Monday, September 17, 2012

Fr. Daniel Horan, OFM on Catholicism and U.S. Politics

A Franciscan friar (and friend), Fr. Daniel Horan, keeps a blog that is worth reading, called "Dating God: Franciscan Spirituality for the 21st Century."  Fr. Horan's post from today, "A Tale of Two Catholicisms: A Response to Molly Worthen," is a particularly good read, for in it he endeavours to get to the heart of the tension that necessarily exists (or should exist) between Catholicism and allegiance to a political party, whether Republican or Democrat.  What is unfortunate is that this tension is either not acknowledged or, more worrisome, not felt by many Catholics within this country. 

With Fr. Horan's permission, I am pasting his blog post below.  While I myself tend to lean these days toward Dorothy Day's Catholic anarchism, and so feel more than a little ambiguous about my participation in the political process through voting, such ambiguity is definitely a minority perspective these days.  For Catholic and non-Catholic Christians who are planning to vote, Fr. Horan's post is, I think, insightful.

Photo from
This weekend’s opinion piece in the New York Times titled, “Catholics and the Power of Political Communion,” by Molly Worthen, a professor of history at UNC Chapel Hill, is sure to encourage a lot of discussion among Catholics (and non-Catholics, for that matter) of all stripes. Then again, that seems to be the point of her opinion piece. At the core of her essay stands the pressing question of late: Why do people think Republicans are now ‘the Catholic party’ and why don’t the democrats, the traditional party of American Catholicism, do anything about that? This question, likely on many of the minds of women and men from all backgrounds in this country, is treated with the writing skill of someone who has a background in journalism (Professor Worthen once interned at TIME magazine) and the discipline of a scholar. While some of her characterizations do not exactly hit the mark, the overarching presentation seems reasonably grounded in the conditions of our political age and the present cultural climate.

The Questions of “The Catholic Party” and “Being a Good Catholic”
Citing American-Catholic luminaries the likes of Dorothy Day (who is currently on the official road to canonical sainthood in the Roman Catholic Church) and Thomas Merton (who should be on that same road!), Worthen makes the observation that Catholicism is not a singular party-line tradition. Quite the contrary. She writes:
Allowing Republicans to claim the mantle of Catholicism might cost the Democrats the election. As commentators have noted, Catholics may be the nation’s most numerous swing voters. Over the past few decades, Democratic leaders have alienated voters in one of the party’s historically strong constituencies. Through a series of ideological moves and cultural misjudgments, they have also cut themselves off from a rich tradition of liberal Catholic thought at a time when American culture requires politicians to articulate a mission that inspires religious and secular voters alike.
The Catholicism of Sister Campbell and Mr. Biden is a natural fit for Democrats. It is the faith of social justice activists like Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton, the church whose pope pleaded for relief of the “misery and wretchedness pressing so unjustly on the majority of the working class” in an 1891 encyclical.
And she is correct.

You can “be a good Catholic” as a member of the Republican party and you can “be a good Catholic” as a member of the Democratic party. The contention arises, however, when the discourse shifts from a party affiliation for general political and cultural ideals toward an insistence that if you are a registered member of a given party, then you must espouse every item on that party’s platform.

The truth is that if you “espouse every item” on either party’s platform, then you cannot ”be a good Catholic” from an objective standpoint. That goes for Democrats and Republicans.
Abortion is frequently seen as the “litmus test” of political Catholicism, but it is not the only “intrinsically evil” and morally problematic position found in either party’s platform. As the public discussion has made clear in recent months, issues like the national budget, tax systems, care for the most vulnerable in society, war, torture, gun control, capital punishment, and the like, are all important issue in Catholic moral teaching. The Republican party platform bears comparatively grievous moral deficiencies to that of the Democratic party. And to suggest, as some do in the public square and (shamefully) from the pulpit, that you can vote for one candidate or another as a Catholic, while not for the opponent, is a lie of the highest degree in this country’s political system.

All major candidates are imperfect Catholic candidates. Which is why JFK, Mario Cuomo, and others have been remembered in the American History books for their reiteration of the Church’s teaching on the role of government and the United States’s constitution concerning the relationship between a politician’s personal religious beliefs and his or her exercise of political office. As one professor of constitutional law reminded me not long ago, the only time that religion appears in the US Constitution (not the amendments/Bill of Rights, but the body of the Constitution proper) appears in Article 6:
The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States (emphasis added).
This is not to suggest that voters are to disregard their religious beliefs and moral convictions in the voting booth, as if such a compartmentalization is even possible. Instead, as the United States Bishops have continually taught (although many bishops and their brother priests would be well-served to re-read this text), the Church holds that the “well-formed conscience” is the ultimate arbiter of moral decision-making (see USCCB, “Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship“). As Roman Catholics and “Faithful Citizens,” we are form our consciences in the rich tradition of our faith and use our experience, reason, and moral resources to guide our political actions.

