Archive for the ‘Benedict XVI’ Category

Everything Changing

Thursday, December 24th, 2009

JesseTreeSpeaking in generalities, while the drastic change in lifestyle and worldview accompanying a first pregnancy may come for a mother at the moment she realizes that she is pregnant, for the father it may not come until he first holds the newborn life in his arms.  In either instance, lives are suddenly and considerably changed, never to fully return as they were before.  Of course, this can be enough to scare just about anyone away from the concept of parenthood. All the same, we face unrecognized changes daily.  We are often unaware, no matter how much Hollywood and the Sci-Fi channel try to remind us, of how our deliberate actions can cause dramatic changes in the “fabric” of history—our own, and that of others.

The word “yes”—whether to a marriage proposal or to the news that one will be the mother of the Savior of the world—is enough to change not only a person, but the world… forever.  The unexpected and irreversible reality of the death of a loved one… or just as well the washing in the waters of baptism, inagurating one forever into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; or likewise, the indelible mark left on the soul of one ordained to the priesthood… life changes at a sleight of hand, the pronouncement of a few words, the shifting of one’s eyes, or even the “drop of a hat.”

There is a clever line in Relient K’s song “I Celebrate the Day” that asks the question of the newborn Savior:

And the first breath
that left your lips,
did you know that it
would change this world forever?

What, can you imagine, the air must have tasted like that crisp Bethlehem night when the infant Jesus drew his first breath—a breath that in itself would have been sufficient to save all mankind from sin and death?  It may have reminded him of that first breath of God over the formless waste, the vast coldness of the empty universe, bringing forth life in abundance… that now, aeons later would bring forth a renewing life for all creatures.

The early Church struggled for some time over the question of how God could “suffer”—that is, change—in the humanity of Jesus Christ—if in reality he is God, eternal and unchanging, how can it be that the Son of God, second person of the Holy Trinity, might suffer upon a cross, or even enter the ever-changing world?  It ought to seem rather appropriate to us folk that the word ‘change’ is associated with suffering.  Suffering implies for us passivity, the reception of a burden, a pain, a trouble, a worry, a care.  And the changes in our lives are, perhaps more often than we would prefer, seemingly foisted upon us.  We may comfort ourselves by saying “it is the will of God” or we may get angry and bitter, assuming it is the fault of another, or even ourselves, but either way, we can easily see ourselves as powerless subjects of the willing of God, nature and mankind.

In one fell swoop we can declare that we have unwittingly fallen in love with someone while all the same demanding that marriage must be between two who freely choose to love one another.  Well, who’s in charge, then?  It would seem, then, that marriage is just about two people who are subject to the same kind of change that they didn’t even freely will in the first place!  Of course, on that interpretation, marriage can just as easily end when, unwillingly, people fall out of love.  There must be some element of willing in the life-changing events of our lives, otherwise, we are sad pawns, we are witless puppets.  But, how?

Sometimes life changing moments, foisted or not, are sufficient to change our behavior… more than a few uncommitted men have been turned from a life of immaturity or pleasure seeking by the birth of a child… more than a few have embraced a forgotten faith when they realized that something important was at stake.  “There are no atheists in a foxhole” they say—and if a foxhole is not a world of constant change, I don’t know what is.  Changes can be accepted.  There is always the Serenity Prayer:

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The courage to change the things I can.
And the wisdom to know the difference.

It would seem, then, that these foisted, unwilled, often forced changes do have the ability to bring out the best in us.  They ask us to make a decision, to act freely.  Often they prompt us to make drastic changes of our own.  Our culture celebrates those who triumph in the face of insurmountable adversity, and rightly so.  Limbs cut off, speech impediments, language difficulties, mobility lost to illness, disabilities are constantly being overcome and changed into advantages.  Yet we mourn what is lost by change, or what never was and never could be despite our best and strongest willing.

Our can-do America tells us that things can be changed—not too long ago, if you remember, an entire presidential campaign was run based on the word change—and certainly they can.  We seem to celebrate change publically, despite fear of it in our own lives.  Pope Benedict XVI, in his encyclical Spe salvi (Saved by Hope), wrote that the person who lives by true Christian hope, lives differently.  The grief, the remorse, even the regret, at the loss of what was once but now never will be again can never be greater than the joy and excitement produced by the promise of a new life, a different life… the hope that life can be different, that things can be done better… that things can change, that people can change, that the world, indeed, can and has changed in the birth of Jesus Christ, eternal Son of the eternal Father, changing, turning, drawing, all things to himself.

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Who Told You These Lies?

Wednesday, April 8th, 2009

I’d rather be writing about other things, but I can’t resist letting this one go by without spreading the word.  So tired, indeed, of lies, ambiguities, and over-simplifications.

