web
Analytics

Letter to an Aspirant priest

Fr. Thomas Joseph White, O.P.
Director of the Thomistic Institute, Rome

Reading Time
Words

Pastrores Dabo Vobis
Sacerdotalis Caelibatus
Veritatis Gaudium


I’m
grateful to you for getting in touch. Many people today would no doubt think you are strange for considering the priesthood, given the cloud that hangs over the Church. Others might congratulate you for heroism. Actually, both reactions are excessive. For a Catholic young man who is fervent in his faith, it’s a normal and reasonable thing to think seriously about being a priest, and rightly so. The truth is, if you have a calling to the priesthood you should gladly embrace it, because it’s an extraordinary vocation. It’s sad that more young men don’t consider it seriously and accept the calling.

Let me begin with definitions, rather than advice. What is the priesthood, essentially? The Letter to the Hebrews and the First Letter to Timothy provide the answer. The office pertains first and foremost to Jesus himself, who is the unique “high priest” of all humanity (Heb. 7:26) and a “mediator” between God and human beings (1 Tim. 2:5). Traditionally, Christ’s priesthood is understood to operate in a twofold direction, as descending and ascending. The gifts of God descend to human beings through the unique priesthood of Christ because he is the unique source of grace and truth for the whole human race. The human community also ascends toward God first and foremost through Christ’s human obedience, reverence, and prayer, for he is the “pioneer of our faith” according to Hebrews 12:2.

The ministerial priesthood in the Catholic Church takes its point of departure from these two forms of participation. Each Catholic priest is a fragile, limited human being who is called to participate in Christ’s priestly mission in an entirely derivative and subordinate way. The “descent” occurs through the communication of divine truth and sacramental grace, in which the priest is an instrument of God despite his own limitations. The “ascent” occurs principally in the liturgy and the priest’s pastoral governance, since the priest orients the Christian people toward authentic worship and a life of holiness. In both these senses, the priest is called to progressive conformity to Christ, and to conversion, by virtue of his sacramental ordination and his life of prayer, teaching, and care of souls. If he does this in genuine docility to the grace of God, the light of Christ shines out into the world through his ministry. If he does this in confrontation with or defection from the true mystery of Christ, he becomes a contradictory being in whom Christ’s mystery is rendered painfully obscure, to the detriment of the Church and even the potential scandal of the faithful. So the stakes are high, but even while you take this into account you should not be afraid. The grace of Christ is with every person who is called to be a priest.

The first aim in seeking the priesthood, then, is to stay in the presence of Christ. The vocation makes sense only to the extent that we remain perpetually relative to him, his mystery, his truth, his Church. Christ gives priests a certain interior stability over time. To live in him is to become strong, not unstable. But the stability is dynamic: It only works if the minister remains spiritually poor and docile to Jesus, acting in him and for him. That is something deeper than a checklist of responsibilities or a sincere moral attitude. It is a habit of being that comes from the Holy Ghost. So it is good to start with this realism.

Let me mention a few basic ideas about discernment of the priesthood and appropriate preparation. First, a brief word about motives. Why should a person want to be a priest? I’d be wary of those who suggest the necessity of prolonged psychological self-analysis on this point. Of course, we should seek to know ourselves. But the vocation does not arise out of some kind of profound act of introspection, and even less does it require that we go through an inner drama as a prerequisite to our entry into seminary. That way of thinking can easily be the stuff of narcissism. The vocation fundamentally comes from a desire for knowledge of Christ and intimacy with God, despite our natural and normal desire for marriage and children. The seminarian is a person who has given up the very good natural reality of life in a family to live for something he has learned to desire more: the search for God.

You should also beware of those who define the priestly vocation primarily in terms of public utility or personal happiness. Our American culture tends to think primarily in utilitarian and therapeutic terms. “If you are a priest, you will be useful to others and psychologically fulfilled. Maybe. Probably both, at least some of the time. But these are insufficient motives. The real driving force that sustains a person in the priesthood is the desire to do the will of God and to find God. A Benedictine abbot once told me, “The reasons I thought I entered are not the reasons I stayed. Over time a person stays in the vocation, amid joy and suffering, amid human recognition or cultural ignominy and scorn, for God alone. The stability of the priesthood is at base the stability of the Cross. It comes from God, his will and his grace, not human estimations of worth or success, psychological introspection, or pragmatic arguments.

The positive way to put this is that the priest learns little by little to exist for God’s own sake, and not for any merely created thing. The priest is a sign to the world that human beings can exist for God himself, to enjoy God by knowledge and love, because God is worth it. Augustine puts it more powerfully: Nothing whatsoever is worth loving for itself except God. In this sense, the priest is the first one who has to learn to give up his idols. God alone remains. The rest turns to ash. This is why the Church depends deeply for her witness on the radicality of the religious life and the priesthood. These offices are meant to show in a visible way that the Church herself exists for God. And if the Catholic Church cannot do anything for God’s own sake, she cannot do anything of real importance in the world today. Ultimately her attempts to justify her own existence will become pathetic as she tries to prove her usefulness in purely human, political, or worldly terms.

A second idea: The life of a priest is cantered around the truth of Catholic doctrine. This is something many seem to get wrong in the Church today. There are many people, both “progressive” and “traditionalist,” who begrudgingly accept the doctrinal mission of the Church. Doctrina in Latin means “teaching. The Church communicates the revelation of Christ confided to the Apostles. On a practical level, no one is more fundamentally responsible for this day to day than the Catholic priest, and if we don’t see that clearly as priests, our lives effectively become sterilised. Outside the celebration of the sacraments, the core responsibility of the priest is to teach the faith. If secularisation is happening in vast parts of Europe and North and South America today, the main reason is that this traditional function of the priesthood is being ignored or performed badly.

In saying that the priest is meant to teach apostolic doctrine, I’m not saying you have to be an erudite intellectual, and certainly not a professional academic. Was St. Paul a professor of theology? In fact, priestly responsibilities are very different: The parish priest needs to instruct people at all levels and all ages, from the catechesis of young children to the instruction of working-class people to young professionals, academics, and cultural leaders. This is more challenging in some respects than what academics do, but you don’t need a PhD to do it. If a priest presents the mysteries of the faith simply, clearly, and accurately to others, the Holy Spirit works through him despite his limitations. It is amazing what can happen simply through a clear and courageous presentation of the teachings of the Catechism. It is important not to underestimate the power of truth.

Seminary formation will give you the time to study the basic truths of the faith and to practice communicating them in a sufficiently clear way. The basic virtues you need to work on at this early stage are studiousness and courage. You need to form the habit of daily study of the faith and develop the courage to speak clearly about the faith to others with prudence and love, not stridency or defensiveness. This matters because the crisis in the priesthood today is above all a crisis of faith, and faith (as Aquinas rightly notes) is a supernatural grace given primarily to the intellect, not the heart. It consists in right judgment about the truth of Christianity, and how that truth should inform our lives. A Church and a priesthood without intellectual judgment regarding Christ risks devolving into a Church without faith . . . but also a Church without love, since love is guided and informed from within by an orientation toward truth. The bottom line is that you need to cultivate progressively a true Christian intellectual life wherein you learn to see reality in the light of Christ. This is what will allow you to evangelise, and to steady others in the storm.

A third idea: A key challenge is to allow the grace of God to inform all the root desires of your heart. The priesthood is about having your hearts reoriented by divine love. This is a lifelong process. A priest is first and foremost a heart seeking God, which means he is also a person who is constantly surrendering to God, a sinner always being redeemed by the Cross, and exalted by the Cross. Nietzsche says that the priest is only dangerous if he really loves, by which he means that the delusion of Christianity only takes root if the person is a zealous fanatic. Mystically speaking, Nietzsche is right. The love of God has to guide us if we want to be of any real use to other people. The Church is not an office of sacral bureaucrats. St. Bernard of Clairvaux spoke about the Cistercian monk as a wild caged lion, contained in his monastic cell but incessantly roaring to God. The priest is meant to be a troubadour, not a manager. When a person truly loves God, it is contagious.

The ordinary denizens of the Church—the people of God—typically love the priests who serve them and reverence the mystery of the priesthood. Yet they only do so when they feel that he is truly at home with them, cares about them, and stands with them through their crises and under their crosses. A great deal of their trust in what the Church teaches is grounded in what they see in the lives of the personnel of the Church. When a priest prepares people for marriage with earnestness, hears their confessions with compassion, visits them or their loved ones when they are sick, counsels them when they are distressed, and buries their dead with confidence in the resurrection, then they will believe in the priesthood, and they will believe what the Church teaches.

Beware the pitfalls of clerical culture: The acquisition of material comforts are not surrogates meant to make up for celibacy, as if expertise in restaurants and international travel are legitimate compensations for life without a family. Try to be the kind of seminarian who will wear work gloves and wash dishes, not one seeking to be served or esteemed. Priests spend time with the disheartened and the lonely, not just the well-functioning or successful (though the latter matter to God as well). Also, be aware of your own emotional life. If you are preparing for the priesthood you need to cultivate healthy friendships. Every seminarian and priest needs friends he can confide in, equals who are typically colleagues, and perhaps at times also married couples who are peers or elders. Our relationships should be characterised by appropriate boundaries, and should of course be entirely chaste (emotionally as well as physically), but not overly formal or robotic. Be earnest and never cede your capacity to say what you think out loud (in an appropriate way).

That being said, if a man is preparing for the priesthood and still wants to have emotionally intense friendships with young women, he is fooling himself. Grace does not destroy nature. If a person has a vocation, he can still experience natural attraction to women, and this is one of the central places that boundaries and asceticism matter in the years a person is preparing for ordination, and afterward as well.

Our culture does not understand or value priestly celibacy, and in a way that is a good thing. It’s an opportunity to bear radical witness to Christ. Celibacy is a sign of contradiction: It shows people that we can exist for something beyond the created order, for God himself. Yet in our own historical moment, there is a lack of confidence in any form of lifelong commitment. The vows of marital fidelity and the decision to have children are also difficult for many people to fathom. This does not mean our contemporaries are at ease with their sexuality. The prevalence of pornography, sterile cohabitation, and prolonged solitude without marriage and children are causing people to rethink the values of the sexual revolution. In this context, priestly celibacy for the sake of Christ serves as a point of orientation. You show all people, whether they have failed or succeeded in this domain, that they can offer their life to God in every circumstance and that their own work of asceticism is valued by the Church.

The worldly mentality suspects celibacy of being a matter of repression and inhumane sacrifice of sexual pleasure. But when it is lived rightly, there is a beauty to the priesthood as a human and distinctly masculine mode of self-offering to God. Authentic priestly celibacy presents us with a form of masculinity that is spiritual and elevated. It helps other men be better husbands who are self-sacrificing, and helps women transcend some of the neuralgic complexities of power, resentment, and seduction. In fact, it manifests something profound that can exist between men and women only in Christ: true spiritual friendship.

The truth about Christ himself is also at stake in the Church’s evaluation of celibacy. His example represents the Christological center of celibacy that cannot be ignored. He was himself celibate, as were St. Paul, St. John, and many other saints, as well as the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God. Are the mysterious lives of these most holy people intelligible to us? The celibate priesthood reflects and embodies this reality in the heart of the Church. Can our poor human frame bear the imprint of the imitatio Christi in this respect? History says yes. The fruitfulness of the Church flows in some sense from her commitment to celibacy in the life of religious orders. It was these above all who brought the gospel to the continents outside Europe, and it is these above all who often evangelise today in places both not yet and formerly Christian. Celibate priests may have no physical descendants, but by baptism they have many millions of children. Our skeptical, over-sexualised enemies may scoff, but their own diminishing demographics belie their false confidence. Ignore the despair of the naysayers (even if they are German cardinals) and seek purity in Christ.

What should we do about the sexual abuse crisis and the crisis of credibility of the priesthood and episcopacy? I’m sure when you mention to people that you are thinking about the priesthood, this is the first thing that comes into the minds of many.

In one sense, it is indeed something worth worrying about. We must have a clear conviction about the need for human justice and ecclesial integrity at both the national and international levels. If you are in seminary or the diocesan or religious priesthood and you encounter individuals with problems in this domain, you have to be forthright and help bring things to light. The credibility of the Church will not be fully restored until all priests and bishops are subject to a coherent and reasonable set of disciplines, with ascetical norms and a consistent practice. This is happening little by little, despite the real setbacks we see. Outrage has its uses, but so does optimism.

In another sense, as an individual seeking God, you should not worry too much about this. You have an obligation as a Christian to find joy in God above and beyond all the pathetic defects and failures of human beings in the Church. The whole point of ex opere operato is that the celebration of the sacraments renders Christ present to the Church despite all the defects of men. The whole point of the charism of dogmatic infallibility in the Church is that the apostolic doctrine remains clearly identifiable and inerrant even when some of the personnel of the Church fail to live by that doctrine or even believe in it.

I’m not counselling indifference, but the prioritisation of concerns. The divine foundation of the Church comes first, not her human ministers. Super natural faith in Christ grounds us in those foundations where we can be in perpetual contact with Christ, a “living stone” (1 Pet. 2:4) untarnished by our human failings. If you learn to live at that level, you will see the Church for what she is in her depths and love her precisely because she is always united to Christ and enlivened by his holiness. This realisation, far from being a form of escapism, gives you the courage to fight for the reform of the Church and her clergy without ceding to discouragement or cynicism.

Everyone is called to happiness, but in different ways and according to different rhythms in life. Marriage is the most natural and reasonable way to find happiness in this world. I’ve had countless friends who really began to be happy when they first became parents and “found themselves” through becoming a father or mother. But married people also experience the limitations of happiness in this life. They feel the need for deeper conversion to God as their ultimate hope and source of happiness. In most people this takes place in fits and starts over the course of a lifetime.

The priest, meanwhile, skips some of the stages. Ultimately the vocation to the priesthood is a vocation to happiness, but in a different rhythm and in a higher key. By living without the natural recourse to happiness in a family, he has to “re-stabilise” at a higher register. This is both consoling and challenging, like the physical rest that comes not from sleeping, but from pausing during a steady climb toward a high peak. We can’t begin the climb by ourselves, but the grace of God makes it feasible, and not just bearable, but serene and peaceful. In John’s Gospel, Christ speaks about a peace the world cannot give (14:27). This is what is at the heart of the priestly vocation: becoming first a captive and then a permanent emissary of that peace. The bottom line is that we should not be afraid to surrender to the vocation, trusting in the happiness that comes from God alone. He does the essential work and we cooperate with it.

The morality of modern liberalism is both permissive and unforgiving. For our secular contemporaries, everything depends on our autonomy and authenticity, but paradoxically we can achieve very little of importance, and if we lose the favour of the elite custodians of our culture, there is no way back into the fold. Catholicism is the opposite of this in almost every respect. Our spiritual lives don’t depend primarily on our own authority. Instead, God takes the first initiative by his gift of grace in Christ. Without him we may not amount to much, but with him our lives acquire both a profound center of gravity and a wonderful lightness of being. Even our sins are “useful” if we show them to Christ. He is a continual source of forgiveness and life, so that we can live without any despair.

The Catholic moral tradition is about happiness, holy asceticism, joy, self-offering, humility, and deliverance. It points us toward the sublime, and promises us the intensity of divine love. If you pursue the priesthood and your vocation is confirmed by the Church, you will eventually stand at the nexus of this mystery, yourself a mediator between God and men, bound forever by ordination to Christ and his cross. The spiritual life of Jesus passes from Golgotha through the priest to the world, in the sacraments and apostolic preaching. It is both strange and severe to stand in that nexus, near the light that is never extinguished, to let it slowly change you, and burn your heart, and that of others through you. But it is a joyful existence as well. I encourage you to surrender to it.

Thank you, again, for writing. Please know that I’ll be praying for you in your ongoing discernment.

Hope for the Liturgy: What to Expect from Today’s Newly-Ordained Priest

Fr. Kurt Besole, O.S.B.
Director of Liturgical Formation at the Pontifical North American College, Vatican City, Rome

The Priest and Liturgical Music

Jennifer Donelson

Aquinas on the Priest: Sacramental Realism and the Indispensable and Irreplaceable Vocation of the Priest

Fr. Romanus Cessario, O.P.
St. John’s Seminary
Brighton, Massachusetts

‘Essentia et Non gradu tantum differant’
A note on the priesthood and analogical predication

Thomas G. Guarino
Roman Catholic Theologian

Theology Today—Is it necessary?

Belief—according to St. Augustine—is to think with assent. Theology is nothing more than the deduction of virtually revealed truths from revealed data by means of reason enlightened by faith.

Theology is both a speculative and a practical science, although as a unit it is more speculative than practical. Speaking of Theology in general, St. Thomas Aquinas says: ‘In other sciences it is sufficient that man be perfect intellectually, but in this science it is necessary that he also be perfect effectively, for we are to speak of great mysteries and explain wisdom to the perfect. But each one is want to judge things according to his dispositions; thus he who is dominated by anger judges in a very different manner during his seizure of anger than when he is calm. Therefore, Aristotle says that each one seeks his own end in those things to which he is particularly inclined’.

The highest activity of man is in the understanding of the essential principles regulating and explaining the order of reality. It is only through the knowledge of eternal truth that human affairs can be wisely understood and regulated. We post-moderns are divorced from perennial wisdom in so far as we refuse the primacy of the speculative intelligence for the hegemony of the practical intellect and the will. In the measure that this is the case, we lack the tools to judge human and divine events. We no longer know, nor does our education gear us to know our place in the order of things, and in the divine economy. Yet, we cannot act virtuously without a certain degree of vision and acceptance of this divine plan, that is, of reality.

The task of regaining an understanding of this perennial wisdom is, essentially, a spiritual and intellectual one. The possessors of this knowledge constitute authority in the spiritual sphere. But this spiritual authority derives from the trusteeship of our Greco-Roman and Judaeo-Christian tradition, not from the modern law of democracy and universal adult suffrage. Having refused the highest authority—divine truth—all other authorities have been or are being overthrown or rendered incapable of fulfilling their office: chaos and anarchy are growing everywhere. The garden inevitably turns to a wasteland. How can anything be fruitful when the final end of all things is being put aside?

The following essays, written by authorities expressing the perennial teaching of the church, are offered to help us fulfil the ultimate end of the Christian life—the Glory of God. Even the incarnation of the Word and the redemption of the human race have no other finality than the glory of God: ‘And when all things are made subject to him, then the Son himself will also be subject to him who subjected all things to him, that God may be all in all’ (1 Cor. 15:28). For that reason, St. Paul exhorts us not to take a single step which will not lead to the glory of God: ‘Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or do anything else, do all for the glory of God’ (1 Cor. 10:31).

After the glory of God, and perfectly subordinated to it, the Christian life has for its end or goal the sanctification of one’s own soul. This is tantamount to saying that all Christians are called to sanctity or the perfection of the Christian life, at least by a remote and sufficient call, although in various degrees, according to the measure of their predestination in Christ.

Man’s ultimate beatitude, says St. Thomas Aquinas, is his supreme perfection. The Angelic Doctor tells us that beatitude or perfection in glory requires two conditions: the total perfection of the one who is beatified and the knowledge of the one possessed.

Retrieving a Sacramental World View in a Mechanistic World

Rik Van Nieuwenhove
Roman Catholic Theologian

Reading Time
Words
For any Catholic theologian the question whether or not creation reveals something of the splendour and beauty of its Creator is an important one. In this paper I will address an important aspect of this question: can we recapture elements of the pre-modern, traditional sacramental worldview in a profoundly mechanistic world, dominated by indifferent, objectivist laws of science? In order to address this issue, I will first briefly sketch the sacramental worldview by discussing a small treatise by Hugh of St Victor, De tribus diebus.

This is an attractive work, which not only gives an eloquent expression of the sacramental worldview but which also reveals how beauty was understood in objective, ontological terms (i.e., in terms of the forma of things). This sacramental worldview was gradually displaced by a mechanistic worldview, in which our natural world has often become religiously opaque. In the final part of this contribution I will examine the thought of Simone Weil in whose writings we find fascinating resources as to how to perceive the divine in the middle of a mechanistic, indifferent world. Between these two sections I will briefly discuss the Romantic response to the rise of the mechanistic worldview. I will argue that Romantic art, while undoubtedly revealing the depths of human subjectivity, and often expressing the human search for the transcendent in a sublime manner, portrays nature through the lens of human subjectivity in marked contrast to the objectivity that characterised pre-modern approaches.

1. THE SACRAMENTAL WORLDVIEW

Most pre-modern Christian thinkers held a theology of creation which can be best characterised as sacramental. This is the case whether they were from Neo-platonic stock (such as Augustine, Pseudo-Dionysius, Eriugena Scotus, Bonaventure), or were at least partly influenced by Aristotelian thought (cf. Thomas Aquinas). In this context “sacramental” means that all of these thinkers saw the world as pregnant with pointers towards the divine. Creation does not merely point to God but also, in revealing him, allows us to encounter God. Thus, creation re-presents God: it makes him present again. For Bonaventure, for instance, the created universe, in its beauty and its order, is a vestige of the Trinity, reflecting the power, wisdom, and benevolence of the triune God . He describes the universe as “a ladder by which we can ascend to God” . In the second chapter of The Soul’s Journey into God Bonaventure captures this sacramental worldview eloquently: “These creatures, I say, are exemplars, or rather exemplifications, presented to souls still untrained and immersed in sensible things, so that through sensible things, which they see, they may be lifted to the intelligible things, which they do not see, moving from signs to what is signified [per signa ad signata]” . One of the most eloquent (but least well-known) expressions of the medieval sacramental worldview is to be found in a short treatise by Hugh of St Victor, entitled De tribus diebus invisibilis lucis [The Three Days of the Invisible Light] . I will discuss it here in some detail as this will allow me to illustrate how the pre-modern sacramental approach differs from more aesthetic approaches to nature during the Romantic period. De tribus diebus is a work of theology, aesthetics, and spirituality (an aspect of the treatise I cannot discuss here). The “Three Days” mentioned in the title of the treatise refer to fear of the Lord (in response to God’s Power), truth (in response to God’s Wisdom), and love (in response to God’s Goodness) . God’s Power, Wisdom, and Goodness (benignitas) must, of course, be understood in a Trinitarian way, and are appropriated to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit respectively . The immensity of created things reveals the divine Power, while the beauty (decor) of creatures manifests divine Wisdom, and their usefulness (utilitas) reflects the divine Goodness. As Hugh puts it: “Visible things are the image (simulacrum) of invisible things. The immensity of the created world is the image of invisible power; its beauty is the image of invisible wisdom, and its usefulness the image of invisible goodness”.

Hugh pays particular attention to the beauty of the created world which reveals the divine Wisdom:

This entire sensible world is like a book written by the finger of God, that is, created by divine might. Individual creatures are like shapes that are not the product of human design, but they are invested by God to manifest and, in a way, to signify his invisible Wisdom. Imagine an illiterate person who looks at an open book: he will see shapes but will not understand the written letters. Similarly, the foolish and sensual person does not perceive the things that are of God (1 Cor. 2:14); he will look at visible creatures as merely external appearances but he will not be able to understand their meaning. The spiritual person, on the other hand, who can judge all things (1 Cor. 2:15), knows, when contemplating the external beauty [pulcritudino] of things, how to admire in this the inner Wisdom of the Creator.

As this quotation suggests, faith offers us a hermeneutical perspective from which we can perceive a deeper dimension of reality. The fact that we need faith to perceive the world as revelatory of God obviously does not imply that we somehow attribute a sacramental dimension to our created world; on the contrary, in Hugh’s view, this dimension is firmly embedded in its ontological structure, so to speak (especially through its forms) . In a number of highly lyrical passages Hugh speaks of “the artwork of the universe” (machina uniuersitatis), praising the astonishing beauty, harmony, and diversity of our created universe. Now, it is especially beauty which draws the mind to God. While the immensity of creation relates first and foremost to the sheer existence or being of things, beauty is related to the form of created things. He explains why: Existence [essentia] as such, without form [absque forma], can be characterized as a kind of formlessness. That which exists without form, resembles God insofar as it exists, but it differs from God insofar as it lacks form. That which has form bears a greater resemblance to God than that which is lacking in form. From this it follows that the beauty of created things, which is closely related to their forms, better discloses God than the immensity of created beings, which only relates to their existence. Similarly, beauty surpasses usefulness in its revelatory character. Usefulness, Hugh writes, has to do with fulfilling a function (utilitas uero ad actum). Beauty, on the other hand, relates to the nature (habitus) or character of something, which is more essential and abiding than mere function: after all, “the character of a thing is a natural given, while it receives its function only by appointment”. In short, the nature or form of a thing is of greater importance than the function it is asked to fulfil. Hugh summarises: “This is why, in the acquisition of knowledge, the image [simulacrum] of beauty takes precedence over both immensity and usefulness, for it is more radiant in its revelation [quia est in manifestatione euidentius]”. More than the sheer existence or the usefulness of things, it is their beauty that draws us near to God. The reason why the beauty of the forms of things has this power to draw us near to God is ultimately Christocentric and even Trinitarian: “It is beautifully fitting [pulcre] that we begin our quest for wisdom with the image [simulacrum] of this Wisdom. For it is through Wisdom that the Father has revealed himself, both when he bestowed fleshly being on his Wisdom, but also when he created the world through his Wisdom”. Thus, the beauty of creation reflects and manifests the Word of God, through whom all things have been made, and who himself became Wisdom incarnate, drawing all things to God. This brief engagement with Hugh’s thought (and the sacramental understanding of the world it contains) suggests why medieval thinkers did not develop aesthetics as an independent discipline (something which only occurred in the 18th century): Hugh discusses beauty in ontological terms. Aesthetics is part of ontology. As previous quotations suggested, it is the form of things which is the locus of their beauty. (Although the words Hugh uses for beauty are decor and pulcritudo the connection between form and beauty is partly inspired by the fact that the classic Latin word forma can mean both form and beauty.) It is only when epistemological concerns take centre place in philosophy that aesthetics will emancipate itself from this ontological context. Moreover, issues of beauty became more pressing in a mechanistic world, governed by anonymous laws of science. To this we now turn.


