AA On Having Been Catholic (2)
Religious heritage, secular life
I’m not sure when I first tried to find a copy of The Heart of Man. Written by Dominican priest Gerald Vann, its theme had stayed with me through decades: A good life depends essentially on love and work, love in all its forms, work as meaningful, useful effort. Finally I finally found a copy -- online, of course — and during the search I learned that Freud had made Vann’s points earlier. No matter; the book remains dear to me.
Not everything in it, of course, still reaches me. Its mid-century language is sexist. (The major sections are “Man the Lover” and “Man the Maker.”) The tone is pontifical. The author assumes that his insights are uniquely Catholic, when they’re far broader. The central values of Catholicism, like those of the other world religions, do not depend on theology.
Secular philosophy
Those values shaped much of my work in academic philosophy. One good example is Vann’s reverence for the material world, which flows from Catholicism as a sacramental religion, one in which practice is as important as belief. That attitude informs my argument for what I call ‘earthly virtue’: an appreciation and respect for the physical world, as given in nature but also as shaped by human hands.
Other points from Catholic theology also play a role in secular philosophy. “Just war” theory, for instance, is significant in political theory. (I learned it first in grade school. Despite the triumphalism of those post-war years, I was taught that bombing cities was wrong, no matter who did it.) What we now call social justice was also imperative: Workers had a right to a living wage, unions were morally important. (We talked about whether sympathy strikes are justified. Does anyone now even understand the term?) In bioethics the principle of double effect is often invoked.
Principled lives
I notice with pleasure when someone’s Catholicism underlies their compassion or thirst for justice. Moon Landrieu, New Orleans mayor who removed Confederate statues, says so explicitly. Dr. Paul Farmer, who pursued high-quality health care for even the poorest, cited the Church’s “Preferential Option for the Poor.” Priests are the only remaining public critics of oppression in Nicaragua. Sister Anne Brooks, a physician, founded Mississippi’s Tutwiler Clinic. Her warmth and practicality shaped its work.
Views from the post-Catholic margins
On Parochiaid:
I’m comfortable with the Supreme Court decision allowing Maine to support its religious schools, in narrow circumstances. Some, horrified by the decision, seem to picture the Church as a hulking evil, eager to grab power. But Canadian provinces fund Catholic schools, in the name of justice; the sky has yet to fall. England and France do much the same, the latter despite a secularism (laïcité) that dwarfs ours.
Could or should we do the same? I don’t know. But it is at least reasonable to give parochial schools whatever aid is given to other private schools.
Indian residential schools
The horrors of these schools are well known. The extent of complicity is less well known; this was far from a uniquely Catholic enterprise. Many Christian denominations ran these schools, usually with enthusiastic governmental support. Spreading the blame does not lessen it, but complicating a story brings us closer to truth, and to wisdom.
Health care
Sometimes the only hospital in a remote area is Catholic, and therefore does not provide abortions. Not good. But as much as I disagree with the position, I recognize it as a matter of conscience. I can also take a step back and ask why there’s only one hospital around. Probably a community of nuns spent their lives building it, in a location that’s still unprofitable.
But another claim of conscience persuades me not at all. One “Christian” employer objected to providing insurance covering anti-HIV meds, claiming it made him complicit in homosexual behavior. This week a Federal judge agreed. I am glad to learn that many Catholic ethicists do not.
Lighter remarks
Wondering whether that “Christian” activist was Catholic, I discovered that he belongs to Bear Creek Bible Church. Clearly, he’s Protestant. (Catholic attitudes about scripture roughly mirror those about individual conscience. But that’s a subject for another day.)
St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin is Protestant. Say it isn’t so!
On language: For me, and I thought for anyone raised Catholic, ‘schism’ starts with a hard “s,” as in ‘sin.’ But several friends, raised Catholic, pronounce it “skism.” So let me test another private theory: how do you pronounce the name of the Bishop of Hippo? AUG’usteen, or uhGUS’tin?
Let me know. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.
AfterWords
I began these two essays by highlighting the complexities of following one’s conscience. (To press that issue, consider that most of those running Indian boarding schools were acting “in good conscience.”) I’m ending — for now —with the complexities of respecting another’s conscience. In bioethics this is a live and serious policy question: Should health care professionals be required to provide care that they believe violates their conscience? See any bioethics textbook, or a scholarly overview of the issue.
Jennifer: I say uhGUS'tin, for the saint; but AUG'usteen for the city in Florida. One of the parishes in my home town was St. Augustine's, and everyone I knew pronounced it as I do -- including the possessive at the end. AuGUStin's. Short for St. Augustine's parish, I suppose. And often we left off the "St."
The diocese cathedral was Our Lady of Lourdes, which we usually called simply "Lord's." Language is as vibrant as religion is. Both live!
And I thank you, Jacqueline. I am an agnostic rather than an atheist; otherwise I entirely agree. Religion has never ceased to interest me, and one day I'll write more about it generically rather than specifically. For now, as you suggest, far from being meaningless, religion provides meaning, especially in the face of suffering. It is most fundamentally a community of meaning.