Council itself, Paul Murray presents an argument (from Ann Michele Nolan) that two different Latin terms, "colloquium" and "dialogus", are both translated by the English word "dialogue", though they have significantly different implications in the orginal Latin. The Latin "colloquium" refers to dialogue as a kind of open conversation whereas "dialogus" refers, in the documents of the Council, to calls for formal exchanges between different parties and so has a more restricted sense. This more restricted sense should be seen as a concern to identify common ground with the interlocutor so that a more effective communication of existing Catholic understanding (as distinct from fresh understanding) can take place. This, Paul Murray suggests, may explain why the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, has tended to give negative judgements on some ecumenically produced documents - it has been putting into practice this latter understanding of dialogue. So the Council itself is not as liberal in its understanding of dialogue as some might think, and this has been reflected in the life of the Church since the Council.

Part Three argues that it is possible to see in all of created reality a Trinitarian structure that derives from the Trinity who is/are its Creator. Writing of our appreciation of a particular scene or view in the world, the author writes:

So, we have showing forth and recognition and the energy, the movement, that brings this to be, but there is also a third dimension to the experience. This is the dimension at once of limitedness and excess; the dimension of both appreciating the intensity of the particular scene we behold and recognising it precisely to be particular and partial.

This limitedness/excess presents the world, and the Trinitarian God who is shown forth through it, as intrinsically dialogical. We are led to wonder at what we have already seen, but also to an openness towards the more into which we are still to grow. This is the underlying principle for an idea of dialogue as "receptive" in the sense of "receptive Ecumenism" referred to in Part One.

Whilst one or two aspects of this series of articles remain a little confusing (for me, for example, is the reference at the end of Part Three to "the diverse expressions of Christianity that have emerged over the course of Christian history as Christianity has become incarnated and shaped by quite different ... contexts" and the in passing remarks about dialogue within the Catholic Church), there is a very interesting focus on central Catholic teachings: the meaning of the word "Catholic" and of the Petrine office, and the focus on the doctrine of the Trinity. The teaching of Vatican II on dialogue is also presented in a way that was new to me - and which will encourage me to have a Latin text alongside the English translations as I read the Council documents!

Thinking Faith: St Paul and St Ignatius

I have not been keeping up with recent articles appearing on the Jesuit on-line journal Thinking Faith. I had a quick look at a couple of articles this morning, though.

The first is entitled "Who was St Paul?",and was published to mark the start of the Year of St Paul. It is an essentially academic article, giving a very useful introduction to the writings of St Paul in the light of scholarship about their origin and authorship. I found it very useful for "locating" the different letters of St Paul, in their relation to the account of St Paul contained in the Acts of the Apostles. A useful read, though perhaps to be used for preparation rather than directly in parish catechesis. The paragraph that caught my eye, and which I think conveys a fair impression of the whole, was the following:

We begin with Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians, commonly dated around the year 50 A.D., which gives it the distinction of being the first New Testament book to be written. And this makes ‘Paul’ the first word of the New Testament! As we read through the four pages of this letter, we realise that Paul’s first priority in his apostolate was the personal visit. If this was impossible, then he would send his delegate, in this case Timothy. Only as a third possibility would he write a letter. This was something new for him and a risk. To minimise the risk, he gave an order, the only one in this letter, that the letter be read out to the whole community (1 Thessalonians 5:27). The experiment must have been successful, because this became the first of a series of letters which were written over the next ten years.

In the age of electronic communication, the suggestion of a priority for personal visiting in the apostolate is interesting. Or perhaps we might think that St Paul, in writing letters, was the first century equivalent of today's Catholic blogger and that, if the New Testament was being written today, it would appear first in the blogosphere ...

There is also an article on St Ignatius Loyola, "Will the real Ignatius please stand up?". I did not find this as useful as I found the article about St Paul. It does prompt me in two directions. It will be interesting to study the decrees of the recent General Congregation of the Society of Jesus, which are, I believe, an attempt to define the direction of the Society for the future. It will also be interesting to look at the Magis08 project undertaken by the Society in preparation for and as part of their contribution to the recent World Youth Day. What little I have been able to see of this wide ranging and international project suggests that it rooted itself in the Spiritual Exercises.

The Thinking Faith website carries a three part interview with the newly elected Jesuit General, undertaken after the General Congregation.