II. THE ROMANTIC RESPONSE TO THE MECHANISTIC WORLDVIEW


If “sacrament” is the key hermeneutical concept to characterise the pre-modern worldview, “machine” is the key concept to characterise the modern worldview. The story of this major shift is well-known, and need not be outlined here in any detail: from the medieval geocentric and hierarchical world order to heliocentrism (Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo). This culminated in the work of Newton (Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica), published in 1687, which advanced the notion that discoverable laws of physics (especially gravity) govern this world. Newton’s work was, in turn, perfected by Pierre-Simon de Laplace (d. 1827). What is significant is that the way we see the world will also have repercussions for the way we see God and ourselves. In 1748 Julien Offray de La Mettrie published a work under the revealing title L’Homme machine. It is little wonder that in the first half of the 18th century we witness the rise of Deism; or that the said Laplace had no scope in his works for God (To Napoleon: “Je n’avais pas besoin de cette hypothèse-là”.) It is equally unsurprising that Christians defend the existence of God by appealing to mechanical analogies, such as the watchmaker analogy (by William Paley in 1802). Even natural life is subject to anonymous laws, such as the laws of evolution and natural selection, as Charles Darwin made clear in his On the Origins of the Species (1859). Before I discuss the Romantic response to this mechanistic worldview I want to briefly mention another one: the positivist one. From a theological point of view it is hardly interesting. The positivist sticks, rather naively, to scientific “facts”, and appears to be unable to acquire a deeper, third-dimensional view of this world. His views are naïve insofar as he remains blissfully unaware of the fiduciary nature of all human rationality. We have mentioned the intellectual ancestry of these views in the eighteenth century. A contemporary spokesperson of this view is, of course, Richard Dawkins. Much more interesting for our theme is the Romantic stance. Gadamer observed many years ago that increasing objectivisation of our worldview goes hand in hand with the growth of subjectivisation. During the 18th century we see a surge of interest in aesthetics as a distinct discipline. From the end of the 18th century, and during the 19th century, the artist has become the new priest. In other words, in a deeply mechanical world, the human subject creates a counter-world, in which she can escape and find solace. The mechanical world of Laplace is also the world of Beethoven. Now the issue is not just that the Romantic creates a subjectivist counter-world, separate from the “real”, scientific world. More significant, for our purposes, is that the Romantic’s approach to the natural world will be equally subjectivist. One only has to compare Jan van Eyck’s depiction of our world to, let’s say, that of the Caspar David Friedrich (d. 1840). In the former we encounter a deeply religious portrayal, in which everyday objects (e.g., fruit, a garden, candles, ) have a profound symbolic meaning. There is an utter objectivity in Van Eyck’s portrayal of nature. In Friedrich’s haunting paintings our natural world has become a sounding board of human emotion and subjectivity; e.g., his Cross in the Mountains (Gemäldegalerie, Dresden) or Wanderer above the Fog (Kunsthalle Hamburg). Another example, this time from the world of music, of the way nature is being subjectivised is, of course, Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony. (“Feelings of happiness at the brook” is the caption of one of Beethoven’s movements in the Pastoral Symphony. Again, his musical portrayal of a storm reveals more of his own tempestuous nature than of a genuine storm.) This is not to say that Romantic art cannot be a genuine expression of the human search for the transcendent, or even a profound expression of the transcendent itself. Friedrich’s art is genuinely religious, as is the music of the late Beethoven (not to mention A. Bruckner’s Symphonies). I am therefore not disputing that Romantic art may be called genuinely sacramental. My point is more modest: in modernity, the portrayal of the natural world is different from that in the pre-modern world. The Romantic view of nature subjectivises nature in a way in which the pre-modern approach did not. Thus, the “aesthetic differentiation” Gadamer mentions (art becomes part of subjectivist, human interiority, and is also severed from its traditional social and religious context) is paralleled by a “differentiation of nature”, in which the natural world itself becomes an extension of human interiority. This Romantic approach, which probably finds a late expression in some of the 21st century radical ecological movements, effectively offers an aestheticised picture of our natural environment. Friedrich’s painting The Sea of Ice (Kunsthalle Hamburg), for instance, reveals in a powerful manner the isolation, transience, and fragility of humanity but the portrayal of the Antarctic is almost incidental. The portrayal of nature in his works is more “sublime” than “beautiful”. Incidentally, it is little surprise that one of the most popular aesthetic theories of the 19th century was expressivism, which illustrates the reduction of the meaning of art itself to human subjectivity, and human emotion in particular, in a striking manner. This theory held that the emotions of the artist were to be transferred to his audience, while the piece of art is only the transient medium in this process. Thus, in expressivism even the art work itself becomes a mere channel for human subjectivity. In short, while Romantic art attempts to recapture the sacramental in nature, it does so at the expense of an aestheticisation and subjectivisation of the natural world. This is in marked contrast to pre-modern approaches, in which the objectivity of natural beauty, revelatory of the divine, was ontologically written into the fabric of the world. I will now examine the thought of one Christian thinker whose writings contain important suggestions as to how we can recapture something of the sacramental worldview without ignoring the objectivism which dominates our scientific worldview. This author is Simone Weil.

III. SIMONE WEIL

In Weil’s work we find an intriguing dialectic of divine transcendence (the mysteriousness and otherness of the Christian God) on the one hand, and an equally emphatic emphasis upon divine immanence or even solidarity (through the Incarnation of the Son of God) on the other. She appropriates this traditional dialectic in terms of the absence of God in a world governed by the laws of “necessity” and “gravity”, on the one hand, and presence of God, on the other. This dialectic evokes a particular response one of detachment. This detachment is not to be understood as indifference but as a dying to self-centredness and possessiveness, enabling us to engage with the world in a non-idolatrous, selfless manner. Simone Weil has an all-pervasive sense of living in a world governed by the indifferent laws of necessity, which show little concern for human well-being in their anonymous and merciless application. As she puts it, one would have to be “blind, deaf or without pity” to fail to see it. Nevertheless, the Christian is aware that there is divine mercy “behind the curtain of this world”:

Those who have the privilege of mystical contemplation, having experienced the mercy of God, suppose that, God being mercy, the created world is a work of mercy. But as for obtaining evidence of this mercy directly from nature, it would be necessary to become blind, deaf and without pity in order to believe such a thing possible That is why mysticism is the only source of virtue for humanity. Because when men do not believe that there is infinite mercy behind the curtain of the world, or when they think that this mercy is in front of the curtain, they become cruel.

In other words, those who altogether deny God’s mercifulness are mistaken; those who claim to find it in a self-evident fashion are either blind or pitiless (i.e., they do not see the suffering, or they do not take it seriously). The right way is to acknowledge suffering and yet to affirm belief in a merciful God. But how can we affirm the mercifulness of God “behind” the curtain of this world?

For Simone Weil the Creator is a hidden, transcendent God who surpasses all our concepts. In order to create the world, God had to withdraw—perhaps an echo of the Jewish notion of zimzum: “God could only create by hiding himself. Otherwise there could be nothing but himself”. One aspect of this withdrawal is the space God gives to the indifferent and deterministic laws of nature (including the blind arbitrariness with which good and bad fortune are handed out to us). Weil calls this “necessity”. The free play that “necessity” enjoys in this world is a kind of divine analogy to the human virtue of obedience. Creation is thus a kind of divine renunciation. God renounces being everything: “Necessity is the screen set between God and us so that we can be”. However, what Weil calls “necessity” is, from a different perspective (from “the other side of the curtain”) “obedience”:

If, however, we transport our hearts beyond ourselves, beyond the universe, beyond space and time to where our Father dwells, and if from there we behold this mechanism, it appears quite different. What seemed to be necessity becomes obedience In the beauty of the world rude necessity becomes an object of love. What is more beautiful than the action of weight on the fugitive waves of the sea as they fall in ever-moving folds, or the almost eternal folds of the mountains? The sea is not less beautiful in our eyes because we know that sometimes ships are wrecked. On the contrary, this adds to its beauty.

As creatures we cannot escape from obedience to God. Our only choice is to desire obedience or not to desire it. Surrendering ourselves in obedience to the mechanism of necessity operative in this world itself only a veil of God allows us to become open to the radiant beauty of this world. To see the world in this way requires time and effort, like an apprenticeship. In this kind of apprenticeship our bodiliness, our corporeality (and its inevitable openness to suffering), plays a major role: “on the plane of physical sensibility, suffering alone gives us contact with that necessity which constitutes the order of the world”. Weil’s spirituality is deeply enfleshed, incarnated.

The self is only a shadow that sin and error cast by stopping the light of God. God can love in us only our consent to withdraw in order to make way for him, just as he himself withdrew when creating the world in order that we might come into being. One way of effecting this self-effacement or renunciation is by “carrying out the ordinary human duty”. The renunciation that Weil propounds does not lead to a world-hostile spirituality.

The theme of imitating the renunciation of God brings us to a closely associated theme: we encounter God in the very absence of God. In Gravity and Grace she provides us with a memorable analogy to clarify this point: “Two prisoners whose cells adjoin communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing which separates them but it is also their means of communication. It is the same with us and God. Every separation is a ‘link’”. This dialectic of presence in absence can be discerned in the created world where the divine mercy operates “behind the curtain of the world”—behind the indifferent laws of necessity that govern this world. This dialectic explains that the necessity that characterises our world is both impersonal and personal: just like a work of art has an author (who puts his individual stamp on it) and yet, when it is perfect, has something essentially anonymous about it. In the same way the necessity of the laws of nature manifest a God who is both personal and impersonal at the same time.

In short, in the work of Simone Weil we find an authentic voice that takes seriously the mechanistic worldview of modern science and yet it manages to discern the divine mystery in the middle of it. As such it seems superior to either Romantic religious views, or positivistic ones.

1 Itinerarium mentis in Deum, I, 10. For an English translation, see P. BOEHNER Z. HAYES (eds.), Works of St Bonaventure. Volume II: Itinerarium mentis in Deum, New York, The Franciscan Institute, 2002.
2 Ibid., I, 2.
3 Ibid., II, 11.
4 The work has never been translated into English, and all translations are my own. There is an excellent Dutch translation by J. VAN ZWIETEN, Hugo van St Victor: De drie dagen van het onzichtbare licht, Kampen, Kok Agora, 1996.
5 De tribus diebus, 26. All references are to the chapters in the critical edition by D. POIREL (ed.), De tribus diebus (CCCM, 177), Turnhout, Brepols, 2002, pp. 3-70.
6 In De sacr. I, 3 (26) Hugh is careful to stress that the three Persons are powerful, wise and good on account of their shared divine nature. It is revealing to compare Hugh’s exposition of appropriation (the word he uses in De sacr. I, 3 (25) is attribuitur) with the outline of Peter Abelard in his Theologia summi boni I, 2.
7 De tribus diebus, 16.
8 Ibid., 4.
9Although I cannot elaborate on this issue within the confines of this article it should be noted that Hugh does not promote an aesthetic theology but rather a theological aesthetics. This distinction is indebted to H.U. VON BALTHASAR, The Glory of the Lord: A Theological Aesthetics. Volume 1: Seeing the Form, San Francisco, CA, Ignatius Press, 1998, pp. 79ff. As Boyd Taylor-Coolman has demonstrated, for Hugh we, in our fallen state, cannot perceive the divine in creation, without the aid of faith as nurtured by the Scriptures: “Scripture alone provides the healing illumination and the revelatory patterns by which visible things can be read aright”. See B. TAYLOR-COOLMAN, Pulchrum Esse: The Beauty of Scripture, the Beauty of the Soul, and the Art of Exegesis in the Theology of Hugh of St. Victor, in Traditio 58 (2003) 175-200; for the quotation, see p. 181.
10 De tribus diebus, 4-13.
11 Ibid., 16.
12 Ibid.
13 Ibid.
14 H.G. GADAMER, Truth and Method, London, Continuum, 2004, pp. 37-40.
15 This view has found an eloquent expression in Tolstoy’s celebrated essay What is Art? In it he argues that art begins when one person, with the object of joining another or others to himself in one and the same feeling, expresses that feeling by certain external indications. Thankfully, in his major writings the novelist Tolstoy did not adhere to his own philosophical views. For an illuminating discussion of the flaws of expressivism and the merits of cognitive approaches to art, see G. GRAHAM, Philosophy of the Arts: An Introduction to Aesthetics, London, Routledge, 2000.
16 I have dealt with the theme of detachment and involvement, and its implications, in The Religious and the Aesthetic Attitude, in Literature and Theology 18 (2004) 160-172, especially pp. 167-170; in Technology and Mystical Theology, in M. BREEN E. CONWAY B. MCMILLAN (eds.), Technology and Transcendence, Dublin, Columba Press, 2003, 186-194, especially pp. 188-192, and The Religious Disposition as a Critical Resource to Resist Instrumentalisation, in The Heythrop Journal 50 (2009) 689-696.
17 S. WEIL, Gravity and Grace, London, Routledge, 1992, p. 100.
18 Ibid., p. 33. Earlier in the same book she had written: “The world must be regarded as containing something of a void in order that it may have need of God. That presupposes evil” (p. 11).
19 Ibid., p. 94.
20 Ibid., p. 28.
21 S. WEIL, Waiting on God: Letters and Essays, London, HarperCollins, 1977, p. 70.
22 22. Ibid., p. 71. Weil’s approach may seem to come close to the Stoic notion of amor fati. However, it is different ―perhaps more different than she herself realised. For what she proposes is more than a mere acceptance of the refractory necessity that rules our world; it becomes a personal obedience to the merciful God “behind the curtain of this world”. It becomes surrender to a personal God who revealed and bestowed himself in Christ rather than just an acceptance of that which we cannot change. Whereas the Stoic ideal of apatheia can be easily unmasked as “a technique of preserving oneself from sorrow”, Weil proposes a total gift of oneself to a personal God of love who dwells behind this refractory world.
23 Ibid., p. 72.
24 WEIL, Gravity and Grace (n. 17), p. 35.
25 I.bid
26 I.bid.,p. 36
27 Ibid., p. 132.
28 Ibid., p. 136.
29 I am grateful to Prof. M. Junker-Kenny, Prof. A. Godzieba and Prof. E. Conway for their critical comments on a previous version of this paper.

Faith and Practical Reason by the Theologian to the Papal Household

Fr. Wojciech Giertych, O.P.

The Place of Philosophy in Moral Theology
Reflections on the the Encyclical: Fides et Ratio—13

Fr. Servais Pinckaers, O.P.
Roman Catholic Theologian
Erstwhile
Papal Advisor
Former Member of the International Theological Commission

Reading Time
Words

Fides et Ratio


Does moral theology need philosophy? What place does it have? What role does it play? In a word, what is the relationship between philosophy and theology in Christian moral doctrine? We could discuss these questions in a variety of ways. We think the simplest and most instructive is to examine a fully developed theological synthesis on these questions, such as St Thomas Aquinas', which can be taken as a model and is considered a classic: it is the direct heir to the theology of the Church Fathers and serves as a reference-point for modern theological currents.


We can reduce the components of Thomistic moral teaching to four structural elements:

1. Morality is essentially a response to the question of happiness and the ultimate end of human conduct, according to the general way morality was conceived by ancient philosophers and the Fathers. It is the treatise on happiness and the ultimate end.
2. Man moves towards happiness through his actions on the basis of two kinds of principles corresponding to the two parts of the human act: the internal act and the external. First there are the internal principles or personal sources of action, which are the virtues.
3. Then the external or superior principles of action come into play: law and grace.
4. This structure presupposes an analysis of man as God made him in his own image, with his different faculties that together make up a specifically human act: free choice. All the work of moral doctrine is aimed at informing, on the basis of universal principles, the choice that produces concrete action.

Let us note that, from the study of principles to the making of a choice, St Thomas' thought appears "conjunctive" , in the sense that it aims at the cooperation of all the human faculties under the aegis of the partnership between reason and will. Thus, the decision to act consists of a practical judgement and a free choice inseparably joined. This conjunctive character will also be seen in the composition of the treatises on the particular virtues, where the virtue or internal principle, along with the gift resulting from grace and the precept of the Decalogue, as external principles, will be studied in each case.

On each of these four points we will examine the place and role of philosophy in the Angelic Doctor's moral theology.

1. The treatise on happiness

In the five questions which make up the treatise on happiness, the role of philosophy, represented primarily by Aristotle and Boethius, appears so substantial that certain interpreters have regarded these questions as purely philosophical. They have not seen, first of all, that the study of the ultimate end and of the different goods offered to man form a threefold way—comparable to the five ways leading to the existence of God—bringing us to the Christian response: the call to the vision of God beyond this life, for "God alone" can fully satisfy the human longing for happiness. In dealing with this high point of his reasoning, Thomas no longer relies on the Philosopher, but on a theologian, on Augustine, who himself explains Catholic morality by starting with the question of happiness that every person asks himself, he says, even before expressing it. The One who can satisfy this longing is really the Trinitarian God, revealed and accessible in Jesus Christ.

Nor did they consider that the explanation of the Beatitudes in the commentary on St Matthew was an underlying source of the Summa's treatise, that it was already following the plan of the progressive search for the true good in question 2, and was showing that only Christ revealed the complete happiness which the philosophers, including Aristotle, were unable to discover. Moreover, the treatise on happiness will only be completed in the explanation of the Gospel Beatitudes (q. 69), which St Thomas reserves for his exposition, with the aid of the virtues and gifts, of the Christian's happiness here below.

Philosophy and theology, then, each play a large part in the treatise on happiness, but they are not simply juxtaposed; they are connected by what we could call a natural relationship. Together, in fact, they answer a question which arises from man's spiritual nature: what is the true good or genuine happiness? Enlightened by Revelation, the theologian perceives that this spontaneous desire can be fulfilled only by the vision of God because of the openness of the human intellect and will to the infinite. Hence the famous argument about the natural desire to see God, which is the mainspring of St Thomas' reasoning on this subject. Regarding this vocation, philosophy is both necessary and inadequate. It can neither attain nor even consider such a totally gratuitous and truly supernatural happiness. But although the theologian knows of the call to happiness in God by faith, he still cannot show the paths leading to it without the work of reason, without a philosophical reflection on acts and virtues.

Organised in this way, the treatise on happiness provides the overall structure for the moral part of theology. We will thus find the connection we have just seen between philosophy and theology in each treatise of the Secunda Pars.

Finally, we should note that this treatise on happiness will disappear from the post-Tridentine manuals of moral theology, as well as from the modern ethics of Kantian influence, following the critique of eudaemonism. It will only survive as the search for a material, empirical happiness advocated by utilitarianism. The Catechism of the Catholic Church has fortunately reintroduced the consideration of happiness at the start of its treatment of Christian morality as a vocation to beatitude in the light of the Gospel Beatitudes (CCC, nn. 1716-1729).


2. The virtues and the gifts

The extensive treatise on habitus and virtues is a masterpiece of Thomistic moral teaching. There we find the heritage of ancient philosophy and the reflection of the Fathers, every one of whom saw virtue as the very essence of human and Christian perfection. Here again the role of philosophy is so substantial as to be considered preponderant. But in fact St Thomas' teaching on the virtues is the result of the patient search of medieval theologians guided by the gradually rediscovered works of Aristotle. Thomas uses the Stagirite's precise analyses even in their details, as in the treatise on prudence. In order to define and divide the related virtues, he will follow the lists drawn up by Cicero and Macrobius, which will make it difficult to find a place for Christian virtues such as humility, obedience and vigilance. The impression that the teaching on the virtues is mostly philosophical is even stronger, the more accustomed we are to thinking of virtue as being essentially the result of human effort, of repeated acts.

However, when the treatise on the virtues is read as a whole, we see that it is mainly a theological construction. The virtues actually form a living organism comparable to the human body and its organs. They neither exist nor act separately, as one might suppose from an analytical study of the Summa. They are united by dynamic links forged -by charity and prudence, and act together, like the limbs of our body.
This consideration particularly applies to the relationship between the theological and moral virtues. Faith, hope and charity constitute the head of the Christian organism of the virtues and impart life from within, like a vital impulse, to the human virtues so that they can be ordered to divine happiness, but not without transforming them to some extent. St Thomas will have such a strong sense of this influence that he will consider it necessary for the infused moral virtues to be added in order to perfect the acquired virtues. In each treatise on ,the moral virtues, we will see the changes he makes with respect to Aristotle. Thus martyrdom will become the supreme act of the virtue of fortitude instead of courage in warfare, and virginity for Christ will be the perfection of chastity. Thomas will even maintain that there can be no true patience without charity and; thus, without grace (lla-llae, q. 136, a. 3).

Moreover, St Thomas links the virtues with the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which thus enter the organism of the virtues in order to perfect them. The gifts are an integral part of Thomas' moral teaching, in accordance with the definition of the New Law as the grace of the Spirit, and are necessary for all Christians. They add a receptivity to the virtues, a docility to spiritual impulses. In this way the Holy Spirit's action, like the virtues, can affect all that the Christian does. Morality truly becomes "life in the Holy Spirit", as the Catechism calls it (n. 1699). Here we see no separation between morality and mysticism, to which the gifts will be reserved by later theology.

In fact, under the influence of Revelation and Christian experience, the very idea of virtue is transformed: to the acquired virtues are added the infused virtues which originate in the grace of Christ and no longer in human effort alone. These virtues, beginning with the theological ones, are so vitally linked to the human virtues that their action will be the work of God and man together, united in charity.

Finally, we should note that the apostolic catechesis (cf. CCC, n. 1971), particularly St Paul's teaching on virtue and vice in the Letter to the Romans, whose commentary prepared the Summa Theologica, represents the source, the principal "authority" for St Thomas' doctrine, together with the explanations of the Fathers, particularly St Augustine, St Gregory the Great, etc. The Thomistic study of the virtues thus combines the leading scriptural, philosophical and theological currents.

Once again we find philosophy joined to Revelation within theology according to St Paul's command: "Your thoughts should be wholly directed to all that is ... virtuous or worthy of praise" (Phil 4:8); but also in the idea that the Word of God deepens philosophical knowledge and develops it beyond human thoughts and hopes.


3. Laws and precepts

In Christian teaching the Decalogue has always been considered a basic foundation, and scholastic theology related it to the natural law inscribed in every human heart. Post-Tridentine theology made the Decalogue the cornerstone of moral teaching to the point of dividing its material, no longer according to the virtues as St Thomas did, but according to the Ten Commandments, interpreted as the expression of obligations and prohibitions imposed on man by God's will.

St Thomas likewise assigned an essential place to the Decalogue and the natural law; but he puts them in a broader legislative context which makes them dependent on Christian Revelation. In his view, laws form a true organism which has its origin in God and his eternal law. The latter is known to man in the natural law, which will serve as the basis of human laws. Revelation will clarify, corroborate and perfect this legislation in the form of the Old Law, concentrated in the Decalogue, and of the New or Gospel law, taught chiefly in the Lord's Sermon on the Mount. The New Law represents the apex of the moral law and brings the divine law to its perfection here below. The Decalogue and the natural law are thus taken up into the legislative dynamic which has its source in God and returns to him through the New Law. This results in a reinterpretation of the Decalogue in the sense of an interiorisation and a higher perfection. For St Thomas, the Decalogue sets out the rules for external acts which the New Law brings to perfection by governing the internal acts that inspire them, with the help of the virtues beginning with faith and charity. Thus the Decalogue is made to serve the virtues. It plays a particular role in the first stage of the divine pedagogy, in the training of beginners who must struggle against their sins and eradicate their vices.

The philosophical part of Christian moral teaching mainly concerns its foundations, the natural law and the Decalogue that expresses it, by putting it in the context of the covenant. Its task will continue in the establishment of civil law by way of deduction or addition, which will be specifically the work of reason. Added to this is reflection on the virtues, which calls for experience and maturity.

Let us note that the natural law does not appear as a barrier to freedom but, in St Thomas, possesses a basically dynamic nature: it proceeds from the natural inclinations and yearnings for the preservation of being, the gift of life, the good, truth, and life in society, which are already found in Cicero's De Officiis (bk. 1, ch. IV). These inclinations will be developed through the virtues. As for the negative commandments, they forbid actions incompatible with the formation of the virtues and thus lay the groundwork for them. In this way, the natural law and the Decalogue can be ordered to the Gospel Law as to a higher perfection, a total fulfilment. Here as well, theology takes up and completes the philosophical quest.

Lastly, we should mention the sapiential nature of law in St Thomas: it is the organising function of reason on the part of the, divine or human lawgiver, and not a mere act of will by one who holds authority, as will generally be the case in the modern conception. This results in an equally sapiential obedience, combining reason and will. The coordination of the different philosophical and theological levels of moral legislation will be the work of this wisdom.


4. Prudential judgement

The principal task of practical reason in the moral realm consists in applying precepts to personal action in concrete circumstances. We can think of this operation as a deduction starting from the first principles of the moral order, on condition that they are linked to the natural inclinations which form the basis of the law and the first source of human action. These principles, then, are not theoretical and abstract, even if their foundation is universal and appears impersonal. They correspond to the meaning of truth and goodness, to love of self and others, which are natural to man and derive from that spiritual spark which St Thomas calls synderesis.
The task of applying the principles of practical reason is the work of prudence integrating the data of moral science and of conscience, the interior witness of the law. It is not limited to determining what is permitted or forbidden, but searches for excellence, a certain perfection of action in the existing situation, as a craftsman seeks to make something good by plying his trade. Such work calls for intelligence, experience, effort and attentiveness. This is why moral action requires the involvement of all the subject's faculties and the use of the external abilities acquired, among other things, by education.

Prudential judgement is different because it goes beyond ideas, however beautiful they may be, beyond intentions, counsels and commandments, however judicious they can be, to a decision to act, which gives rise to action and transforms the acting subject: it makes him a better person and enables him to grow. This is why true prudence needs the other virtues which particularly govern affectivity. We can say that prudential judgement or choice is all-encompassing; it engages the human person with his whole being, the past he has inherited, even his unconscious. A person's character is judged by his actions, as a tree is known by its fruits.

The all-encompassing nature of concrete action requires the joint intervention of philosophy and theology, of reason and faith in the Christian moral judgement. The study of "cases", in particular, cannot be limited to a rational analysis or a material application of revealed principles. It requires the exercise of faith, which receives the light of the Spirit, and of reason, which reflects and seeks to discover in concrete terms what is good, what is the best thing to do. Therefore the Christian moralist should assimilate the teachings of the Gospel, which is often so concrete in its very formulation of principles, and reflect with his philosophical and scientific sources, all the while knowing that this work will be incomplete and even useless, if he does not take pains to put his personal prudence into action, which alone will enable him to experience and enjoy good results.

In the First Letter to the Corinthians, St Paul offers us an excellent example of what could be called apostolic casuistry. In his examination of the different cases submitted to him, his method is always the same. It could be characterised by the com-penetration of two levels: first, criteria of the rational order such as can be found in the philosophers and rabbis. In the case of fornication, for example, he will write: "Every other sin which a man commits is outside the body; but the immoral man sins against his own body" (6:18). But criteria drawn from faith also come into play: "Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? ... Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?" (6:15,19). Thus we can see that in St Paul's discernment there is a close connection between the meaning of what is human and the meaning that stems from Christ, each assuming the other and reinforcing it. But the Christian criteria will predominate, particularly through the action of charity uniting believers as brothers and sisters, as members of one body under the impulse of the Holy Spirit.


Conclusion

As we can see, there is a very close association between philosophy and theology in the moral teaching of St Thomas. Far from being separate, much less in competition, these sciences work together through what we could call a vital integration of philosophy and theology. At the prompting of the theologian, the philosopher comes to reflect on the fundamental questions about the purpose and meaning of life, about good and evil, about happiness and suffering, about death and the afterlife, and he no longer thinks that only he can offer a complete answer to these problems. The theologian, for his part, needs the philosopher in order to learn how to use his reason with rigour and insight as he investigates the human dimensions of action and to provide him with the necessary categories and language for a sound explanation of the riches of the Gospel and the Christian experience.
This sort of association between philosophy and theology is based on St Thomas' maxim: "Gratia non tollit, sed perficit naturam", which could be rephrased: theology does not destroy, but perfects philosophy. In our opinion, however, the principle should not be understood in the sense that philosophy, as a work of reason, must first be constructed while saying to oneself that in any case it will be confirmed by grace, but rather in the opposite sense: we must have the boldness to believe in the Word of God and to abandon ourselves to grace, in the assurance that, far from destroying whatever is true, good and reasonable in philosophy, grace will teach us how to make it our own, to develop it and to perfect it, while revealing to us a broader and more profound wisdom than any human thought, the wisdom given by the Holy Spirit who unites us with the person of Christ and his Cross by teaching us to "live in Christ".

The Religious Disposition as a Critical Resource to Resist Instrumentalisation

Rik Van Nieuwenhove
Roman Catholic Theologian

The Purification of the Memory

George Cardinal Cottier, O.P.
Erstwhile Theologian to the Papal Household

Reading Time
Words

This Article Appeared in Nova et Vetera, 75 of 2000
Translation by Joseph Alobaidi,O.P.