If ever there were a cause for making distinctions, this ought to be one of them.  Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP at Domine, da mihi hanc aquam points out this article: “Bleak stories behind failed condom campaigns” on the recent media firestorm over Pope Benedict’s comments about condoms and AIDS in Africa.  Written by a Nigerian, Chinwuba Iyizoba, the article suggests that those in the First World media who find it so easy to claim scientific high ground have failed to understand African culture and the real problems that cause the spread of HIV/AIDS—that the only successful method inevitably (and in the case of Uganda, has been) will be the promotion and teaching of abstinence: a change in behavior.

At the heart of the ‘controversy’, I think, is the ubiquitous and inexorable epidemic of arrogance thinly veiled behind a false compassion.  This arrogance is hidden to those of us who wield it because we convince ourselves that we know more and therefore should help, and are better qualified to help those we deem to be less fortunate.  No one will deny that the AIDS epidemic is a tragedy, but how many more will look the other way and deny that the behavior that causes it—that behavior that promotes the use of human persons, especially women—is indeed a greater tragedy?  

But the desire to spread condom technology across Africa as the great panacea, the Deus ex machina of Western Civilization is evidence, I say, of that same imperialism that we condemn in our own history: that desire to spread capitalism whither it shall go, that only through free-market economies will indigenous peoples rise up and become actors on the global stage.  When will we get over ourselves?  How amazing is it that we can feel so guilty about what our ancestors did to other cultures in the past, yet at the same time perpetuate their crimes under a banner of false humility?

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On Labeling (and Libeling) Each Other

Thursday, March 26th, 2009

We see it all the time.  In politics, in PTA meetings, in philosophy… and especially in the Church.  He’s a Democrat.  Well, she’s a Platonist, and he’s Kantian, she’s Arminian, he’s Jansenist.  We’re a Vatican II community.  I’m a feminist.  He’s a traditionalist, she’s progressive.  He’s a papist, and that one is ADD; she’s a liberal, and those people are… well, you get the point.  Labels are useful and important as they allow us to classify, identify and understand things, ideas, and, yes, even groups of people.  They can also certainly be ways to derogate, nullify and eliminate our intellectual opponents.  But, they can also be a lazy way out of doing our homework—not that kind of homework… What I mean is, we don’t actually have to engage their argument: we can lump/file it under X and deal with that.  I give, as an example, a quote from the Holy Father’s CDF days:

“In many places today, for example, no one bothers any longer to ask what a person thinks.  The verdict on someone’s thinking is ready at hand as long as you can assign it to its corresponding, formal category: conservative, reactionary, fundamentalist, progressive, revolutionary.  Assignment to a formal scheme suffices to render unnecessary coming to terms with the content.”

-Joseph Ratzinger, On Conscience, p. 28-9

I am reminded of the way that much theology has been taught to me so far, or even architecture for that matter (from my schooling before the Order).  Consider how the history of a theoretical discipline (whether it be theology, philosophy, art, etc.) is often taught as a series of ‘movements’: Classical, Romanesque, Gothic, Byzantine, Renaissance, Baroque, Modern, Post-Modern, etc. and so forth, to infinity and beyond.  Naturally, particular figures in history fall under these categories so easily and those of us uninterested or unwilling to do the homework, will forever carry around the idea, for instance, that St. Thomas Aquinas was an Aristotelian or that before Vatican II no one read the Bible except the clergy.  Or the status quo, all the rage, en vogue, in theology and other fields related: method.  These labels, of course, are very useful, they give us outlines, broad strokes and they really do assist… but they stumble at a few important points, and not simply that they fail to recognize that individual people with individual intellects hold them.  But, we’ll start with this first point: that methods, ideologies, movements, and approaches used as labels for individuals and their thinking, often in their application to said person, fail to take into account the independent intellect of the person and its ability to change or even to hold seemingly conflicting positions (note that I said ’seemingly’).  Take for another example John Henry Cardinal Newman’s Apologia Pro Vita Sua:

He asks what I mean; not about my words, not about my arguments, not about my actions, as his ultimate point, but about that living intelligence, by which I write, and argue and act…. I must, I said, give the true key to my whole life; I must show what I am that it may be seen what I am not, and that the phantom may be extinguished which gibbers instead of me…. False ideas may be refuted indeed by argument, but by true ideas alone are they expelled… I will draw out, as far as may be, the history of my mind; I will state the point at which I began, in what external suggestion or accident each opinion had its rise, how far and how they were developed from within, how they grew, were modified, were combined, were in collision with each other, and were changed…” [emphasis mine]

-John Henry Newman, Apologia Pro Vita Sua, p. 122

Newman’s whole project in the Apologia was to refute the idea that anyone knew his mind and consequently to set forth the progression of his thoughts and how he came to believe what he did—he says it is a very personal thing that he is quite uncomfortable with, but feels as though he must in order to set the accusations to rest.  He had been accused of being a Papist all along—that his conversion was disingenuous, strategic, and meant to lead others away from the Church of England.  His book, then, was an answer to Charles Kingsley’s question: “What, then, does Dr. Newman mean?” in response to Newman’s denial of ever having said what Kingsley attributes to him.

