Tag Archives: laudatosi

Pope Francis Blowback, Part 2: the George Will edition

This was a tough week. An idol of sorts got knocked off his pedestal, and really just about defenestrated.

When I was in seminary, I had to defend my honors thesis to a committee, which is nothing unusual. What was, in retrospect, funny, was that the highest compliment I got from the committee (other than that they passed me) was a statement from probably the most liberal member of the panel about my style: he said that I speak with a reasonableness, stability, a can’t-we-all-agree-that-this-is-common-sense-ness that he could only compare to conservative columnist George Will. It’s not that I set out to be like George Will, but I admired his style and his content a great deal, and I really appreciated the comparison.

Until this weekend, when the local paper printed the total hatchet job by Mr. Will on Pope Francis. 

It’s not at all disconcerting that Will disagreed with Francis. It’s that the George Will I remembered, the George Will I emulated, never resorted to cheap ad hominem attacks, because he could rationally lead you to his point of view. Not this time.

I will admit that I don’t read him as often now, so I can’t tell whether he has migrated toward this cheap and easy belittling of opponents along with the rest of the political pundit culture. But whether this was an off day or a slow decline, it hurts no less than watching Willie Mays in 1973 with the Mets. The Kid has lost more than a step when he resorts to name-calling. Sanctimonious? Shrill? Wooly? Vacuous? Will labels the pope with all four in the first two paragraphs alone. He tries to frame Francis for not footnoting the science behind his arguments (while coming from a position that belittles the consensus of the overwhelming majority of relevant scientists). He then takes potshots at the Catholic Church and equates the pope’s positions as a dying brand trying to adopt the latest fad to maintain relevance. I absolutely honor Will’s right to dissent, but it still seems like a cheap shot. More, it seems much less than I would expect.

The George Will I looked up to not only wrote voluminously on baseball but made cogent points about the positions he advocated. He would have invited Pope Francis to consider the power of free-market capitalism to lift billions out of absolute poverty (a pitch he waves at and fouls off.) He would have shown not only that we have fought back successfully against environmental degradation but that a free market is essential to spur the sort of innovation it will take to do so this time (again, he gives just a feeble swing, which in the process acknowledges human agency in climate change). He would have invited Francis to embrace the greater lights of the Catholic tradition by encouraging systems that capitalize on the divine spirit that lies within our agency. Instead he dismisses him as a neo-Peronist. Strike three.

Say it ain’t so, George.

Advertisements

A Catholic Congressman is Boycotting Pope Francis. Let me count the reasons this saddens me.

As Pope Francis prepares to make history by becoming the first pope to address a joint session of Congress, one Congressman has made news by declaring he will boycott the pope’s visit, because the Congressman believes the pope is going to focus on climate change (which is probably a fair bet) instead of other Catholic social teachings.  The Congressman goes on to outline all the Catholic doctrines he believes the pope is ignoring – like defense of religious liberty, advocacy for Christian refugees, defense of life – and states he cannot as a good Catholic and American leader allow the pope pass on this misguided agenda. I linked to his words, so you can read them for yourselves.

American liberals are loving this. After years of being labeled “cafeteria Catholics” for picking and choosing what elements of church doctrine they chose to embrace, they are reveling in the Schadenfreude of turned tables. They are hoping for a counter-push in which the new pope demands conservative Catholics embrace the more liberal elements of Church teaching or be turned away at the Communion line. (Digression: has The Onion done the story on the Midwest archbishop who warns Francis not to come to communion in his diocese for risk of being spurned?)

Not me. Here are five reasons why the Congressman’s decision brings me nothing but sadness:

  1. He ignores the pope’s records on the issues he cites. If there has been a more vocal defender of persecuted Christians (and other religious minorities), or care for refugees, I can’t think of who it would be. He has been consistent in defending the Catholic defense of life from conception to natural death, and I would be shocked if, during his discussion of the”throwaway culture” of the developed world he didn’t clearly reference the unborn and unwanted in multiple settings. To object on grounds that he hasn’t done enough on those issues requires a willful ignorance or a concerning lack of information.
  2. He ignores the continuity of Francis’ statements with Church teaching. If he read even just my blog, he would know that Francis’ encyclical actually plows very little new ground.
  3. He missed the real issue. I mean, I know climate change is the hot button, but Francis will say much more about inequality and the defense of the poor. Which, again, draws on doctrine central to Catholic teaching since at least 1891. If you’re going to boycott a pope, it seems like you ought to do it based on his primary disagreement with your policy, not a down-ballot issue. (More on this in the next post.)
  4. He made the most common choice that leads us astray. Look, for all the “Jesus, meek and mild” images, there is a disconcerting theme that runs through the Gospel about how Jesus and His message ultimately divides us from each other by forcing us to choose if we are with Him or with something else. Whether you are a liberal Christian or a conservative Christian or a (insert descriptor here) Christian, the sword of the Gospel will eventually cut through the word you put before “Christian” and make you choose. “Which is it?” And most of us, at least those of us who live in societies where Christianity is socially acceptable, will probably choose the adjective over the noun at the end of the day. This should be to our shame, but we usually wrap it around us as a prophet’s mantle of defending the true faith, because the alternative is to be exposed as selfish, idolatrous, wrong. It’s not an epic fail but a depressingly mundane one. Gloat only if you are blind to the ways it could happen to you. Feel the sadness Jesus feels when the rich young ruler fails to answer the bell.
  5. Boycotting shows how dysfunctional our political culture is. We knew this, of course. But when a member of Congress proudly proclaims that the way he treats people he disagrees with is to boycott them, to intentionally and publicly refuse to engage them in an encounter (to use a common Francis term), it acknowledges painfully and publicly how horribly off-course our non-discourse is. Disagree all you want (more on that in the next post), but really? Turn your back on people you disagree with, even if they lead the Church you attend? How effective can a legislative body, or a nation, be that embraces that as a tactic for dialogue?

Here’s what I hope Pope Francis does. I hope he gives the speech he planned to, and then, as quietly as a pope in DC in the social media world can do, I hope he seeks out this Congressman, embraces him, and tells him that, even if he is not ready to embrace the entirety of truth, he can join the rest of us imperfect sinners, Francis included, in a journey together.

Maybe what’s wrong with us is we watch the wrong scoreboard.

You probably wouldn’t think that the answer to the challenge of Pope Francis’ encyclical would be found in Bhutan. (In part because, you, like me, couldn’t find Bhutan without Google.)

One of the reflections I’ve had on reading Laudato Si’ is that maybe our problem as a society is that we focus on the wrong stuff. We watch the wrong scoreboard.  We value things that aren’t all that valuable, in the bigger picture.

From Francis’ perspective (and I would argue, from Jesus’, too) this is undoubtedly true.  We invest an inordinate amount of attention on those who have wealth — individuals and countries — and overlook those who have little.  This, even though so many — of all faiths and no faith at all — have found that some of the happiest and most fulfilled are not those with plenty, but those the world would call poor.

This is not to say that being poor is in itself good.  Critics rightly note that the motif of the “blessed poor” tends to be propagated by people who don’t seem so much driven by a desire to become poor themselves but by the desire to feel less bad about not helping the poor out of their poverty.

But maybe we drive toward wealth, excessive, non-satisfying and destructive levels of wealth, because we are valuing it disproportionately.

What if, instead of measuring personal wealth or gross national product we instead valued gross national happiness?  At least that’s the question raised by the ruler of Bhutan, who unveiled a “Gross National Happiness” index and set about to measure his country by metrics that pertain to it.

(I didn’t know this until I heard a TED talk by Chip Conley about it. Just so you don’t think I’m more erudite than I am.)

It’s worth thinking about. (Here’s a link to a paper about the GNH from the Bhutanese.  You can Google a world ranking, too.)

Here are the domains they measure:

Psychological Wellbeing – Life satisfaction and Emotional balance (positive and negative emotions) and Spirituality

Health – Self-reported health status, Healthy days, Long-term disability,  Mental health

Education – Literacy, Educational qualification, Knowledge, Values

Culture – Language, Artisan skills, Socio-cultural participation, Driglam Namzha (sort of a Bhutanese manners)

Time Use – Working hours and Sleeping hours

Good Governance – Political participation, Political freedom, Service delivery, Government performance

Community Vitality – Social support, Community relationships, Family, Victim of crime

Ecological Diversity and Resilience- Pollution, Environmental responsibility, Wildlife, Urban issues

Living Standards- Household income, Assets, Housing quality

As a scorecard, it is at least more balanced.  If we spent more time valuing this set of measures rather than focusing on those with crass wealth, would we be in a better place?