WE
ARE INVITED by the Holy Father to start the procedure of purifying the memory. Immediately, however, questions arise:What is the meaning of the purification of memory? Is such an endeavour possible? What kind of memory are we speaking about? Let us begin by answer- ing that we are dealing with the memory of history (mémoire historique). Then we have to ask:What kind of relation is there between personal memory and the memory of history?

“To purify the memory” includes a verb that implies an action; it presupposes that we have taken hold of our memory, that we are the masters of it. At first, we may be tempted to say that the whole endeavour is an illusion: isn’t it rather our memory that masters us?

I. Forms of Memory

In spite of the criticisms it faces, psychoanalytical doctrine has directed our attention to the phenomenon of unconscious repression.The unconscious is a fact of memory:The recollection of painful and tormenting periods, that the conscious mind cannot stand, are thrown into a state of being forgotten. They are repressed because the state to which they are relegated—which one wishes would lead to their abolition, their destruction—immerses them in a zone of our psyche that is outside the conscious realm.Their existence surfaces through troubles they introduce in our conscious mind.They have an appearance that remains indirect:They do not show up uncovered.They are disguised, camouflaged, to the point of passing unnoticed. Artifices must be used in order to bring them to the surface of the conscious mind.


Such repressed memories are of wounds suffered, generally belonging to the first stage of childhood; the individual does not have the strength to face them. Thus, repression represents a kind of spontaneous self-defense mechanism of someone finding himself powerless. This is why he never fully reaches his goal; the troubles arising from this failure bear witness to the repression. Here, we have not yet reached the realm of ethics.

Referring to the process of repression in the subconscious makes it easy to show the points that enlighten our reflection.Automatism reflex, for example, is typical of certain memory phenomena.We will also maintain the fact that what we forget is not eliminated—Bergson used to say that we forget nothing—but remains in a state of dormancy, with the possibility of being awakened either suddenly or by suggestion.

What has been said does not pertain to all kinds of memories.We have in mind the pages of Confessions (X, 6–28) where Augustine describes the vastness of memory in order to illustrate the mystery of the spirit. From the memory of things perceived to the universe of images, then to the universe of ideas, the spirit continues its surprising exploration, which is at the same time the itinerary toward the depth of the human inner self. Hence, the journey of the spirit in the vast expanses of the memory leads to self discovery and, furthermore, to the encounter with God: et intravi ad ipsius animi mei sedem, quae illi est in memoria mea, quoniam sui quoque meminit animus, nec ibi tu eras . . . ita nec ipse animus es, quia dominus deus animi tu es, et conmuntantur haec omnia, tu autem inconmutabilis manes super omnia et dignatus es habitare in memoria mea, ex quo te didici . . . habitas certe in ea, quoniam tui memimi, ex quo te didici, et in ea te invenio, cum recordor te (XXV,36).

While progressing in the investigation of these regions of the memory, the spirit grasps itself as an object of its own investigation.This grasping of self does not shut off the spirit, since it remains open to transcendence: Memoria sui, memoria Dei. During all this, the soul stays active. It draws forth memories from oblivion by its willed attention. Its creative imagi- nation may freely use images already stored. Finally, and this too is a reason for being amazed, our spirit, helped by memory, masters time to some degree, since it is able to connect in the present what was experi-enced in the past with what will happen in the future.

Speaking about the first layers of the memory,Augustine notices that animals too have this kind of memory, to which one cannot reduce all the other kinds. The attention, the creation of new images and even the spirit’s dynamic are witnesses of freedom’s ascendancy over the memory.

II. Forgiveness

This particularity becomes obvious when we enter the field of ethics, which deals precisely with actions that depend on our responsibility.This field also extends to our past actions, which means that we have ascendancy over our memories.

Let us think about remorse and forgiveness. Remorse supposes that I judge differently today an action that I accomplished and judged otherwise yesterday.This remains possible, still, because it is in my power to reconsider the same action according to the requirements of the moral law, present in my conscious. I can confer to it its true moral value.Thus, the same act is present to my conscious with a new qualification, to the point that I wish that I had never committed it. The remorse presumes that the error is recognised as such, with no possibility to suppress it. On the contrary, remorse makes the presence of the error more incisive, more painful.

Remorse, however, may lead to a petition for forgiveness. If by mistake I hurt others, I can make up for the hurt by reparation or another form of compensation.When others assent to my petition for forgiveness, the weight of the guilt-memory becomes lighter.

But the mistake—we are speaking about sin—first of all offends God. That is why it is toward God that the sinner must turn. Here we meet the mighty pardon of God.We know the episode of the Gospel where the paralytic man was healed:“[W]ho but God alone can forgive sins?” (Mk 2:7).The scribes are right.Their mistake is to fail to ask themselves by what right Jesus, who reveals here something of his identity, accords to himself this prerogative.

The forgiveness of sins by God is precisely the highest and most eminent form of the purification of memory.This is because the divine forgiveness really erases and destroys the sin, so that its weight does not burden the conscience anymore. It remains true that the aspect of the sinful act as such that is destroyed is that very aspect that made it sinful, even if the psychological memory of it remains. Therefore, the moral evaluation by which an individual sees his past actions is no longer the same:The sin’s stigma that leads him to suffer does not exist.The individual is freed from it.

There is a great difference between divine and human forgiveness.The man who forgives, imitating his heavenly Father, refrains from consider- ing the offence he received. God, instead, really eradicates the sin.

Thus, in the divine forgiveness, the malice—the moral disorder—that provides the sinful aspect of an act is destroyed, even though the fact, in its materiality, leaves records in the psychological memory. However, and in the deepest meaning, which is the moral meaning, the memory is truly purified.“Son, your sins are forgiven” (Mk 2:5):The healing that restores the paralytic’s ability to move freely is the sign of a deeper liberation; liberation from spiritual paralysis, from the death that sin represents.

III. Memory of History

The previous considerations deal with the memory of a particular person. Our subject is the memory of history, which is a collective memory. Nevertheless, an understanding of personal memory, provided that the right transposition takes place, can still be useful for the under- standing of questions pertaining to the memory of history.This notion of the memory of history is collective: It applies to peoples, nations, and groups. In each case, the nature of the subject defines the nature of the memory. I am not going to expand on this point here. However, we should keep it in mind.1

Our reflection has to deal with a specific subject, a subject of the supernatural order: the Church of Christ. What do we mean when we speak about the memory of the Church?

We have to look with faith at the Church and at her memory. It is the words of Jesus himself, in the Gospel according to John, that reveal to us the principle of this memory that is supernatural:“I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now. But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth. He will speak on his own, but he will speak what he hears, and will declare to you the things that are coming. He will glorify me, because he will take from what is mine and declare it to you. Everything that the Father has is mine; for this reason I told you that he will take from what is mine and declare it to you” ( Jn 16:12–15).

We may notice that the verb “to bear” pertains to the understanding and to the participation in the death and glorification of Jesus.The Holy Spirit is at the very beginning of the living Tradition by which the Word of God, which makes known to us the mystery of salvation and opens our mind, is faithfully kept, explained, and scrutinised in its boundless riches.The same Spirit who inspires the sacred scribes assists the Magisterium of the Church and brings forth the sensus fidei.

The living presence of the past, and therefore, of the memory, of the mystery of salvation, takes many forms because of its riches and its fecundity, as it is recalled by the beautiful text of the Council, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy: Sacrosanctum Concilium, no. 7.


Scripture, received in the Tradition, becomes, consequently, the source of an ever-surging light. Sacraments become a source of life. In them, under the action of the Spirit, Christ himself acts and, in so doing, remains present to his Church, in pilgrimage toward the end of time and the fullness of eternal life. It is remarkable that the sacrament in which resides the highest level of Christ’s presence is called a memorial.

What is the purpose of this remembering? The memory of the Church, a gift from the Holy Spirit, forcefully calls attention to the dimension of presence, which is typical of memory. Memory does not leave us in the past; it makes the past present and immediate.

IV.The Presence of the Sin

It is to be noticed that in the Gospel according to John that we quoted, the Holy Spirit is called the Spirit of truth ( Jn 16:13) that leads the disciples to the fullness of the truth. Here we have the principle of the purification of memory.

The sources of living waters that are the word of God and the sacraments do not need to be purified. In order to understand the necessity for purification we have to introduce a new consideration, already expressed in Tertio Millennio Adveniente, which refers to the Constitution Lumen Gentium: “The Church, although holy by its incorporation to Christ, never ceases to make penance: It always acknowledges sinners, before God and before men, as its own” (no. 33). In this sense, the constitution Lumen Gentium says: “The Church, that has sinners in its midst, at once holy and always in need of purification, advances by way of penance and renewal” (no. 8).

The word of God entrusted to the Church and Christ’s gestures that are the sacraments yield fruits of holiness.This is what should normally happen.The Church is holy; her members, however, are sinners. By sin, we remove ourselves from this living stream.The motherly love of the Church makes her do whatever is in her power in order to snatch her sons away from sin and to look after them when they fall. She considers them hers, always, and for them she makes penance. Horrified by sin, she still loves the sinner.

The relation between the Church that is holy and her members that are not, poses a central theological question, which I will mention only briefly at this point. It is a decisive question for understanding the petition for forgiveness and the purification of memory.

It is necessary here to bring up two clarifications.The first deals with the petition for forgiveness. We have to distinguish, foremost, between two aspects of sin.The first is the guilt of the individual who commits the sinful act. Everyone is accountable before God for his actions. Such a process is strictly personal. It remains possible, of course, in the communion of saints, to pray for the conversion of the sinner.We can pray also in order that “the temporal punishment,” the consequence of the sin, of the contrite and already forgiven sinner may be blotted out.

The guilt, which is the proper responsibility of the sinner because of his sin, remains strictly personal. However, beyond the guilt, which remains always personal, we may consider the sin under another aspect: the nature of the sinful act, which is the opposition to the moral law. Some acts in themselves and in what constitutes them (which presupposes the responsibility of the individual that we spoke about) are against the moral law—such as murder, adultery, and theft. It is at the level of the objective characteristics of the act that the petition for forgiveness and the purification of the memory reside. Furthermore, regardless of the individual responsibility of the perpetrators, who may have been blinded by invincible ignorance, some of these acts are serious obstacles to the testimony and the mission of the Church. Tertio Millennio Adveniente speaks of the sins of Christians who offered to the world “not the testimony of a life inspired by the values of faith, but ways of thinking and behaving that truly were forms of counter- testimony and scandal” (no. 33). The Church has the mission of proclaiming the Gospel.Testimony is the basis for such proclamation.The behaviour of some Christians acts directly against this.

The second clarification pertains to the Church as subject that spans the centuries, unchanged and stronger than the erosion of time: The Church has the promise of life everlasting. Here, a first distinction becomes evident: Not every action accomplished by a Christian may be attributed to the Church as subject.This is the case when the Christian behaves as part of the temporal city. One must be aware of how various actions accomplished by Christians may or may not be attributed to the Church. Each action should be analysed according to its own situation.

There is another problem, though, that I want to emphasise. Lumen Gentium, no. 8, indicates that the Church is an elaborate reality, made of double elements: human and divine.Thus, in the light of a remarkable (non mediocris) analogy, she could be paralleled to the mystery of the incarnate Verb who uses, like an instrument, the human nature that he incorporated.“In the same way, the society as a whole that constitutes the Church is at the service of the Holy Spirit of Christ who gives her life for the growth of the body.”There is indeed an analogy: By virtue of the hypo- static union, the humanity of Jesus is totally and flawlessly holy. In the Church, however, that which is human remains subject to frailty and weaknesses. Until now, we envisaged the paradox of the Church’s holiness, received from God, and her members who are sinners.We must somehow continue our analysis.

The Church, existing within history, receives from human society goods that are true cultural acquisitions.2 It also happens that she receives institutions modelled on those of human civil society, with procedures that conceal in various ways the evangelical aspect of her mission.Apart from the shortcomings themselves, one must consider the imperfections and solutions in history, which are marked by an “all-too-human” burden.

It is in this perspective that the Council decree regarding ecumenism, Unitatis Redintegratio, mentions the call for perpetual reform (perennis reformatio) pushed by this renewal, which is nothing less than the Church’s being more faithful to her vocation, a great momentum that pushes the Church toward the fullness of the Kingdom, which will be given to her in eternity (no.6).That is why it has been said in Dei Verbum that“while the centuries pass, the Church constantly advances toward the fullness of the divine truth, until the words of God are accomplished in her” (no. 8).

It is in such a vision of the Church that the purification of memory could be understood. The Augustinian expression memoria sui, memoria Dei applies to the Church as a subject, who receives her living unity from the Holy Spirit. However, the words’ order is reversed: It is the memoria Dei that enlightens the memoria sui, whose meaning is close to the old meaning of “become what you are,” become always more faithfully, more perfectly conformed to the One who is your Head, whose Body you are.

Dealing with the treasure that is entrusted to her, the word of God and the sacraments, it remains in her. Its presence is intact and always new: Memoria Dei. In other words: Memoria Christi. Sure of her indefectible faithfulness, which is a gift from God, the Church, in the act of memoria sui, looks truthfully at her own history, where human aspects intrude with their imperfection, along with the sins of her children.When it comes to examining these aspects, the Spirit of truth, who leads the Church to scrutinise more and more intensely the mystery in the depth of her being, allows her at the same time to have a critical judgment about her past, a critical judgment that becomes more and more refined in conformity with her own essence. The knowledge of herself as the Body of Christ, the Bride of Christ, gives her the points of reference and the criteria that allow her to appreciate the institutions, the practices and the actions that marked her progression in history. This remains true, evidently, of her past as well as of her present.


Here, we are thinking about an institution like the inquisition. The first objective, which is to defend the integrity of the faith of God’s people against harmful errors, is something inscribed in the pastoral vocation of the Church. It is the implementation of this very objective that, from two points of view, poses a problem. First, we must take note of the context: Christendom, that is, a political society whose citizens are Christians and that, in itself, is concerned with the unity of the faith. Second—it is at this level that a critical judgment must be exercised—the Church’s institutions set up a series of procedures that belong to civil tribunals. The death penalty was a common practice. Its form, being burned at the stake, horrifies us.There was no hesitation at using torture in order to obtain confessions of guilt. Some time later, the Protestant Reformation did not change matters. Soon after that, the Treaty of Westphalia made things worse in opening the way to the truth of the State.

Thus the purification of memory pertains to judgment. It is the fruit of the critical reading that she makes of her own history, enlightened by the Gospel, whose riches, specificity, and demands she ponders continually.This judgment, a consequence of her quest for the truth, leads her to ask God for forgiveness, in the name of his children, who are either sinners or are so lethargic that they cannot read the signs of times.At the same time, she asks forgiveness from men, too. Not because, while facing them, she is as if sitting before a tribunal; rather, the memory of errors and imperfections erect in their way a barrier that keeps them from reaching the word of salvation to which they are entitled.

It should go without saying that by “critical judgment” I intend the original meaning of the expression “discernment,” without any connotation of the intention of denial or suspicion. “Krisis,” from which come “critic” and “criterion,” means, first of all, “judgment. Thus, “critical judgment” means judgment exercised in light of the criteria of the truth of the Gospel.

Before concluding I want briefly to raise an objection that is often made to the idea of the purification of memory. It is an objection issued in various ways by certain circles and schools of thought, generally independently of one another, that all have in common the concept of what we may call “mentality.”This objection would say that an invitation to the purification of memory becomes a gross anachronism. It is a fact that we partake in our own age’s mentality. No one, the strongest personalities included, totally escapes this fact. That is why it is right to examine the concept of mentality. Let us say that “mentality” is the sum of ideas received in a passive and unchecked manner, in a certain time by a society or by a particular group.These ideas are not investigated by reason, because they seem obvious, as if they are self-evident.They encounter no objection or particular difficulty.They are indisputable because they are believed to be so. Hence, a certain number of unquestioned judgments are passed to us through education, others by social mimesis, still others by force of public opinion.

The question remains whether everything that individuals think in a determined time and a specific society is enclosed in the mentality. It is also true that a mentality is not so strong that it eliminates critical revision, and that there are universal values that transcend epochs and particular societies.This is the case especially for ethical values, in spite of their tendency toward commands and particular forbiddances.

They were called prejudices at the time of Enlightenment. They presumably belonged to the past; the light of reason would disperse them forever. Today, however, it seems that we are deep in the opposite tendency: All is prejudice, because everything is radically determined by the time and place. In ethics, this leads to relativism.

If we have to examine this dimension of social life, its mentality, it is because it forms the basis for many objections to the idea of asking forgiveness and the purification of memory.

The first objection results from methodic scruple. It is provoked by historians who aim at the restitution of the past by referring facts, behaviours, and events to the ideological context of the epoch, and refraining from any value judgment. My answer to this is that the study of the history of facts constitutes an indispensable step that preserves us from anachronism. Being conscious of the complexity of situations is an advantage that we have because of the discipline of history. However, the latter, because of its methodological presuppositions, is probably incapable of providing the last word about history. For our subject, the philosopher’s and the theologian’s opinion of history are necessary. Objections by historians—rather, by some historians—should be examined from the epistemological point of view. It is more difficult to under- stand clearly the objections that themselves proceed from a relativist mentality, inspiring, without discernment, surveys, and opinion polls. Those who find in their changing features the marks of the Spirit will ultimately be able to justify anything: “to each, his own truth.

Finally there are the theoretical justifications of relativism that do not necessarily negate moral values, but attribute them to no moral, psycho- logical, or social origin. A good example can be seen in the (now old) book by Lucien Lévy-Bruhl, Ethics and Moral Science (La morale et la science des moeurs). According to this disciple of Durkheim, moral imperatives do not refer to a transcendental source; they are the individual expression of “social pressure. Hence, speaking of the science of behaviours, one confirms the immanence of moral values in the society, together with the fact that they prevail over individuals. Clearly in this perspective, the idea of the purification of memory bears no meaning. History offers a spectrum of many moralities. One morality follows on the other just as epochs and societies do.

We say that the science of behaviour or sociology cannot replace philosophy or moral theology. It can be a precious addition that allows the moral theologian to be aware of the function of social pressures and of the existence of prejudices, which are still at a pre-moral level but can strongly induce moral choices. He will become aware, as well, of the venues of the transmission of moral values, like imitation or the influence of role models.

I want, however, to highlight two decisive factors pertaining to our problem that underline the relation between morality and history.The first is the slow maturation in time before being conscious of the implications and the aftereffects of the demands of the moral life. I express the second factor by the term “constellation. In a more or less explicit way, certain fundamental values of morality are recognised in different epochs. What changes is their articulation, with this or that value being given priority over another. I cannot expand further on this point here, but it is nevertheless important.Thus, what was essential for the generations of Christendom was defending the truth, which was a concern both of the civil society and of the Church.The question of the means employed for this defence was put aside.

Should we say that our time is marked by the eclipse of the sense of the truth? Relativism is certainly widespread. However, a deeper analysis leads one to think that in the present constellation of values, what occupies the first place is the appropriation of the truth by an act that attests to both the transcendence and the freedom of the person.The truth is fully honoured when it imposes itself on a freedom that finds its fulfilment in its vital acceptance, decisive for its destiny. It seems to me that this is the message of Dignitatis Humanae.This is what gives the purification of memory its highest rationale.

Many men and women have been victimised by brutal methods that constituted an insult to the causes they were intended to serve. These men and women have the right to our respect and pietas.3

Footnotes:
1 There is perhaps something similar to the repression of memory in the amnesia regarding the enormity of the crimes committed by the communist regimes. However, other explanations for such behavior are not to be excluded.
2 Guidium et Spes
3 For further discussion, see Georges Cottier, OP, Mémoire et repentance: pourquoi l’Eglise demande pardon, preface by Cardinal Roger Etchegaray (Parole et Silence: Paris, 1998).

Newman’s Idea of a Catholic University:
An Alma Mater, not a foundry, mint, or treadmill

Tracey Rowland
Roman Catholic Theologian
Erstwhile Member of the International Theological Commission

Reading Time
Words
This Essay was Delivered at The Angelicum, Rome, in March, 20202

Listern to the Audio


John
Henry Newman famously described a Catholic University as ‘an Alma Mater, knowing her children one by one, not a foundry, or a mint, or a treadmill’. What he imagined was something like an Oxbridge College where a diligent Master knows the students by name, knows that a certain student has great leadership qualities, that another is very musical, yet another a prized rugby player, and so on. He did not see the purpose of a Catholic University being the provision of skilled professionals to satisfy the demands of the employment market, although this may be a happy secondary effect.

Newman was very much a creature of Oxford, described by Evelyn Waugh in one of the opening passages of Brideshead Revisited as a city of aquatint renowned for her autumnal mists, her grey spring-time and the rare glory of her summer days when the chestnut was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas, exhaling the soft airs of centuries of youth’. When Newman wrote about a Catholic University what he imagined was a kind of Catholic Oxford.

In his preface to the Idea of a University Newman wrote that the object of a Catholic University should be to make its students gentlemen, not simply to ‘protect the interests and advance the dominion of Science’.1 A few paragraphs earlier he remarked:

Just as a commander wishes to have tall and well-formed and vigorous soldiers, not from any abstract devotion to the military standard of height or age, but for the purposes of war, and no one thinks it anything but natural and praise-worthy in him to be contemplating, not abstract qualities, but his own living and breathing men; so, in like manner, when the Church founds a University, she is not cherishing talent, genius or knowledge, for their own sake, but for the sake of her children, with a view to their spiritual welfare and their religious influence and usefulness, with the object of training them to fill their respective posts in life better, and of making them more intelligent, capable, active members of society.2

In his Discourse 7, titled ‘Knowledge viewed in relation to professional skill’ Newman went on to talk about the culture of the intellect and he recommended that instead of the intellect being formed or sacrificed to some particular trade or profession, it should be disciplined for its own sake, and he described such an intellectual formation as a liberal education.

A liberal education, which trains the intellect to operate well, is one of the hallmarks of a gentleman, and Newman declared that to train students according to the standards of a liberal education is precisely the business of a university. He also draw a distinction between Academies and Universities. He saw the Academies, for example, the Royal Academy for the Fine Arts, as places of research dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, while the university’s work was primarily to provide a liberal education for its students.

Many of these themes were highlighted in an article by Heinrich Bohlen in the journal Hochland published in 1952. Hochland was one of the most important journals of German Catholic culture in the first half of the twentieth century. Bohlen wrote that the name of Cardinal Newman will ‘remain forever linked to the questions of the educational ideal of a university’. This is because ‘Newman not only foresaw the crisis of modernism in theology, but [he also foresaw] the crisis of the university’, that is, the crisis about the university’s meaning and purpose. Bohlen stated that apart from Plato’s works, ‘nothing contributes more light on these [crises] than Newman’s reflections on the idea of a university’ and he described Newman as nothing less than the ‘greatest advocate for a formal liberal education on English soil’. Bohlen noted that a liberal education does not necessarily create a Christian, but it does often create a gentleman. With Newman, Bohlen asserted that ‘the nature and idea of a university stands and falls with its task of producing gentlemen, that educational fruit of Plato, which for more than two thousand years has been the embodiment of Western humanism and the essence of the academic’.

Those words were written in 1952 some 16 years before 1968, after which time it is no longer self-evident that the university is the natural habitat of gentlemen or of western humanism or that being a gentleman is in any way the hallmark of the social type we now call an academic.

We will return to this problem, but for now it is important to note that for Newman the production of gentlemen was just the base-line achievement. What Newman wanted was not mere generic brand gentlemen such as was once produced by the great English public schools and the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, typically infused with different strains of Anglicanism, some high Church, some evangelical, but more specifically Newman wanted a Catholic gentleman. As Bohlen wrote in German: Newmans Bildungsideal ist das des katholischen Gentleman”. (p.177).

There is no exact English equivalent of the German word Bildung but self-formation would come closest. The Germans, especially those influenced by the Romantic movement and its concept of the schöne Seele, or beautiful soul, have long associated education with the formation of the human soul, not with learning skills or absorbing pieces of information. It has been said that the Romantic movement of the nineteenth century to which Newman clearly belonged could be construed as a half-way house between nihilism on the one side and Catholicism on the other. Newman took the Catholic path and in the context of pedagogical questions he stood for the promotion of the Catholic gentleman as the Bildungsideal.

This conclusion begs the question, what is a Catholic gentleman? First, let us look at what Newman says about a common garden variety gentleman. In The Idea of a University he offers a rather long description that runs for several paragraphs. It includes the following highlights:

A gentleman…has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring…He never speaks of himself except when compelled, he has no ears for slander or gossip. From a long-sighted prudence, he observes the maxim that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend…He knows the weakness of human reason as well as its strength, its province and its limits.

That’s an abbreviated version of Newman’s portrait of the generic, no-brand gentleman. The Catholic gentleman however has extra qualities. He is not merely someone with a liberal education who has taken a few seminars on Catholic theology. He is not just someone who has read Ratzinger as well as Plato and Shakespeare, Dante as well as Goethe and Wordsworth. He is rather someone to whom, in addition to knowledge of great Catholic literature and music, philosophy and theology, has been added some “religious ore” or grace in other words someone whose soul has been nourished by the sacraments. And when the word soul is used, for Newman this does not mean simply the will and the intellect, but also the imagination, the memory and the capacity of intuition, and above all the heart, the place of the integration of the entire human personality. A Catholic gentleman exists in a sacramental cosmos and he has a sacramental imagination. He is therefore at home with paradoxes, mysteries and analogies. He can think both deductively and synthetically. If someone were to suggest to him that they should spend their afternoon hunting orcs, he might respond with a line like: “will you be carrying the ring or are you giving that job to me?” But he wouldn’t look baffled by the proposition. The Catholic gentleman is at home with symbols and metaphors and playful banter. Like St. Philip Neri the Catholic gentleman understands the importance of music and picnics for the work of evangelisation.

So, where does all this leave us today?
First I would argue that most of our universities are what Newman would call factories, mints, and treadmills, that is, places where thousands of students, known to the university only by their student numbers, pass exams to qualify for employment in a particular field. Some small number of institutions do however retain an interest in the liberal arts and these cater mostly for students from upper middle class families where there is less concern about being trained for a particular job. However for many of these elite institutions the liberal arts are no longer linked to the transcendentals of truth, beauty and goodness, all of which are regarded as ‘bourgeois nonsense’. Instead in so many of these institutions the liberal arts have morphed into social theory subjects like gender studies and the objective is no longer to produce gentlemen but to form social activists, people who act like trained assassins against the last vestiges of Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian civilisation.

This leaves us with only a very small number of academic institutions anywhere in the world where something like Newman’s vision has any possibility of success. Most of these institutions operate at the level of liberal arts colleges that are specifically Catholic and have been established by visionary lay people who wanted their children and grandchildren to receive the kind of formation Newman set out in his Idea of a University. Some extremely small number of such institutions can be found at the higher university level. Excluded are numerous institutions with the adjective Catholic in their title where no attempt is made to offer a specifically Christian formation of every aspect of the soul, or a specifically Christian integration of the various disciplines, but where there are merely buildings named after local Catholic worthies, a chapel, a chaplain who is a priest if you are lucky, and lots of opportunities to improve the welfare of minority groups. The accountants who normally run such institutions might be members of the Catholic Church but the institutions themselves, their ethos, the content of their curricula, their marketing strategies, the beliefs of their faculty members, administrators, janitors and librarians and the bureaucratic idioms found in their policies are not only not Christian but in many cases simply the outcome of corporate ideology. Newman would not recognise these institutions as in any sense consistent with his own vision.

As we celebrate the canonisation of John Henry Newman this week and re-read his publications on this subject, the gulf between his vision of Catholic education and what we currently have is stark.