Thinking Faith: Religion and the Political Realm

Thinking Faith, the online journal of the British Jesuits, has an interesting article on Religion and the Political Realm. It reflects on the relationship between religion and politics, in a week that has seen Catholic bishops and other religious leaders speaking out about the Human Embryology bill. The article gives a short account of a comment on the relationship between religion and the state made by President Sarkozy of France during a visit to Rome in December 2007.

The article starts, citing Professor Ninian Smart, by summarising five possible ways in which religion and the state might interact. The first such way was the one that set me thinking:

"Religion interacts in various ways with the nation-state, which is now a relatively homogeneous concept across the global community."

It seems now to be commonly accepted that the US/UK forces went into Iraq without any thorough planning for what to do after toppling Saddam Hussein and taking control of the country, albeit with the intention that that control should not be permanent. I recall being struck by media coverage of some incidents in the early days of the occupation where the intervention of an Imam proved pivotal. This influence of the Imam seems to have almost disappeared from the more recent media coverage. It has been replaced, so far as I can see, by the leadership of armed militias - though, of course, this might be an impression communicated by the media coverage rather than a reality on the ground. It has prompted me to reflect as follows and to wonder whether the idea of the nation-state is in fact uniformly accepted across the global community:

did the Western powers assume that their own experience of a "nation-state", ie a single rule of law extending throughout their territory and enforced by a (politically neutral) police/military, was the appropriate model for Iraq? Would a more localised form of government (a kind of subsidiarity, to use a term from Catholic social teaching) been more in tune with the situation of the people themselves?

did the Western powers totally underestimate the way in which the religious authority of the Imam also constituted a political authority? And, because they did not support the political aspects of that authority, did they pave the way for it to be overtaken by the authority of the militias?

As part of a discussion of the separation of religion and the state, Fr Turner cites the model according to which the state must be neutral between religions, saying that, according to this model:

"...anyone acting in the name of the state must manifest that neutrality. Similarly, the institutions of the state (state schools, hospitals etc) must be bare of religious symbols, hence the prohibition of religious dress - crucifixes, veils etc."

Now, I can see that someone like a police officer acting to enforce the law of the land might be (emphasis on the might) seen as "acting in the name of the state"; but I find it difficult to see a medical professional working in a state hospital, or a teacher working in a state school, as being someone who is "acting in the name of the state". This is linked to the question of whether state funded hospitals and schools should, by virtue of their being state funded, be seen as institutions of the state rather than as institutions of the civil society to which the author refers later in his article. I would rather see them as belonging primarily to civil society at the service of the common good of the whole of that society, and therefore needing to respect the plurality that exists in civil society. The employee is engaging firstly with civil society and making their contribution to it - which for one employee might include an element of religious manifestation but for another might not. The legitimate role of the state is with regard to the common good, to enable these institutions to operate for the good of civil society; it is not to over-rule the legitimate freedom of the employee in their relation to civil society. It strikes me that some thought could usefully be given to how a Catholic should relate to these institutions.

To conclude, here is the article's account of the speech by President Sarkozy:

"In December 2007, President Nicholas Sarkozy, in a striking and carefully crafted speech during his state visit to the Holy See, called for a newly ‘open’ laïcité. It is worth briefly summarising his argument.

"He noted the multiform Christian contribution to French culture, from Bernard of Clairvaux to René Girard. Christianity has penetrated French society, culture, landscape, architecture, so that ‘the roots of France are essentially Christian’. Laïcité is to be seen as a freedom – to believe or not and to change one’s religion, freedom for parents to educate children according to their convictions, freedom from discrimination by ‘the administration’ on religious grounds. In deference to the French model he spoke of freedom, in a newly diverse culture, ‘not to be wounded in one’s conscience by ostentatious religious practices and symbols’. Yet, he insisted, for laïcité to cut off France from its ethical, spiritual and religious heritage would enfeeble the sense of national identity and loosen social bonds. Therefore President Sarkozy called for both a recognition of the special heritage of Christianity and a ‘mature laïcité’.

"As a politician, he will not and cannot make decisions on the basis of religious faith. (We do not expect France now to ban divorce and remarriage.) Yet it is crucial that the political conscience be enlightened by ‘convictions not bound by immediate contingencies’ – learning from the ‘richness of our different traditions’."

Film Review: Happy-go-Lucky

A little while ago I posted on this film, making up most of my post with a quotation from a review on the Jesuit's Thinking Faith site. Following up the dialogue in the comments on that post, we went to see the film this evening. As we were the only two in the cinema to see it, this became almost a private screening (but it did mean we could pass comments to each other as we were watching).

