By What Right Have Super-Secularist Opinion Makers Elevated Themselves To Be Only Spokespeople For Western Values?



If nothing's sacred then we are in trouble

• by: ANGELA SHANAHAN
• From:The Australian
• September 29, 201212:00AM

 

IN June I had the privilege of moderating the 10th Abrahamic faiths conference in Sydney. The theme of the conference was the family. We were a pretty mixed lot of Jews, Christians and Muslims, and, interestingly, all the speakers were women. 

  

Naturally, as mothers and grandmothers we found some very strong unifying ideals. We all acknowledged the social function of the family; but because this was a conference based on our common faith heritage, we also strongly confirmed that for Christians, Muslims and Jews alike the family belongs not just in the realm of the everyday but in the realm of the sacred. It is the image of the eternal bond between God the Father and man, his creature.
One of the most moving and strongly expressed addresses on this topic came from the keynote speaker, Maha Abdo, a highly respected Muslim female activist and executive officer of the United Muslim Women Association.

Thinking back on the conference, I realised that perhaps one of the worst aspects of what occurred in Sydney and across the world in the past few weeks is the loss of respect for decent, ordinary people.

In the rush to condemn the violence and analyse its causes, not only have we ignored many of the things we have in common with Australians of the Islamic faith but some of the opinionated have started to condemn all faiths. Atheists and the superficial secularists have seen an opportunity to weigh in and condemn all religion, and particularly what sparked all this: the idea of blasphemy.

We in Australia are used to ignorance about religion, but this reaction is almost as extreme as that of the Muslims in Hyde Park. It is a kind of reverse intolerance. It declares, by some perverse logic, such as that of US political scientist Emanuele Ottolenghi, that the shocking Muslim reaction to blasphemy justifies further trampling on the intimation of the sacred, an intimation that all religions, not just Muslims, have in common.

Accordingly we get the puerile and quite revolting notion that pornographic images and blasphemy are equated with freedom of speech. Liberty is not merely being unconstrained by blasphemy laws, as in Australia, but we must deliberately go out of our way to insult, to commit blasphemy, so that, to quote one correspondent, Islamists can "catch up with the rest of the world on freedom of speech and freedom of religion".

Does one need further proof that some commentators simply don't get the problem Islam has with the West at all?

Another aspect of the fallout from the riots in Sydney is that although it has complex origins, we have fallen into two glib camps. You are either a proponent of "Western values" and secular "freedom" or else you are naively on the side of the "mad Islamists", a victim of "moral relativism".

By what right have the super-secularist opinion makers, who despise the sense of sacredness common to all religious people, elevated themselves to be the only spokespeople for "Western values"? Meanwhile, the religious traditions that attempt to put themselves into the public square on social issues with coherent, ancient, common philosophies are derided as irrelevant and narrowly religious.

Our understanding of our origins, particularly of the Judeo-Christian moral tradition, is so pathetically weak. How can we attempt to combat the real clash of cultures that Islamo-fascism presents to the West when we don't really understand or respect our own tradition? Hence we have no real yardstick to judge freedom of speech and freedom of religion.

Blasphemy? Who cares? That is the message from those for whom religion, the numinous, the spiritual in general, is a no-go area in the great democratic-values free-for-all. And what values would those be, exactly? The values that allow 100,000 abortions every year, the values that try to equate any sexual relationship with the sacred relationship that can of itself generate children, the very nucleus of the family? And what about that "value" of free speech? A great value, to be sure - unless you are Cory Bernardi.

And where do these values come from? The opinionistas usually identify them with great pomposity and certitude as Enlightenment values. Was that the Enlightenment that produced the United States of America, or the Enlightenment that produced the Terror and then the Directoire? What of the values that produced the Decalogue? They are beyond the ken of many of the opinionists.

We will never understand the human in each other unless we understand what other human beings hold sacred. What is more, we cannot understand others' sense of the sacred unless we take the time and make the effort to understand what we should hold sacred.

The problem is we have lost that sense. We are completely cut off from our Judeo-Christian roots, so we know nothing about how to argue about religion. What relevance can Pakistani blasphemy laws have for us, even if they are abhorrent? We point the finger at others but it is partly an attempt to compensate for our own intolerances. Anti-blasphemy laws make more sense than the "hate speech" laws we have at present, which can cause a person to be quite arbitrarily hauled up before "human rights" tribunals, the secular equivalent of blasphemy tribunals.

I, for one, am fed up with having to put up with anti-Christian blasphemy. I can't see how Enlightenment values are helped by this. Paul Kelly touched on this; it stems from the notion that there are no sacred domains.

Today's secularism is merely disdain for religion. In fact, there is a growing body of opinion that religion is dangerous. The voices of religion do have to compete in the same arena as every other idea - no matter how lacking in philosophical depth - but respect all around, especially for dearly held beliefs, is not such a bad thing.

I have lived among Jews in the eastern suburbs and Muslims in southwest Sydney. I have often sat with Muslims and Jews, intelligent people with strong religious and secular ideals, keen to co-operate with and understand one another. It is very wrong to characterise all Muslims as nutters.

However, as some imams have pointed out, there are plenty of ignorant ones, and there are plenty of young and unemployed ones. The mean Muslim birthrate is four times the national average and, especially in southwest Sydney, Muslim unemployment rates are more than double the average.

Surely this combination, as the English experience shows, leads to a drift towards crazy fundamentalist do-it-yourself garage mosques. Whether the drift continues is partly up to us.

The marginalisation of young Muslims is not the reason for the recent outbreak. It is being fomented by extremists taking advantage of the large numbers of Muslim youth. But neither is marginalising them the answer.

We can't trivialise, insult and stamp on things that people hold sacred and, at the same time, expect to have our own vague ideas held sacred.

The only answer to this is for all the people who do still have some reverence for real values, not just of the Enlightenment but perhaps those contained in the Decalogue that preceded it by thousands of years, to speak out.

...

Taken from: http://www.theaustralian.com.au/opinion/columnists/if-nothings-sacred-then-we-are-in-trouble/story-fn562txd-1226482843571

The Erosion of Christendom and the Predicament of Science



PHILIP BURCHAM

QUADRANT JUNE 2012

Some twenty years ago, I was a young science lecturer struggling with my first job at an institution of higher learning in Adelaide—famous of course as our "City of Churches"—a now embarrassing epithet reflecting Adelaide's one-time status as a key centre of Nonconformist Protestantism. Just returned from scientific training in the USA, I was feeling the anxiety that afflicts new academics finding themselves alone in lecture halls filled with critical, hard-to-impress late-teens: how the dickens do I hold their attention for the next forty-five minutes?

Returning to my department after a lecture one day, I mentioned my frustrations to a senior colleague. He was growing nostalgic upon nearing retirement and said something memorable that morning running along these lines: "Ah yes—things were much better in the early sixties when I started out. The little blighters used to grow up in church. They learned to sit still and pay attention to the sermon. It made our job as lecturers much easier."

His throwaway observation opens rarely acknowledged doors to key questions concerning the consequences of the twentieth-century decline in religious observance for the Australian educational sector in general, and for science education in particular. While recent articles in Quadrant have discussed the travails of the humanities in Australian universities, my time as a teaching researcher in two sandstone institutions leads me to suspect that the malaise on modern campuses also afflicts the basic sciences. In my estimation, most Australian teaching departments that carry responsibilities for educating undergraduates in the core scientific disciplines are now doing it hard on several fronts. Yet rather than catalogue these difficulties, this article seeks to explore the more fundamental issue of the possible associations between the declining public influence of Christianity and the health of the scientific enterprise.

Admittedly, from the standpoint of the "hard secularism" currently dominating Australian academia, the terrain I will cover is bizarre and out- of-bounds. The term "hard secularism" denotes an insistent naturalistic worldview that denies legitimacy to any religious belief and strives to exclude all traces of religion from the educational arena. This outlook contrasts with a "soft secularism" that accords freedom of expression and association to different religious groups, yet in the interest of promoting the common good, seeks to minimise dominance of public policy by narrow sectarian viewpoints. Some trace the origins of soft secularism to the sixteenth-century Anabaptists and their theological progeny, but this outlook is probably compatible with most strands of modern Christian belief Advocates of soft secularism usually concede the beneficial influences of religion on the development of our civilisation, in contrast to hard secularists who typically identify the church as the chief bogeyman of Western history, condemning it as an obscurantist opponent of social progress and scientific advancement. Indeed, a triumphalist view of science is a hallmark of the hard secularist mindset, as its proponents typically view scientific investigation as yielding a high degree of epistemic certainty that contrasts with the errors and follies bred by religion. On this triumphalist view, since it rests upon ignorance and irrational faith, religious commitment is expected to progressively decline in the face of inevitable advances in scientific knowledge. The future unquestionably belongs to science.

With the advantage of hindsight, it seems that hard secularism unintentionally fostered unwarranted complacency concerning the future of not just science, but also the science education sector. This outlook took much for granted, including the assumption that modern science is a self-sustaining endeavour that can thrive in a socio-cultural milieu in which Christian theistic convictions exert little public influence. It may also have underestimated the challenges involved in sustaining the social values needed to preserve a scientific culture over the long term. Again, these tendencies are understandable in retrospect since it follows that if one harbours glowing expectations of the inevitable triumph of science, then the teaching of science is expected to naturally—even inexorably—become easier in inverse proportion to extent of the influence of religion in society. We science educators assumed that with each generation of freshers progressively less encumbered by religious superstition, their minds would be more receptive to scientific facts. Surely, a Golden Age of Science beckoned just over the horizon!