Positively however, the canonisation of Newman is an opportunity to present some constructive ideas on how to bridge the gulf between his vision and our reality. Obviously, the first thing we need to do is to take on board Newman’s ideas but expand them to include the liberal education of women, the other half of the human species, who also have memories, intellects, wills, imaginations and hearts, all in need of grace and development. Many of the principles are exactly the same except that a certain amount of time would need to be spent distinguishing between the hallmarks of a well-educated Catholic lady and the hallmarks of a feminist, or to put the idea differently, given the strength of feminist ideology in western culture today, we would have to include in the curriculum of any young Catholic lady, some seminars on the history of feminism, explaining the differences between first, second, third and fourth wave feminism, structuralist and post-structuralist feminism and between essentialist and constructivist feminism. The ideas contained in these intellectual cocktails would then need to be evaluated against a specifically Catholic theological anthropology such as one finds in the works of Karol Wojtyła and Edith Stein and contemporary scholars like Michele Schumacher and Margaret McCarthy who have built on the foundations of Wojtyła and Stein. In some areas convergences of principle will be found, in other areas, major anthropological differences would be highlighted.

Having attended to this issue, it would become clear that elements of feminist theory and its spin-offs, queer theory and gender theory, are but logical developments of moves made on the intellectual chess-board of the European intelligentsia in earlier centuries. Therefore in order to understand modern intellectual life our would-be Catholic gentlemen, as well as the would-be Catholic ladies, would need to have included in their curriculum an intellectual history of the collapse of the Christian synthesis of Jewish revelation and Greek philosophy from the fourteenth century down to the present. An understanding of the intellectual genealogies of the cultures of modernity and post-modernity would help young Catholics to understand the chaotic dictatorship of relativism into which they have been born. Subjects could easily be put together by drawing on the scholarship of people such as Christopher Dawson, Alasdair MacIntyre, Louis Dupre, and Remi Brague, in addition to some of Joseph Ratzinger’s essays that track the nihilist virus as it works its way through the system of the European intelligentsia, especially the German intelligentsia which has been the breeding ground of so much ideological thinking.

The German intelligentsia is especially important for understanding the contemporary attacks on the notion of truth. Newman’s idea of a university would be anathema to those immersed in the Frankfurt’s School’s critical theory which links truth to issues of class identity. In other words, one conclusion of German intellectuals in the 20th century was that there is no truth as Newman understood it. There is merely what the Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci called “the bourgeois mystification of knowledge” and various Marxist and Post-Modern alternatives which take the form of deconstructing and destabilizing elements of the Judaic, Greek and Christian patrimony. Moreover, Newman’s idea that character and intelligence are linked, that education is about the development of the whole soul under the direction of grace, would not go down well with many contemporary social theorists who are not merely non-Christian but non-theistic.

As a consequence, yet another element in the curriculum of a contemporary Catholic university seeking to realise Newman’s pedagogical ideal would need to be a subject examining the theological presuppositions of social theories since social theories are never theologically neutral. John Milbank’s seminal work “Beyond Secular Reason” would be a helpful introduction to such a subject.

While these subjects would take the form of tracking the various assaults on Christian anthropology, moral theology and soteriology, and above all on the symbiotic relationships between faith and reason, nature and grace, history and ontology; another suite of subjects would need to be offered on the great works of the Patristic Church Doctors and the reception of the cultural capital of the Patristic era by the medieval authors, above all by St. Thomas Aquinas, his mentor St Albert the Great and his friend St. Bonaventure. In this way students would have an understanding of the Catholic intellectual tradition along with an understanding of its collapse into contemporary idealism, empiricism and post-modern neo-nominalism.

Finally, in this context of curriculum content, there would need to be a suite of subjects on the works of modern Catholic “Greats”, to use the Oxford parlance. This would include writers like Tolkien, philosophers like Maurice Blondel, Robert Spaemann and Alasdair MacIntyre, and theologians like de Lubac, Balthasar, Guardini, Przywara, Ratzinger and Newman. Not only did Newman make significant contributions to the field of theological anthropology with his attention to the love and reason relationship and the work of the human imagination, and to the field of moral theology with his treatment of conscience and to the field of ecclesiology with his ideas on the proper exercise of the Petrine Office, and to the field of fundamental theology with his famous Essay on the Development of Doctrine, but he can also be read as a powerful intellectual antidote to the world-view of Friedrich Nietzsche. As Gottlieb Söhngen, who was a young Joseph Ratzinger’s doctoral supervisor, noted:

Newman understood the problem of an ethical atheism. He understood that contemporary atheism had become a dogma, that is, a lived reality of which one is convinced and for which one is willing to die.

Newman understood that one cannot defeat this kind of atheism with mere logic, only with a counter-narrative, a counter-theological anthropology, a counter-Christian humanism that is more intoxicating than anything else on offer in the intellectual salons.

Having broadly highlighted some necessary elements in the curriculum of a Catholic University seeking to pursue Newmans Bildungsideal, another macro level issue is that of how do we bring together the formation of the whole person, especially of the heart and the imagination, the memory and the will, with the formation of the intellect, in an institutional context? Or, to put the question the other way around, what kind of institutional structure best facilitates the Catholic Bildungsideal?

One effective structure is that of the Catholic residential college under the governance of a religious Order. Here there are opportunities to join with others in playing sport and musical instruments, there is the fun of attending formal dinners together, the fun of dressing up in academic regalia, there are opportunities for spiritual formation through one on one mentoring and there is the possibility of being exposed to a couple of hundred other young Catholics who each have their own unique talents and gifts to share with others. A residential university college, limited to a couple of hundred students, can thereby be an ‘alma mater’ as Newman understood it.

Another structure that has worked well is that of having a Catholic Studies major offered within a non-Catholic university, such as the Catholic Studies program offered at the University of Chicago.
The residential Catholic Liberal Arts College can combine the goods of both of these structures. There are quite a few examples of such institutions in the Anglophone world. For example, there is Christendom College in Virginia, Benedictine College in Kansas and Campion College in Sydney to name but a sample. There are also small private Catholic universities such as the University of Notre Dame in Australia, Franciscan University in Steubenville and St. Mary’s University in Twickenham in the United Kingdom where the student numbers are small enough for the students to receive individual attention and a more well-rounded personal formation.
However, what it sometimes absent in these institutions is an immersion in the world of anti-Catholic ideas. Some students, the very brightest, will benefit from the intellectual equivalent of SAS style commando training behind enemy lines in classes conducted by people who no longer believe in truth. In other words, listening to the ideas of those who are hostile to the Catholic tradition or indeed to the notion of truth itself, is a good way to gain a deeper understanding of the thought-patterns of these social types.

In this context one is reminded of the distinction that Leo Strauss drew between what he called the gentleman and the philosophers. In Straussian parlance the gentlemen are those who receive a liberal education rendering them sufficiently versatile to occupy all kinds of positions in public life, while the philosophers are those who are the pure academic types. What I have called commando training is only for the philosophers. It is far too dangerous and violent and potentially career-destroying for those not built for a life of unremitting intellectual combat. I think that Newman would appreciate this Straussian distinction and would be in favor of Catholic institutions training the ladies and gentleman, while, at the same time, seeing the value in sending the intensely intellectual-destined-to-be-professional academics types, into the fray at the elite non-Catholic institutions, but with the proviso that they were supported by a network of soundly Catholic mentors, including at least one Dominican or Oratorian!

Nonetheless, since in any given generation there will only be a handful of philosophers in the Straussian sense, the accent should be upon the liberal education of young Catholic men and women in such a way that each faculty of their soul their memories, their intellects, their wills, their imaginations and above all their hearts are developed so that they are able to operate with equally high levels of competence across a range of social positions.

If the concepts of a lady and a gentleman sound too antiquated to contemporary ears another way to describe Newman’s Bildungsideal would be by using Hans Urs von Balthasar’s concept of ‘an integrated personality’. As Balthasar’s colleague, Jean Danielou, expressed the idea: ‘the real measure of history is not to be sought in the level of technical attainment, but in the more or less effective production of personalities, which represent the highest things we know in the mundane realm’.

Transposing Newman’s Victorian references to gentlemen into the more contemporary parlance of Balthasar and Danielou, we can say that Newman thought that the purpose of a Catholic university is to foster the education of integrated personalities. The hallmark of a graduate from a Catholic Oxford would be an integrated personality, a personality that is driven by a fully Catholic heart, intellect, memory, will and imagination, all nourished by sacramental graces, all seeking to participate in that which is true, beautiful and good. Some would do this in a feminine way and others in a masculine way.

In the final analysis a genuinely Catholic University following Newman’s Bildungsideal would be an alma mater, not a foundry, mint or treadmill, or what we today call a sausage factory, because it would dare to form the human soul with reference to all that true, beautiful and good.

Contemplation, Attention, And the Distinctive nature of Catholic Education

Rik Van Nieuwenhove
Roman Catholic Theologian

Reading Time
Words

Abstract
Catholic education should be primarily understood in terms of the contemplative disposition it fosters among students, i.e., a theocentric focus of knowing and loving God, rather than in terms of values. This argument will be developed by drawing on the Thomist understanding of contemplation (as knowing and loving God), and Simone Weil's notion of attention. The second part will show that the attentive regard for God in all things undergirds some of the central featureR we have come to associate with Catholicism and its educational vision, such as its sacramental understanding of the world and the way it envisages the relation between faith and reason.

In an increasingly secularist society. Catholic colleges and schools at all levels - elementary schools, high schools, and universities - may find it challenging to legitimise their own specific identity, especially if they are in receipt of state funding (as in the United States and some countries in Europe).1 The temptation is to articulate Catholic identity in terms of values that are widely shared throughout society (such as social justice, inclusiveness, tolerance, etc.). Undoubtedly, the concern for "faith seeking justice," for instance, coheres well with progressive secularist agendas, as well as with a traditional emphasis upon the common good, which is at the heart of Catholic moral teaching. The Catholic tradition has indeed important intellectual resources to ad- dress pressing global issues, such as profound socio-economic injustice, as well as the ecological crisis.

Catholic education, however, should not be primarily defined in terms of values. The reason why it should not be defined in those terms is, quite simply, that religion itself should not be reduced to morality, no matter how significant the implications of a life centered on loving God and neighbour are for our moral outlook on the world. To conceive of Catholic education merely in terms of values may result in a further dissolving of its specific identity, thereby - ironically - actually con- tributing to a less diverse (and more monochrome, implicitly secularist) educational landscape. Catholic education should, on the contrary, be primarily understood in terms of the contemplative disposition it fosters among its students, i.e., a theocentric focus of knowing and loving God. It is the attentive regard for God in all things that undergirds some of the central features we have come to associate with Catholicism and its educational vision, such as,
inter alia, its sacramental under- standing of the world, or the way it envisages the relation between faith and reason, as will be shown in the second part of this paper.
In the first part, some key aspects of this contemplative disposition, or attentive regard for God, will be discussed. First we will discuss how charity re-anchors our desire and will in God; then we will discuss the intellective dimension of contemplation. The argument will be developed broadly in conversation with the ideas of St. Thomas Aquinas and, to a lesser extent, Simone Wei1. In the second part of this paper, some of the features characteristic of Catholic education will be dis- cussed in light of this general vision.

Contemplation and the Christian Understanding of the Human Person: Knowing and Loving God

Contemplation can be defined in broad terms as a disposition of attentive regard for, or orientation toward, God in all things. Thomas Aquinas characterises contemplation as "the simple act of gazing on the truth,,3 or "the consideration of truth," in particular divine truth. However, contemplation is not merely intellectual for St. Thomas, for it also involves love of God: "'And this is the ultimate perfection of the contemplative life, namely that the divine truth be not only seen but also loved. It is the thrust of this paper that these two aspects, namely knowing and loving God, should inform every aspect of our educational

The claim that contemplation is a disposition of knowing and lo ing God implies that it should not be equated with a religious experience or a meditative technique. As a disposition (Lat. habitus or intentia) it shapes all our other experiences and engagements with the world. Aquinas's fellow Dominican, Meister Eckhart (one of the key influences on Simone Weil) calls this disposition Abegescheidenheit or Gelassen- heit, usually translated as detachment; Ignatius of Loyola calls it indiferencia - which is not indifference but rather a kind of detachment that implies a deep involvement with the world. By being focused on, or centered in, God we ideally become radically selfless or devoid of self-possessiveness, and it is this selflessness that allows us to be really present to the world, others, and God himself. Through being radically focused on God, our self is no longer our primary concern, and it is this self-forgetfulness that allows us to be really present to reality. By being detached from our self-centered concerns and in becoming self-forgetful, we can be truly involved and become profoundly receptive or open to reality.

This paper will argue that Catholic education, if it is to remain true to itself, should assist students in developing this contemplative, receptive disposition. The liberal arts in particular can contribute to nurturing this disposition of detached ascetics and involvement. Before we develop this point, we will first examine in some more detail the two central aspects of contemplation, namely, love and knowledge of God.

Loving God: Contemplation and Desire: A Non-possessive Way of Relating to God, World, and Self

St. Thomas Aquinas's understanding of the nature of charity, or love of God, can assist us in explaining how the will of the Christian should become firmly rooted in God. If human desire is not first anchored in God, and invests its infinite dynamic on one particular created being, it may end up idolising it. There are many possible objects of excessive attachment, such as the nation (in extreme patriotism), money, prestige, sex, food, social recognition, etc. In these instances, our desire latches on to something that cannot sustain this intensity, and we end up worshiping something finite, and idolising it. And as the Psalms re- mind us, an idol is a false God, impotent and lifeless (Ps.135:17~18). In erotic terms, we can compare an excessive attachment to a created good to infatuation.

Alternatively, the infinite dynamic of human desire can maintain itself by investing itself in a multitude of things, thus ultimately inducing tedium and boredom. Here what matters is not the object of desire but desire itself. In erotic terms, one can compare this to the philanderer who drifts from one woman to another but does not linger with any of them -because none of them matter. In our consumerist society this cultivation of non-attached desire is actively promoted. Here, desire desires to desire—but desires nothing in particular.

In the Summa Theologica I-II, 2 (henceforth, ST'J, Thomas deals with a whole range of created goods that fail to provide us with ultimate fulfilment or happiness (wealth, honours, fame, power, bodily goods, pleasure, goods of the souD but he desists from identifying any of them with the ultimate good. Thomas is aware that human desire an 81~ most infinite, inexhaustible dynamic - and it is for this very reason that only God can fulfil human desire: Nothing in this created world can satisfy the human will; only God suffices to fill our hearts (solus Deus uoluntatem hominis implore potest).8 When our most profound de- sire relates to God first, we can relate to created things properly, with- out possessiveness, without trying to subjugate them to our own concerns, or without idolising them.

Thomas makes clear how charity redeems human desire in ST II-II, 27.4, which deals with the question of whether God can be loved immediately in this life. Thomas contrasts knowledge and love of God. Because our knowledge is derived from the senses, those things are knowable first, which are nearer to our senses. But while our knowledge of God is mediated through creation, our love of God is immediate, and we love creation through God:

Accordingly, we must assert that to love which is an act of the appetitive power, even in this state of life, tends to God first (tendit in Deum primo), and 80W8 on from him to other things (et ex ipso derivatur ad alia) and in this sense charity loves God immediately, and other things through God (charitas Deum immediate diligit, alia vera Deo mediante). On the other hand, with regard to knowledge, it is the reverse, since we know God through other things ...

Unlike knowledge, charity (so to speak) redirects human love and desire: It immediately targets God and other things through God (alia vero Deo mediante;9 in a kind of triangular movement.

The claim that, in charity, we love God first does not imply that we fail to attribute intrinsic meaning to created things, including other human beings. Nor does it imply that we do not really love created things or persons in their own right. On the contrary, it is exactly when our desire becomes focused on God that we can begin to relate to other things with the respect and reverence that is due to them. Consider the analogy of friendship, in which we find a similar triangular dynamic. Friendship is usually accompanied by a set of advantages, such as mutual comfort and support. If, however, we were to directly target these advantages, we would no longer be acting as a friend. Indeed, we would end up instrumentalising the friendship. If we directly aim for the benefits of friendship, we betray it, and use the friendship for extraneous purposes. In the words of Roger Scruton:

We gain the advantages of friendship only when we do not pursue them: these advantages are the necessary by-products of a practice that does not and can. not intend them. One of persistent fallacies of modern ... thinking is the belief that if something benefits us, then it is a means to the benefit that it confers. On the contrary, the things that benefit us most - duty, love, friendship, beauty, knowledge, and the worship of God - are ends in themselves, and vanish just as soon as we treat them otherwise.

Similarly, charity, our love for God, allows us to enjoy created things without either idolising them (infatuation) or turning away from them in indifference and tedium (philandering). To pursue our erotic analogy, we could compare this to marriage, in which we invoke God as a third party. Christian marriage is fundamentally different from a secular contract between two parties. It is a vow before God as a third party, whereby the spouses inscribe their lives into the eternity of God. Thus, centering our desire in God does not lead to a flight from the world but allows us to engage with it in a proper manner, without idolising it or abusing it, and treat it with the reverence it is due. Charity re-anchors our desire in God, which allows a disposition of receptivity, gratuity, and openness toward the world to flourish, As Meister Eckhart suggested, as Christians we learn to live and love without a why; if God is your ultimate concern you cannot give ultimate reasons why you love God are present to reality. In summary, our will, by being focused on God through charity, becomes detached and non-possessive. This is the first way in which the disposition of Christian contemplation refocuses us on God. Now we turn to our second faculty, namely intellect. Through the intellect we are present to reality. Indeed, Thomas Aquinas claims that the word intellectus is actually derived from intus legere, reading the inner being of things. It involves openness, receptivity, presence, and insight.

On Knowing God: Contemplation and Intellect

Earlier we suggested that contemplation is the attentive regard for God in all things. According to St. Thomas, this regard for God is intellective as distinct from merely rational. To explain this, I need to recall the medieval distinction between ratio or reason, on the one hand, and intellectus or intellect, on the other. In ST II-II, 49.5 ad 3, Thomas distinguishes intellect and reason as follows:"Although intellect and reason are not different powers, yet they are named after different acts. For intellect takes its name from being an intimate penetration of the truth (ab intima penetratione veritatis), while reason is so called from being inquisitive and discursive" (ab inquisitio et discursu). The act of the intellect is "to apprehend intelligible truth; to reason is to advance from one thing understood to another (procedere de uno intellecto ad aliud), so as to know an intelligible truth .... Reasoning, therefore, is compared to understanding, as movement is to rest, or acquisition to possession.

Contemplation then consists in the simple gaze of the intellect upon a truth (contemplatio pertinet ad ipsum simplicem intuitum veritatis). Thus, contemplation as intuition is "a type of knowing which does not merely move towards its object but rests in it.” When contemplating, discursive reasoning must be put aside and the gaze (intuitus) of the soul must be fixed on the contemplation of the simple truth.

In short, we use ratio when we engage in a discursive process of reasoning. Reason is active, moving from one element in our reasoning process to another. But our reasoning comes to rest in intellect, the moment of insight. This moment of insight is a dimension of intellect, not ratio. Again, reason can only begin to operate in light of certain truths which it simply accepts but cannot argue for in a discursive manner. For instance, the principle of non-contradiction, a key axiom in traditional logic, is a truth that we can perceive solely in an intellective manner, not in a rational manner. Human reason, or ratio, thus operates in an intellective context, and is quite literally unthinkable without it.

There exists a dynamic or even dialectical relation between ratio and intellect us: while ratio needs the insight of intellectus to generate a reasoning process, the reasoning process also results in a moment of intellectual insight. IS Thomas makes this point eloquently in Expos. De Trinitate, q. 6. art. 1.3: "One sees that rational thinking (consideratio rationaiis) ends in intellection (ad intellectualem) ... And again, intellection (intellectuaiis consideratio) is the beginning of reasoning (principium rationalis) ... in which the intellect comprehends a unity in multiplicity."19 In other words, when we are engaged in profound intellectual activity, struggling to interpret a text, for instance, there will be a to-and-fro movement between intellectual insight and searching, dis- cursive reason.

This dialectic of receptive intellect and searching, discursive reason is of immediate significance to education, and vice versa. While faith and love foster a radical theacentric focus, making us non-possessive, receptive, and "self-forgetful," an engagement with art (literature, music, and so forth) both implies and furthers a similar kind of self- forgetfulness. Thus, studies can function as praeparatio euangelica. In order to develop this idea, we will now examine a short essay by Simone Weil, titled: Reflections on the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of God.

In this essay Weil attempts to clarify what she means by attention and the significance it has for learning. Attention is an effort, she writes, but it is a negative effort. It refers to losing oneself in a problem (such as the translation of a text or solving a geometrical problem) through a radical openness, by which truth will appear:
Attention consists of suspending our thought, 1eaving it detached (disponible), empty and ready to be penetrated by the object; it means holding in our minds, within reach of this thought, but on a lower level and not in contact with it, the diverse knowledge we have acquired which we are forced to make use of. ... Above all our thought should be empty, waiting (en attente), not seeking anything, but ready to receive in its naked truth the object which is to pen- etrate it (prete a recevoir dans sa l'erite nm! l'objet qui va y penetrer).20
It seems clear that the receptivity Weil is describing is intellective as distinct from exclusively rational-discursive (what she calls "'the lower level"). As we have seen, this intellective dimension involves re.ceptivity and insight, while ratio is discursive and active. It refers to self-forgetfulness which enables us to be really present. Attention is a concentrated effort to become open, receptive in all we do; it is therefore an effort that entails a form of passivity, receptivity.21

What is important for our purposes is that every instance of attention is useful in our search for God:

Being a little fragment of particular truth, it [i.e.,truth encountered in studies] is a pure image of the unique, eternal and living truth, the very Truth which once in a human voice declared 'I am the Truth.'
Every school exercise, thought of in this way, is like a sacrament.
In every school exercise there is a special way of waiting upon truth, setting our hearts upon it, yet not allowing ourselves to go out in search of it. There is a way of giving our attention to the data of a problem in geometry without trying to find the solution, or to the words of a Latin or Greek text without trying to arrive at the meaning, a way of waiting, when we are writing, for the right word to come of itself at the end of our pen, while we merely reject all inadequate words.


The insight that every school exercise has a sacramental dimension is an extraordinarily rich one. Weil is suggesting that there is a connection between, for instance, translating an ancient text, listening to a complex piece of music, or trying to solve a geometrical problem, on the one hand, and prayer on the other. The connection is attention. Every instance of attention, when nurtured in the context of studies, is religiously relevant because - ultimately - attention, taken to its highest degree, is prayer.
Stratford Caldecott comments:
Simone Weil ... goes as far as to say that ... the real goal of study is the development of attention. Why? Because prayer consists of attention, and all worldly study is really a stretching of the soul towards prayer .... School studies have a higher purpose than the acquisition of information or worldly skills. These acquisitions will follow, but they are subordinate to the orienting of the soul to God, implicit in the act of attention. To my mind, in these remarks Simone Weil has put her finger on the essence of education, and practically on the essence of Christianity itself.
A school exercise assists us in developing attention, a disposition of receptivity that allows us to become present to reality, to how things re- ally are. And prayer is, of course, an attempt to be present to God. So, all school studies are a way of cultivating attention, which, in turn, is essential in our orientation toward God. For Weil, attention as a receptive sensitivity or disposition that can be developed and nourished through- out all kinds of learning can therefore function as a praeparatio evangelica. Education allows us to develop an attentive disposition, which finds its ultimate fulfilment in religion.

In part two, we will briefly examine how contemplation is relevant for the Catholic worldview and education in particular. While a number of features of Catholic education will be mentioned, the main focus will be on the role of classics - faith and reason - and the sacramental understanding of the world. The question can be legitimately raised whether or not Catholic universities are, at least in a European context, at times in danger of quietly abandoning these characteristics under neo-liberal and secularist pressures.

Central Features of Catholic Education and Contemplation
Education as Transformative and Integrative

The theocentric focus at the heart of contemplation bestows a unity on our lives and intellectual endeavours that coheres well with the notion that Catholic education is integrative and transformative. All our educational endeavours—from reading Jane Austen to solving an intricate mathematical problem - should aim at nurturing in our students a contemplative disposition of "attention" that invites them to come to know and love God. Encouraging them to become aware of this theocentric focus and orientation will involve a deep transformation of our students, a re-centering on God.
Catholic education has in common with the best instances of secular education that it is transformative and integrative, shaping the whole person. For when we learn without being transformed, we are not being educated; at best we may acquire a set of skills, i.e., we are subject to training, not education. The integrative dimension of Catholic educa- tion has acquired particular relevance in modern society, in which we witness a "splintering of spheres of life into autonomous subsystems.,,2s So an overarching and integrative vision, based on knowing and loving God, gives cohesion to our educational pursuits across different disciplines. Because Catholic education sees in the encounter with truth, goodness, and beauty at least implicitly an encounter with God, it ac- quires a cohesion which may be lacking from non-religious curricula. The integrative dimension is particularly relevant in the modern university which aspires to inter-disciplinarity so as to tackle the pressing

Tradition & Classics

The classics can prove an excellent medium for fostering the contemplative disposition we have discussed throughout this paper. The arts can assist us in awakening in students a disposition of openness and receptivity, which may enable them to become receptive to the Otherness of God. Struggling to learn an ancient language, for instance, requires sustained engagement of intellect and will, which assists us in the nurturing of a non-self-centerered disposition and growth toward a theocentric focus of knowing and loving God.

Moreover, it comes natural to Catholics who value learning to en- gage with the best of our intellectual and artistic tradition because of its power to reveal the sacramental nature of our world. Great art (of which the classics are a central component) reveals something about our world and who we are. The power of disclosure of works of art constitutes their greatness and appeal. Any emotional or expressive effect they have is the result of this revelatory power. Listening to Bruckner's
Andante from his Symphony no. IX ("Dem Lieben Gott Gewidmete" [Dedicated to the Beloved God]) teaches us about grief, joy, hope, and, above all, recon- ciliation in its most profound sense. Reading War and Peace reveals what human beings are like: their selfishness, altruism, greed, lust, charm, doubts and confusions, pusillanimity, hunger for power, pride, heroism, honour, integrity, duplicity, mediocrity, desire for God, and so on. By engaging with important works of literature, we can cultivate our empathy and imagination, which will make us more mature and adept to interact with others and face reality. Roger Scruton puts it well: "In all kinds of ways the emotions and motives of other people 'come before us' in works of art and culture, and we spontaneously sympathise, by recreating in imagination the life that they depict .... Through imagination we reach emotional knowledge, and maybe this is the best way, in advance of the crucial tests, of preparing ourselves for the joys and calamities that we will someday encounter.

Great works of art are undoubtedly the products of their own historical context. Nonetheless, when we are confronted with them there is "a consciousness of something enduring, of significance that cannot be lost and that is independent of all the circumstances of time - a kind of timeless present that is contemporaneous with every other present.,,29 In understanding a classic work of art, if we understand it at all, historical distance is overcome. This, incidentally, takes the sting out the objection that classics are too far removed from the world of our students. Indeed, insofar as an encounter with great art

Today, critics of formal education object to the fact that it is too formal and not directly relevant to the lives of young people. They miss the point. Education is not, and should not be, reducible to ideas that are directly relevant to a pupil - it is about imparting the knowledge and insights gained through the experience [oil others in far-away places and often in different historical circumstances .... Education involves providing answers to questions that the young have not yet asked. One reason why this kind of knowledge is important is that it can help students to rise above their particular experience and gain
30
Classics address us at the deepest existential or intellectual level—and that is precisely why they are classics—disclosing something of our world (positively or negatively), and challenging us at a most pro- found level. Classics allow us to discover universal meaning in particular texts or pieces of art. In that sense, too, they are truly incarnational.