How broke is it? If the world is conquering absolute poverty, is Laudato Si too harsh?

I haven’t seen a thoughtful conservative response to Laudato Si’. That doesn’t mean there haven’t been any; in fact, I’d welcome the chance to read any you’ve seen.

Here’s one worth trying on, though.  Pope Francis focuses heavily, and rightly, on the plight of the poor; this isn’t new — it’s in keeping with the history of Catholic social thought.  But his premise is that the poor are dehumanized, devalued, and being left behind.

But look, a conservative could argue, at the Millennium Development Goals.  In 2000, the United Nations launched a set of 8 measurable goals to reduce poverty in all its forms by 2015 – things like halving the number of people living in extreme poverty, halving the number of people lacking access to clean water and sanitation, reducing chronic hunger and child malnutrition, and others.  Perhaps surprisingly, many of the most sweeping and ambitious goals were not only met, but met early.

As we head toward the finish line, several world leaders are declaring that the eradication of extreme poverty is in sight. And what has driven this move toward the positive? Primarily, many would argue, this is a story about trade-fueled economic growth, not a revamped world system. While the opening of China and continued development of India are the primary reasons these numbers plummeted, progress appeared almost across the globe, and, if growth continues as a reasonably strong clip, the end really does seem to be in sight, with the primary sticking point being sub-Saharan Africa.

So, a capitalist defender might argue, if free trade has done more to lift the poorest of the poor out of extreme poverty, an area in which centrally planned economy not only had no success but may have been an active part of the problem, isn’t it worth the tradeoff of higher inequality? In other words, is it better for all of us to be better off, unevenly, than for all of us to be more equally worse off?

The knee-jerk reaction is to say you can have it both ways – that growth does not have to be partnered with greed. I’m not sure there’s a strong body of evidence that this alternative exists, though.

Let me suggest that the question of whether we can expect a more just system than this, or whether free market capitalism is our best hope for prosperity for all, is at least at one level of question of theology, and specifically theological anthropology — how we understand humankind from the perspective of God’s story.

I know there are those that see free market capitalism as divinely inspired, but it’s hard for me to find the seeds of the prosperity gospel in the actual gospels in which a poor, decidedly un-market-oriented Jesus focused on the impoverished and outcast.  That said, there is a long and strong tradition that roots the “best-caseness” of capitalism in a radical understanding of human sin. We are irrevocably broken, this theology holds, so much so that any attempt to build a system that draws on a positive creation of a common good is doomed to become another Tower of Babel, another testimony to the depths of human depravity. The best we can hope for, by this thinking, is to steer our worst instincts toward some indirect common good.  In that understanding, a free market system takes greed and makes it modestly less irredeemable by steering it toward economic growth that helps others. This is the sort of argument that Reinhold Niebuhr promoted.  It isn’t very warm and fuzzy, but there is something to be said for its track record in comparison to utopian visions.

This may be wrong, but I associate this worldview with its elevated sense of humanity’s fallenness, with Calvinist Protestantism. I would think, especially with this pope, that there is a stubbornly hopeful counterargument to be made based on a theology that posits that God’s love affects us not only in redemption but in remembered creation. Sin is real, pernicious, and ever-present, yes.  But God’s power transcends the power of evil not only in the cross but in the very act of Creation, which sin mars but does not destroy.  If original sin does not thoroughly wipe out original good, there is hope for a loving society that looks more like the Christian community in Acts 4:32 (“The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common.”) and less nasty, brutish and short. Contemporary evidence to the contrary.

Little things matter.

In Laudato Si’, Pope Francis outlines several daunting challenges of modern life: pollution, climate change, water scarcity, loss of biodiversity, decline of human life, breakdown of society, global inequality. That’s a lot. 

Dig a little on just one of these, like this one, is enough to leave you thinking we are, well, in bad shape.

So it’s valuable and important to note that Francis believes that not only can we work with God to pull this out, but that little things matter. He argues — plenty — for action at the international policy level. But he also rattles off stuff that we can individually make a difference. “There is a nobility in the duty to care for creation through little daily actions.”