I fervently believed this rose-coloured scenario in my youth. Although raised in a solidly Protestant home, I stuffed my adolescent head with books by secular advocates of scientific triumphalism such as Carl Sagan, Isaac Asimov and H.G. Wells. While church involvement was such an ingrained feature of family life that I never contemplated ceasing at least a perfunctory participation, the glowing picture of the future of science painted by these authors strongly influenced my decision not to follow my father into a religiously-based vocation. I suspect my elder brother felt much the same way when he embarked on an engineering degree ten years before I started my BSc. The fact that my parents borrowed from a famous nineteenth-century British Nonconformist preacher for my brother's middle name did not sway us to embrace a religious calling.

We were part of the large cohort of Baby Boomer boys who grew up during the Cold War, were fascinated by the struggle for technological supremacy between the Free World and the USSR, and more or less reflexively flooded into careers in science and technology. Our career choices did not flow from antipathy towards religion of the cantankerous twenty-first-century "New Atheist" kind: we simply thought that since Protestantism was losing its grip on the Australian soul then the science and technology fields would provide more secure futures. The fact that the congregation in which I spent my teenage years included several academic scientists also shaped my choice. My peers in the parish youth group likely reached similar conclusions: I can recall nine of us who concurrently completed science degrees of one kind or another. Most were happy to assist our congregation in a voluntary capacity, but in my case, the best I hoped for was that our church would survive as a tiny island of Protestant profession amidst a vast and swelling cultural ocean of scientific rationality.

On completing my PhD I needed to decide whether I should pursue a career in academia or the private sector. I opted for academia, guided again by optimistic expectations nourished by my diet of triumphalist science writers: most of the sci-fi literature I enjoyed in my youth imagined glowing futures in which scientific knowledge was highly valued and widely disseminated. A typical sample of this sunny optimism appears in the celebrated 1901 novel by H.G. Wells, The First Men in the Moon. The book recounts a trip to the moon by two adventurers, Mr Bedford and Dr Cavor. On reaching their destination, they encounter the Selenites, an anatomically strange yet blissful species that maintains a technologically superior secular society beneath the lunar surface. According to Wells's ever-vivid imagination, the Selenites had hitched the powers of the evolutionary process to the possibilities afforded by surgical intervention to create numerous variants of their kind that possessed unique talents—including a mathematically proficient subspecies capable of great computational feats. It seems that producing these individuals was a proverbial cake-walk.

If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end. They check any incipient disposition to other pursuits, they encourage his mathematical bias with a perfect psychological skill. His brain grows, or at least the mathematical faculties of his brain grow, and the rest of him only so much as necessary to sustain this essential part of him. At last, save for rest and food, his one delight lies in the exercise and display of his faculty, his one interest in its application, his sole society with other specialists of his own line.

There you go—making mathematicians really is a doddle: just crank the appropriate handle or press the right buttons, and the educational system can supply dedicated individuals in whatever numbers needed! Such gung-ho optimism concerning the ease of maintaining a proficient scientific culture within future secular societies pervades the sci-fi genre.

Perhaps critical re-evaluation of the myths embraced in one's youth is a normal accompaniment of middle age, but I am increasingly sceptical of the happy scenarios painted by sci-fi novelists and authors of popular triumphalist tomes. Where are all the young scientists we should expect under their paradigm? If the prevalent "triumph of secularism + religious decline = boom time for science" equation is correct, given the thoroughness with which Christianity has been purged from our state schools and the public square, where are the youngsters who ought to have flooded into science? If religion is as inhibitory of science as hard secularists would have us believe, since the influence of the churches over recent generations of young Aussies has sharply receded, should not the brakes on the research enterprise have been released? Surely our cities should be swarming with them: pesky young microbiologists ought to be pinching your bus seat during the morning rush-hour; lanky nanotechnologists should be obscuring your line of sight at the footy.

According to recent reports, the numbers in Australia are running directly counter to the happy expectations raised by triumphalists, suggesting that while the project to secularise Australia's youth has succeeded admirably, the promised windfall of scientific rationality has not eventuated. For example, a comprehensive 2010 study found that Australian university enrolments in maths, physics and chemistry had fallen by so to 70 per cent in the past two decades. In late 2011 a report from the Australian Academy of Science announced similar trends in high school science enrolments. The latter study was reported with bleak headlines across the nation—"Science is out of Equation in High Schools" announced the Daily Telegraph, while the Advertiser moaned that "Australian Students Dump Science".

Unhappily, these trends are not unique to Australia. A year or two ago, during an interview with the US-based Chemical & Engineering News, a recruitment manager at a large multinational chemical company noted that "even though Generation Y is a big group, when you begin to look at how few of these people actually go into science and engineering, it gets very frightening very quickly". Due to this perception, following the 2008 financial crisis his company resisted the instinctive US corporate urge to shed thousands of jobs. The manager reported that his company planned to retain older scientists by offering flexible hours as they reach retirement age. These Band-Aid solutions are fine, but I don't relish the prospect of hoofing around my sprawling campus on a Zimmer frame!

Yet challenging demographic trends are not the only issue facing the demoralised Australian science education community. Eavesdrop on researchers conversing in a departmental tea room and you will hear a litany of complaints that, when taken together, suggest the scientific sector is facing strong headwinds. They'll speak of being abandoned by the managers running their universities to an environment dominated by funding cuts and heavy administrative requirements; of the disappearance of institutional funds to support the training of young scientists in lab-based research methods; of the cultivation of a caste system in Australian science that relegates staff in teaching departments to a resource-depleted "untouchable" underclass; of the devaluing of basic research in favour of ostensibly profit-yielding "translational" studies; of perpetual internal instability due to managerial obsession with finding the perfect institutional structure; of a cavalier "top-down" approach to curriculum reform that corrodes the education of young scientists; of legalistic ethics-approval processes and a tide of health and safety regulations.

What accounts for the declining interest in science among young Australians? The unprecedented ubiquity of the trivialising and distracting pop culture is one possibility, as is the seemingly lower priority assigned to maths and science teaching in our secondary schools. Alternatively, most practising Australian scientists blame the lack of adequate career structures or long-term job prospects. To my mind however, such problems are secondary manifestations of deeper and less obvious causes of our emerging lack of interest in science.

The heretical hypothesis developed here is that the growing disregard for science in Australia is a delayed and unanticipated consequence of the pervasive de-Christianisation of our public square. I realise that this thesis runs contrary to the conventional wisdom which posits an irreconcilable tension between Christianity and the scientific vocation. But the purpose in airing this unfashionable proposal is simply to float the possibility that—in accordance with the Law of Unintended Consequences—the drama of history can sometimes unfold in ways that differ from the original script. While secularisation might have benign consequences for science over the short term, in the long term it could conceivably erode the social values needed for a sustainable scientific culture.

In the late 1960s, when the revolt against Christendom migrated into the cultural mainstream, we took for granted that embracing secularism would hasten the transition to modern societies in which secular rationality was king and science reigned supreme. This persuasive "secularism is good" attitude seduced a whole generation, including many of us in the Protestant churches. Some adventurous theologians went so far as to suggest secularisation was the Good Lord's intention for the Western world! In his 1965 book The Secular City, all the go in Protestant circles for a time, Harvard theologian Harvey Cox voiced the aspirations of many:

Rather than fighting or opposing secularization, we would do better to discern in it the action of the same One who called an earlier people out of toil, in a land where the taskmasters were cruel, and into a land flowing with milk and honey.

Fifty years after a preponderance of Australians evacuated Christendom to reside in the Secular City, the fact that science is doing it so hard needs explaining. Why are the grandchildren of the sixties generation—surely the most secular in Australian history—seemingly turning their backs on science? How did the bond between secularism and science— which once seemed patently self-evident—prove so labile? Why isn't the scientific enterprise floating in milk and honey? Doubtless many answers could be offered to these questions. Personally, I suspect that many of us harboured ambitious expectations of the future of science in a secular setting because we underestimated how important a shared vision of reality—one based on unspoken theistic assumptions concerning the place of humans in the natural world, as well as convictions concerning the point and purpose of human existence—would prove to the scientific enterprise. We failed to envisage that once secularism eroded such assumptions on a culture-wide scale, interest in the scientific study of nature might subside.

A number of science historians have sensed the inadequacies of the "Conflict Model" that has dominated public discussion of the relationship between science and Christianity for over 100 years. Promoted by books such as Andrew Dickson White's History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom (1896), the Conflict Model entrenched an unfortunate lack of trust towards the church across the scientific sector. Nonetheless in recent years this model has faced growing revaluation. Inspired by revisionist pioneers such as Pierre Duhem, Stanley Jaki and Reijer Hooykaas, an alternative picture of the historical interplay between science and Christianity has emerged that is more variegated than the black-and-white caricatures popularised by hard secularists or Conflict Model enthusiasts.

On this alternative reading of history, Catholic and Protestant orthodoxies played an essential role in supplying science-enabling metaphysical convictions and reinforcing social values that helped render the Western world safe for science. While readily acknowledging that ancient Babylonian civilisation had its gifted astronomers, that medieval Islamic societies made substantial contributions to mathematics, and that the Greeks derived impressive geometric formulae, revisionist historians ask why the practice of science in such settings often amounted to "stillbirths" that did not grow into the sustained, progressive enterprise that arose in seventeenth-century Europe. From the historicist perspective, the emergence of modern science was a historical singularity that occurred in societies shaped decisively by the Judaeo-Christian tradition. Those seeking a rancour-free account of the emergence of modern science in which the role of religion is weighed critically against a range of other historical factors might consult a demanding yet rewarding work by a leading Australian historian, Stephen Gaukroger: The Emergence of a Scientific Culture: Science and the Shaping of Modernity 1210 to 1685 (2006).