The classics are the embodiment of ways in which previous generations expressed their encounter with truth, goodness, and beauty. As indicated, they are therefore essential for growing and fostering a contemplative disposition. This emphasis upon the riches of tradition is more important than ever. In an increasingly detraditionalized society it has become more difficult for people to acquire a sense of identity—for without memory there cannot be identity. This holds both at psycho- logical and sociological level: Both as individuals and societies, we lose our sense of identity and direction if we no longer know our past, our tradition. Hence, more than ever, an engagement with the riches of the tradition should be an essential part of Catholic education.

Solidarity, the Common Good and Faith Seeking Justice

This paper has argued that knowing and loving God is one of the most central concerns of Catholic education. Obviously, genuine love of God.will translate itself in love for our fellowmen, and Catholic educators (especially in the Jesuit tradition) have rightly pointed out that love of God that does not translate itself in love of our fellowmen lacks credibility.

From within a European context, however, some reservations should be voiced. At least in some universities (and schools), an overemphasis on values as the main "identity marker" of Catholic education may at times contribute to the erosion or even loss of identity. If we de- fine Catholic schools and colleges mainly in terms of social justice, inclusiveness, and tolerance, we will fail to do justice to what makes these institutions distinctly Catholic (or even Christian). It is therefore essential to remember that, in a Christian perspective, love for our fellow- men grows out of love for God. As our discussion in part one made clear, charity, as a Christian virtue, is in the first place love of God, which then finds expression in love for other human beings and the world. Charity can never be reduced to the latter, without reference to the former.

Simone Weil made clear that attention enables us to sympathise with the suffering of other people. Attention sees the other as he is, and not as a mere specimen in a category labelled "unfortunate" but as a man, exactly like us, who was one day stamped with a special mark by affliction. For this reason it is enough, but it is indispensable, to know how to look at him in a certain way.This way of looking is first of all attentive. The soul empties itself of all its own contents in order to receive into itself the being ionise looking at, just as he is , in all his truth.

Attention assists us in discerning the real needs of people, and in- spires us to engage with issues of social justice. She suggests that struggling with an ancient language, for instance, may one day assist us in discerning the needs of another person behind their words or even their silences.3 In her view, attention is therefore the source of genuine com- passion and engagement with others. Our ethical concerns should never, however, become dislodged from their nourishing source (Le., the love and knowledge of Ged). If this happens, Catholic institutions are in danger of deluding themselves (and others) into believing they are offering an education that remains faithful to its Christian inspiration.

Sacramentality and Receptivity

Another distinguishing element of Catholicism is its sacramentality, which finds its theological origins in the doctrines of creation and incarnation. All created things are pregnant with the mystery of God, and point to it. This is a central intuition of many major Catholic thinkers (Augustine, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, Karl Rahner) through- out the tradition, and nurturing this sacramental sensibility should be at the heart of Catholic education. It is the contemplative disposition, outlined in part one, that facilitates the discernment of the sacramentality in the world, allowing us to discover a depth dimension which is hidden from a non-religious point of view.Thus, the sacramental reality, so central to a Catholic outlook, can only be perceived if one shares this contemplative dimension, informed by faith. Only the religious person perceives a depth dimension in the world, behinds its facticity.

This sacramental view is different from modem perspectives, in which the world is seen in purely mechanical terms, subject to laws we can describe and which allow us to interfere in the world. Indeed, this is one of the distinguishing traits of modernity: the belief that both our natural and societal environment is "makeable" or "produceable." Hans Urs von Balthasar (following Heidegger) sees "the inability to receive" as the hallmark of the modern age - an age that believes it can produce everything. In this problematic understanding, only that which can be produced by humanity is ultimately real and has truth and value. As Mark Roche observes, while this mindset has greatly contributed to the development of mathematics, scientific experimentation, and technology during the modern capitalist era, it has "also led over time to diminishing respect for what is already given - God, nature, tradition, other selves, and an ideal sphere of meaning. Seeing all positions as human constructions, this perspective ultimately negates every objective order and, with it, any moment of higher meaning and transcendence ... As will have become clear, the contemplative dimension (and the receptivity at the heart of it) is deeply alien to this mindset of "produce-ability."

Faith and Reason

Finally, Catholic education has a positive understanding of reason and sees the relation between faith and reason in harmonious terms. This vision has been eloquently defended in St. John Paul II's encyclical Fides et Ratio - a document that is deeply indebted to Thomas Aquinas's views. This harmonious view coheres with the sacramental understand- ing of the world: The world is not a construction of the human mind but has its inherent truth, beauty. and goodness; and reason, informed by faith, allows us to interpret it. Now, perceiving God in all things is an intellective act, not a purely rational one. Thus, it is intellect that allows us to perceive the sacramental nature of the world. As discussed earlier, contemplation fosters awareness that human understanding is more than reason; it also involves intellect, which is receptive and intuitive. and fully acknowledges that human rationality is impossible without accepting some truths or commitments as simply given. The Catholic understanding of the harmonious relation between faith and reason hinges on this acknowledgement. Without the contemplative dimension at the heart of intellect, we are in danger of becoming either positivistic or skeptical.

It is exactly the acknowledgement of the intellective nature of human understanding which opens up the possibility of a fruitful dialogue between faith and reason. As indicated. contemplation involves mainly the intuitive, non-discursive aspect of human understanding (i.e., intellectus). A stronger awareness of this intellective and intuitive character reminds us of the fiduciary nature of all human rationality, that is, all our rational processes are based on accepting key beliefs and tacit presuppositions. Human reason has a self-transcendent dynamic to it, and is surrounded by truths that we can perceive in an intuitive or intellective manner, without discursive reasoning or analysis.

This implies that the modern separation of faith and autonomous reason (on which the secular paradigm is based) does not hold. If all our rational processes are based upon ultimate insights that we sim- ply accept but cannot argue for, then the only rational way of engaging with the world is actually one which sees reason and beliefs in terms of mutual harmony (which is the Catholic view), rather than in opposition with one another (purely rationalistic or purely fideist). In short, if we want to be rational it makes sense to acknowledge the role of implicit beliefs and commitments within our rational pursuits. Denys Turner summarises: "We could not be rational if we were not also more than rational~ human beings are not rational unless they are also intellectual.

Conclusion

By re-anchoring our lives in God, religion creates a theocentric focus in us, which involves a radical dispossession of self, and a non. possessive way of relating to the world and others. It is exactly this non- possessiveness which allows us to be truly present to the world - and relate to it as it is - i.e., not as the projection of our own feelings, concerns, or theoretical constructs, but as a pointer toward God, allowing us to discover the inner depth dimension in the world. The disposition of detachment and self.forgetful contemplation allows us to engage properly with the world around us. More specifically, knowing and loving God enables us to relate to the world in a proper manner, without idolising or repudiating it. It was further suggested that education should foster this disposition of self-forgetful attention, which allows us to be truly present to things of goodness, truth, and beauty. In this manner education can genuinely function as a praeparatio evangelica. If, however, Catholic colleges and schools fail to foster this disposition, our students will find it harder to relate to key aspects of the Catholic tradition, such as the sacramental sensibility, the intellective dimension and its openness to faith, and the pursuit of learning as a transformative practice which points toward the truth, goodness, and beauty of God

Leisure: The Basis of Culture

Joseph Pieper
Roman Catholic Philosopher

Catholic Theology in the Thirteenth Century & the Origins of Secularism

Rik Van Nieuwenhove
Roman Catholic Theologian

Virtuous Human Action: An Icon of God
Aquinas’s Vision of Christian Morality

Fr. Wojciech Giertych, O.P.
Theologian of the Papal Household

Reading Time
Words
1) Introduction

Children when they are born all look alike. Sometimes the family recognises that a new born baby has the features of a grand-mother, but there is more imagination than reality in this. Babies have the face of a human being, and not that of an animal, but they have little distinctive features. It is only when the child grows that it looks into the eyes of its parents and begins to imitate them. The joy, the fascination, and also the sadness and anger of the parents is imitated by the children in the same gestures and facial expressions. Sometimes even adopted children acquire the features of their adopting parents. By the time a young man or woman is twenty years old he or she has a distinctive, charming face. But it is not immediately visible whether this is a person that is optimistic, generous, capable of service, not panicking in the face of difficulties or whether this is a lazy, unfriendly, or even morally depraved person. This is not written on the face. That is why engaged couples need long time to talk, to get to know one another, to discover the person behind the face, because the face does not reveal immediately the person that owns it. When a person arrives at the age of forty, the morale of that person is visible in the face. The personal decisions, the type of life that the person is living, the moral virtues of the person transpire in the face. Sometimes, it is possible to hide the moral quality of the person by some manipulation, by some mask that is worn, but with a little spiritual perception one can quickly discern whether the forty-year old is a happy person, someone who is generous, optimistic, or whether he or she is depressive or a criminal. When the individual arrives at the age of eighty the morale is immediately visible in the face. If a sad, depressive, self-centred, aggressive, egoist old man has a moment of spiritual conversion, a glimmer of light may appear in the face, but it will have to struggle to emerge through facial features that are already permanently locked in a negative, aggressive expression. Our faces in their beauty or horror are not painted by externally applied cosmetics, but they are painted from within. It is the quality of the spiritual life, maintained within the soul that conditions the eyes, the smile, the human face. Sometimes we can see the face of aged person, visibly marked by fatigue, by work, by concerns, but illuminated from within with a spiritual beauty. Those that had eyes to see have not failed to notice the spiritual charm of the wrinkled face of Mother Theresa of Calcutta or the exhausted but loving face of John Paul II.

 
St. Thomas Aquinas began the second part of his Summa of theology, the part of his major work that is devoted to moral theology by focusing in its Prologue on the divine image, the icon of God that is painted from within by the divine artist in human faces. And to make his teaching clear, Aquinas quoted here a VIIIth century Greek saint, St. John of Damascene, who was involved in the great conflict about icons that had rocked the ancient Byzantine Church. This quarrel was not a dispute about aesthetics. Ultimately it concerned Christology. The iconoclasts claimed that it is not possible to paint an icon of Christ in such a way that something of the divinity of the Son of God would transpire through the wood of the icon, and so the veneration of icons has to be rejected as it is a form of idolatry. The Catholic iconodules answered saying that the veneration of icons has a special place in the life of the Church, because the ineffable unimaginable God has made Himself visible in the Incarnation. God has decided that for all eternity his eternal Word, his divine Son will become human, and in his glorified humanity, we will have access to God. Just as the divinity of God was made visible in the human life of Jesus Christ, so the divinity of God is also accessible in the Body of Christ, in the Church, in her sacraments and sacramentals, including the icons. St. John Damascene lived in Jerusalem outside of the political power of the Byzantine emperors and so he had more liberty to speak out in defence of the icons. The emperors supported the theory of iconoclasm and tried to make a state ideology out of it, because iconoclasm was tied with the monophysitist heresy of monothelitism, the claim that in Jesus there is only one will, the divine, and no human will. It was held that icons cannot be a means for our encounter with God, because the humanity of Jesus Himself is not really such a means, because that humanity has been truncated. Jesus was divine, it was held, but his humanity was handicapped having no human will, and therefore no human dignity, no human initiative, no human richness of its own. The humanity of Jesus was said to be like a dead puppet in the hands of the divinity. It is understandable why the Byzantine emperors supported this theory. If Jesus has no human will, if his humanity is not resplendent in its individual plenitude, if He is manipulated from within by the eternal Father, it follows that Christians are to behave in the same way not having a will of their own. They are to be passive and obedient with no personal richness. Since, it was held, the humanity of Jesus is not fully humane it is not a means through which God can be encountered, and so also the grace of God cannot be accessible through the venerated icon, and it cannot also be visible in that supreme icon of God that is the human being. The human passivism that was a result of this theological ideology explains why the Byzantine emperors rejected so brutally the confessors of the true faith. It is easier to govern, when people believe that they have to be passive, with no initiative of their own. The expansion of this heresy however explains in part the speed with which the Christian East fell into Muslim hands, with passive Christians failing to respond to the new challenge.

 
In defending the icons St. John Damascene made a profound statement about how the image of God is visible in a human being, and it is this remark that Aquinas placed in the opening lines of his moral theology.1  God becomes visible not in the face of the neurotic, depressed, mentally or morally perplexed, or manipulated person, but the image of God becomes visible in that human person that is mature having three distinctive features: that person follows the light of the intellect; that person is capable of making free choices, in which the reason and the will combine together so as to elicit personal acts, undertaken with conviction and full involvement; and that person is governed from within, meaning that the ultimate source of the generous, personal gift of self springs from within, and is not something that has been imposed from without. This short Patristic reference in the opening lines of Aquinas’s moral theology presents for us a hermeneutical key for its interpretation.

St. Thomas Aquinas was not basically a philosopher or an ethicist. He was a theologian. The prime task in which he was engaged most of his life was the commenting of the Holy Scripture. His speculative theology was not devised to replace the revealed truths with truths known by an independent natural reason, let alone to prove the revealed mysteries and check them out according to purely rational criteria. Aquinas was a theologian, believing in God, and accepting all that has been disclosed by God Himself. In his theological endeavour, Aquinas tried to unpack the received revealed truths, bringing out to light the significance of the truths that have been imparted to us by God for our salvation. That is why the main subject matter of Aquinas’s theology is not the world, or man, but God. He studied God, in the light of what God has said about Himself and His relationship with us. The purpose of speculative theology is the presentation of the truths that have been revealed in a coherent manner that corresponds with the hunger for order and clarity of the human mind, seeing the ramifications and implications of these truths and also seeing how they correspond with what can be truthfully know through the independent effort of the human mind. With God being the main subject matter of Aquinas’s theology, he divided his theological reflection into three parts, because there are three ways of being of God.2  First of all, God is omnipresent everywhere as the Creator that upholds the universe in existence. The Ia pars of the Summa deals therefore with God and with creation, including a reflection on anthropology that studies human nature as it came out of the creative hands of God. Then, there is a second mode of being of God that is His special presence within the souls of the saints by grace. The IIa pars of the Summa studies therefore the presence of God through grace within free and responsible human moral action. And then there is a third, unique mode of the existence of God, through the hypostatic union. The IIIa pars of the Summa studies therefore God as He is present in the unique human and divine Person of Jesus Christ and in the sacraments that flow from His salutary and redemptive work.

With this fundamental focus, the IIa pars of the Summa of Theology  devoted to moral theology studies not just moral norms or sins, but the fecundity of God, not that which took place at the moment of creation, as that was presented in the Ia pars, but that specific fecundity that takes place through grace, when the Christian consciously becomes receptive to interior divine movements and creatively takes up their dynamism within practical action. The second part of the Summa is divided into two sections, the first laying out the principles of the divine transformation of mature, free human action and the second depicting the transforming power of grace within the entire human psyche and within various vocations within the Church. The somewhat dry and precise language that Aquinas used should not make us blind to the theological and evangelical breath that underlies the entire project. It is true that the genial precision of Aquinas’s discourse may satisfy the intellectual expectations of the student of philosophy, who in reading this work may focus on the logical argument, the interior coherence and the use of sources in this discourse, but the reading of Aquinas’s moral theology as the work of a moral philosopher is a reading through reductionist glasses. It is only when Aquinas’s theological vision is perceived, as based upon the divinely revealed mystery, a mystery that is not to be distorted or adapted to human expectations but received as such, does the breadth of his perspective become enriching. The prime subject matter of Aquinas’s moral theology is not a listing of moral obligations, or of moral challenges (which of course are historically and personally conditioned), or of possible sins, but it is the dynamism of divine grace seen as it functions within the human person, enabling a personal recognition of and a reaction to various challenges as they appear in life. It is only when the individual with his or her own intellect perceives the challenge, and moved by grace responds generously from within through a personal act of free choice such a person becomes a living icon of God.

2) Virtues manifest the fecundity of God

People, who are moved from within by grace, they do good works, but in such a way that those who view them are inclined to praise not them but the Father who is in heaven (Mt 5, 16). And the virtuous person does not complain about this because such a person knows his or her own weaknesses and therefore has complete trust in the power of grace and attributes the goodness to God. It is grace that works in the person through divine inspirations and also through the personal human response. The inspirations are given through the gifts of the Holy Spirit that function by way of counsel, and the human response takes place through the personal virtues, theological and moral. Both the gifts of the Holy Spirit and the virtues are stable dispositions, infused in the soul by God, but their functioning is different. The gifts ensure a passive disposition towards God, a receptivity that is willing to receive the divine counsel or instigation, whereas the virtues are active. There is no such thing as passive virtues. The virtues express the conscious engagement of the individual in the creative, free choice of the true good. In this way, the infused virtues are analogous to naturally acquired human virtues. Just as by lengthy practice, a person may acquire an artistic capacity, like that of playing the piano, so good moral dispositions can be worked out by the individual ensuring that a character is formed. Experience however proves that good moral dispositions, the natural human virtues may attain only a certain level of moral propriety. Furthermore the focus on one’s own moral worth, even though to some extent it may be successful, it can also generate an interior pride. It is only the infused virtues, generated by God himself, but developed consciously by the individual in union with God that grant to the person that fascinating spiritual quality, which inclines bystanders to praise the Father who is in heaven. Natural, acquired virtues lead to a seriousness and sometimes also to an angry criticism of the lack of goodness in others. The infused moral virtues, springing from grace have a playfulness about them. The Christian engages in good works, but in a joyful attention to God, motivated by the desire for the good pleasure of God to expand the space for the fecundity of His grace.

 
The viewing of Christian morality in the light of the divine icon painted by God within the person in a life-long process of openness to grace grants to its description a fascinating dimension. God is pleading for human minds, hearts and hands so that His divine love will manifest itself here and now in our lives. That is why the divine image becomes visible in the person through the acts of the virtues and not through the impulses of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The fact that somebody may have had wonderful inspirations coming directly from God is no proof of the person’s honesty or sanctity. It is not inspirations that are central but the capacity to put them into practice. And furthermore, it is not just individual acts that are of prime importance, but the virtues that are internal dispositions permanently enabling the eliciting of good acts. Individual acts may occasionally be good, and through human weaknesses they may at times also be evil, but that is not the prime question. Christian morality is to be viewed not only through the prism of a series of individual acts, good or bad, assessed according to an external rule of thumb coming from the moral norms but through the internal qualities of the person undertaking good acts. The person of character has cultivated internal habits that enable an appropriate response in every, also completely new situation.

If two people during their work have to carry a sum of money to the bank, and one of them, all along is going through an internal struggle: “Shall I steal the money or not?”, and the other does not dream of stealing the money and carries it directly to the bank, which of them has a higher morale? The first, or the second? The first has suffered more, resisting the temptation, while the second did not need to battle with it. It is clear that the first person is not yet a just person, even though he has not stolen. Only the second person has the virtue of justice, because doing the appropriate thing came to him as if spontaneously and naturally. Only those are virtuous, who are capable of doing the good, as if automatically, but also with inventiveness. Virtues are interior dispositions that permit the person to do the appropriate thing with ease, speedily, with pleasure and creatively. The virtuous person has the mind, the will and the emotions trained, so as to perceive the true good in a given situation, and to go for it creatively. There is more than the refraining from evil in this person. There is a built up personal character. This involves the capacity for really intending the true good, then deciding about action, and if there is some doubt, deliberating about it so as to arrive at the decision, and finally creatively executing the chosen good. Some people have no ideas, and they have to be nudged to desire the good. Others would like to do the good, and they know about this, but they cannot decide about doing it, because they are perplexed by doubts or fears. Others are very quick to decide, but then slow in the execution. In the formation of character one needs to perceive where in the individual there is the difficulty, and tackle it, not uniquely by sheer will-power or emotional energy, but in union with God, whose grace has been recognised and activated within the psychic struggle.

We should not easily assume that most people are virtuous. In fact, the reverse is true, and many people for years fail to cross the threshold of virtue. They may struggle at times against temptations. They may be ashamed when they fall, and then with difficulty they may pick themselves up. They may constantly lack certitude about whether truth about various situations can really be known, not having confidence in the capacity of their own mind, and therefore hanging loosely on the level of volatile opinions, fashions and wishful thinking. And finally, they may do good things as they are forced to do so by some external events, but without that interior, playful and joyful dynamism that enables the truly virtuous person to creatively perceive challenges, to see where it would be good to be involved, and generously to give oneself to the chosen good. Correspondingly we can say that many people commit evil acts, but they are not necessarily vicious people. The person truly animated by vice is creative in the choice of evil. He does not fall into evil out of weakness, but is capable of inventiveness in evil. A burglar, when he is creative in his robbery, capable of planning out and executing in every detail his robbing of the bank, having the internal strength to overcome laziness, fear and emotional tension has a cultivated vice. He has the psychic capacity of putting creatively his mind, will, emotions, imagination and technical capacities together in view of the desired object. When such a person will convert, he will become a great saint. St. Paul was a man, who knew how to persecute the Church with conviction and perseverance. When he met Christ, he became a great saint. A truly virtuous person is rich in personal capacities and always surprises us with the originality of response.

 
As Aquinas in his moral theology strived to depict the icon of God, painted within the mature Christian, he described one by one, the various manifestations of the fecundity of God working within the human psyche. He did this by focusing on the virtues, which he studied, analysing their structure, their basic quality and location within the faculties of the soul. The natural composition of the mind with its faculty of cognition, the intellect and the reason and the spiritual faculty of appetition that is the will, together with sensitive, bodily faculties, common with the animals, that are the sense cognition, imagination and memory and the sense appetition that are the emotions compose the terrain in which the organism of the virtues may be infused by God and then by conscious human cooperation developed. These virtues were therefore studied by Aquinas theologically as they compose a supernatural, mutually supporting organism, spurred on by the gifts of the Holy Spirit, leading to acts that manifest the fecundity of God and ultimately granting the happiness that all people desire. The hunger for happiness is the basic human urge that provokes all human action. A Christian presentation of morality takes into account the promises of beatitude given by Christ that are His response to that human hunger and locates them both at the starting point of human activity and at its end, when the Christian experientially perceives that “there is more happiness in giving than in receiving” (Ac, 20, 35).

 
The supernatural organism presented by Aquinas begins with the theological virtues that are then followed by the many moral virtues. The theological virtues of faith, hope and charity are infused in the soul by grace and they adapt the intellect and the will to adhere to God. The prime task of faith is not to humiliate the mind so that it would accept that which is not evident, but it is to adapt that mind so that it would reach out beyond its natural limits towards the revealed mystery. Faith initiates the supernatural life. Had God been accessible only through rational reflection, then we would have reduced God to the level of an object over which we have dominion. God therefore hides in a mystery, which we can penetrate only through faith, but where there is true faith there is also hope and love. Faith leads to the personal encounter with God. The hidden God, known by faith reveals Himself as something more than an intellectual response to the riddle of existence. He reveals Himself as a loving Father, who can be known and loved, who has shared with us His eternal Word, his project for us, made visible in His incarnate Son, and who imparts His Spirit that accompanies us in our lives. Faith, therefore, that is the encounter with the mystery of God is the most fundamental virtue. Even though it is received as a gift, given freely by God, it can then be developed becoming more and more rooted in the human psyche, dominating the mind and practical decision-making. Faith then generates hope that allows one to focus the will on the ineffable mystery of God that unfolds itself in our lives. And these two virtues lead to charity, the supernatural love that persists among the Persons of the Trinity and that infused in human hearts enables individuals to love God and to love one another with that same divine love. Charity in its essence is friendship with God, who allows and enables us to become His friends and to extend that friendship to all those who are the friends of God. There is no greater gift of God than divine charity that infused in human souls takes up the natural movements of human love, whether volitional, emotional or even erotic, transforming them to a divine level, enabling true, responsible and perseverant love that is the source of deepest happiness. There is no moral question, no more serious issue than the question how is that we can become open to this transforming divine love, and how can we persevere in it, in particular when our human loves have expired or have painfully manifested their limitations.

 
The encounter with God through the theological virtues then bears an impact on the moral order, on all human, this-worldly activities. That is why it is essential in the spiritual life that there will be the primacy of the theological virtues. On this issue there has been some misunderstanding in some quarters. The idea that first we are to struggle with moral evil so as to attain a certain level of moral propriety, and only then will come the moment for entertaining a living, mystical relationship with God is deeply erroneous. We have been gifted with the theological virtues at baptism, and we need to start using them as children, so that they will grow and become the fundamental axis of life. The fact that we may have moral weaknesses of various sorts should not prevent the development of the theological virtues. Christian life should therefore begin with the development of a personal prayer life, in which faith is exercised. The regularity and quality of the encounter with God will then influence the entire ethos. Whoever is capable of devoting thirty minutes a day for a person to Person encounter with God will benefit from a hidden stream of grace, changing eventually the person from within. The free gift of time wasted for God, and the discovery, after a period of regularity that with it daily routines acquire sense and that without this encounter with God they become empty enables then easily the overcoming of other difficulties. When God really becomes most important other issues fall into place. Having insisted on the primacy of the theological virtues, centred upon God, Aquinas therefore then described the fecundity of God in the entire moral order. He analysed one by one over fifty virtues, seeing where they are located in the human psyche, how they transform the natural faculties, and how they benefit from the external guidance given by the commandments and by the direct impulses of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. He also looked into how that supernatural dynamism may be distorted or even poisoned by opposing sins. Sins were therefore viewed by him not as conclusions logically drawn out from the commandments but as the opposite of the dynamism of the virtues. Goodness is more important than evil, and evil is only the lack of goodness. But goodness is more interesting.

 
The description of the organism of the moral virtues was hung methodologically upon the major, cardinal virtues, which located in the fundamental human faculties support like hinges the entire edifice. To these cardinal virtues other virtues were attached in various ways. Within the practical reason there is the virtue of consistent resourcefulness enabling creative action known as prudence, within the will there is the virtue of justice adapting the personal will to the rights of others. Within one set of emotions, those focused on pleasure, there is the virtue of temperance, and within the other set of emotions focused on assertiveness, there is the virtue of fortitude. All other stable moral dispositions enabling the creative adherence to some true good, such as chastity, patience, or truthfulness are somehow related to these fundamental moral virtues. It is interesting to note that Aquinas disagreed with his contemporary, St. Bonaventure about the cardinal virtues that deal with the affective life. St. Bonaventure was of the opinion that the virtues of temperance and of fortitude are located in the will, the idea being, that virtue has the task of harnessing the somewhat wild dynamism of the emotions by sheer force of will-power. Aquinas disagreed. These virtues are located within the emotions themselves, because emotions, even as they draw out towards the unknown, have an inherent need of being directed by the reason and the will. The virtuous person does not exclude the colourfulness, passion and dynamism that the emotions of desire, love, sadness, abomination, anger, ambition, audacity or fear bring to life. These partly psychic and partly bodily movements have a valid place in life. They engage the person and are to be experienced as such, as they cooperate with the reason and the will. The bodily and spiritual faculties can cooperate together, and also with the supernatural dynamism of grace. In fact, grace needs the humus of nature, to express itself.

The methodical presentation of the moral ethos that Aquinas gave was suspended upon the basic structures of human psychology. It is of course possible to organise a discussion of morality in a different way, taking into account the major challenges that people face today. It is also possible to reflect upon new virtues that Aquinas did not discuss. Our modern sensibility makes us also aware of such moral dispositions as solidarity, transparency, capacity for dialogue, inclusiveness or ecological awareness. There is nothing wrong in reflecting upon these moral attitudes. The teaching of Aquinas however reminds that in the usage of such new terms, we need to be clear exactly what do we mean by them, and what is more important that we reflect about them theologically, perceiving how they spring from a lively encounter with God, in which charity plays the central role.