Kingsley’s calumny, which he seems to have expected to go unnoticed by Newman, delightfully proclaims that “Truth for its own sake, had never been a virtue with the Roman clergy.  Father Newman informs us that it need not, and, on the whole, ought not to be…”   The judgment of history is such that Kingsley’s slander was, on the whole, unjustifiable despite his claim that he never thought Newman would disagree with his statement.  But to Newman, and in the context of the controversy of his conversion to the Roman Catholic Church nearly twenty years past, his words were tantamount to calling him a liar and a knave.  It should be noted that Kingsley was writing a review of a book of English history, not by any means seeking to directly engage Newman.

It seems Kingsley’s first mistake was assuming he knew Newman’s thoughts on the subject.  He presumed to borrow the mind of the Anglican professor and parson turned Roman Catholic.  We do this all the time: “Ah, well, I think what Thomas [Thomas Aquinas, that is] would say to that is…” or “And certainly Jesus would agree with that [meaning, what I just said].”  It’s certainly not a wholly depraved enterprise, but it treads on dangerous waters.  This is a recurring theme in Newman’s life and the Apologia especially.  He is upset by colleagues and students who pull him into their “camp” (even those with whom he might generally agree!) or solicit his opinion and use it as a rebuff towards opponents.

“Are textbooks the ultimate authority, or are they manuals in the hands of a lecturer, and the groundwork of his remarks?”

-Ibid., p. 346

What’s the point?  Of course, this could be a moral exhortation to always listen to one another, be open to dialogue, not to label one another, and to be tolerant and disinterested, blah blah blah… but, what about this:

“Sometimes one has the impression that our society needs at least one group for which there need not be any tolerance; which one can unperturbedly set upon with hatred. And who dared to touch them – in this case the Pope – himself lost the right to tolerance and was allowed without fear and restraint to be treated with hatred, too.”

-Pope Benedict XVI, Letter to the Bishops of the World, March 12, 2009 translation from New Liturgical Movement.

Regardless of what one may think about the gist of the Holy Father’s letter, and regardless of what you think that I think about it... there’s a truth here that we must face up to: label as we like these prostitutes and tax collectors… the “pastor of the world”—as it seems John XXIII was wont to call the papal office—has an obligation.  We, too, have the obligation to others to listen, of course, but we also have the obligation to do some thinking of our own.  We are tempted to operate in polarized terms—as our culture has decided to do, especially the media—and this happens most often why?  Out of malice?  Doubt it.

Better than labeling others, how often do we label ourselves in order to protect our arguments?  Or, again, to prevent us from having to do the heavy-lifting of thought and philosophical inquiry.  “I follow Thomas Aquinas on that…” Does that really mean I’ve honestly investigated Thomas’s position and know his conclusions to be the correct ones, or does it mean that I simply ‘subscribe‘ to Thomistic thought and carry my membership card because it’s a safe bet?  Or how often do I say “Well, I follow the magisterium on that,” without actually knowing what the magisterium teaches?  How often might I, for instance, say: “I’m a real feminist, of course…” so as to get me out of those tight gender-related spots, without really knowing what I’m saying?

“Oh, of course, I don’t agree with those radicals, but…”

“Oh, of course, I don’t think we should excommunicate pro-choice Catholic politicians, but…”

“Oh, of course, I think that pro-life is important, but I’m not a one issue person, after all…”

Sometimes when we think about labels and want to preach against them we focus on how we do an injustice to others.  But what about what we do to ourselves?  I’ll leave off with a quote from Benedict Groeschel’s The Reform of Renewal:

 

“In my own life I have been at one time or another styled as a liberal or a conservative, a radical or a traditionalist—just to mention the respectable positions.  I have also been, in some people’s estimation, a rat fink, a yellow rat, a pink, a leftist, a rightist and an undercover agent for the Swiss Guard.  I blissfully hid from myself behind these rather meaningless designations.  All the time I was really just a poor sinner. [emphasis mine]

-Fr. Benedict Groeschel, CFR, The Reform of the Renewal, p. 201

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