The film turned out to have rather more substance to it than the reviews (including the Thinking Faith review) suggested. The "workshop" manner of its production is apparent in some of the scenes, which leave you wondering a bit what their "point" was or how they "fitted in" with the film as a whole. One example of this is the scene in the bookshop early in the film, where Poppy tries to engage a rather less than communicative shop assistant in conversation. For most people seeing the film, the dialogue probably comes across as quite funny. For me, it didn't communicate as particularly funny; rather it just came over as rather odd. In the context of the film, this could be seen as "Poppy's character"; in the context of the production of the film, one can see it more as the outcome of a "workshop" way of making a film. What the dialogue does do, though, and this is true of other points in the film as well, is to point the audience towards a question about the situation that has been encountered. What is the shop assistant really about? Does he, should he, can he communicate or relate in any way to Poppy as she has come into his shop? And, if the answer is "no, he can't communicate or relate", is that how things should be? Perhaps one can also ask: despite her apparent efforts at communicating with the uncomprehending shop assistant, has Poppy really been able to relate to him?

Another feature of the film is some very nice turns of phrase. So, as Poppy leaves the bookshop and finds that her bicycle has been stolen, she observes that she didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. Similar sharp turns of phrase occur throughout the film, and it is easy to miss them or undervalue them.

Perhaps these two scenes at the beginning of the film open up what is the subject of the film, in my view at least. And that is ... a reflection on happiness in 1990's London. In each of its episodes - and it is a succession of episodes, rather than a continuous plot - it places this question about happiness in a different situation. Four girls on a night out clubbing, and a Saturday morning still drunk back at home. A pupil involved in bullying at school, and the single parent/new boyfriend at home. Poppy taking up with the social worker who visits this pupil in school. Two teacher flat-mates who prefer to rent - they just don't want the hassle of a mortgage - and the contrast between them and younger sister who is married, expecting a baby and has a nice house with a garden at the seaside (and who then tries to tell Poppy that she should take life more seriously).

There are some points of explicit social comment. One example is a pub conversation about pupils who had just stayed in at home during a sunny weekend. The possible explanations come back thick and fast - single parents just too tired making ends meet to be able to take children out, no parks nearby, etc. The concluding dialogue includes an observation "that you can't make everyone happy" with the response "but there's no harm in trying". It also includes a comment by Zoe "I think I should try to give up smoking"

The encounter with the tramp - rather creepy as it is, and a bit "unsituated" in the flow of the film - can be seen, I think, in two ways. It can be seen as raising the question about poverty in present day society; or, and I think this is the better understanding, it asks the question about what constitutes happiness in that situation. Is the tramp really the most unhappy person in the encounter, or is it Poppy?

The driving instructor just appeared to me as a caricature, yes, of racial prejudice and of a certain self-centred neurosis. Poppy's attempts to psychoanalyse the instructors situation (was he bullied at school?) struck me as being equally caricature. Perhaps the character of the instructor and his scenes show evidence of the workshop manner of the film production.

The character of the Flamenco instructor is also interesting. Her explanation of Flamenco as a dance form originating in the wish of a people to have their own self-expression and a statement of their "space" in society - this was well expressed both in the dialogue and the assertive stamping of feet of the dance.

A couple of interesting things about the shooting of the film. The willingness to show street names gives the episodes of the film an embedding in a local situation, a "belonging". The school buildings shown, the skylines of London and a recognisable approach to the road systems around the Docklands area have a similar effect. In a number of the scenes, people's faces are filmed in a closer than usual close up. The full face can be seen as they talk, but the top of the head/hair is above the top of the screen and the shoulders are below the bottom of the screen. This has been particularly used in some shots of Poppy. It gives a sense of entering in to the thoughts of the person speaking, of the presenting of the words of their dialogue as a question being posed to the audience.

So, at the end of the film, is there an answer to what constitutes happiness in today's world? No. Instead, the audience have encountered a series of episodes raising the question of happiness. It would be very easy to see Poppy as a kind of heroine figure trying to spread happiness where ever she goes. But I think I agree with the Thinking Faith review in suggesting that, at the bottom line, she does not have anything of depth to offer, not even in her relationship with the social worker. The film does seem to just "stop" rather than come to an expected end - and you are left without any sense that happiness is better understood after watching the film than it was before seeing it.