The supernatural virtue of charity as it grows it engages the entire personality. In fact, just as in the natural life, there are three decisive stages, that of the little infant, that of the child that has begun to use reason, and that of the adolescent that is already physiologically capable of transmitting life, so the supernatural life of charity, when it grows in the individual, it passes through three similar stages.3  First the individual is more or less pushed by events in life, doing good where necessary. Then, if there is growth of character, the person becomes virtuous, capable of a personal stance, freely and creatively choosing the good simply because it is worth choosing. And finally, the spiritually advanced person is so transformed by charity that he or she is capable of assisting in the genesis of the life of grace in others. Spiritual maternity and spiritual paternity are found in those who are so animated by divine charity that the divine love passing through their being becomes attractive and alluring to others. The icon of God becomes visible in the face transformed from within by grace.

 
The focusing of attention on personal virtues that make the icon of God visible in individual people grants a freshness to the moral theology of Aquinas. This does not mean that he rejected the role of the moral law. That law extracted from an understanding of the reality of human nature, expressed on the basis of divine authority in the Ten Commandments, and finally infused as a personal stimulus in the souls of Christians by the Holy Spirit and spelt out in Gospel teaching is important, but an excessive weight is not to be attributed to it. Moral law is an expression of the wisdom of God, and it is inherently logical. As such it is addressed to the human mind. It has a pedagogical role, assisting in the eliciting of good acts, and even more in the formation of virtuous character. But it is goodness done, for the good pleasure of God that is more important than a merely legal perception of moral obligations and obedience to them. For this reason Aquinas wisely notes that he who avoids evil because of divine precepts is not free. He who avoids evil because it is evil, he is free.4  Similarly, he who does the good because he was told to do so is not free. He who does the good because it is good and he has seen this and personally wishes to do it he is a free and mature person.

3) The vision of Aquinas a forgotten treasure

 
The synthesis of Catholic moral theology given by St. Thomas Aquinas is difficult to assimilate for various reasons. The content of this teaching in itself is not alien to the human mind. In fact, a presentation of this vision invariably elicits a fascination, joy and gratitude that intellectually confirm the intuitions of every Christian. The method of presentation however that Aquinas used with its technical language, metaphysical concepts and division into questions and articles is very mediaeval and thereby unfamiliar to the beginning student. That is why initially the student has to be introduced into his thought with the help of modern manuals that take into consideration the resistances and difficulties of a modern mind. Furthermore the vision offered by Aquinas is presented from the summit, and we in our own spiritual and moral development have not yet reached that stage. The supreme, well organized, coherent vision of the graced moral life can overwhelm the humble beginner. For this reason, other approaches within the Catholic tradition have been developed particularly in the modern centuries, like the Jesuit tradition which begins from the bottom studying human sinfulness and psychic struggles in all their ramifications, or like the Carmelite tradition, which focused on the encounter with God has tried to spell out the stages of growth, through necessary purifications, both actively undertaken by the individual and passively experienced as they are conducted by God himself. These approaches are valid and they remind that there is movement in the moral and spiritual life, but a presentation of the summit, which explains the essence of a divinely transformed life, is of extreme value. When we know where we are going, we do not err in basic issues, even though we may stumble on the way. If we do not know where we are going, we may honestly and earnestly struggle - going in the wrong direction. A clear understanding of spiritual liberty, of moral character, and of the ways in which God’s grace can work in us, transforming our being and our faces in such a way that the icon of God will become visible within us is of supreme value. It is important that we maintain a child-like relationship with God, granting primacy to God’s grace, and be mature, adult and responsible in our daily lives. The problems come, when we revert the perspective, and imagine that we have to be adults towards God, proving to Him that we deserve to be well treated, and when we are immature, insecure and infantile in our lives.
   
One of the reasons why the vision of Christian morality that Aquinas presented has been set aside in the modern centuries is that with later philosophical developments in European culture, intellectual presuppositions have appeared which have made the reception of his teaching difficult. The basic change appeared in the XIVth century, with a new understanding of the nature of the human will. Ever since, the human will was claimed to be by nature absolutely free, with no need for internal development, and posited in rivalry towards God, whose will was obviously understood to be more powerful. The idea that God, who is the Creator of the human being, body and soul, can work by grace within the human will in such a way that human liberty grows and is not distorted as a result became incomprehensible. God’s will was therefore understood as overpowering the human will, with the individual being obliged to follow even arbitrary commands of God. In such a perspective it was not charity but obedience which became the prime virtue, and not the striving towards the promised happiness but the fulfilment of moral obligation that became the central issue. Modernity and post-modernity manifest a rebellion against such a vision. That is why a return to the mediaeval vision, that was formulated before these errors and before their rejection, and which corresponds better with the Biblical teaching, is so refreshing.

 
As I mentioned earlier, to study Aquinas’s moral teaching one needs to be introduced. One of the most important contemporary theologians, who had shown a way for a renewal of moral theology that is in accord with the evangelical and patristic vision and based upon the writings of Aquinas, was a Belgian Dominican, Fr. Servais Pinckaers OP, who for years taught at the Theological Faculty in Fribourg in Switzerland. His major work, Les sources de la morale chrétienne5  has been translated into the major languages, including English, Polish and Hungarian. In this work Fr. Pinckaers analyses the historical distortions that have made the reception of an evangelical vision of morality difficult. He explains that modernity has espoused an understanding of liberty that can be called a “liberty of indifference”. The will supposedly is automatically free, indifferent towards values and the truth, and subject only to a higher liberty of God that supposedly is also arbitrary in its imposition of moral obligations. As a result the entire moral science was reduced to the encounter of these two liberties, with the study of moral law, the obligations that flow from them and the sins that are to be avoided, and with the questions of happiness, virtues and the spiritual life being marginalised to the realm of the extraordinary. The understanding of liberty that Fr. Pinckaers, following Aquinas proposes, is that of the “liberty of quality”, which is given initially by God, but which needs to grow during the lifetime, through the cultivation of the virtues, theological and moral. This takes place within a living encounter with the living God, leading to supreme happiness.

I heartily advise you to read Fr. Pinckaers’s book. You will find it extremely enriching, but I have to make a suggestion. As you start reading the book, skip the first 100 pages, which you will find heavy. Begin reading from the middle, and when you will finish the book, then return and read the first 100 pages. In this way, you will be drawn into the fascinating vision of the Christian life that is given us in the theological synthesis of St. Thomas Aquinas. And you will discover how from within the icon of God can be made visible in your faces! 
 
1. S. Th., Ia-IIae, prol.: Quia, sicut Damascenus dicit, homo factus ad imaginem Dei dicitur, secundum quod per imaginem significatur intellectuale, et arbitrio liberum, et per se potestativum...
2. Super Col.., c. 2, l. 2, (97): Tribus enim modus est Deus in rebus. Unus est communis per potentiam, praesentiam, et essentiam; alius per gratiam in sanctis; tertius modus est singularis in Christo per unionem.
3. S. Th., IIa-IIae, q. 24, a. 9.
4. Super II Cor., c. 3, l. 3, (112): Ille ergo, qui vitat mala, non quia mala, sed propter mandatum Domini, non est liber; sed qui vitat mala, quia mala, est liber. Hoc autem facit Spiritus Sanctus…
5. Servais (Th.) Pinckaers OP, Les sources de la morale chrétienne. Sa méthode, contenu, son histoire, (Fribourg : Éditions Universitaires, Paris : Cerf, 1985)

Imago Dei—Imago Christi:
The Theological Foundations of Christian Humanism

J. Augustine Di Noia, O.P.
Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith

Freedom of Indifference: The Origin of Obligation Moral Theory
(Chapter XIV of The Sources of Christian Ethics)

Fr. Servais Pinckaers, O.P.

Religion & the Christian Life:
Religion & the Theological Virtues

Fr. Wojciech Giertych, O.P.
Theologian of the Papal Household

A World Slit Apart

Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Author
Noble Prize Laureate

Reading Time
Words
Delivered at Harvard University in 1978

I
am sincerely happy to be here with you on this occasion and to become personally acquainted with this old and most prestigious University. My congratulations and very best wishes to all of today's graduates.

Harvard's motto is "Veritas." Many of you have already found out and others will find out in the course of their lives that truth eludes us if we do not concentrate with total attention on its pursuit. And even while it eludes us, the illusion still lingers of knowing it and leads to many misunderstandings. Also, truth is seldom pleasant; it is almost invariably bitter. There is some bitterness in my speech today, too. But I want to stress that it comes not from an adversary but from a friend.

Three years ago in the United States I said certain things which at that time appeared unacceptable. Today, however, many people agree with what I then said...

The split in today's world is perceptible even to a hasty glance. Any of our contemporaries readily identifies two world powers, each of them already capable of entirely destroying the other. However, understanding of the split often is limited to this political conception, to the illusion that danger may be abolished through successful diplomatic negotiations or by achieving a balance of armed forces. The truth is that the split is a much profounder and a more alienating one, that the rifts are more than one can see at first glance. This deep manifold split bears the danger of manifold disaster for all of us, in accordance with the ancient truth that a Kingdom -- in this case, our Earth -- divided against itself cannot stand.

Contemporary Worlds

There is the concept of the Third World: thus, we already have three worlds. Undoubtedly, however, the number is even greater; we are just too far away to see. Any ancient deeply rooted autonomous culture, especially if it is spread on a wide part of the earth's surface, constitutes an autonomous world, full of riddles and surprises to Western thinking. As a minimum, we must include in this category China, India, the Muslim world and Africa, if indeed we accept the approximation of viewing the latter two as compact units. For one thousand years Russia has belonged to such a category, although Western thinking systematically committed the mistake of denying its autonomous character and therefore never understood it, just as today the West does not understand Russia in communist captivity. It may be that in the past years Japan has increasingly become a distant part of the West, I am no judge here; but as to Israel, for instance, it seems to me that it stands apart from the Western world in that its state system is fundamentally linked to religion.

How short a time ago, relatively, the small new European world was easily seizing colonies everywhere, not only without anticipating any real resistance, but also usually despising any possible values in the conquered peoples' approach to life. On the face of it, it was an overwhelming success, there were no geographic frontiers to it. Western society expanded in a triumph of human independence and power. And all of a sudden in the twentieth century came the discovery of its fragility and friability. We now see that the conquests proved to be short lived and precarious, and this in turn points to defects in the Western view of the world which led to these conquests. Relations with the former colonial world now have turned into their opposite and the Western world often goes to extremes of obsequiousness, but it is difficult yet to estimate the total size of the bill which former colonial countries will present to the West, and it is difficult to predict whether the surrender not only of its last colonies, but of everything it owns will be sufficient for the West to foot the bill.

Convergence

But the blindness of superiority continues in spite of all and upholds the belief that vast regions everywhere on our planet should develop and mature to the level of present day Western systems which in theory are the best and in practice the most attractive. There is this belief that all those other worlds are only being temporarily prevented by wicked governments or by heavy crises or by their own barbarity or incomprehension from taking the way of Western pluralistic democracy and from adopting the Western way of life. Countries are judged on the merit of their progress in this direction. However, it is a conception which developed out of Western incomprehension of the essence of other worlds, out of the mistake of measuring them all with a Western yardstick. The real picture of our planet's development is quite different.

Anguish about our divided world gave birth to the theory of convergence between leading Western countries and the Soviet Union. It is a soothing theory which overlooks the fact that these worlds are not at all developing into similarity; neither one can be transformed into the other without the use of violence. Besides, convergence inevitably means acceptance of the other side's defects, too, and this is hardly desirable.

If I were today addressing an audience in my country, examining the overall pattern of the world's rifts I would have concentrated on the East's calamities. But since my forced exile in the West has now lasted four years and since my audience is a Western one, I think it may be of greater interest to concentrate on certain aspects of the West in our days, such as I see them.

A Decline in Courage

Maybe the most striking feature which an outside observer notices in the West in our days. The Western world has lost its civil courage, both as a whole and separately, in each country, each government, each political party and of course in the United Nations. Such a decline in courage is particularly noticeable among the ruling groups and the intellectual elite, causing an impression of loss of courage by the entire society. Of course there are many courageous individuals but they have no determining influence on public life. Political and intellectual bureaucrats show depression, passivity and perplexity in their actions and in their statements and even more so in theoretical reflections to explain how realistic, reasonable as well as intellectually and even morally warranted it is to base state policies on weakness and cowardice. And decline in courage is ironically emphasised by occasional explosions of anger and inflexibility on the part of the same bureaucrats when dealing with weak governments and weak countries, not supported by anyone, or with currents which cannot offer any resistance. But they get tongue-tied and paralysed when they deal with powerful governments and threatening forces, with aggressors and international terrorists.

Should one point out that from ancient times decline in courage has been considered the beginning of the end?

Well-Being

When the modern Western States were created, the following principle was proclaimed: governments are meant to serve man, and man lives to be free to pursue happiness. (See, for example, the American Declaration). Now at last during past decades technical and social progress has permitted the realisation of such aspirations: the welfare state. Every citizen has been granted the desired freedom and material goods in such quantity and of such quality as to guarantee in theory the achievement of happiness, in the morally inferior sense which has come into being during those same decades. In the process, however, one psychological detail has been overlooked: the constant desire to have still more things and a still better life and the struggle to obtain them imprints many Western faces with worry and even depression, though it is customary to conceal such feelings. Active and tense competition permeates all human thoughts without opening a way to free spiritual development. The individual's independence from many types of state pressure has been guaranteed; the majority of people have been granted well-being to an extent their fathers and grandfathers could not even dream about; it has become possible to raise young people according to these ideals, leading them to physical splendour, happiness, possession of material goods, money and leisure, to an almost unlimited freedom of enjoyment. So who should now renounce all this, why and for what should one risk one's precious life in defence of common values, and particularly in such nebulous cases when the security of one's nation must be defended in a distant country?

Even biology knows that habitual extreme safety and well-being are not advantageous for a living organism. Today, well-being in the life of Western society has begun to reveal its pernicious mask.

Legalistic Life

Western society has given itself the organisation best suited to its purposes, based, I would say, on the letter of the law. The limits of human rights and righteousness are determined by a system of laws; such limits are very broad. People in the West have acquired considerable skill in using, interpreting and manipulating law, even though laws tend to be too complicated for an average person to understand without the help of an expert. Any conflict is solved according to the letter of the law and this is considered to be the supreme solution. If one is right from a legal point of view, nothing more is required, nobody may mention that one could still not be entirely right, and urge self-restraint, a willingness to renounce such legal rights, sacrifice and selfless risk: it would sound simply absurd. One almost never sees voluntary self-restraint. Everybody operates at the extreme limit of those legal frames. An oil company is legally blameless when it purchases an invention of a new type of energy in order to prevent its use. A food product manufacturer is legally blameless when he poisons his produce to make it last longer: after all, people are free not to buy it.

I have spent all my life under a communist regime and I will tell you that a society without any objective legal scale is a terrible one indeed. But a society with no other scale but the legal one is not quite worthy of man either. A society which is based on the letter of the law and never reaches any higher is taking very scarce advantage of the high level of human possibilities. The letter of the law is too cold and formal to have a beneficial influence on society. Whenever the tissue of life is woven of legalistic relations, there is an atmosphere of moral mediocrity, paralysing man's noblest impulses.

And it will be simply impossible to stand through the trials of this threatening century with only the support of a legalistic structure.

The Direction of Freedom

In today's Western society, the inequality has been revealed of freedom for good deeds and freedom for evil deeds. A statesman who wants to achieve something important and highly constructive for his country has to move cautiously and even timidly; there are thousands of hasty and irresponsible critics around him, parliament and the press keep rebuffing him. As he moves ahead, he has to prove that every single step of his is well-founded and absolutely flawless. Actually an outstanding and particularly gifted person who has unusual and unexpected initiatives in mind hardly gets a chance to assert himself; from the very beginning, dozens of traps will be set out for him. Thus mediocrity triumphs with the excuse of restrictions imposed by democracy.

It is feasible and easy everywhere to undermine administrative power and, in fact, it has been drastically weakened in all Western countries. The defence of individual rights has reached such extremes as to make society as a whole defenceless against certain individuals. It is time, in the West, to defend not so much human rights as human obligations.

Destructive and irresponsible freedom has been granted boundless space. Society appears to have little defence against the abyss of human decadence, such as, for example, misuse of liberty for moral violence against young people, motion pictures full of pornography, crime and horror. It is considered to be part of freedom and theoretically counter-balanced by the young people's right not to look or not to accept. Life organised legalistically has thus shown its inability to defend itself against the corrosion of evil.

And what shall we say about the dark realm of criminality as such? Legal frames (especially in the United States) are broad enough to encourage not only individual freedom but also certain individual crimes. The culprit can go unpunished or obtain undeserved leniency with the support of thousands of public defenders. When a government starts an earnest fight against terrorism, public opinion immediately accuses it of violating the terrorists' civil rights. There are many such cases.

Such a tilt of freedom in the direction of evil has come about gradually but it was evidently born primarily out of a humanistic and benevolent concept according to which there is no evil inherent to human nature; the world belongs to mankind and all the defects of life are caused by wrong social systems which must be corrected. Strangely enough, though the best social conditions have been achieved in the West, there still is criminality and there even is considerably more of it than in the pauper and lawless Soviet society. (There is a huge number of prisoners in our camps which are termed criminals, but most of them never committed any crime; they merely tried to defend themselves against a lawless state resorting to means outside of a legal framework).

The Direction of the Press

The press too, of course, enjoys the widest freedom. (I shall be using the word press to include all media). But what sort of use does it make of this freedom?

Here again, the main concern is not to infringe the letter of the law. There is no moral responsibility for deformation or disproportion. What sort of responsibility does a journalist have to his readers, or to history? If they have misled public opinion or the government by inaccurate information or wrong conclusions, do we know of any cases of public recognition and rectification of such mistakes by the same journalist or the same newspaper? No, it does not happen, because it would damage sales. A nation may be the victim of such a mistake, but the journalist always gets away with it. One may safely assume that he will start writing the opposite with renewed self-assurance.

Because instant and credible information has to be given, it becomes necessary to resort to guesswork, rumours and suppositions to fill in the voids, and none of them will ever be rectified, they will stay on in the readers' memory. How many hasty, immature, superficial and misleading judgments are expressed every day, confusing readers, without any verification. The press can both simulate public opinion and miseducate it. Thus we may see terrorists heroised, or secret matters, pertaining to one's nation's defence, publicly revealed, or we may witness shameless intrusion on the privacy of well-known people under the slogan: "everyone is entitled to know everything." But this is a false slogan, characteristic of a false era: people also have the right not to know, and it is a much more valuable one. The right not to have their divine souls stuffed with gossip, nonsense, vain talk. A person who works and leads a meaningful life does not need this excessive burdening flow of information.

Hastiness and superficiality are the psychic disease of the 20th century and more than anywhere else this disease is reflected in the press. In-depth analysis of a problem is anathema to the press. It stops at sensational formulas.

Such as it is, however, the press has become the greatest power within the Western countries, more powerful than the legislature, the executive and the judiciary. One would then like to ask: by what law has it been elected and to whom is it responsible? In the communist East a journalist is frankly appointed as a state official. But who has granted Western journalists their power, for how long a time and with what prerogatives?

There is yet another surprise for someone coming from the East where the press is rigorously unified: one gradually discovers a common trend of preferences within the Western press as a whole. It is a fashion; there are generally accepted patterns of judgment and there may be common corporate interests, the sum effect being not competition but unification. Enormous freedom exists for the press, but not for the readership because newspapers mostly give enough stress and emphasis to those opinions which do not too openly contradict their own and the general trend.

A Fashion in Thinking

Without any censorship, in the West fashionable trends of thought and ideas are carefully separated from those which are not fashionable; nothing is forbidden, but what is not fashionable will hardly ever find its way into periodicals or books or be heard in colleges. Legally your researchers are free, but they are conditioned by the fashion of the day. There is no open violence such as in the East; however, a selection dictated by fashion and the need to match mass standards frequently prevent independent-minded people from giving their contribution to public life. There is a dangerous tendency to form a herd, shutting off successful development. I have received letters in America from highly intelligent persons, maybe a teacher in a faraway small college who could do much for the renewal and salvation of his country, but his country cannot hear him because the media are not interested in him. This gives birth to strong mass prejudices, blindness, which is most dangerous in our dynamic era. There is, for instance, a self-deluding interpretation of the contemporary world situation. It works as a sort of petrified armour around people's minds. Human voices from 17 countries of Eastern Europe and Eastern Asia cannot pierce it. It will only be broken by the pitiless crowbar of events.

I have mentioned a few trends of Western life which surprise and shock a new arrival to this world. The purpose and scope of this speech will not allow me to continue such a review, to look into the influence of these Western characteristics on important aspects on [the] nation's life, such as elementary education, advanced education in [?...]

Socialism

It is almost universally recognised that the West shows all the world a way to successful economic development, even though in the past years it has been strongly disturbed by chaotic inflation. However, many people living in the West are dissatisfied with their own society. They despise it or accuse it of not being up to the level of maturity attained by mankind. A number of such critics turn to socialism, which is a false and dangerous current.

I hope that no one present will suspect me of offering my personal criticism of the Western system to present socialism as an alternative. Having experienced applied socialism in a country where the alternative has been realised, I certainly will not speak for it. The well-known Soviet mathematician Shafarevich, a member of the Soviet Academy of Science, has written a brilliant book under the title Socialism; it is a profound analysis showing that socialism of any type and shade leads to a total destruction of the human spirit and to a levelling of mankind into death. Shafarevich's book was published in France almost two years ago and so far no one has been found to refute it. It will shortly be published in English in the United States.

Not a Model

But should someone ask me whether I would indicate the West such as it is today as a model to my country, frankly I would have to answer negatively. No, I could not recommend your society in its present state as an ideal for the transformation of ours. Through intense suffering our country has now achieved a spiritual development of such intensity that the Western system in its present state of spiritual exhaustion does not look attractive. Even those characteristics of your life which I have just mentioned are extremely saddening.

A fact which cannot be disputed is the weakening of human beings in the West while in the East they are becoming firmer and stronger. Six decades for our people and three decades for the people of Eastern Europe; during that time we have been through a spiritual training far in advance of Western experience. Life's complexity and mortal weight have produced stronger, deeper and more interesting characters than those produced by standardised Western well-being. Therefore if our society were to be transformed into yours, it would mean an improvement in certain aspects, but also a change for the worse on some particularly significant scores. It is true, no doubt, that a society cannot remain in an abyss of lawlessness, as is the case in our country. But it is also demeaning for it to elect such mechanical legalistic smoothness as you have. After the suffering of decades of violence and oppression, the human soul longs for things higher, warmer and purer than those offered by today's mass living habits, introduced by the revolting invasion of publicity, by TV stupor and by intolerable music.

All this is visible to observers from all the worlds of our planet. The Western way of life is less and less likely to become the leading model.

There are meaningful warnings that history gives a threatened or perishing society. Such are, for instance, the decadence of art, or a lack of great statesmen. There are open and evident warnings, too. The center of your democracy and of your culture is left without electric power for a few hours only, and all of a sudden crowds of American citizens start looting and creating havoc. The smooth surface film must be very thin, then, the social system quite unstable and unhealthy.

But the fight for our planet, physical and spiritual, a fight of cosmic proportions, is not a vague matter of the future; it has already started. The forces of Evil have begun their decisive offensive, you can feel their pressure, and yet your screens and publications are full of prescribed smiles and raised glasses. What is the joy about?

Shortsightedness

Very well known representatives of your society, such as George Kennan, say: we cannot apply moral criteria to politics. Thus we mix good and evil, right and wrong and make space for the absolute triumph of absolute Evil in the world. On the contrary, only moral criteria can help the West against communism's well planned world strategy. There are no other criteria. Practical or occasional considerations of any kind will inevitably be swept away by strategy. After a certain level of the problem has been reached, legalistic thinking induces paralysis; it prevents one from seeing the size and meaning of events.

In spite of the abundance of information, or maybe because of it, the West has difficulties in understanding reality such as it is. There have been naive predictions by some American experts who believed that Angola would become the Soviet Union's Vietnam or that Cuban expeditions in Africa would best be stopped by special U.S. courtesy to Cuba. Kennan's advice to his own country -- to begin unilateral disarmament -- belongs to the same category. If you only knew how the youngest of the Moscow Old Square [1] officials laugh at your political wizards! As to Fidel Castro, he frankly scorns the United States, sending his troops to distant adventures from his country right next to yours.

However, the most cruel mistake occurred with the failure to understand the Vietnam War. Some people sincerely wanted all wars to stop just as soon as possible; others believed that there should be room for national, or communist, self-determination in Vietnam, or in Cambodia, as we see today with particular clarity. But members of the U.S. anti-war movement wound up being involved in the betrayal of Far Eastern nations, in a genocide and in the suffering today imposed on 30 million people there. Do those convinced pacifists hear the moans coming from there? Do they understand their responsibility today? Or do they prefer not to hear? The American Intelligentsia lost its [nerve] and as a consequence thereof danger has come much closer to the United States. But there is no awareness of this. Your shortsighted politicians who signed the hasty Vietnam capitulation seemingly gave America a carefree breathing pause; however, a hundredfold Vietnam now looms over you. That small Vietnam had been a warning and an occasion to mobilise the nation's courage. But if a full-fledged America suffered a real defeat from a small communist half-country, how can the West hope to stand firm in the future?

I have had occasion already to say that in the 20th century democracy has not won any major war without help and protection from a powerful continental ally whose philosophy and ideology it did not question. In World War II against Hitler, instead of winning that war with its own forces, which would certainly have been sufficient, Western democracy grew and cultivated another enemy who would prove worse and more powerful yet, as Hitler never had so many resources and so many people, nor did he offer any attractive ideas, or have such a large number of supporters in the West -- a potential fifth column -- as the Soviet Union. At present, some Western voices already have spoken of obtaining protection from a third power against aggression in the next world conflict, if there is one; in this case the shield would be China. But I would not wish such an outcome to any country in the world. First of all, it is again a doomed alliance with Evil; also, it would grant the United States a respite, but when at a later date China with its billion people would turn around armed with American weapons, America itself would fall prey to a genocide similar to the one perpetrated in Cambodia in our days.

Loss of Willpower

And yet -- no weapons, no matter how powerful, can help the West until it overcomes its loss of willpower. In a state of psychological weakness, weapons become a burden for the capitulating side. To defend oneself, one must also be ready to die; there is little such readiness in a society raised in the cult of material well-being. Nothing is left, then, but concessions, attempts to gain time and betrayal. Thus at the shameful Belgrade conference free Western diplomats in their weakness surrendered the line where enslaved members of Helsinki Watch-groups are sacrificing their lives.

Western thinking has become conservative: the world situation should stay as it is at any cost, there should be no changes. This debilitating dream of a status quo is the symptom of a society which has come to the end of its development. But one must be blind in order not to see that oceans no longer belong to the West, while land under its domination keeps shrinking. The two so-called world wars (they were by far not on a world scale, not yet) have meant internal self-destruction of the small, progressive West which has thus prepared its own end. The next war (which does not have to be an atomic one and I do not believe it will) may well bury Western civilisation forever.

Facing such a danger, with such historical values in your past, at such a high level of realisation of freedom and apparently of devotion to freedom, how is it possible to lose to such an extent the will to defend oneself?

Humanism and Its Consequences

How has this unfavourable relation of forces come about? How did the West decline from its triumphal march to its present sickness? Have there been fatal turns and losses of direction in its development? It does not seem so. The West kept advancing socially in accordance with its proclaimed intentions, with the help of brilliant technological progress. And all of a sudden it found itself in its present state of weakness.