But in order to do so legitimately, we must be “cafeteria politicos.” Aspects of each party’s platform inherently contradict what we, as Catholics, recognize as central to our faith. In many cases the foundational principle is the same: the dignity and value of human life. On the Democratic side, as has been repeatedly been made known, abortion is one such issue. More recently, I would argue along with many excellent moral theologians (here as well), that the Obama Administration’s position on drone strikes overseas poses a serious moral threat.

On the flip side, the Republican national platform bears a number of positions that, likewise, fly in the face of central Catholic moral teaching. Among the several issues to be shirked are those related to the economy and budget (which favors the wealthy and corporations over the marginalized and poor, in contrast to the Church’s teaching), the party’s position on firearms (“Gun ownership is responsible citizenship,” whereas the Church teaches “no firearms for citizens“), among others.

There is, however, such a thing as morality-informed voting, and this is something that Catholics — as well as people of all religious traditions — should take seriously. There may very well be a “right” and “wrong” choice for one’s local or national civil leadership, but this is not something prescribed (or, as was made horribly clear in the 2004 presidential race, proscribed) from above. While some might seek to interpret the differences in Cardinal Dolan’s prayers at the respective political conventions this year (see Rick Hertzberg’s ‘Talk of the Town’ brief in this week’s The New Yorker), and perhaps with good reason, the symbolism of the USCCB’s President present at both conventions can serve to illustrate the possibility of “faithful citizenship” on all sides.

One has to look at the big picture in making an informed and well-grounded electoral decision, because to look at any one issue on either side is to distort the principle of acting in line with one’s well-formed conscience.

The Shift in Catholic Political Association
Returning to Worthen’s essay, how do we understand this popular association between the Republican party and Catholicism? Worthen suggests that this is due, in part, to the “marginalization” that the broader Democratic party has forced upon portions of the Catholic electorate in recent decades. Worthen offers some theses on this question:
The Democratic Party has marginalized progressive Catholic intellectuals for the same reason that Rome has: because they habitually challenge sacred doctrines. In the days of John F. Kennedy, American Catholics voted Democrat by default. But things got rocky as Richard M. Nixon capitalized on the resentments of many “white ethnic” (often Catholic) voters in the wake of the civil rights movement. At the same time, Democrats began to take a harder line on abortion. By the late 1980s, they had transformed Roe v. Wade into a non-negotiable symbol of gender equality and lost interest in dialogue with abortion opponents…
Republicans have learned to borrow insights and rhetorical tools from the Christian tradition, yet Democrats have not turned to liberal Catholicism in the same spirit. To do so would not be cynical or devious, but a recognition that politicians need to communicate in language that resonates with their constituents — and that human nature does not change. For centuries, theologians have wrestled with the same fundamental problems that face us today. Even the most zealous atheists have something to learn from St. Augustine (an Augustinian might see legalized abortion less as a bulwark against the “war on women” than as an imperfect measure that grapples with the reality of suffering in a fallen world)
I do not necessarily agree with Worthen’s description of “liberal Catholics.” This sort of rhetoric, a tool found commonly used among the cable-news punditry, is entirely misleading. “Liberal” and “Conservative” are demarcators that are wholly relative. Take me for instance. In some circles I’m frequently accused of being a “liberal,” because I embrace the tenets of Catholic Social Teaching as constitutive of public discourse and civil-decision-making, I raise questions of a theological and frequently ecclesiological nature, and I, as one striving to be a good Franciscan in the tradition of Francis of Assisi, identify with “the people” more than I do with a “clerically privileged elite,” among other reasons.  Yet, I am also frequently accused of being a “conservative,” because I hold true to certain tenets of sacramental theology and liturgy, I do strongly maintain confessional beliefs from within a tradition, I have given my life as a member of a religious order, and I have likewise devoted my gifts to the study of theology, among other reasons.

And, for the record, neither Dorothy Day nor Thomas Merton would recognize the label “liberal” that Worthen associates with their identity and memory.

Nevertheless, the point that Worthen is making is an important one. The modus operandi of many Catholic Democrats is not one that lends itself to black-and-white thinking, but instead, as Worthen puts it, is more nuanced.
Reconciling religious tradition with modernity is a more nuanced endeavor than defending orthodoxy from any murmur of compromise, and allying with the poor is not a recipe for easy fund-raising. But if liberal Catholic ideas are not great fodder for culture-war sloganeering, they do offer a path to secular Democrats who, at the moment, are failing to address the basic questions of the human predicament.
What is needed, it seems, is a shift in the manner of public and civil discourse. We must all engage in the serious questions of how to work together for “the common good” and guarantee the condition for the possibility of “human flourishing” in all parts of our communities: local, national, and global.

Where to Go From Here: Knowledge, Prayer, Reflection, and Action
There is no clear-cut path and easy answers are exactly what they should appear to be: too good to be true! If you hear television pundits, newspaper columnists, local church ministers, or your neighbor across the street attempt to offer you a seemingly “black and white” answer to a question of faith and politics, be respectfully critical of such a view (do not criticize, but be critical in your assessment, reflection, and thinking).