But, sorry to strike a realist note, Poppy and Zoe simply would not survive in a primary classroom today. They were never shown doing a fraction of a fraction of the planning that primary teachers have to do and record nowadays!

Thinking Faith - a relativisation of reason

The Jesuit on-line journal Thinking Faith carries an article "Reasonable Catholicism: Interpreting the Whole Text". In some ways, this article makes interesting reading. I ended up feeling, though, that it presented a very tired argument. That having been said, why do I think it is worthy of a critique?

Firstly, the author is currently a university chaplain working with Catholic students. An article in an on-line academic journal may not be a fair indicator of his apostolate with the students. If it is, though, I feel that the students deserve better than this.

Secondly, the question of the relationship between faith and reason is a prominent theme for Pope Benedict XVI. The relativisation of reason that I believe is expressed in this article can completely undermine how Pope Benedict, and indeed Pope John Paul II before him, is understood on this issue.

The tiredness of the ideas presented in this article is summarised in the introductory paragraph (my emphasis):

If the Christian faith is a ‘religion of the book’, a tradition handed down through the centuries, how are we to make sense of that book and that tradition
when we speak today in a very different language?

Unstated, but implied, is a questioning of the ability of language to express reality, a questioning of the ability of reason (seen as a faculty of the human person) to know the truth of the world. A very tired idea!

The article is not based on a coherent idea of what reason is:

This leaves ‘reasonable’ still surprisingly vague. Unfortunately, one of the things that we are going to have to cope with is that ‘reason’ is not as precise a concept as we would all like it to be. ... The vast edifice of teaching that articulates the ambiguous narratives of scripture into a coherent whole itself needs interpretation in the light of new reason and reasoning. It is essentially incomplete. ... But then are not all commandments within the tradition, even those most fiercely proclaimed, subject ultimately to the test of reason? Or, more disturbingly, are they not subject to the test of reasonings (plural) that may differ substantially from that reasoning in which they once were grounded? Things that seemed sacred and secure, a clear pathway to God, are called into question by those who have a different account of human flourishing. Entering into the dialogue of reason, once again, has a cost.

I think these citations, from three different parts of the article, demonstrate starting from an imprecise understanding of what reason is (failing to give an account of reason as a faculty or ability of the human mind ordered toward knowledge of the world in which we live). The ambiguity created by this starting point allows the recognition that the ability to reason can be exercised in different ways ("new reason and reasoning") to instead be expressed as if it were a completely different and novel thing altogether ("new reason and reasoning"). And it finally leads through to a relativisation of reason (as ability to know the truth of the world about us) to "reasonings" (different ways of exercising our ability to know). What is missing is a properly developed account of reason as an ability of the human mind, and of what constitutes a proper use of that ability and an improper use of it (the idea that some lines of argument or reasoning are correct and others are wrong).

It is perhaps part of the logic if this article that a relativisation of Scripture, and the miracles described in Scripture, to our contemporary reading of it is also apparent in the article (see paragraphs 8 and 9). This is not to deny that we read Scripture in the light of reason, or that we can see in Scripture messages or signs for our life today. But, to escape this becoming a form of relativism, it is important to have a sound understanding of the nature of reason that is absent from this article. A relativisation of tradtion and magisterium also follows in the next paragraph (paragraph 10).

The final paragraph, though quite poetic in nature, has a fundamental flaw. It carefully ignores the nature of "the texts" of Scripture and tradition as revelation, and how certainly we read them in the light of reason, but also in the light of faith. It praises reason, but leaves us to ask where and how it relates to faith. The"M" word (magisterium) is missing.

Throughout the Christian era and before it there has always been more than one way of being reasonable. That diversity is reflected in the texts, whether scriptural or dogmatic which attempt to articulate a narrative or a teaching, and point us towards the dynamic reality of our relationship with God. It is the challenging, but liberating work of Christian reasoning in every age to interpret the whole text so that its deep truth may be recognised and so can set us free.

Thinking Faith - "Happy-go-lucky"

The Jesuit on-line journal Thinking Faith has a review of the film "Happy-go-lucky". It was a film I was considering going to see, but I was deterred by warnings about strong language. It is a Mike Leigh film, made in a kind of workshop manner with the actors.