This means that the mistake must be at the root, at the very basis of human thinking in the past centuries. I refer to the prevailing Western view of the world which was first born during the Renaissance and found its political expression from the period of the Enlightenment. It became the basis for government and social science and could be defined as rationalistic humanism or humanistic autonomy: the proclaimed and enforced autonomy of man from any higher force above him. It could also be called anthropocentricity, with man seen as the center of everything that exists.

The turn introduced by the Renaissance evidently was inevitable historically. The Middle Ages had come to a natural end by exhaustion, becoming an intolerable despotic repression of man's physical nature in favour of the spiritual one. Then, however, we turned our backs upon the Spirit and embraced all that is material with excessive and unwarranted zeal. This new way of thinking, which had imposed on us its guidance, did not admit the existence of intrinsic evil in man nor did it see any higher task than the attainment of happiness on earth. It based modern Western civilisation on the dangerous trend to worship man and his material needs. Everything beyond physical well-being and accumulation of material goods, all other human requirements and characteristics of a subtler and higher nature, were left outside the area of attention of state and social systems, as if human life did not have any superior sense. That provided access for evil, of which in our days there is a free and constant flow. Merely freedom does not in the least solve all the problems of human life and it even adds a number of new ones.

However, in early democracies, as in American democracy at the time of its birth, all individual human rights were granted because man is God's creature. That is, freedom was given to the individual conditionally, in the assumption of his constant religious responsibility. Such was the heritage of the preceding thousand years. Two hundred or even fifty years ago, it would have seemed quite impossible, in America, that an individual could be granted boundless freedom simply for the satisfaction of his instincts or whims. Subsequently, however, all such limitations were discarded everywhere in the West; a total liberation occurred from the moral heritage of Christian centuries with their great reserves of mercy and sacrifice. State systems were becoming increasingly and totally materialistic. The West ended up by truly enforcing human rights, sometimes even excessively, but man's sense of responsibility to God and society grew dimmer and dimmer. In the past decades, the legalistically selfish aspect of Western approach and thinking has reached its final dimension and the world wound up in a harsh spiritual crisis and a political impasse. All the glorified technological achievements of Progress, including the conquest of outer space, do not redeem the Twentieth century's moral poverty which no one could imagine even as late as in the Nineteenth Century.

An Unexpected Kinship

As humanism in its development became more and more materialistic, it made itself increasingly accessible to speculation and manipulation at first by socialism and then by communism. So that Karl Marx was able to say in 1844 that "communism is naturalised humanism."

This statement turned out not to be entirely senseless. One does see the same stones in the foundations of a despiritualised humanism and of any type of socialism: endless materialism; freedom from religion and religious responsibility, which under communist regimes reach the stage of anti-religious dictatorship; concentration on social structures with a seemingly scientific approach. (This is typical of the Enlightenment in the Eighteenth Century and of Marxism). Not by coincidence all of communism's meaningless pledges and oaths are about Man, with a capital M, and his earthly happiness. At first glance it seems an ugly parallel: common traits in the thinking and way of life of today's West and today's East? But such is the logic of materialistic development.

The interrelationship is such, too, that the current of materialism which is most to the left always ends up by being stronger, more attractive and victorious, because it is more consistent. Humanism without its Christian heritage cannot resist such competition. We watch this process in the past centuries and especially in the past decades, on a world scale as the situation becomes increasingly dramatic. Liberalism was inevitably displaced by radicalism, radicalism had to surrender to socialism and socialism could never resist communism. The communist regime in the East could stand and grow due to the enthusiastic support from an enormous number of Western intellectuals who felt a kinship and refused to see communism's crimes. When they no longer could do so, they tried to justify them. In our Eastern countries, communism has suffered a complete ideological defeat; it is zero and less than zero. But Western intellectuals still look at it with interest and with empathy, and this is precisely what makes it so immensely difficult for the West to withstand the East.

Before the Turn

I am not examining here the case of a world war disaster and the changes which it would produce in society. As long as we wake up every morning under a peaceful sun, we have to lead an everyday life. There is a disaster, however, which has already been under way for quite some time. I am referring to the calamity of a despiritualised and irreligious humanistic consciousness.

To such consciousness, man is the touchstone in judging and evaluating everything on earth. Imperfect man, who is never free of pride, self-interest, envy, vanity, and dozens of other defects. We are now experiencing the consequences of mistakes which had not been noticed at the beginning of the journey. On the way from the Renaissance to our days we have enriched our experience, but we have lost the concept of a Supreme Complete Entity which used to restrain our passions and our irresponsibility. We have placed too much hope in political and social reforms, only to find out that we were being deprived of our most precious possession: our spiritual life. In the East, it is destroyed by the dealings and machinations of the ruling party. In the West, commercial interests tend to suffocate it. This is the real crisis. The split in the world is less terrible than the similarity of the disease plaguing its main sections.

If humanism were right in declaring that man is born to be happy, he would not be born to die. Since his body is doomed to die, his task on earth evidently must be of a more spiritual nature. It cannot unrestrained enjoyment of everyday life. It cannot be the search for the best ways to obtain material goods and then cheerfully get the most out of them. It has to be the fulfilment of a permanent, earnest duty so that one's life journey may become an experience of moral growth, so that one may leave life a better human being than one started it. It is imperative to review the table of widespread human values. Its present incorrectness is astounding. It is not possible that assessment of the President's performance be reduced to the question of how much money one makes or of unlimited availability of gasoline. Only voluntary, inspired self-restraint can raise man above the world stream of materialism.

It would be retrogression to attach oneself today to the ossified formulas of the Enlightenment. Social dogmatism leaves us completely helpless in front of the trials of our times.

Even if we are spared destruction by war, our lives will have to change if we want to save life from self-destruction. We cannot avoid revising the fundamental definitions of human life and human society. Is it true that man is above everything? Is there no Superior Spirit above him? Is it right that man's life and society's activities have to be determined by material expansion in the first place? Is it permissible to promote such expansion to the detriment of our spiritual integrity?

If the world has not come to its end, it has approached a major turn in history, equal in importance to the turn from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance. It will exact from us a spiritual upsurge, we shall have to rise to a new height of vision, to a new level of life where our physical nature will not be cursed as in the Middle Ages, but, even more importantly, our spiritual being will not be trampled upon as in the Modern era.

This ascension will be similar to climbing onto the next anthropologic stage. No one on earth has any other way left but—upward.

What is the Catholic Doctrine of Religious Liberty

Thomas Pink
Roman Catholic Philosopher

Dignitatis Humane: Continuity after Leo XIII

Thomas Pink
Roman Catholic Philosopher

The Second Vatican Council’s Teaching on Religious Liberty in Light of Tradition

Edmund Waldstein, O. Cist.
Roman Catholic Theologian

Vatican II & the Crisis of the Theology of Baptism

Thomas Pink
Roman Catholic Philospher

Worthiness to Receive Holy communion:
General Principles

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger
Erstwhile Prefect, Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith
Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI

Sacramentum Caritatis

[Note:
The following memorandum was sent by Cardinal Ratzinger to Cardinal McCarrick and was made public in the first week of July 2004.]


1. Presenting oneself to receive Holy Communion should be a conscious decision, based on a reasoned judgment regarding one’s worthiness to do so, according to the Church’s objective criteria, asking such questions as: "Am I in full communion with the Catholic Church? Am I guilty of grave sin? Have I incurred a penalty (e.g. excommunication, interdict) that forbids me to receive Holy Communion? Have I prepared myself by fasting for at least an hour?" The practice of indiscriminately presenting oneself to receive Holy Communion, merely as a consequence of being present at Mass, is an abuse that must be corrected (cf. Instruction "Redemptionis Sacramentum," nos. 81, 83).

2. The Church teaches that abortion or euthanasia is a grave sin. The Encyclical Letter Evangelium vitae, with reference to judicial decisions or civil laws that authorize or promote abortion or euthanasia, states that there is a "grave and clear obligation to oppose them by conscientious objection. [...] In the case of an intrinsically unjust law, such as a law permitting abortion or euthanasia, it is therefore never licit to obey it, or to 'take part in a propaganda campaign in favour of such a law or vote for it'" (no. 73). Christians have a "grave obligation of conscience not to cooperate formally in practices which, even if permitted by civil legislation, are contrary to God’s law. Indeed, from the moral standpoint, it is never licit to cooperate formally in evil. [...] This cooperation can never be justified either by invoking respect for the freedom of others or by appealing to the fact that civil law permits it or requires it" (no. 74).

3. Not all moral issues have the same moral weight as abortion and euthanasia. For example, if a Catholic were to be at odds with the Holy Father on the application of capital punishment or on the decision to wage war, he would not for that reason be considered unworthy to present himself to receive Holy Communion. While the Church exhorts civil authorities to seek peace, not war, and to exercise discretion and mercy in imposing punishment on criminals, it may still be permissible to take up arms to repel an aggressor or to have recourse to capital punishment. There may be a legitimate diversity of opinion even among Catholics about waging war and applying the death penalty, but not however with regard to abortion and euthanasia.

4. Apart from an individual's judgment about his worthiness to present himself to receive the Holy Eucharist, the minister of Holy Communion may find himself in the situation where he must refuse to distribute Holy Communion to someone, such as in cases of a declared excommunication, a declared interdict, or an obstinate persistence in manifest grave sin (cf. can. 915).

5. Regarding the grave sin of abortion or euthanasia, when a person’s formal cooperation becomes manifest (understood, in the case of a Catholic politician, as his consistently campaigning and voting for permissive abortion and euthanasia laws), his Pastor should meet with him, instructing him about the Church’s teaching, informing him that he is not to present himself for Holy Communion until he brings to an end the objective situation of sin, and warning him that he will otherwise be denied the Eucharist.

6. When "these precautionary measures have not had their effect or in which they were not possible," and the person in question, with obstinate persistence, still presents himself to receive the Holy Eucharist, "the minister of Holy Communion must refuse to distribute it" (cf. Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts Declaration "Holy Communion and Divorced, Civilly Remarried Catholics" [2002], nos. 3-4). This decision, properly speaking, is not a sanction or a penalty. Nor is the minister of Holy Communion passing judgment on the person’s subjective guilt, but rather is reacting to the person’s public unworthiness to receive Holy Communion due to an objective situation of sin.

Contraception and Chastity

Elizabeth Anscombe
Roman Catholic Philosopher

Reading Time
Words
Written in 1972 in defence of the Church’s perennial teaching.

I
will first ask you to contemplate a familiar point: the fantastic change that has come about in people's situation in respect of having children because of the invention of efficient contraceptives. You see, what can't be otherwise we accept; and so we accept death and its unhappiness. But possibility destroys mere acceptance. And so it is with the possibility of having intercourse and preventing conception. This power is now placed in a woman's hands; she needn't have children when she doesn't want to and she can still have her man! This can make the former state of things look intolerable, so that one wonders why they were so pleased about weddings in former times and why the wedding day was supposed to be such a fine day for the bride.

There always used to be a colossal strain in ancient times; between heathen morality and Christian morality, and one of the things pagan converts had to be told about the way they were entering on was that they must abstain from fornication. This peculiarity of the Christian life was taught in a precept issued by the Council of Jerusalem, the very first council of the Christian Church. The prohibition was issued in the same breath as the merely temporary retention of Judaic laws prohibiting the eating of blood - no black pudding! - and the prohibition on eating the flesh of animals that had been sacrificed to idols. And in one way these may have been psychologically the same sort of prohibition to a pagan convert. The Christian life simply imposed these peculiar restrictions on you. All the same the prohibition on fornication must have stood out; it must have meant a very serious change of life to many, as it would today. Christian life meant a separation from the standards of that world: you couldn't be a Baal-worshipper, you couldn't sacrifice to idols, be a sodomite, practice infanticide, compatibly with the Christian allegiance. That is not to say that Christians were good; we humans are a bad lot and our lives as Christians even if not blackly and grossly wicked are usually very mediocre. But the Catholic Christian badge now again means separation, even for such poor mediocrities, from what the unchristian world in the West approves and professes.

Christianity was at odds with the heathen world, not only about fornication, infanticide and idolatry; but also about marriage. Christians were taught that husband and wife had equal rights in one another's bodies; a wife is wronged by her husband's adultery as well as a husband by his wife's. And Christianity involved non-acceptance of the contemptible role of the female partner in fornication, calling the prostitute to repentance and repudiating respectable concubinage. And finally for Christians divorce was excluded. These differences were the measure, great enough, of the separation between Christianity and the pagan world in these matters. By now, Christian teaching is, of course, known all over the world; and it goes without saying for those in the West that what they call "accepting traditional morals" means counting fornication as wrong - it's just not a respectable thing. But we ought to be conscious that, like the objection to infanticide, this is a Jewish Christian inheritance. And we should realise that heathen humanity tends to have a different attitude towards both. In Christian teaching a value is set on every human life and on men's chastity as well as on women's and this as part of the ordinary calling of a Christian, not just in connexion with the austerity of monks. Faithfulness, by which a man turned only to his spouse, forswearing all other women, was counted as one of the great goods of marriage.

But the quarrel is far greater between Christianity and the present-day heathen, post Christian, morality that has sprung up as a result of contraception. In one word: Christianity taught that men ought to be as chaste as pagans thought honest women ought to be; the contraceptive morality teaches that women need to be as little chaste as pagans thought men need be.

And if there is nothing intrinsically wrong with contraceptive intercourse, and if it could become general practice everywhere when there is intercourse but ought to be no begetting, then it's very difficult to see the objection to this morality, for the ground of objection to fornication and adultery was that sexual intercourse is only right in the sort of set-up that typically provides children with a father and mother to care for them. If you can turn intercourse into something other than the reproductive type of act (I don't mean of course that every act is reproductive any more than every acorn leads to an oak-tree but it's the reproductive type of act) then why, if you can change it, should it be restricted to the married? Restricted, that is, to partners bound in a formal, legal, union whose fundamental purpose is the bringing up of children? For if that is not its fundamental purpose there is no reason why for example "marriage" should have to be between people of opposite sexes. But then, of course, it becomes unclear why you should have a ceremony, why you should have a formality at all. And so we must grant that children are in this general way the main point of the existence of such an arrangement. But if sexual union can be deliberately and totally divorced from fertility, then we may wonder why sexual union has got to be married union. If the expression of love between the partners is the point, then it shouldn't be so narrowly confined.

The only objection, then, to the new heathen, contraceptive morality will be that the second condition I mentioned - near-universality of contraception where there ought not to be begetting - simply won't be fulfilled. Against the background of a society with that morality, more and more people will have intercourse with little feeling of responsibility, little restraint, and yet they just won't be so careful about always using contraceptives. And so the widespread use of contraceptives naturally leads to more and more rather than less and less abortion (The exception to this in the short term is where abortion has been encouraged and contraceptives not available, making contraceptives available then produces an immediate but only temporary reduction in abortions.) Indeed, abortion is now being recommended as a population control measure - a second line of defence.

Now if this - that you won't get this universal "taking care" - is the only objection then it's a pretty miserable outlook. Because, like the fear of venereal disease, it's an objection that's little capable of moving people or inspiring them as a positive ideal of chastity may.

The Christian Church has taught such an ideal of chastity: in a narrower sense, and in a broader sense in which chastity is simply the virtue whose topic is sex, just as courage is the virtue whose topic is danger and difficulty. In the narrower sense chastity means continence, abstention. I have to say something about this - though I'm reduced to stammering because I am a mediocre worldly person leading an ordinary sort of worldly life; nevertheless I'll try to say it even with stammering.

What people are for is, we believe, like guided missiles, to home in on God, God who is the one truth it is infinitely worth knowing, the possession of which you could never get tired of, like the water which if you have you can never thirst again, because your thirst is slaked forever and always. It's this potentiality, this incredible possibility, of the knowledge of God of such a kind as even to be sharing in his nature, which Christianity holds out to people; and because of this potentiality every life, right up to the last, must be treated as precious. It’s potentialities in all things the world cares about may be slight; but there is always the possibility of what it's for. We can't ever know that the time of possibility of gaining eternal life is over, however old, wretched, "useless" someone has become.

Now there are some people who want this so much that they want to be totally concerned with it and to die to their own worldly, earthly and fleshly desires. It is people who are so filled with this enormous desire and are able to follow it, who pursue the course of chastity in the narrow sense - this is the point, the glory, of Christian celibacy and virginity and of vows of chastity. I think one has to know about it in order to appreciate the teachings of Christianity about chastity in a wide sense. But as I say I speak stammeringly because I'm not very well qualified.

II

Turning to chastity not in the narrower sense but in the sense in which it is simply the virtue connected with sex, the Christian Church has always set its face against contraception from the earliest time as a grave breach of chastity. It inherited from Israel the objection to "base ways of copulating for the avoidance of conception", to quote St Augustine. In a document of the third century a Christian author wrote of the use of contraceptives by freeborn Christian women of Rome. These women sometimes married slaves so as to have Christian husbands but they were under a severe temptation because if the father was a slave the child was a slave by Roman law and this was a deterrent to having children; and they practised some form of contraception. This was the occasion of the earliest recorded explicit Christian observation on the subject. The author writes like a person mentioning a practice which Christians at large must obviously regard as shameful.

From then on the received teaching of Christianity has been constant. We need only mention two landmarks which have stood as signposts in Christian teaching - the teaching of Augustine and that of Thomas Aquinas. St Augustine wrote against the Manichaeans. The Manichaeans were people who thought all sex evil. They thought procreation was worse than sex; so if one must have sex let it be without procreation which imprisoned a soul in flesh. So they first aimed to restrict intercourse altogether to what they thought were infertile times and also to use contraceptive drugs so as if possible never to have children. If they did conceive they used drugs to procure abortions; finally, if that failed, in their cruel lust or lustful cruelty, as St Augustine says, they might put the child out to die. (The appetite for killing children is a rather common characteristic in the human race.)

All these actions Augustine condemned and he argued strongly against their teaching. Sex couldn't possibly be evil; it is the source of human society and life is God's good creation. On the other hand it is a familiar point that there is some grimness in Augustine's view of sex. He regards it as more corrupted by the fall than our other faculties. Intercourse for the sake of getting children is good but the need for sexual intercourse otherwise, he thought, is an infirmity. However, "husband and wife" (I quote) "owe one another not only the faithful association of sexual union for the sake of getting children - which makes the first society of the human race in this our mortality - but more than that a kind of mutual service of bearing the burden of one another's weakness, so as to prevent unlawful intercourse."

Augustine holds up as an ideal something which he must have known didn't happen all that much: the life of married people who no longer seeking children are able to live in continence. He considers it a weakness that few ever do this. There's a sort of servitude to fleshly desire in not being able so to abstain. But marriage is so great a good, he said, that it altogether takes vice out of this; and what's bad about our weakness is thereby excused. If one partner demands sexual intercourse out of the pressure of sexual desire, he says, the other does right in according it. But there is at least venial sin in demanding it from this motive, and if one's very intemperate, mortal sin.

All this part of his teaching is very uncongenial to our time. But we must notice that it has been a bit misrepresented. It has been said that for Augustine sexual intercourse not for the sake of getting children involves actual sin, though not mortal sin - a little bit of sin - on the part of at least one partner, the partner who demands it. What he seems to say however is not that, but some thing different; that if one seeks it out of mere fleshly desire for the sake of pleasure, there is such sin; and this latter teaching has in fact been constant among all the saints and doctors of the Church who have written on the matter at all. (I will be coming back to this.)

St Augustine indeed didn't write explicitly of any other motive than mere sensuality in seeking intercourse where procreation isn't aimed at. What he says doesn't exclude the possibility of a different motive. There's the germ of an account of the motive called by theologians "rendering the marriage debt" in his observation that married people owe to one another a kind of mutual service. Aquinas made two contributions, the first of which concerns this point: he makes the remark that a man ought to pay the marriage debt if he can see his wife wants it without her having to ask him. And he ought to notice if she does want it. This is an apt gloss on Augustine's "mutual service", and it destroys the basis for the picture which some have had of intercourse not for the sake of children as necessarily a little bit sinful on one side, since one must be "demanding", and not for any worthy motive but purely "out of desire for pleasure". One could hardly say that being diagnosable as wanting intercourse was a sin! St Thomas, of course, speaks of the matter rather from the man's side, but the same thing could be said from the woman's, too; the only difference being that her role would be more that of encouragement and invitation. (It's somewhat modern to make this comment. We are much more conscious nowadays of people's complexities and hang-ups than earlier writers seem to have been.)

St Thomas follows St Augustine and all other traditional teachers in holding that intercourse sought out of lust, only for the sake of pleasure, is sin, though it is venial if the intemperance isn't great, and in type this is the least of the sins against chastity.

His second contribution was his definition of the "sin against nature". This phrase relates to deviant acts, such as sodomy and bestiality. He defined this type of sin as a sexual act of such a kind as to be intrinsically unfit for generation. This definition has been colossally important. It was, indeed, perfectly in line with St. Augustine's reference to copulating in a "base" way so as not to procreate, thus to identify some ways of contraception practised in former times as forms of unnatural vice. For they would, most of them, be deviant sexual acts.

Contraception by medical methods, however, as well as abortion, had previously been characterised as homicide throughout the dark ages. And this seems a monstrously unreasonable stretching of the idea of homicide. Not unreasonable in the case of abortion; though some may doubt (it's a rather academic question, I think, an intensely academic question) the good sense of calling a fertilised ovum a human being. But soon there is something of a human shape; and anyway this is the definite beginning of a human being (or beings in the case of a split - where you get twins - the split occurs soon, at least within two weeks), and if you perform an abortion at that early stage all the same you are destroying that human beginning.

But of course the notion of homicide is just not extendable to most forms of contraception. The reason why it seemed to be so in the dark ages (by the "dark ages" I mean roughly from the 4th—5th centuries on to the 12th, say - I won't make an apology for using the expression—scientifically it was pretty dark) was that it was taken for granted that medical methods were all abortifacient in type. We have to remember that no one knew about the ovum. Then, and in more primitive times, as language itself reveals with its talk of "seed", the woman's body was thought of as being like the ground in which seed was planted. And thus the perishing of the seed once planted would be judged by people of those times to be the same sort of event as we would judge the perishing of a fertilised ovum to be and hence the deliberate bringing about of the one would be just like the deliberate bringing about of the other. So that is the explanation of the curiosity that historically medical contraception was equated with homicide—it was equated with homicide because they thought it was that sort of thing, the sort of thing that destroying a fertilised ovum is.

When Aristotle's philosophy became dominant in the thirteenth century a new (but still erroneous) picture replaced that ancient one: namely that the woman provided the matter, and the man the formative principle of a new conception. This already made that extended notion of "homicide" look untenable - contraception that would prevent the formation would obviously not be destroying something that was already the beginning of new human life. With modern physiological knowledge contraception by medical methods could be clearly distinguished from early abortion, though some contraceptive methods might be abortifacient.

On the other hand intercourse using contraception by mechanical methods was fairly easy to assimilate to the "sin against nature" as defined by St. Thomas. Looking at it like this is aided by the following consideration: suppose that somebody's contraceptive method were to adopt some clearly perverse mode of copulation, one wouldn't want to say he committed two distinct sins, one of perversion and the other of contraception: there'd be just the one evil deed, precisely because the perversity of the mode consists in the physical act being changed so as to be not the sort of act that gets a child at all.

And so the theologians tried to extend the notion of the evil as one of perversity - speaking, for example, of the "perverse use of a faculty" - so as to cover all types of contraception including medical ones which after all don't change the mere physical act into one of the type: "sin against nature".

For with contraception becoming common in this country and the Protestants approving it in the end, the Popes reiterated the condemnation of it. It was clear that the condemnation was of deliberately contraceptive intercourse as a breach of chastity, as "a shameful thing". But the rationale offered by the theologians was not satisfactory. The situation was intellectually extremely distressing. On the one hand, it would have been absurd, wouldn't it? to approve douches, say, while forbidding condoms. On the other hand, the extension of the notion of a perverse act, a deviant act, seemed strained.

Furthermore, while one doesn't have to be learned (nobody has to be learned) or able to give a convincing account of the reasons for a teaching - for remember that the Church teaches with the authority of a divine commission, and the Pope has a prophetical office, not a chair of science or moral philosophy or theology - all the same the moral teaching of the Church, by her own claims, is supposed to be reasonable. Christian moral teachings aren't revealed mysteries like the Trinity. The lack of clear accounts of the reason in the teaching was disturbing to many people. Especially, I believe, to many of the clergy whose job it was to give the teaching to the people.

Again, with effective contraceptive techniques and real physiological knowledge available, a new question came to the fore. I mean that of the rational limitation of families. Because of ignorance, people in former times who did not choose continence could effect such limitation only by obviously vile and disreputable methods. So no one envisaged a policy of seeking to have just a reasonable number of children (by any method other than continence over sufficient periods) as a policy compatible with chastity. Indeed the very notion "a reasonable number of children" could hardly be formulated compatibly with thinking at once decently and realistically. It had to be left to God what children one had.

With society becoming more and more contraceptive, the pressure felt by Catholic married people became great. The restriction of intercourse to infertile periods "for grave reasons" was offered to them as a recourse - at first in a rather gingerly way (as is intelligible in view of the mental background I have sketched) and then with increasing recommendation of it. For in this method the act of copulation was not itself adapted in any way so as to render it infertile, and so the condemnation of acts of contraceptive intercourse as somehow perverse and so as grave breaches of chastity, did not apply to this. All other methods, Catholics were very emphatically taught, were "against the natural law".

Now I'd better pause a bit about this expression "against the natural law". We should notice it as a curiosity that in popular discussion there's usually more mention of "natural law" in connexion with the Catholic prohibition on contraception than in connexion with any other matters. One even hears people talk of "the argument from natural law". It's probable that there's a very strong association of words here: on the one hand through the contrast, "artificial" / "natural" and on the other through the terms "unnatural vice" or "sin against nature" which are labels for a particular range of sins against chastity, that is those acts which are wrong of their kind, which aren't wrong just from the circumstances that the persons aren't married: they're not doing what would be all right if they were married and had good motives - they're doing something really different. That's the range of sins against chastity which got this label "sin against nature".

In fact there's no greater connexion of "natural law" with the prohibition on contraception than with any other part of morality. Any type of wrong action is "against the natural law": stealing is, framing someone is, oppressing people is. "Natural law" is simply a way of speaking about the whole of morality, used by Catholic thinkers because they believe the general precepts of morality are laws promulgated by God our Creator in the enlightened human understanding when it is thinking in general terms about what are good and what are bad actions. That is to say, the discoveries of reflection and reasoning when we think straight about these things are God's legislation to us (whether we realise this or not).

In thinking about conduct we have to advert to laws of nature in another sense. That is, to very general and very well-known facts of nature, and also to ascertained scientific laws. For example, the resources of the earth have to be worked on to supply our needs and enhance our lives: this is a general and well-known fact of nature. Hence there needs to be control over resources by definite owners, be they tribes or states or cities or corporations or clubs or individual people: and this is the institution of property. Laws of nature in a scientific sense will affect the rules about control that it is reasonable to have. The type of installations we need if electricity is to be made available, for example, and the way they work, will be taken into account in framing the laws of the country or city about control of this resource. The institution of property has as its corollary the "law of nature" in the ethical sense, the sense of a law of morality, which forbids stealing. It's useful, very useful, to get clear about all this, it should help us to think and act justly and not to be too mad about property, too.

It was in these various ways that the Pope spoke of natural laws in Humanae Vitae—the expression occurs in all these senses—and the topic of natural law in the ethical sense has not any greater relevance to contraception than to anything else. In particular, it is not because there is a natural law that something artificial is condemned.