While different branches of Christendom can highlight roles played by members of their respective traditions in helping make the Western world safe for science, in my neck of the ecclesiastical woods—Reformed Presbyterianism—the Genevan reformer John Calvin (1509-64) receives special commendation. An incisive thinker and articulate writer, well versed in the Patristic theology of the early Christian centuries, this capable Frenchman saved the struggling Protestant cause in mid-sixteenth-century Europe by providing a compelling theological corpus that defended the movement against criticisms of doctrinal superficiality, historical rootlessness and social sedition. As a legal scholar with keen interests in the full breadth of human existence, Calvin exerted a social influence far beyond the walls of the church. The recent flurry of books that celebrated the sooth anniversary of his birth included critical evaluation of Calvin's influence on many aspects of modern life (see for example John Calvin's Impact on Church and Society 1509-2009, Hirzel and Sallmann, eds., 2009).

For someone living when the prevailing scientific knowledge was highly rudimentary, Calvin's writings reveal surprising esteem for the "natural philosophers" who dedicated their lives to studying nature—termed "God's glorious theatre" in his theological vocabulary. For Calvin, the cosmos resembles a resplendently lit theatrical stage, radiating beauty, orderliness and majesty to onlookers. With this mentality, the scientific exploration of nature becomes an imperative response of gratitude to the Deity for placing humanity in this fine setting. In his influential work Institutes of the Christian Religion, Calvin thus urges his readers to "not be ashamed to take pious delight in the works of God open and manifest in this most beautiful theatre" (1:14:20). His word choice is revealing. In the popular medieval mind the authenticity of one's faith was demonstrated via a host of duties that included fasting, almsgiving, participating in pilgrimages and the adoring of religious icons. Since studying nature rated low beside such pious duties, in the popular European mind of his day, an element of shame seems to have attached to the scientific vocation. This is wrong, says Calvin: the natural world manifests the divine handiwork, so why should we be ashamed to explore it? This idea was fresh, bold and timely. A deep appreciation for science pervades the Institutes, Calvin's handbook of Protestant theology. The book was a best-seller in the UK during the crucial seventeenth century in which scientific institutions such as the Royal Society were established, in part by English Puritans who carefully heeded Calvin's injunction:

To be sure there is need of art and more exacting toil in order to investigate the motion of the stars, to determine their assigned stations, to measure their intervals, to note their properties. As God's providence shows itself more explicitly when one observes these, so the mind must rise to a somewhat higher level to look upon his glory. (Institutes I:5:2)

The "exacting toil" commended here as the intellect raises to a "somewhat higher level" suggests Calvin envisages more than a casual engagement in science. Sustained, disciplined effort is what we need.

As odd as it seems to us twenty-first-century sophisticates, Calvin regarded the growth of such disciplines as mathematics and astronomy as evidence that the Deity is benevolently at work in human history. Thus "whatever seems to be derived from man's ingenuity should be regarded as proofs of God's paternal solicitude for us" (Calvin's Commentaries III:291). Accordingly, when commenting on a biblical passage in Isaiah 28 that celebrates the divine origins of the specialist knowledge of soil, climate and horticulture displayed by competent farmers, Calvin extrapolates to other domains of endeavour:

If we ought to form such an opinion about agriculture and mechanical arts, what shall we think of the learned and exalted sciences, such as medicine, jurisprudence, astronomy, geometry, logic, and such like? Shall we not much more consider them to have proceeded from God? (Commentaries VII:306).

With such high regard for the research enterprise, Calvin was unperturbed by the fact that the greatest discoveries are often made by scientists who don't personally embrace Christianity. Compared to the grim misanthrope of popular caricature, Calvin on his best days was a generous, tolerant scholar who could celebrate the achievements of those who held different beliefs. Accordingly, during a sermon on the remarkable twenty-eighth chapter of the Book of Job, Calvin noted sagely that when it comes to science, often the "despisers of God" are in fact "the sharper witted, and more skilful in their doings".

This sympathetic vision kept his followers from disparaging science and technology in the manner of some non-Calvinistic Protestant sects such as the Amish. Instead, the propagation of a science-friendly outlook over the centuries to the general populace by means of sermons, books and classroom lessons created a supportive cultural milieu in Protestant societies in which the seedlings of science could put down deep roots. European cities in which Calvin's theology found greatest acceptance—such as Leiden, Edinburgh, Zurich and London—formed, a number of vigorous scientific institutions. Whole societies in which Protestantism was influential— including Great Britain, Holland, Switzerland and the USA—emerged as powerhouses of research productivity. This pro-scientific attitude was also exported to Protestant settler cultures around the globe, including, no doubt, Australia. The solitary clergyman to alight at Botany Bay in January 1788 was, after all, that rarest of species, a Calvinistic Anglican. Because of Calvin's role in seeding the global growth of science, the scientifically- trained author of a definitive study of the Genevan Reformer, Alister McGrath, went so far as to identify modern science as a cultural "crater" that witnesses to the enduring impact of Calvin's broad reforming vision (A Life of John Calvin: A Study in the Shaping of Western Culture, 1990).

Few cultural proclivities are less conducive to science than air-headed shallowness or superficiality. While we take for granted that scientific research be accorded full respect and conducted in a spirit of seriousness and strict objectivity, at the start of the Scientific Revolution experimentalists were dismissed as a bit of a giggle, ribbed by one comic for "spending time only in the weighing of ayre, and doing nothing else while they sat". Professor Gaukroger quotes a long- running London stage comedy from 1676 which lampooned an early zoology researcher "who has broken his brains about the nature of maggots: who has studied these 20 years to find out the several sorts of spiders".

While often pilloried as the Killjoy of Geneva, perhaps Calvin's greatest gift to Western civilisation was a high regard for mental habits of seriousness, self-discipline and thoughtfulness. It is not hard to predict how he would have reacted if, while ascending to his lofty pulpit in Saint Pierre cathedral, Calvin had looked out upon pews filled with parishioners playing Angry Birds on iPhones or watching The Biggest Loser re-runs on tablets. By stressing the need for every individual to transcend a life focused on self-gratification and pointless hedonism, Calvin helped forge a social matrix in which serious cultural endeavours were sustainable:

We have never been forbidden to laugh, or be filled, or to join new possessions to old or ancestral ones, or to delight in musical harmony, or to drink wine. True indeed. But where there is plenty, to wallow in delights, to gorge oneself, to intoxicate mind and heart with present pleasures and be always panting after new ones—such are very far removed from a lawful use of God's gifts. (Institutes III:19:9)

Some historians further suggest that the sixteenth- century Reformation reinforced the growth of science in other subtle ways. For example, while the extent of the persecution of Galileo by the Catholic Church is often exaggerated, it is possible that in Protestant societies, the leaner ecclesiastical structures favoured by the Reformers diminished opportunities for clerical meddling in scientific affairs.

The so-called Hermeneutical Revolution affected by the Reformation may also have had pro- scientific spin-offs. Hermeneutics is the branch of theology that specialises in the interpretation of sacred texts, taking its name from Hermes, the figure in Greek mythology who shuttles between the gods and humanity, recasting the divine oracles into a form understandable by mortals. Shunning the medieval habit of applying an allegorical hermeneutic to Scripture, Protestants brought a new concern for establishing the plain meaning of ancient texts using linguistic tools borrowed from Renaissance humanists. This habit of seeking the truth of things via plain, direct explanations was definitive of the Protestant mindset and probably influenced attitudes to the "Book of Nature". In his provocative book The Bible, Protestantism and the Rise of Natural Science (1998), Australian science historian Peter Harrison argues that this Hermeneutical Revolution was deeply catalytic of the growth of science.

Our brief excursus has revealed how, until comparatively recent times, an influential tradition in Protestant societies, Reformed Presbyterianism, helped forge a science-friendly ethos in the modern world. We have seen that this tradition emphasised that scientific research is an intrinsic good, an influential idea which has only recently given way to an instrumentalist view in which science only has value if put to useful ends, such as generating revenue for cash-strapped administrators or newspaper headlines for the campus PR office. Yet we are not so daft as to pretend that the Reformed strand of Christian devotion was solely responsible for the growth of modern science. For example, as the large body of work by the late Benedictine scholar Stanley Jaki has shown, the contours of a pro-scientific theology can also be traced in the writings of great Catholic theologians such as Thomas Aquinas. James Hannam's recent book God's Philosophers: How the Medieval World Laid the Foundations of Modern Science gives an enjoyable overview of the emergence of Western science from an essentially Anglo-Catholic perspective. My point here is that by exploring the attitude towards science held by John Calvin, the most influential theologian in the Continental Protestant tradition, a case can be made for his religious outlook in helping to create a welcoming social environment for the fledgling research enterprise. Since science originated in an era in which social innovations needed sanction from churchmen if they were to endure, the endorsement the great Frenchman gave to the emerging scientific endeavour was deeply significant.

Rehearsing this story shows how easily our spiritual legacy as Westerners is forgotten. In the case of Calvin, secularist scholars such as Bertrand Russell uncritically propagated the idea that Calvin opposed the Scientific Revolution, an opinion based on a dodgy "Calvin" quotation concerning Copernicus that probably originated with a nineteenth-century English cleric. The infamous "Who will venture to place the authority of Copernicus above that of the Holy Spirit" utterance appears in Russell's influential History of Western Philosophy. Wobbly scholarship of this kind helped forge today's forgetfulness of the role Christian thinkers played in cultivating a science-friendly social atmosphere that is too easily taken for granted.