The Thinking Faith review ends with the following paragraphs:

Look. What can Poppy really do with her beauty and her kindness and her sunny disposition? She can make things a little gentler for the unfortunates she meets, but can she really ever be happy herself? What does happiness mean for Poppy?

If she doesn’t know what a human being is for (and she doesn’t even know what sex is for, if she can drift into it so casually) can she ever tell what successful living is? If she doesn’t recognise a Designer can she ever see a plan? If only she knew about a Saviour and a Cross she could perhaps show sense for people – not by putting trolley wheels under their crosses, or even taking their crosses away, but by showing them why they carry them.

No one could ever have cured her driving instructor, I suppose, or the tramp. But if she had known, she could have made some sense for herself and even for them, helping them recognise their need of a Saviour, the dignity of their pathetic scars, and the possibility of loving God in pain and failure. For a Christian, Mike Leigh’s acute vision illustrates this.

I thought this was quite a useful observation, and suspect that its essential idea could be applied to other films, too.

"Thinking faith" , science and religion, and Richard Feynman

"Thinking faith" is an online journal, published by the British Jesuits. It has no regular publication date, new articles being published as and when. You can subscribe to an e-mail alert when each new article is posted.

A recently posted article is entitled "Astronomy, God and the Search for Elegance" and is written by Guy Consolmagno, a Jesuit member of the Vatican Observatory. It is in some ways a disappointing article and left me wondering at the end what particular point, if any, it was trying to make. Nevertheless, there are one or two paragraphs that are worth noting.

"Yet those who would put up a watertight barrier between science and religion miss a very important point. Science and religion do intersect without doubt in at least one point: in the human being who is the scientist, in the human being whose ultimate motivations and yearnings are, overtly or not, religious."

I suspect that there are many scientists (Richard Feynman included) who would vigorously deny any religious motivation to their love of science; Consolmagno seems to suggest that, to adapt a Rahnerian phrase, they are "anonymously religious". This seems an overly optimistic view to take of atheism! However, I do think the paragraph raises an interesting question: Can a case be made that the scientific enterprise is a manifestation of the essentially religious nature of the human person and of human society? Some detailed phenomenology of human society and of science is needed to answer that one!

Towards the end of his article, Consolmagno offers some thoughts akin to Richard Feynman's observations on the mathematical nature of physical laws:

"Not only is the Universe good, and beautiful; so are the laws that control it and explain it....The equations that describe the colours of a sunrise are remarkable for being, in their own way, every bit as beautiful as the sunrise themselves."

It is possible to be rather fussy over whether or not the "laws" control the universe or the universe is controlled in accordance with those "laws", and the scientists knowledge of the "laws" represents his knowledge of the universe (if you know what I mean). Consolmagno appears looser in his use of language in this regard than Feynman would be. Like Feynman, Consolmagno recognises that science always has something more to learn, describing this as "the key and the essence of true science".

I do take rather more substantial issue with the following passage from Consolmagno's article (my emphases):

"Think of a pendulum, a weight on a swing, moving slowly back and forth. If you’re Aristotle, you see that eventually it comes to rest, hanging straight up and down, and you conclude that all things in nature seek a natural resting place. If you’re Galileo, you notice that the period of the pendulum stays constant, even as it swings less and less. If you’re Newton, you see that there are outside forces, friction in the string or in the air, that slow down the pendulum; without those external forces, there’d be nothing to stop the pendulum from swinging forever. Same pendulum: three completely different interpretations.

"Does that mean that science is not objectively true? Well... yes, to some degree. Does it mean that science is invalid? Absolutely not. For one thing, it works — if not perfectly, then good enough."

Yes, there are three different "interpretations" or understandings of the underlying physical laws; but there are also three different sets of experimental observations, each one progressing more deeply into what can be observed about a pendulum. Each set of observations enables a different and deepening understanding of the underlying physical law. It seems unfair to me to allocate the different "interpretations" to the people associated with them rather than to allocate it to reflection on the different experimental observations, that is, to consideration of the reality being studied. The suggestion that science is not objectively true then simply does not arise. Consolmagno seems to hint at this connection between the science and the reality that it studies when he uses the phrase "For one thing, it works" and continues to exemplify this in describing the working of a clock.

"And most beautiful of all is that we have been given, undeserved, the ability to understand those laws ....Another, most surprising aid we get, and the compass that directs our intuition, is this yearning for truth, for beauty, for elegance, that directs our souls and needs to be nourished in every aspect of our human lives."