The substantive, hard teaching of the Church which all Catholics were given up to 1964 was clear enough: all artificial methods of birth control were taught to be gravely wrong if, before, after, or during intercourse you do something intended to turn that intercourse into an infertile act if it would otherwise have been fertile.

At that time there had already been set up by Pope John in his lifetime a commission to enquire into these things. The commission consisted of economists, doctors and other lay people as well as theologians. Pope John, by the way, spoke of contraception just as damningly as his predecessor: it's a mere lie to suggest he favoured it. Pope Paul removed the matter from the competency of the Council and reserved to the Pope that new judgment on it which the modern situation and the new discoveries - above all, of oral contraceptives—made necessary.

From '64 onwards there was an immense amount of propaganda for the reversal of previous teaching. You will remember it. Then, with the whole world baying at him to change, the Pope acted as Peter. "Simon, Simon," Our Lord said to Peter, "Satan has wanted to have you all to sift like wheat, but I have prayed for thee that thy faith should not fail: thou, being converted, strengthen thy brethren." Thus Paul confirmed the only doctrine which had ever appeared as the teaching of the Church on these things; and in so doing incurred the execration of the world.

But Athenagoras, the Ecumenical Patriarch, who has the primacy of the Orthodox Church, immediately spoke up and confirmed that this was Christian teaching, the only possible Christian teaching.

III

Among those who hoped for a change, there was an instant reaction that the Pope's teaching was false, and was not authoritative because it lacked the formal character of an infallible document. Now as to that, the Pope was pretty solemnly confirming the only and constant teaching of the Church. The fact that an encyclical is not an infallible kind of document only shows that one argument for the truth of its teaching is lacking. It does not show that the substantive hard message of this encyclical may perhaps be wrong - any more than the fact that memory of telephone numbers isn't the sort of thing that you can't be wrong about shows that you don't actually know your own telephone number.

At this point one may hear the enquiry: "But isn't there room for development? Hasn't the situation changed?" And the answer to that is "Yes - there had to be development and there was." That, no doubt, was why Pope John thought a commission necessary and why it took the Pope four years to formulate the teaching. We have to remember that, as Newman says, developments "which do but contradict and reverse the course of doctrine which has been developed before them, and out of which they spring, are certainly corrupt." No other development would have been a true one. But certainly the final condemnation of oral contraceptives is development - and so are some other points in the encyclical.

Development was necessary, partly because of the new physiological knowledge and the oral contraceptives and partly because of social changes, especially concerning women. The new knowledge, indeed, does give the best argument I know of that can be devised for allowing that contraceptives are after all permissible according to traditional Christian morals. The argument would run like this: There is not much ancient tradition condemning contraception as a distinct sin. The condemnations which you can find from earliest times were almost all of early abortion (called homicide) or of unnatural vice. But contraception, if it is an evil thing to do, is distinct from these, and so the question is really open. The authority of the teaching against it, so it is argued, is really only the authority of some recent papal encyclicals and of the pastoral practice in modern times.

Well, this argument has force only to prove the need for development, a need which was really there. It doesn't prove that it was open to the Pope to teach the permissibility of contraceptive intercourse. For how could he depart from the tradition forbidding unnatural vice on the one hand, and deliberate abortion, however early, on the other? On the other hand to say: "It's an evil practice if you do these things; but you may, without evil, practise such forms of contraception as are neither of them”—wouldn't that have been ridiculous? For example, "You shouldn't use withdrawal or a condom, or again an interuterine device. For the former involve you in acts of unnatural vice, and the latter is abortifacient in its manner of working. But you may after all use a douche or a cap or a sterilising pill." This would have been absurd teaching; nor have the innovators ever proposed it.

We have seen that the theological defence of the Church's teaching in modern times did not assimilate contraception to abortion but characterised it as a sort of perversion of the order of nature. The arguments about this were rather uneasy, because it is not in general wrong to interfere with natural processes. So long, however, as contraception took the form of monkeying around with the organs of intercourse or the act itself, there was some plausibility about the position because it really amounted to assimilating contraceptive intercourse to acts of unnatural vice (as some of them were), and so it was thought of.

But this plausibility diminished with the invention of more and more sophisticated female contraceptives; it vanished away entirely with the invention of the contraceptive pill. For it was obvious that if a woman just happened to be in the physical state which such a contraceptive brings her into by art no theologian would have thought the fact, or the knowledge of it, or the use of the knowledge of it, straightaway made intercourse bad. Or, again, if a woman took an anovulant pill for a while to check dysmenorrhea no one would have thought this prohibited intercourse. So, clearly, it was the contraceptive intention that was bad, if contraceptive intercourse was: it is not that the sexual act in these circumstances is physically distorted. This had to be thought out, and it was thought out in the encyclical Humanae Vitae.

Here, however, people still feel intensely confused, because the intention where oral contraceptives are taken seems to be just the same as when intercourse is deliberately restricted to infertile periods. In one way this is true, and its truth is actually pointed out by Humanae Vitae, in a passage I will quote in a moment. But in another way it's not true.

The reason why people are confused about intention, and why they sometimes think there is no difference between contraceptive intercourse and the use of infertile times to avoid conception, is this: They don't notice the difference between "intention" when it means the intentionalness of the thing you're doing - that you're doing this on purpose - and when it means a further or accompanying intention with which you do the thing. For example, I make a table: that's an intentional action because I am doing just that on purpose. I have the further intention of, say, earning my living, doing my job by making the table. Contraceptive intercourse and intercourse using infertile times may be alike in respect of further intention, and these further intentions may be good, justified, excellent. This the Pope has noted. He sketched such a situation and said: "It cannot be denied that in both cases the married couple, for acceptable reasons," (for that's how he imagined the case) "are perfectly clear in their intention to avoid children and mean to secure that none will be born." This is a comment on the two things: contraceptive intercourse on the one hand and intercourse using infertile times on the other, for the sake of the limitation of the family.

But contraceptive intercourse is faulted, not on account of this further intention, but because of the kind of intentional action you are doing. The action is not left by you as the kind of act by which life is transmitted, but is purposely rendered infertile, and so changed to another sort of act altogether.

In considering an action, we need always to judge several things about ourselves. First: is the sort of act we contemplate doing something that it's all right to do? Second: are our further or surrounding intentions all right? Third: is the spirit in which we do it all right? Contraceptive intercourse fails on the first count; and to intend such an act is not to intend a marriage act at all, whether or no we're married. An act of ordinary intercourse in marriage at an infertile time, though, is a perfectly ordinary act of married intercourse, and it will be bad, if it is bad, only on the second or third counts.

It may help you to see that the intentional act itself counts, as well as the further or accompanying intentions, if you think of an obvious example like forging a cheque to steal from somebody in order to get funds for a good purpose. The intentional action, presenting a cheque we've forged, is on the face of it a dishonest action, not be vindicated by the good further intention.

If contraceptive intercourse is permissible, then what objection could there be after all to mutual masturbation, or copulation in vase indebito, sodomy, buggery (I should perhaps remark that I am using a legal term here - not indulging in bad language), when normal copulation is impossible or inadvisable (or in any case, according to taste)? It can't be the mere pattern of bodily behaviour in which the stimulation is procured that makes all the difference! But if such things are all right, it becomes perfectly impossible to see anything wrong with homosexual intercourse, for example. I am not saying: if you think contraception all right you will do these other things; not at all. The habit of respectability persists and old prejudices die hard. But I am saying: you will have no solid reason against these things. You will have no answer to someone who proclaims as many do that they are good too. You cannot point to the known fact that Christianity drew people out of the pagan world, always saying no to these things. Because, if you are defending contraception, you will have rejected Christian tradition.

People quite alienated from this tradition are likely to see that my argument holds: that if contraceptive intercourse is all right then so are all forms of sexual activity. To them that is no argument against contraception, to their minds anything is permitted, so long as that's what people want to do. Well, Catholics, I think, are likely to know, or feel, that these other things are bad. Only, in the confusion of our time, they may fail to see that contraceptive intercourse, though much less of a deviation, and though it may not at all involve physical deviant acts, yet does fall under the same condemnation. For in contraceptive intercourse you intend to perform a sexual act which, if it has a chance of being fertile, you render infertileQua your intentional action, then, what you do is something intrinsically unapt for generation and, that is why it does fall under that condemnation. There's all the world of difference between this and the use of the "rhythm" method. For you use the rhythm method not just by having intercourse now, but by not having it next week, say; and not having it next week isn't something that does something to today's intercourse to turn it into an infertile act; today's intercourse is an ordinary act of intercourse, an ordinary marriage act. It's only if, in getting married, you proposed (like the Manichaeans) to confine intercourse to infertile periods, that you'd be falsifying marriage and entering a mere concubinage. Or if for mere love of ease and hatred of burdens you determined by this means never to have another child, you would then be dishonouring your marriage.

We may be helped to see the distinction by thinking about the difference between sabotage and working-to-rule. Suppose a case where either course will have some typical aim of "industrial action" in view. Whether the aim is justified: that is the first question. But, given that it is justified, it's not all one how it is pursued.

If a man is working to rule, that does no doubt make a difference to the customary actions he performs in carrying out the work he does. It makes them also into actions in pursuit of such-and-such a policy. This is a matter of "further intention with which" he does what he does; admittedly it reflects back on his action in the way I have stated. That is to say: we judge that any end or policy gives a new characterisation of the means or of the detailed things done in executing it. All the same he is still, say, driving this vehicle to this place, which is part of his job.

If, however, he tries to sabotage his actions—he louses up a machine he is purporting to work, for example—that means that qua intentional action here and now his performance in "operating" the machine is not a doing of this part of his job. This holds quite without our having to point to the further intention (of industrial warfare) as reflecting back on his action. (And, N.B. it holds whether or not such sabotage is justified.)

Thus the distinction we make to show that the "rhythm method" may be justified though contraceptive intercourse is not, is a distinction needed in other contexts too.

The anger of the propagandists for contraception is indeed a proof that the limitation of conception by the "rhythm" method is hateful to their spirit. It's derided for not working. But it does work for many. And there were exclamations against the Pope for pressing medical experts to find out more, so that there could be certainty here. The anger I think speaks to an obscure recognition of the difference between ordinary intercourse with abstention at fertile times when you are justified in seeking not to conceive at present, and the practice of contraceptive intercourse.

Biologically speaking, sexual intercourse is the reproductive act just as the organs are named generative organs from their role. Humanly speaking, the good and the point of a sexual act is: marriage. Sexual acts that are not true marriage acts either are mere lasciviousness, or an Ersatz, an attempt to achieve that special unitedness which only a real commitment, marriage, can promise. For we don't invent marriage, as we may invent the terms of an association or club, any more than we invent human language. It is part of the creation of humanity and if we're lucky we find it available to us and can enter into it. If we are very unlucky we may live in a society that has wrecked or deformed this human thing.

This - that the good and the point of a sexual act is marriage - is why only what is capable of being a marriage act is natural sex. It's this that makes the division between straightforward fornication or adultery and the wickedness of the sins against nature and of contraceptive intercourse. Hence contraceptive intercourse within marriage is a graver offence against chastity than is straightforward fornication or adultery. For it is not even a proper act of intercourse, and therefore is not a true marriage act. To marry is not to enter into a pact of mutual complicity in no matter what sexual activity upon one another's bodies. (Why on earth should a ceremony like that of a wedding be needed or relevant if that's what's in question?) Marriage is a mutual commitment in which each side ceases to be autonomous, in various ways and also sexually: the sexual liberty in agreement together is great; here, so long as they are not immoderate so as to become the slaves of sensuality, nothing is shameful, if the complete acts - the ones involving ejaculation of the man's seed - that they engage in, are true and real marriage acts.

IV

That is how a Christian will understand his duty in relation to this small, but very important, part of married life. It's so important in marriage, and quite generally, simply because there just is no such thing as a casual, non-significant, sexual act. This in turn arises from the fact that sex concerns the transmission of human life. (Hence the picture that some have formed and even welcomed, of intercourse now, in this contraceptive day, losing its deep significance: becoming no more than a sort of extreme kiss, which it might be rather rude to refuse. But they forget, I think, the rewardless trouble of spirit associated with the sort of sexual activity which from its type is guaranteed sterile: the solitary or again the homosexual sort.)

There is no such thing as a casual, non-significant sexual act; everyone knows this. Contrast sex with eating - you're strolling along a lane, you see a mushroom on a bank as you pass by, you know about mushrooms, you pick it and you eat it quite casually - sex is never like that. That's why virtue in connection with eating is basically a matter only of the pattern of one's eating habits. But virtue in sex - chastity - is not only a matter of such a pattern, that is of its role in a pair of lives. A single sexual action can be bad even without regard to its context, its further intentions and its motives.

Those who try to make room for sex as mere casual enjoyment pay the penalty: they become shallow. At any rate the talk that reflects and commends this attitude is always shallow. They dishonour their own bodies; holding cheap what is naturally connected with the origination of human life. There is an opposite extreme, which perhaps we shall see in our day: making sex a religious mystery. This Christians do not do. Despite some rather solemn nonsense that's talked this is obvious. We wouldn't, for example, make the sexual organs objects of a cultic veneration; or perform sexual acts as part of religious rituals; or prepare ourselves for sexual intercourse as for a sacrament.

As often holds, there is here a Christian mean between two possible extremes. It is: never to change sexual actions so they are deprived of that character which makes sex so profoundly significant, so deep-going in human life. Hence we would not think of contraceptive intercourse as an exercise of responsibility in regard to sex! Responsibility involves keeping our sexual acts as that kind of act, and recognising that they are that kind of act by engaging in them with good-hearted wisdom about the getting of children. This is the standard of chastity for a married Christian. But it should not be thought that it is against wisdom for poor people willingly to have many children. That is "the wisdom of the flesh, and it is death" (Romans, ch.8 verse 6.) (there's a lot of this death around at present).

Sexual acts are not sacred actions. But the perception of the dishonour done to the body in treating them as the casual satisfaction of desire is certainly a mystical perception. I don't mean, in calling it a mystical perception, that it's out of the ordinary. It's as ordinary as the feeling for the respect due to a man's dead body: the knowledge that a dead body isn't something to be put out for the collectors of refuse to pick up. This, too, is mystical; though it's as common as humanity.

I'm making this point because I want to draw a contrast between two different types of virtue. Some virtues, like honesty about property, and sobriety, are fundamentally utilitarian in character. The very point of them is just the obvious material well-ordering of human life that is promoted if people have these virtues. Some, though indeed profitable, are supra-utilitarian and hence mystical. You can argue truly enough, for example, that general respect for the prohibition on murder makes life more commodious. If people really respect the prohibition against murder life is pleasanter for all of us - but this argument is exceedingly comic. Because utility presupposes the life of those who are to be convenienced, and everybody perceives quite clearly that the wrong done in murder is done first and foremost to the victim, whose life is not inconvenienced, it just isn't there any more. He isn't there to complain; so the utilitarian argument has to be on behalf of the rest of us. Therefore, though true, it is highly comic and is not the foundation: the objection to murder is supra-utilitarian.

And so is the value of chastity. Not that this virtue isn't useful: it's highly useful. If Christian standards of chastity were widely observed the world would be enormously much happier. Our world, for example, is littered with deserted wives - partly through that fantastic con that went on for such a long time about how it was part of liberation for women to have dead easy divorce: amazing - these wives often struggling to bring up young children or abandoned to loneliness in middle age. And how many miseries and hang-ups are associated with loss of innocence in youth! What miserable messes people keep on making, to their own and others' grief, by dishonourable sexual relationships! The Devil has scored a great propaganda victory: everywhere it's suggested that the troubles connected with sex are all to do with frustration, with abstinence, with society's cruel and conventional disapproval. As if, if we could only do away with these things, it would be a happy and life-enhancing romp for everyone; and as if all who were chaste were unhappy, not only unhappy but hardhearted and censorious and nasty. It fitted the temper of the times (this is a rather comic episode) when psychiatrists were asked to diagnose the unidentified Boston Strangler, they suggested he was a sex-starved individual. Ludicrous error! The idea lacks any foundation, that the people who are bent upon and who get a lot of sexual enjoyment are more gentle, merciful and kind than those who live in voluntary continence.

The trouble about the Christian standard of chastity is that it isn't and never has been generally lived by; not that it would be profitless if it were. Quite the contrary: it would be colossally productive of earthly happiness. All the same it is a virtue, not like temperance in eating and drinking, not like honesty about property, for these have a purely utilitarian justification. But it, like the respect for life, is a supra-utilitarian value, connected with the substance of life, and this is what comes out in the perception that the life of lust is one in which we dishonour our bodies. Implicitly, lasciviousness is over and over again treated as hateful, even by those who would dislike such an explicit judgment on it. Just listen, witness the scurrility when it's hinted at; disgust when it's portrayed as the stuff of life; shame when it's exposed, the leer of complicity when it's approved. You don't get these attitudes with everybody all of the time; but you do get them with everybody. (It's much too hard work to keep up the facade of the Playboy philosophy, according to which all this is just an unfortunate mistake, to be replaced by healthy-minded wholehearted praise of sexual fun.)

And here we're in the region of that constant Christian teaching, which we've noticed, that intercourse "merely for the sake of pleasure" is wrong.

This can mislead and perturb. For when is intercourse purely for the sake of pleasure? Some have thought this must mean: when it's not for the sake of getting a child. And so, I believe, I have been told, some Catholic women have actually feared the pleasure of orgasm and thought it wrong, or thought it wrong to look for it or allow oneself to respond to feelings of physical desire. But this is unreasonable and ungrateful to God. Copulation, like eating, is of itself a good kind of action: it preserves human existence. An individual act of eating or copulation, then, can be bad only because something about it or the circumstances of it make it bad. And all the pleasure specific to it will be just as good as it is.

A severe morality holds that intercourse (and may hold this of eating, too) has something wrong about it if it is ever done except explicitly as being required for that preservation of human life which is what makes intercourse a good kind of action. But this involves thoroughly faulty moral psychology. God gave us our physical appetite, and its arousal without our calculation is part of the working of our sort of life. Given moderation and right circumstances, acts prompted by inclination can be taken in a general way to accomplish what makes them good in kind and there's no need for them to be individually necessary or useful for the end that makes them good kinds of action. Intercourse is a normal part of married life through the whole life of the partners in a marriage and is normally engaged in without any distinct purpose other than to have it, just as such a part of married life.

Such acts will usually take place only when desire prompts, and desire is for intercourse as pleasurable; the pleasure, as Aristotle says, perfects the act. But that does not mean that it is done "purely for pleasure". For what that expression means is that sensuality is in command: but that one has intercourse when desire prompts and the desire is for pleasure, does not prove, does not mean, that sensuality is in command. One may rightly and reasonably be willing to respond to the promptings of desire. When that is so, the act is governed by a reasonable mind, even though no considering or reasoning is going on. The fact that one is thus having intercourse when, as one knows, there's nothing against it, makes it a good and a chaste marriage act and a rendering of the marriage debt.

There is indeed such a thing in marriage as intercourse "purely for pleasure"; this is what the Christian tradition did condemn. Marks of it could be: immoderate pursuit of, or preoccupation with sexual pleasure; succumbing to desire against wisdom; insisting against serious reluctance of one's partner. In all these cases but the last both parties may of course be consenting. For human beings often tend to be disorderly and extreme in their sensuality. A simple test of whether one is so is this: could one do without for a few weeks or months in case of need? For anyone may be faced with a situation in which he ought to do without; and he should watch that he does not get into a state in which it is impossible for him. But we ought to remember also, what isn't always remembered, that insensibility and unjustified abstention is also a sin against moderation, and is a defrauding of one's partner.

Well now, people raise the cry of "legalism" (one of the regular accusations of the present day) against this idea which I have taken from the old theologians of "rendering what is owing", the giving the other person this part of married life, which is owing. It embodies the one notion, I would say, that is honest, truthful and quite general. People would rather speak of the expression of mutual love. But what do they mean by "love"? Do they mean "being in love"? Do they mean a natural conjugal affection?

Either of these may be lacking or one-sided. If a kind of love cannot be commanded, we can't build our moral theology of marriage on the presumption that it will be present. Its absence is sad, but this sadness exists, it is very common. We should avoid, I think, using the indicative mood for what is really a commandment like the Scout Law ("A Boy Scout is kind to animals" - it means a Boy Scout ought to be kind to animals). For if we hear: "a Christian couple grow in grace and love together" doesn't the question arise "supposing they don't?" It clears the air to substitute the bite of what is clearly a precept for the sweetness of a rosy picture. The command to a Christian couple is: "Grow in grace and love together." But a joint command can only be jointly obeyed. Suppose it isn't? Well, there remains the separate precept to each and in an irremediably unhappy marriage, one ought still to love the other, though not perhaps feeling the affection that cannot be commanded. Thus the notion of the "marriage debt" is a very necessary one, and it alone is realistic: because it makes no assumption as to the state of the affections.

Looking at the rightness of the marriage act like this will help in another way. It will prevent us from assuming that the pleasant affection which exists between a happy and congenial pair is the fulfilment of the precept of love. (It may after all only be a complacent hiving off together in a narrow love.) We ought absolutely not to give out a teaching which is flattering to the lucky, and irrelevant to the unhappy. Looked at carefully, too, such teaching is altogether too rigorist in a new direction. People who are not quite happily married, not lucky in their married life, but nevertheless have a loyalty to the bond, are not, therefore, bound to abstain from intercourse.

The meaning of this teaching "not purely for pleasure" should, I think, have a great appeal for the Catholic thinking of today that is greatly concerned for the laity. We want to stress nowadays, that the one vocation that is spoken of in the New Testament is the calling of a Christian. All are called with the same calling. The life of monks and nuns and of celibate priesthood is a higher kind of life than that of the married, not because there are two grades of Christian, but because their form of life is one in which one has a greater chance of living according to truth and the laws of goodness; by their profession, those who take the vows of religion have set out to please God alone. But we lay people are not less called to the Christian life, in which the critical question is: "Where does the compass-needle of your mind and will point?" This is tested above all by our reactions when it costs or threatens to cost something to be a Christian. One should be glad if it does, rather than complain! If we will not let it cost anything; if we succumb to the threat of "losing our life", then our religion is indistinguishable from pure worldliness.

This is very far-reaching. But in the matter in hand, it means that we have got not to be the servants of our sensuality but to bring it into subjection. Thus, those who marry have, as we have the right to do, chosen a life in which, as St. Paul drily says, "the husband aims to please his wife rather than the Lord, and the wife her husband, rather than the Lord" but although we have chosen a life to please ourselves and one another, still we know we are called with that special calling, and are bound not to be conformed to the world, friendship to which is enmity to God. And so also we ought to help one another and have co-operative pools of help: help people who are stuck in family difficulties; and have practical resources in our parishes for one another's needs when we get into difficult patches.

The teaching which I have rehearsed is indeed against the grain of the world, against the current of our time. But that, after all, is what the Church as teacher is for. The truths that are acceptable to a time - as, that we owe it as a debt of justice to provide out of our superfluity for the destitute and the starving - these will be proclaimed not only by the Church: the Church teaches also those truths that are hateful to the spirit of an age.

After Virtue
A Study in Moral Theory

Alasdair MacIntyre
Roman Catholic Philosopher

Alasdair MacIntyre is one of the foremost philosophers in our times. He advances a narrative of moral philosophy in which truth in ethics is sought by means of narrating the stories of contending moral traditions. He thinks that the narrative approach to moral philosophy is the way to overcome what he regards as a crisis in moral philosophy. He sights as evidence of this crisis what he considers to be the shrill, interminable, unresolved, and seemingly irresolvable character of modern debate. He writes, ‘It is a central feature of contemporary moral debates that they are unsettable and interminable… Because no argument can be carried through to a victorious conclusion, argument characteristically gives way to the merely and increasingly shrill battle of assertion with counter-assertion.’ (Why is the Search for the Foundations of Ethics So Frustrating? & After Virtue)

MacIntyre argues that the Enlightenment conception of rational enquiry is largely responsible for this unhappy state of affairs. The Enlightenment notion of rational enquiry as impersonal, universal, and disinterested (what he calls the ‘encyclopaedist’ view) or else the unwitting representative of particular interests (the genealogist view) has given rise to rival versions of moral enquiry that are , in MacIntyre’s estimation, misguided and at bottom incommensurable. Because the views of these rival versions have no common basis, debate between them is necessarily rendered sterile.

Given the inadequacy he finds in modern moral philosophy, MacIntyre proposes his narrative approach as the way to overcome, on the one hand, the relativism of genealogists and emotivists (whom MacIntyre sees as the product of the Enlightenment) and, on the other hand, the unsuccessful universalism of encyclopaedists. […] What was lost with the Enlightenment, and what must be recovered, according to MacIntyre, is the conception of rational enquiry as embodied in a tradition. By ‘Tradition’ he means, in the simplest of terms, ‘an argument extended through time’. For MacIntyre, there is no access to truth save by way of tradition, and the only way to understand a tradition is to tell the story of its development. (Brian M. McAdam)

MacIntyre’s masterpiece—After Virtue— is here given free, for non-commercial use, in order to help develop our sense of understanding of the true gravity of the crisis we are living through. Chapters 3, 6, 7, & 8 are especially poignant today.

Heedlessness

Alasdair MacIntyre

On Being a Theistic Philosopher in a Secularised Culture

Alasdair MacIntyre

Absences from Aquinas, Silences in Ireland

Alasdair MacIntyre

Is Friendship Possible?

Alasdair MacIntyre

Common Goods, Frequent Evils

Alasdair MacIntyre

Moral Relativism Reconsidered

Alasdair MacIntyre

What the Natural Sciences Do Not Explain

Alasdair MacIntyre

How to Be a European

Alasdair MacIntyre

Poetic Imaginations, Catholic and Otherwise

Alasdair MacIntyre

Mr. Truman’s Degree

Elizabeth Anscombe
Roman Catholic Philosopher

The Morality of Obliteration Bombing

Fr. John C. Ford
Roman Catholic Theologian

John Henry Newman on the Sense of God in the Conscience

Fr. Edward J. Tyler

‘Moral conscience, present at the heart of the person, enjoins him at the appropriate moment to do good and to avoid evil. It also judges particular choices, approving those that are good and denouncing those that are evil (Romans 1:32). It bears witness to the authority of truth in reference the the supreme Good to which the human person is drawn, and it welcomes the commandments. When he listens to his conscience, the prudent man can hear God speaking. […] The dignity of the human person implies and requires uprightness of moral conscience. Conscience includes the perception of the principles of morality (synderesis); their application in the given circumstances by the practice discernment of reasons and goods; and finally judgement about concrete acts yet to be performed or already performed. The truth about the moral good, stated in the law of reason, is recognised practically and concretely by the prudent judgement of conscience. We call that man prudent who chooses in conformity with this judgement. […] Conscience enables one to assume responsiblity for the acts performed.’ (Catechism of the Catholic Church)

The following book by Fr. Edward Tyler is a presentation of the teaching of St. John Henry Newman on the sense of God in the human conscience as a foundation not only of theism but also of belief in Divine Revelation as a con-natural defence of human reason in face of the predominant Empiricist errors of the 19th century.

The two volumes of his book are offered free for non-commercial use.

We use cookies to analyse data using StatCounter. When using this site, you agree to the use of cookies. Read the PayPal Privacy Policy when making a donation through PayPal. For further information read the Cloyne Diocesan Privacy and Cookie Policy protocols. The following services are used: Google Fonts, Font Awesome, Youtube Video Widget, Youtube Data API, Query Click, Contact Form.