This returns us to our original question: what, if any, are the scientific consequences of the weakening of both the Catholic and Protestant forms of Christian profession in Australia and other Western societies in recent decades? A sceptic might justly point out that even if Christianity helped launch the scientific enterprise, it need not follow that theistic values are needed to keep it airborne. Indeed, our hard-secularist friends assure us that the ebbing of Christendom is good for science, and at the most superficial level of argumentation, they may be right.

Yet even if the Faith is abandoned upon reaching adulthood, the first absconding generation subconsciously retains many of the social habits and values that were instilled by a religious upbringing. They may even unwittingly pass secularised versions of these values onto their offspring. But what about their children's children and those subsequent generations that have had no exposure to the social and moral values propagated within the four walls of a local parish? Is it likely that the original social habits that originated in a religious context will be transmitted in perpetuity to future generations? To recall Professor McGrath's insight concerning the scientific "crater" John Calvin left in the European landscape; as someone who is increasingly challenged during the teaching of science to students raised in today's superficial sport- and entertainment-dominated society, I wonder if such craters might have a finite shelf-life? Under the winds of a contradictory worldview, could they shrink?

It is an irony of modern life that even in a highly secular society, the research enterprise seems strangely dependent upon widespread acceptance of a cluster of enabling assumptions concerning humanity and its role in the cosmos that were originally furnished by the doctrinal formulations of Christian theism. My colleague's insight into the churches aiding the practice of science by teaching kids how to sit still and pay attention is just one ingredient of this recipe. Rather, the momentum of science appears to depend on a raft of presuppositions on loan from Christian theology concerning the rationality, uniformity and "knowability" of the cosmos; the "research competence" of the human mind, uniquely endowed with the spark of rationality by the Deity; of the real and abiding distinction between truth and error, necessary to distinguish between a factual claim that is well-founded and one that is not; and of the obligation to make the most of one's intellectual abilities by living serious, purposeful lives.

The fact that most modern scientists—in contrast to many early pioneers such as Paracelsus, Newton, Pascal, Boyle, Mendel or Maxwell—display little interest in the theology that supplied these science- enabling assumptions is not relevant to our discussion. Simply by participating in the research endeavour, researchers benefit functionally from background assumptions inherited from the theistic tradition that once underpinned Western civilisation. Hence, until the decline in church participation in the 196os and pros, preceding the steady evacuation of Christian meaning and symbols from contemporary public life, a significant proportion of the Australian populace was exposed to an orderly religious worldview that promoted mental and social habits that were conducive to the scientific vocation. Some enterprising Australian sociologist needs to replicate the recent Religion Amongst Academic Scientists (RAAS) study by Rice University researcher Elaine Ecklund, which found that a staggering 8o per cent of 744 top scientists in the USA were reared in a "religious home".

Could it be that the social climate in which our kids now mature possesses fewer avenues for exposure to science-enabling theistic values? As the Methodist theologian John Oswalt recently noted, we seem to be struggling to associate the loss of the fruits that once grew on the tree of Christendom with the dissipation of the belief system that once mysteriously enabled its cultural achievements:

As that worldview is progressively lost among us, we are losing the by-products as well. Not realising that they are by-products, we are surprised to see them go, but we have no real explanation for their departure.

I have spent the past twenty years teaching university students how aspirin lowers body temperature in febrile patients; how the Agent Orange contaminant dioxin induced skin disease in Vietnam veterans; how the morning-sickness drug thalidomide caused an epidemic of ghastly birth defects in the 1960s; or how maternal alcohol ingestion during pregnancy disrupts brain development in the unborn. No doubt my teaching abilities have declined, but each year it seems harder to engage my students with scientific puzzles of this kind. "What do we have to know for our exam?" and "How does this knowledge help me get a well-paying job?" seem the most pressing questions for some.

Of course there are many exceptions—those wonderful students with a thirst for knowledge who help keep the job interesting. However, such individuals seem to be so few now that there is a danger we will suffocate them, like zealous parents celebrating the first steps of a coddled infant, precluding the development of the inner toughness and ability to withstand criticism that is essential to the practice of science.

Could this, then, be the sad end zone to which secular postmodernity brings us: a world shorn of anchor points grounded in shared transcendent values, where nothing has significance beyond the domain of the present digitally-mediated cultural moment? Science, unexpectedly, is an early victim of this mentality, although with hindsight, a certain logic seems in play: If there's no Deity "out there" for one generation, for the next perhaps there's no rationally ordered world "out there" awaiting investigation. The final stage of this cultural declension involves the substitution of myth- making and an obsession with synthetic realities for the search for truth. Scientists of an earlier generation seem at a loss to explain why students today attach deep significance to the inane daily escapades of a Charlie Sheen or Kim Kardashian, while their eyes glaze over when we try to excite them about the achievements of a Gertrude Elion, Howard Florey or John Vane. Given the relativistic assumptions underlying secular postmodernity and its educational enterprise, where every human action is as celebratory as any other, is this surprising?

As in healthcare, where the efficacy of one's medical interventions depends heavily on the accuracy of the original diagnosis, the recent debate over the social implications of Christianity for Western civilisation has far-reaching significance. If our New Atheist friends are correct, then the persistence of the "faith virus" might underlie the downturn in scientific interest among today's youth. Their brave efforts to fight the pathogen called Christianity using the medicine of aggressive atheism might well lift the prospects for science.

If, on the other hand, the declining interest in science is actually due to the disordering of our social life caused by the pervasive de-Christianisation of our public square, then administering the same old atheist drug, in higher doses or purer form, could prove catastrophic. The British mathematician John Lennox has recently lamented that the polarising rhetoric of the New Atheists is forcing twentyfirst-century people into the no-win position of having to choose either science or God. Noting the long-standing religiosity of the human species, a fact reflected in survey data suggesting that most Australians still profess belief in God, Lennox suggests that when facing this binary dilemma, many will choose God, concluding that science is the unappealing domain of atheist blowhards. Given the many scientific challenges facing humanity in coming decades, the resulting loss of human capital to the science professions could be damaging.

If in fact the dissemination of reflective Christian theism truly serves as a mysterious social fertiliser for the scientific endeavour, then perhaps the longterm solution to our looming crisis is rather simple. No Great Big Science Stimulus Tax is required: all it might take would be for a good chunk of the Australian population to reschedule their Sunday morning calisthenics classes or soccer games, and instead send their kids to their friendly local parish Sunday school.

Professor Philip Burcham is a Perth-based medical researcher and a lay leader in the Presbyterian Church of Australia. The views expressed in this article are his own.

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Taken from: http://www.climaterealists.org.nz/node/923

Restoring the Integrity of Medicine

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Catholic Medical Association to Meet in Midst of Change



Share by Elenor K. Schoen, Register Correspondent Saturday, Sep 18, 2010 9:24 PM ....

SEATTLE — The initial inspiration for the 79th Educational Conference of the Catholic Medical Association comes from Psalm 8: “What is man that you are mindful of him?”

“‘What is man?’ [is a question that] should be answered before any student or practitioner of medicine approaches a patient,” according to Dr. Jan Hemstad, the president-elect for the association.

He is overseeing CMA’s annual gathering, held in Seattle this year Oct. 28-31. Its theme is “Restoring the Integrity of Medicine: An Imperative for a Christian Anthropology.”

“Our primary focus for these conferences is always the proper formation of physicians, the topics [arising] from the critical issues of the day,” he explained.

This year there is an added incentive in discussing the ethical practice of medicine, given the passage earlier this year of the massive health-care reform bill, according to Hemstad.

“President Obama’s direction has exacerbated these issues for us, by choosing a course almost diametrically opposed to an authentic Christian model,” Hemstad remarked. “Obamacare is looming over us as a dark cloud — a very dark cloud,” he suggested.

“Now, more than ever, there is as an absolute imperative for our profession to first answer this question [What is man?]” from a proper Christian anthropology based in truth, he explained.

Without knowing that truth about man, we cannot “practice an authentic vocation as physicians. We must re-integrate these first principles into our way of thinking and knowing,” Hemstad emphasized.

Bishop Robert Vasa, episcopal adviser for the CMA, agrees. He told the Register: “Being a Catholic physician requires proper information, but it also requires proper formation, and it requires a support system to help assure that the mission of Christ, who healed body and soul, continues.”

The original Catholic physician guild system, begun cooperatively by clergy and physicians in this country 98 years ago, was established for that very purpose.

Educating Physicians

In 1912, Archbishop William O’Connell of Boston founded the first Catholic Physicians Guild in that city, educating physicians in Church doctrine related to the practice of medicine.

Fifteen years later, a guild began in New York City, holding an Ignatian retreat for physicians. Gradually, Catholic physician guilds began to spread throughout the eastern United States.

By 1932, the National Federation of Catholic Physicians Guilds (NFCPG) was formed in New York City. Guilds met for the celebration of the Mass, spiritual retreats and seminars dealing with medical ethics. The feast of St. Luke, patron saint of physicians, became a focal point of the new organization, introducing the celebration of a “White Mass” (referring to the physician’s white coat).

The Linacre Quarterly, a medical journal of the NFCPG, was initiated to inform physicians about how Catholic principles are applied to pertinent medical and scientific issues. It is named after Thomas Linacre, a Catholic priest and physician to King Henry VIII who also founded the Royal College of Physicians in England. The quarterly journal is a part of the ongoing educational effort by the Catholic Medical Association.