The Christian tradition is clear on some very important moral norms and universal dispositions one should have if he or she claims to be a follower of Christ. The inherent dignity and value of all life (born, unborn, human, and the rest of creation alike!) is one such tenet. However, how that tenet is actualized in practice and legislation is another story. We have to ask with confidence whether or not something is a manipulative campaign promise to elicit support from a particular demographic, or if the action reflects the words. What actions have actually been done, can be done, and should be done to make our society and world a better place for all of God’s creation? It is this sort of reflection that we must keep in the forefront of our minds as we discern our positions in a given time and place.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Merton on Ecumenism

Ecumenism is on my mind.  Actually, it is never really far from my mind given that my own family is itself an inter-church family, with myself as a Roman Catholic and my wife as an Episcopalian.  But ecumenism is even more in my thoughts as we approach the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Second Vatican Council.  I'm currently making my way through the recently published English translation of Yves Congar's My Journal of the Council, and am fascinated by the overwhelming concern Congar had that the Roman Catholic church turn its attention to dialogue with Christians of other traditions.  I'm only at the beginning of this incredible journal, but his ecumenical concern is found on almost every page.

And this afternoon, while re-reading Thomas Merton's Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, I came across this beautiful paragraph on the relationship between ecclesial unity and the unity that must exist within ourselves.
If I can unite in myself the thought and the devotion of Eastern and Western Christendom, the Greek and the Latin Fathers, the Russians with the Spanish mystics, I can prepare in myself the reunion of divided Christians.  From that secret and unspoken unity in myself can eventually come a visible and manifest unity of all Christians.  If we want to bring together what is divided, we can not do so by imposing one division upon the other or absorbing one division into the other.  But if we do this, the union is not Christian.  It is political, and doomed to further conflict.  We must contain divided worlds in ourselves and transcend them in Christ.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Cardinal Martini's Last Interview

Much has been written in the past few days about Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, former archbishop of Milan, who died last Friday.  Cardinal Martini was a much loved and respected figure, and by all accounts, a figure highly valued by Pope Benedict XVI.  Yet I've unfortunately read some incredibly uncharitable remarks about him since his death.  One 'tweet' I read, written by a self-proclaimed 'conservative' Catholic, thanked God that Cardinal Martini was dead.  And a blog post, written anonymously (of course), expressed similar sentiments: "[T]he Militant Church is better off without those who think and act against the whole purpose of the hierarchy - handing down unaltered that which they received.  Without those who did all they could and still do all they can do to infuse the hierarchy with pure evil and relativistic rot."


Is this where we all start singing, "They will know we are Christians by our love?"

Some of the anger being expressed is in reaction to Cardinal Martini's last interview, conducted earlier in August and published posthumously.  It is unsurprising that the media immediately gravitated to one line of the interview, in which Cardinal Martini said, "The Church is 200 years behind."  Those who consider themselves liberal or conservative Catholics immediately followed the media's lead and focused their attention on those words, without carefully reading the entire interview itself.

I've read through the interview a number of times (one can read a good translation of the entirety here), and it seems to me that the primary focus of his interview is on the church simply living out the gospel it proclaims.  Of particular import is the first paragraph of the interview:
The Church is tired, in prosperous Europe and in America. Our culture is out of date; our Churches are big; our religious houses are empty, and the Church’s bureaucratic apparatus is growing, and our rites and our vestments are pompous. Do such things really express what we are today? ... Prosperity weighs us down. We find ourselves like the rich young man who went away sad when Jesus called him to become his disciple. I know that it’s not easy to leave everything behind. At least could we seek people who are free and closer to their neighbors, as Bishop Romero was and the Jesuit martyrs of El Salvador? Where among us are heroes to inspire us? We must never limit them by institutional bonds.
Perhaps it is because I completed Jim Forest's wonderful biography of Dorothy Day, All Is Grace, over the weekend, but it struck me that the message Cardinal Martini conveys here is precisely the message embodied by such Christians as Dorothy Day.  Cardinal Martini is calling the Church back to the gospel, back to the message and example of Jesus Christ.  He is calling the Church to become a Church of the poor, and he suggests that the bureaucracy and wealth of the Church holds it back from being that which Christ calls it to be - the nascent Kingdom of God, in which the 'normal' rules of society don't apply.  In reality he is saying very little that is new.  But it is significant, nonetheless, when it comes from the lips of one such as him.

His message seems to me to be quite valid, and is one that, I would hope, transcends the 'conservative/liberal' divide.  But it worries me that there exists in the Church a form of ecclesiolatry that will accept no criticism of the Church as valid, that will bear no talk that the Church is less than what it is supposed to be, and that will thank God when one, who loved the Church enough to exhort it to become more fully the body of Christ, is dead

Pray for us, Cardinal Martini.