Gradually, the NFCPG increased in 1960 to 6,110 members in 92 member guilds established in the United States, Puerto Rico and Canada, growing to more than 10,000 members by 1967.

But the growth of the organization halted following the publication of Pope Paul VI’s encyclical Humanae Vitae, on July 25, 1968, with its teaching on morally appropriate means for regulating fertility, which became a very divisive issue among Catholics. It also became “a major turning point for the NFCPG at the time,” according to former CMA President Dr. Thomas Pitre.

Reform and Growth

The organization supported the encyclical, causing many members of the National Federation to leave, with only a small core group remaining, Pitre explained.

At this same time, Pitre was seeking like-minded physicians who “brought their faith into their personal practice of medicine” as he opened a practice in Oregon. But Oregon was also becoming “the first jurisdiction in the world to allow assisted suicide,” he recalled.

He decided to develop a Catholic physician’s group on the West Coast, particularly the Pacific Northwest. When he sought help from the national organization, he realized that it was so diminished “that it didn’t have the administrative resources to do very much,” Pitre recalled.

Cardinal Francis George, who was archbishop of Portland, Ore., at that time, encouraged the formation of a Catholic physicians’ organization in the state, urging Pitre and his wife, Dr. Lynne Bissonnette-Pitre, to get involved nationally.

As board members of the NFCPG, the Pitres helped to reconfigure the organization, its administration, bylaws, and everything necessary “to build the organization to a point where it could grow,” Pitre stated.

Newly ordained Bishop Robert Vasa of the Baker Diocese in eastern Oregon became episcopal advisor for the National Federation. “Bishop Vasa has become an incredibly powerful and encouraging influence,” Pitre said.

In 1997, the guild’s name was changed to the Catholic Medical Association, reflecting a membership consisting more of individuals than guilds.

Since 2006, with more than 50 new guilds created, the CMA has developed a closer working relationship with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. They have increased the staff and have a full-time director and medical ethicist, John Brehany.

Brehany explained that the CMA national office provides consultation on ethical topics to CMA members and tools that allow members to contact and support one another. Many of the guilds sponsor educational programs on a local basis, he said.

“The CMA strives to create a culture of life in health care by helping physicians and others to grow in their relationship to God, to learn and to teach Catholic medical ethics, and by finding new ways to serve the Church, the medical profession and society,” Brehany said.

It has become “a more significant influence in presenting Catholic health-care perspectives, keeping the debate front and center,” Pitre added. The CMA also tries to work with other Catholic organizations, including the National Catholic Bioethics Center, the Catholic Health Association and others.

“The well-formed and conscientious Catholic physician literally brings the healing ministry of Christ to the workplace,” said Bishop Vasa. “Whether he or she works in a Catholic setting or in secular employment, they give witness to Christ and the values and virtues of the Church. I believe that these Catholic physicians … are the heart of Catholic health care. It is not possible for institutions to be Catholic unless the men and women who serve in them have at heart a commitment to something greater than the physical health of the patients entrusted to their care.”

So, besides the need for excellence in medical skill, Bishop Vasa stated, there must also be “a firm conviction about the value of the immortal soul and the inherent dignity of the human person.”

Without this conviction, “the care may be excellent, but if it does not ultimately benefit the soul of the suffering person, then something tremendously important has been lost,” he stressed. “The Catholic Church exists to bring people to Christ, to evangelize. This too is the ultimate purpose of Catholic institutions.”

Elenor Schoen writes

from Shoreline, Washington.



INFORMATION



For more information on the CMA’s annual educational conference, visit: http://cathmed.org



Read more: http://www.ncregister.com/site/article/restoring-the-integrity-of-medicine/#ixzz26PkXa9YC








True Culture and Civilisation of Man



THE CHRISTIAN ANTHROPOLOGY OF JOHN PAUL II: AN OVERVIEW [1]


by Fr Thomas McGovern

Over the past twenty years of his pontificate, John Paul II has deepened our understanding of the Gospel message in many ways. Yet it is perhaps in his discussion of Christian anthropology that the former Archbishop of Krakow has made his most original contribution to theological discourse. [2]

The Church in the twentieth century has responded with greater sensitivity to the anthropological dimension of theology. This has not happened by accident. Particular philosophers and theologians made valuable contributions to this enterprise which found expression in the documents of Vatican II, especially in the pastoral constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes, and the decree on religious freedom, Dignitatis Humanae. [3]

Vatican II was the first council of the Church to affirm a detailed Christian anthropology. The need to do so arose as a response to the materialistic conception of man which has dominated much of the twentieth century. This climate of materialism was fueled by three main currents. In the first place there was the materialism of modern science. The experimental method tended to the view that, since only what can be measured is real, only material reality exists. At the human level, advances in biology, influenced by the theory of evolution, had led to a depreciation of the spiritual dimension of man. Secondly, the influences of the Marxist philosophy of materialism, in a tyranny without precedent in human history, brought misery and death to countless millions. Finally, a more subtle materialism which has drugged the spirit of man, and which is expanding rapidly, is the practical materialism of the West. This is the fruit of the rapid development of technology, creating a wealthy society driven by consumerism. This society measures progress solely in terms of material wealth, and effectively reduces the practice of politics to the maintenance of favorable economic conditions. The driving principles of this rapidly expanding practical materialism are the primacy given to individual subjective rights, and the dominance of a liberal capitalistic outlook indifferent to social responsibilities at a global level.

It was these negative influences that inspired attempts to construct a more adequate Christian anthropology. Here it is only possible to mention a few of the major contributors to this project. In Crossing the Threshold of Hope John Paul II refers to the contributions of two Jewish thinkers, Martin Buber (1878-1965) and Emmanuel Lévinas (1906-95), who had drawn on the personalist tradition of the Old Testament and had influenced his own thinking. [4] In Buber’s perspective, man is a being made for relationships at three levels – with his fellow man, with the world, and with God. [5] Other philosophers such as Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973), Jacques Maritain (1882-1973), and Emmanuel Mounier (1905-50) made their own individual contributions to this personalist philosophy. Indeed it has been pointed out that the distinction which Marcel made between ‘being’ and ‘having’ had a profound influence on the anthropology of Vatican II as well as on the thinking of John Paul II. [6] Other valuable insights were added by the Gottingen Circle of Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), Max Scheler (1874-1928), and Dietrich von Hildebrand (1889-1977).

These personalist philosophies did not constitute a complete system, but rather expanded the framework of traditional Christian philosophy with a more profound exploration of the reaches of the human spirit. As John Paul II himself explains:

One cannot think adequately about man without reference, which for man is constitutive, to God. Saint Thomas defined this as actus essendi (essential act), in the language of the philosophy of existence. The philosophy of religion expresses this with the categories of anthropological experience. The philosophers of dialogue, such as Martin Buber and the aforementioned Lévinas, have contributed greatly to this experience. And we find ourselves by now very close to Saint Thomas, but the path passes not so much through being and existence as through people and their meeting with each other, through the “I” and the “Thou”. This is a fundamental dimension of man’s existence, which is always a coexistence. [7]

These insights of personalist philosophy are based on the light of Revelation – on the doctrine of man made to the image and likeness of God and on the Trinitarian theology of relationships. These were some of the insights and strands of thinking which, added to traditional philosophy, gave impetus to the articulation of a Christian anthropology in Vatican II and subsequently in the magisterium of John Paul II.

The Anthropology of Vatican II

The first part of Gaudium et Spes, the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, gives a brief but complete statement of the Christian doctrine about man. The early drafts contained three chapter headings as follows: ‘The Dignity of the Human Person’ (nos.12-22), ‘The Community of Mankind’ (nos.23-32), ‘Man’s Activity in the Universe’ (nos. 33-39). It is of interest to note, however, that at the insistence of one Cardinal Wojtyla, a fourth chapter was added on ‘The Role of the Church in the Modern World’ (nos. 40-45), which is a summary of the first three chapters. Indeed, according to Cardinal Garrone, who had overall responsibility for putting the document together, this fourth chapter was drafted by the Archbishop of Krakow himself. [8]

Chapter I is a very evocative reflection on the dignity of the human person in the light of his creation in the image and likeness of God. It is also a rich discourse on the vocation of man, the significance of human freedom and the nature of conscience. The christological conclusion at the end of this chapter (no.22), which has been repeated so often in the magisterium of John Paul II, is perhaps the best known passage of the whole document:

In reality, it is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of man truly becomes clear ... Christ the new Adam, in the very revelation of the mystery of the Father and of his love, fully reveals man to himself and brings to light his most high calling ... Human nature, by the very fact that it was assumed, not absorbed, in him, has been raised in us also to a dignity beyond compare. For, by his incarnation, he, the Son of God, has in a certain way united himself with each man. [9]

This positive affirmation is, of course, qualified by a description of the darker side of man’s history – the damage which sin has done to his very nature, and the consequences of this for his relationship with God and his fellow men. [10] Without the revelation of Christ it is not possible to understand man fully. Rather this very revelation is the deepest source of wisdom about man, his nature, and his destiny.

The second chapter tells us one of the most important truths about ourselves: ‘If man is the only creature on earth that God has wanted for its own sake, man can fully discover his true self only in a sincere giving of himself’[11] (no.24). This capacity for a relationship with God and with others is a reflection of the inner relational life of God himself which is the Trinitarian communion of the divine Persons. It is of particular importance for understanding the personal vocation to holiness of every man and the evangelizing mission of the Church.

Anthropology of Karol Wojtyla

Most people are already familiar with the significant stages and events in the life of the Holy Father as student, seminarian, priest, university professor, bishop and cardinal. His pastoral concern and philosophical interests led him to write Love and Responsibility – the work which reveals his distinctive anthropological perspective. This was first published in 1960, two years after he had been appointed auxiliary Bishop of Krakow. It is a profound meditation on human sexuality, love and marriage. Here his philosophical and theological convictions combine with his pastoral concern for the formation of young people in chastity and their preparation for marriage. It is here too that he articulates most clearly the ‘personalist norm’ which is fundamental to his anthropology, and which is a constantly recurring theme of his papal magisterium. [12]

Around this time also, in preparation of for Vatican II, he proposed that it would be opportune for the Council, in light of the aggressive advance of the varieties of materialism, to emphasize the transcendent spiritual order and the uniqueness of human personal existence in the created world. In other words, he concluded, ‘it is appropriate to delineate the question of Christian personalism’. [13] His experience of the brutality of the Nazi occupation as a student and seminarian, and, later, of the tyranny of Communist oppression, gave him a unique perspective on the fundamental truths about man that needed to be proclaimed and defended by the Church. In his own words:

The two totalitarian systems which tragically marked our century - Nazism on the one hand, marked by the horrors of war and the concentration camps, and communism on the other, with its regime of oppression and terror – I came to know, so to speak, from within. And so it is easy to understand my deep concern for the dignity of each human person and the need to respect human rights, beginning with the right to life. This concern was shaped in the first years of my priesthood and has grown stronger with time’. [14]

The Acta of the Council record that he made five contributions to the document on religious freedom (Dignitatis Humanae), and students of the history of this document affirm that it was deeply influenced by the Christian personalism of the Archbishop of Krakow. [15] At the third session of the Council, in September 1964, quoting St John’s text, ‘The truth will set you free’ (8:32), he requested that the relationship between truth and freedom should be emphasized more strongly, even to the point of affirming that there can be no freedom without truth. [16] How often would we hear him repeat the same thesis, especially in his encyclical Veritatis Splendor! [17] In his intervention on 22 October 1965, at the final session of the Council, he requested that the text of Dignitatis Humanae should underline a basic theme of Christian personalism – man’s responsibility in relation to the truth. If freedom and responsibility are not situated in the context of their truth, there is a danger of favoring religious indifferentism. [18]

Wojtyla’s role in the emergence of Gaudium et Spes was even more significant. [19] His longest and most important contribution was on 24 September 1964, when he addressed the question of the manner of communication and dialogue with modern culture.

It is appropriate that the Council speak in such a way that the world see we teach not only in an authoritative way, but that we seek together with it a just and balanced solution to the difficult problems of human life. The question is not whether we already know the truth well, but rather how to enable the world to find the truth and make it its own. [20]

The influence of his contributions was such that, as we have already noted, he was asked to draft the fourth chapter of the first part of Gaudium et Spes on ‘The Role of the Church in the Modern World’. In Crossing the Threshold of Hope he refers to his participation in the Council debates ‘as a unique occasion for listening to others, but also for creative thinking’. [21] He also records his debt of gratitude to Yves Congar and Henri de Lubac for the encouragement they gave him to pursue his particular line of thought. [22]

Cardinal Wojtyla also contributed to the 1969, 1971, and 1974 Synods of Bishops – and most incisively to the latter which was concerned with evangelization. As Cardinal Koenig, the emeritus Archbishop of Vienna, commented: ‘Everybody knows that, by an express decision of Pope Paul VI, Wojtyla was the real author of Evangelii Nuntiandi, which obviously was revised and touched up by the Holy Father as was his custom.’ [23]

Consequently, when he was elected to the papacy in 1978 he carried with him the experience of varied intellectual influences; but his own reflection was invariably focused on anthropological issues. This derived from his immersion in Thomistic philosophy, his use of the phenomenological method to capture and describe the richness of spiritual experiences, his personalist perspective on human flourishing, and his primary theological focus on the Incarnation as the key to the nature and destiny of man. [24]

One of the great themes of the papacy of John Paul II is the articulation of the true nature of the human person as a being made to the image and likeness of God. Again and again he returns to this theme in his magisterial writings, especially in his encyclicals Centesimus Annus (1991), Veritatis Splendor (1993), and Evangelium Vitae(1995). It is clear, too, that he is willing to draw on the resources of the phenomenological method to manifest in all its splendor the depths of the human spirit, and to clarify such fundamental topics as conscience, moral judgment, the mystery of freedom and responsibility, and the possibility of obtaining access through these manifestations of the human spirit to the very core of the person. His Love and Responsibility is a brilliant example of this approach, leading to profound insights into the nature of human sexuality, love and marriage. [25]

Like all students of his time, he was well formed in the philosophical principles of Thomist theology, accepting fully St Thomas’ definition of the person as a subject of intellectual and volitional actions. His philosophical approach, however, enabled him to study a dimension of the person not developed in Thomist ontology – the creative aspect of human action and interpersonal relations. Descriptive analysis of human experience through the phenomenological method allowed him deepen his understanding of the person as a being who entrusts himself to God.[26]

Anthropology of John Paul II

From the beginning of his pontificate John Paul II has taught that the truth about man is to be found in Christ. In his homily at his installation as pope, he encouraged the world not to be afraid of Christ, since Christ alone knows what is in every man. ‘I ask you … I implore you’, he said, ‘allow Christ to speak to man.’[27] Little by little an expansion of themes from Gaudium et Spes became a regular feature of his magisterium. In his very first encyclical, Redemptor Hominis (4 March 1979), the conciliar document is referred on at least seventeen occasions. Indeed we could say that the phrase from Gaudium et Spes, ‘Christ fully reveals man to himself and brings to light his most high calling’ has become the theme of his pontificate. [28]

Later he would himself point out that, in the encyclicals Redemptor Hominis and Dives in Misericordia (1980), he was trying to explicate the content of this idea from Gaudium et Spes, taking account of the anxieties and expectations of his contemporaries. Writing about this encyclical fifteen years later, he says that

The Council proposed, especially in Gaudium et Spes, that the mystery of redemption should be seen in light of the great renewal of man and of all that is human. The encyclical aims to be a great hymn of joy for the fact that man has been redeemed through Christ – redeemed in spirit and body. [29]

The central idea is that the Redemption, the task of salvation which the Church carries out in the world, consists in helping man to discover the full truth about his being and this truth is to be found only in Christ.

Man and Creation

Christian anthropology has two basic points of reference, each of which is a divine initiative. The first is the mystery of creation in which man is made ‘to the image of God’. The other is the mystery of Christ who, as we have seen, reveals man fully to himself. This is the anthropology of the Incarnation and the Redemption. The Christian definition of man has thus a point of departure and a point of arrival. Between these points the mystery of sin intervenes with the Fall and its consequences for man’s personal response to God.

After John Paul II had completed Redemptor Hominis, in preparation for the upcoming Synod of Bishops on the topic of the Christian family in October 1980, he devoted the traditional Wednesday catechesis to the exposition of his thinking on human sexuality and marriage. Over a period of five years, from September 1979, he would provide a profound theological reflection on the themes of chastity, marriage and celibacy in the context of the ‘nuptial meaning of the body’. [30] Here he drew on the creation accounts in Genesis, Christ’s teaching on marriage and celibacy, and the Pauline corpus covering the same areas. In his exegesis of the relevant scriptural passages, he brings to bear not only the findings of traditional Christian hermeneutics, but also the anthropological insights of Vatican II and the personalist philosophy he had already elaborated in Love and Responsibility.

Traditional theology tells us that man is made to the image of God because he possesses the faculties of intellect and will. In his analysis of the creation accounts, John Paul II insists that a capacity for relationship with God is of the very essence of man. God’s invitation to a shared life is a gratuitous, unmerited gift to man who from the beginning was made capax Dei. In these reflections, John Paul II offers many insights about the nature of human identity, the manner in which man is distinguished from the rest of creation by the reality of human work, and the relational mode of his personal being which manifests itself on three levels – with God, with the world, and with others through a communion of love and self-giving.

These are some of the basic principles of ‘the truth about man’ to which John Paul II frequently refers. But the implementation of this truth cannot be achieved without the moral energy that comes from God through participation in the divine life of grace. Only in the Church can one find this wisdom about man, and, at the same time, the gift of divine grace which renders possible a life in accord with this vision.

Human Work and Temporal Realities

By God’s will, knowledge of the world and the progressive dominion of its resources is achieved only through human work. Faith guides and stimulates this effort, but it cannot substitute it. This is a consequence of the Church’s recognition of the legitimate autonomy of temporal things. Human affairs have their own proper laws which God did not reveal to us with the principles of the faith. The discovery of these laws is essentially the role of the laity. As Gaudium et Spes points out:

Let them be proud of the opportunity to carry out their earthly activity in such a way as to integrate human, domestic, professional, scientific and technical enterprises with religious values, under whose supreme direction all things are directed to the glory of God...it is their task to cultivate a properly informed conscience and to impress the divine law on the earthly city. [31]

Man needs the society of others not just to live and nourish himself but, above all, to develop as a person. ‘Creating the human race in his own image and continually keeping it in being, God inscribed in the humanity of man and woman the vocation, and thus the capacity and responsibility, of love and communion. Love’, as John Paul II reminds us, ‘is therefore the fundamental and innate vocation of every human being.’ [32] But man is called to love in his unified totality, in soul and body. Christian revelation recognizes two specific ways of realizing this vocation of the human person to love – either through marriage or through the specific commitment to celibacy. Both vocations, John Paul II affirms, are expressions of the full truth about man as created to the image of God. [33]

Nevertheless, love is not just an inclination of spontaneous affection towards others. It is to will the good of others, and to give oneself to them in an unselfish way because the perfecting of love requires self-giving. John Paul II has repeatedly recalled those words of Gaudium et Spes: ‘If man is the only creature on earth that God has wanted for its own sake, man can fully discover his true self only in a sincere giving of himself.’ [34] And he highlights these ideas again in his Letter to Youth and in his document on the Christian family. [35]

Marriage and the Family

Throughout his papacy, John Paul II has given particular attention to the question of marriage and the family. The concerns of Love and Responsibility are repeatedly echoed through his pontificate, starting with his extensive catechesis on ‘the nuptial meaning of the body’, through Familiaris Consortio, his Letter to Families [36], his many addresses on the topic to interest groups, and, always, during his pastoral visits. He sees the family as the nucleus of the ‘communion of persons’, as the place where this communion can be realized naturally in its most committed way. It is here that each one is first welcomed and appreciated for what he or she truly is – a unique person, and not in view of their social or economic function.

It is love which creates this community of persons. In Redemptor Hominis John Paul II wrote that

Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible for himself, his life is senseless, if love is not revealed to him, if he does not encounter love, if he does not experience it and make it his own, if he does not participate intimately in it. [37]

He repeats this refrain in Familiaris Consortio, insisting that it applies primarily and especially within the family. [38] This is surely one of the Holy Father’s deepest and most important anthropological convictions, expressing succinctly a whole program for family formation at both the philosophical and theological levels. For John Paul II, the future of the Church and society hinge on the stability of the family. It is not surprising, then, that he has invested so much of his immense intellectual and spiritual energy in the promotion and the defense of the family unit. For him the family is the first and most important school of life and of love; and this uniquely stabilizing influence is the principal service that it offers to society and the Church.

It is the first and irreplaceable school of social life, an example and stimulus for the broader community relationships marked by respect, justice, dialogue and love.

The family is thus … the place of origin and the most effective means for humanizing and personalizing society: it makes an original contribution in depth to building up the world, by making possible a life that is properly speaking human, in particular by guarding and transmitting virtues and ‘values’.

Consequently, faced with a society that is running the risk of becoming more and more depersonalized and standardized and therefore inhuman and dehumanizing, with the negative results of many forms of escapism – such as alcoholism, drugs and even terrorism – the family possess and continues still to release formidable energies capable of taking man out of his anonymity, keeping him conscious of his personal dignity, enriching him with deep humanity and actively placing him, in his uniqueness and unrepeatability, within the fabric of society. [39]

This a powerful statement of the indispensable role of well-adjusted families for building up a healthy and stable society, in which divine and human rights are respected.

Human Development

The Christian anthropology of John Paul II has very practical implications for human development on the religious, social and cultural planes. For him the Christian faith is a source of truth and of life, and thus theological reflection can therefore offer a great service in the configuration of cultural, social and political life.

Man is endowed with a creative capacity which enables him to from a culture or a human environment which is the result of human work, and which has both a spiritual and a material component. According to John Paul II, it is culture which humanizes man; culture is the medium through which the person becomes more fully what he is called to be. Indeed part of man’s vocation ‘to dominate the earth’ is the economic and cultural development of society. [40]

Nevertheless, experience indicates that human intervention does not always yield positive results. Many cultural and social developments of the present century, rather than fostering genuine human development, have had a dehumanizing effect on man because of the particular moral and economic climate created by the guiding institutions of society – social inequalities, ethical problems created by the misapplication of technology, especially in the areas of human sexuality, and the enormous economic imbalances between nations.

Authentic human development has to be judged from the standpoint of whether it leads to conditions which facilitate human flourishing at its deepest levels. John Paul II bases his analysis of such development on the accumulated wisdom of the Church’s social teaching. But a key element in his theological and moral assessment of human development is the ‘being’ and ‘having’ binomial first articulated by Gabriel Marcel. [41]

Human Work and Social Priorities

Through work, human culture is formed and grows. In Laborem Exercens, John Paul II distinguishes between the objective and subjective dimensions of work .The objective aspect is the product that is created by work. The subjective dimension is the imprint that work leaves on man. Man realizes and perfects himself when he works well – he grows as a person when he applies order, attention, creativity and ambition to his work. [42] He also becomes more human because he provides a service to others through his work:

Work is a good thing for man – a good thing for his humanity – because through work man not only transforms nature, adapting it to his own needs, but he also achieves fulfillment as a human being and indeed, in a sense, becomes ‘more a human being’. [43]

Thus the value of each kind of work ‘is judged above all by the measure of the dignity of the subject of work, that is to say the person, the individual who carries it out.’ [44]

Because the correct criteria are often not applied in the evaluation of work, this can have negative consequences for the social economy. John Paul II does not offer a particular social theory, much less a utopian solution, for the social economy. However, from his analysis he offers a few fundamental principles in Laborem Exercens: a) the priority of work over capital (nos.12, 13): b) the primacy of men over things (nos. 12,13); and c) the primacy of the subjective value of work over its objective value (no.6). In addition, in Redemptor Hominis, he had already affirmed the following principles: d) the priority of ethics over technology; e) the primacy of persons over things; and f) the superiority of spirit over matter. [45] This is the order of priorities which, according to John Paul II, derives from a Christian anthropology and is therefore fundamental for building up a social environment worthy of man. [46]

Ethical Aspects of Development

In Sollicitudo Rei Socialis, looking at the prevailing social conditions of the world in 1987, the Pope had no doubt that from the point of view of the principles enunciated above, the global impression of human development presented a negative picture. In this encyclical he speaks about the disequilibrium between North and South, inequalities within countries, illiteracy, hunger, the appearance of a ‘fourth world’ on the margin of developed societies, and concludes that conditions have become significantly aggravated. [47] After analyzing the causes of this situation, he goes on to give a detailed presentation of what constitutes authentic human development in Chapter IV. He points out that one of the greatest injustices of the contemporary world is the contrast between a wealthy minority and the majority who possess so little. [48] The evil, he says, lies not so much in the possession of so much material wealth as in the cult of ‘having’, which leads to an inversion of the human and social priorities already outlined. [49]

Speaking about the evangelization of culture to an audience of university people in Chile in 1987, he developed this point more fully:

A process of reflection is necessary, which leads to a renewed diffusion and defense of the fundamental values of man as man, and in relation to other persons and to the natural surroundings in which he lives. Therefore I earnestly encourage you to present a correct image of a culture of being and behaving. ‘All man’s “having” is important for culture, is a factor creative of culture, but only to the extent which man, through his “having”, can at the same time “be” more fully a man in all the dimensions of his existence in everything that characterizes his humanity’ (Address to UNESCO, 2 June 1980, no. 7). A culture of being does not exclude having: it considers it as a means to seek a true integral humanization, in such a way that ‘having’ is put at the service of ‘being’ and ‘behaving’. [50]

The inherent contradictions in processes of development which focus only on the economic dimension are more clearly apparent today. [51] John Paul II offers a much more demanding criterion of development.

Development, he tells us, cannot consist only in the use, dominion over and indiscriminate possession of created things and the products of human industry, but rather in subordinating their possession, dominion and use to man’s divine likeness and to his vocation to immortality. This is the transcendent reality of the human being. [52]

From this perspective, development must have an ethical and not merely a technical dimension – it has a clear moral character. [53]

In Reconciliatio et Poenitentia John Paul II had already pointed out how sin caused a rupture in man’s relationship with God, his fellow men, and the created world. The consequences of personal sin for society reflect the interior disorder in man. This is why, he says, we can speak of personal sin and social sin, the latter being the accumulation and concentration of many personal sins ‘of those who are in a position to avoid, eliminate or at least limit certain social evils but who fail to do so out of laziness, fear or the conspiracy of silence, through secret complicity or indifference’. [54] Man’s vocation expresses itself in the fulfillment of responsibilities to neighbor. When these responsibilities are overlooked, offense is given to God and there are negative consequences which extend beyond the brief life span of the individual. [55]

Human Solidarity

After adverting to the fact that the obstacles opposed to the integral development of man are not properly economic or material ones, but rather moral considerations, he concludes that these difficulties can only be overcome by decisions which are essentially moral. [56] People have to root out of their lives the ‘all-consuming desire for profit’ and ‘the thirst for power with the intention of imposing one’s will on others’. For Christians this calls for a real conversion of heart, and the substitution, with the help of divine grace, of an attitude of self-giving to others. Thus human solidarity ‘is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good’ in relations between individuals and nations; [57] it ‘is the path to peace and at the same time to development’. [58] For John Paul II, ‘solidarity is undoubtedly a Christian virtue ... In the light of faith it seeks to go beyond itself, to take on the specifically Christian dimensions of total gratuity, forgiveness and reconciliation.’ [59]Then one sees one’s neighbor, not only as a human being with his or her own rights, but as a child of God, even if he or she is an enemy:

Awareness of the common fatherhood of God, of the brotherhood of all in Christ, and of the presence and life-giving action of the Holy Spirit will bring to our vision of the world a new criterion for interpreting it. Beyond human and natural bonds, there is discerned in the light of faith a new model of the unity of the human race, which must ultimately inspire our solidarity. This supreme model of unity, which is a reflection of the intimate life of God, one God in three Persons, is what we Christians mean by the word ‘communion’. [60]

Christian solidarity has, then, for John Paul II, an important part to play in the realization of the divine plan for the individual and for society, both at national and international levels.

Man the ‘way of the Church’

The mission of the Church is one which is both human and divine, converting men into children of God and teaching them how to live as brothers in the same family. Consequently, the way the Church can and ought to intervene in the world is through offering the wisdom she has drawn about men from divine revelation. Guided by Christ she brings the mystery of God to men and in the process reveals man to himself; she enables him to understand the meaning of his existence and opens up to him the entire truth about his destiny. [61]

The anthropology of John Paul II is essentially a program of evangelization. This is because the Church is in possession of the truth about man, the evangelized man, the converted man who has put on Jesus Christ, and who receives from the Holy Spirit the charity to enable him love his own kind. It is not a human anthropology, but a vision of man as God wants him to be. The human and the divine are united in Christ and each one is called to imitate Christ. For this reason ‘the Church’s social teaching is itself a valid instrument of evangelization. As such, it proclaims God and his mystery of salvation in Christ to every human being and, for that very reason, reveals man to himself.’ [62]

Thus, from the above considerations, we see that there is a profound connection between evangelization and true human development. Because of this, evangelization has always been accompanied by human social initiatives which are an external witness of the preaching of salvation. Thus missionary efforts have invariably been accompanied by the setting up of educational and medical facilities. This demonstrates that salvation is not only spiritual, but that it also has to bring about a Christian configuration in the social and political dimensions of existence. [63]

Conclusion

Christian anthropology is grounded on fundamental guiding principles about man, his history, and his destiny. In response to the dechristianization of the West through different forms of materialism, the Church wishes to propose and activate a new evangelizing dynamic. Recent philosophical and theological reflection has provided the Church with new insights and ideas which have facilitated a novel and vibrant restatement of the principles of Christian anthropology, especially as presented by Vatican II and in the magisterium of John Paul II. These principles can be summarized as follows: First, man is the image of God; this is the fundamental truth about the human person and the point of departure for all subsequent reflection on him. Second, Christ revealed man to man; he is the way and the truth for every human person. Third, the communion of love of persons is a reflection of the inner life of the Blessed Trinity. This is the point of departure for understanding the nature of the nuclear Christian family which is a microcosm and model of an authentic human society. Finally, man attains self-fulfillment in the giving of himself to others; this is the Christian conception of man’s calling and the basis to organize a better society which can only be achieved through charity.

These are the basic principles of ‘the truth about man’ so often articulated by John Paul II. But the implementation of this truth cannot be achieved without the moral energy that comes from God – the divine life of grace. Only in the Church can one find this wisdom about man and, at the same time, the power of the grace to live up to this vision.

FOOTNOTES

[1] I am very grateful to Dr Gerald Hanratty of the Department of Philosophy, University College, Dublin, who read through a previous draft of this paper.

[2] There have been several commentaries on the anthropology of John Paul II, which include the following: Rocco Buttiglione, Karol Wojtyla: The Thought of the Man who became John Paul II, New York, 1997; K.L. Schmitz, At the Center of the Human Drama, Washington, 1993; Andre Frossard, Be Not Afraid!: Interviews with John Paul II, London, 1984; Ronald Lawlor, The Christian Personalism of John Paul II, Chicago, 1982; George W. Williams, The Mind of John Paul II: Origins of his Thought and Action, New York, 1981; Juan Luis Lorda, Antropología del Concilio Vaticano II a Juan Pablo II, Madrid, 1996 (I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to this source for several insights). A reading of Karol Wojtyla’s Love and Responsibility, London, 1981, however, and his long series of catechesis on ‘the nuptial meaning of the body’ as John Paul II, is essential to get a feel for his anthropology, both in terms of content and methodology. The catechetical series has been published in four volumes by St Paul Editions, Boston, as follows: Original Unity of Man and Woman: Catechesis on the Book of Genesis (1981); Blessed are the Pure of Heart: Catechesis on the Sermon on the Mount and the Writings of St Paul (1983); Reflections on Humanae Vitae: Conjugal Morality and Spirituality (1984); The Theology of Marriage and Celibacy: Catechesis on Marriage and Celibacy in the Light of the Resurrection of the Body (1986). Essential reading would also include encyclicals such as Redemptor Hominis (1979), Laborem Exercens (1981), Solicitudo Rei Socialis (1987) and Centesimus Annus (1991); the Apostolic Exhortations Familiaris Consortio (1981) and Christifideles Laici (1988).

[3] Vatican Council II, Gaudium et Spes (GS) (The Church in the Modern World, 1965) and Dignitatis Humanae (Decree on Religious Freedom, 1965).

[4] John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, London, 1994, pp 35, 36, 210.

[5] Cf. P. A. Schilpp, The Philosophy of Martin Buber, La Salle, Illinois, 1967, p. 341.

[6] Cf. Lorda, p. 45.

[7] John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, pp 35-36 (italics in the original).

[8] Cf. 30 Giorni, March 1985, p. 18.

[9] GS 22.

[10] ‘For when man looks into his own heart he finds that he is drawn towards what is wrong and sunk in many evils which cannot come from his good creator. Often refusing to acknowledge God as his source, man has also upset the relationship which should link him to his last end; and at the same time he has broken the right order that should reign within himself as well as between himself and other men and all creatures’ (GS 13).

[11] GS 24.

[12] Cf. John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold, p. 200.

[13] Karol Wojtyla in Acta et documenta Concilio Oecumenico Vaticano II Apparando, I: 2, pp 741-742.

[14] John Paul II, Gift and Mystery: On the Fiftieth Anniversary of my Priestly Ordination, London, 1996, pp 66-67 (italics in original).

[15] Cf. Lorda, p. 105.

[16] K. Wojtyla in Acta Synodalia, III: 2, pp 530-532.

[17] John Paul II, Veritatis Splendour (VS), 6 August 1993.

[18] K. Wojtyla in Acta Synodalia, IV: 2, pp 292-293.

[19] The Acta Synodalia indicate that he made six contributions to the discussion of this document : III/5, pp 298-300; pp 680-3; III/7, pp 380-2; IV/2, pp 660-3; IV/3, pp 242-3; IV/3, pp 349-50.

[20] K. Wojtyla in Acta Synodalia, III: 5, pp 298-300.

[21] Cf. ibid., p. 158.

[22] Cf. ibid., p. 159.

[23] F. Koenig, Iglesia, ¿a donde vas? Sal Terrae, Santander (Spain), 1986, pp 54-55.

[24] Cf. Lorda, p. 112.

[25] It has been commented that Paul VI’s reading of Love and Responsibility had a significant influence on his encyclical, Humanae Vitae, in 1968. Cf. Janet E. Smith, ‘John Paul II and Humanae Vitae’ in Why Humanae Vitae was Right: A Reader, San Francisco, 1993, pp 229-33; Paul Johnson, Pope John Paul II and the Catholic Restoration, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1981, pp 32-33.

[26] Cf. Lorda, pp 112-23.

[27] John Paul II, “The Inauguration Homily,” Origins 8:20 (November 2, 1978): 308.

[28] GS 22. In his most recent encyclical, Fides et Ratio, John Paul II says this specific text from Gaudium et Spes ‘is profoundly significant for philosophy’, and that it ‘serves as one of the constant reference-points of my teaching’ (Fides et Ratio, 60, 14 September 1998).

[29] John Paul II, Crossing the Threshold of Hope, pp 48-49.

[30] For details of the published volumes of this catechesis, see note 1.

[31] GS 43.

[32] Familiaris Consortio (FC), 11.

[33] Cf. FC 11.

[34] GS 24.

[35] Cf. John Paul II, Letter to Youth (31 March 1985) 14, and FC 11.

[36] John Paul II, Letter to Families, 2 February 1994.

[37] Redemptor Hominis, 10.

[38] Cf. FC 18.

[39] FC 43.

[40] Cf. Lorda, p. 175.

[41] Cf. Lorda, p. 176.

[42] Cf. Laborem Exercens (LE) 5-7.

[43] LE 9.

[44] LE 6 (italics in original).

[45] RH 16.

[46] Cf. Lorda, p. 180.

[47] Cf. Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (SRS) 16.

[48] Cf. SRS 28.

[49] Cf. SRS 28.

[50] John Paul II, ‘The Task of the World Culture of Today is to promote the Civilization of Love’ (3 April 1987) no. 4, in English language weekly edition of L’Osservatore Romano (4 May 1987): 5.

[51] Cf. John Paul II, ‘Task of the World’, 33.

[52] John Paul II, ‘Task of the World’, 29

[53] Cf. John Paul II, ‘Task of the World’, 33.

[54] Cf. John Paul II, Apostolic Exhortation, Reconciliatio et Paenitentia (2 December 1984), 15.

[55] Cf. John Paul II, ‘Divine Providence and the Growth of the Kingdom of God’ ( 25 June 1986) in L’Osservatore Romano (English) 30 June 1986: 1, 4..

[56] Cf. SRS 35.

[57] Cf. SRS 38

[58] Cf. SRS 39.

[59] SRS 40.

[60] SRS 40.

[61] Cf. Christifideles Laici, 36.

[62] Centesimus Annus, 54.

[63] Cf. Centesimus Annus 51.

First published in Josephinum Journal of Theology, 8 (2001) 1, pp 132-47.

Section Contents Copyright ©; Fr. Thomas McGovern 1997-2002