His list from 211 and 213 (and I would love to see an app developed that helps you decide how best to act to fight these multiple challenges):

  • Use less heating (and air)
  • Wear warmer clothes (or cooler)
  • Avoiding the use of paper and plastic
  • Reducing water consumption
  • Separating refuse
  • Cooking only what can reasonably be consumed
  • Showing care for other living beings
  • Using public transport or car-pooling
  • Planting trees
  • Turning off unnecessary lights
  • Keep things clean
  • Ask without demanding
  • Say thank you
  • Don’t be greedy
  • Ask forgiveness

Dare you to use that as your examination of conscience when you next go to confession.

What progressives may not like about Pope Francis

If anyone’s interested, I can outline the argument that I think American economic conservatives can and perhaps should make about Laudato Si’ and Pope Francis’ social teaching in general. (I have some thoughts about the argument religious conservatives could have made about marriage equality, too, believe it or not.)

But until someone asks, here is the part of the pope’s encyclical that conservatives will love and liberals not love. (Other than par. 155, which looks like a slam on Caitlyn Jenner thrown in as a non sequitur into a section on livable communities.)

I’m talking about the pope’s continued full-throated defense of life, which some of my friends, even without reading the encyclical, knew to fault him for. Francis argues especially in par. 50 that some have argued that the connection between environmental problems and the poor is not the theological point I made in my last post but that, bluntly, we have too many poor people making demands on our resources and we need to get behind population control in order to fix it.

Nonsense, Francis responds. The Creator who Loves wants us to be responsible and thoughtful in wielding the power of procreation, yes, but to pin our ecological problems on “too many poor” is to objectify those who have less than us as being less valuable. The poor may be less valuable to us; they are no less valuable to God, and that is to our shame. To promote population control as the answer to problems created primarily by First-World consumerism is to misundertsand not only the present circumstance but also God Himself.

Well, OK, maybe that’s not the most comforting point for economic conservatives. But pro-lifers will find some comfort here, right?  

The genius of Laudato Si’ should make us all uncomfortable

 When U.S. presidential candidate Jeb Bush initially distanced himself from Laudato Si, he raised some eyebrows not only by doing so, but on the grounds he took: “Mr Bush, who is a convert to Catholicism, said: “I don’t get economic policy from my bishops or my cardinals or my pope.”

I will leave for others to discuss the degree to which Gov. Bush has been consistent on this point, but what struck some people was that he saw this encyclical as “economic policy.” 

Jeb was right. At least on that point. I can do a lot of posts on why Catholics should listen to the Church on economic issues, and how the Church can and should engage non-Catholics on economic issues. But Governor Bush is absolutely right that this is an economic document.

What is overlooked by the most casual observers is that Pope Francis makes an essential part of his encyclical the idea that care for the poor and care for creation are inextricably connected.

I would argue that he does this on three levels: practical, psychosocial, and theological.

(Quick note: For those who have suffered through my earlier posts on Evangelii Gaudium, Im not planning to go through and quote extensively to support this and other arguments. I’d welcome you to read the encyclical itself and let me know if I’ve done it justice.)

Practical: Francis makes the point that, on climate change, the poor are disproportionately affected. While you and I in the West may think of waterfront property as the provenance of the rich, Francis makes the point overtly that the poor live in areas directly affected by sea level rise and desertification – the majority of our megacities and a quarter of the world’s population live near the coast. If sea level rise puts Bangladesh underwater, as some scientists think is inevitable, 100 million people will be displaced, and the vast majority are poor. 

Indirectly (except maybe in par. 25), Francis makes the very practical point that disruptions of any kind, including climate, hit hardest the poor, who lack the resources – financial and social – to weather the storm (literally, in some respects). So practically, harm to the environment is harm to the poor.

Psychosocial: I’m open to a better term for this. More thoroughly than the practical, Francis argues that the way we treat the world around us is an indicator of how we treat the poor, and vice versa. I am not a criminologist (I’m not a lot of things), but I know in our area when a teenager was convicted of assaulting a llama (OK, I live in Florida, this stuff happens), the local authorities made a point that intentional cruelty to animals is often a precursor to serious sociopathic having like serial killing. On a simpler level, how we treat that which can’t fight back extends from non-human to human and back.

Theological: Maybe the most central point to make here is that how we treat the poor, and how we treat “our common home,” reflects our understanding of God and God’s relationship to that which he created. Building on Saint John Paul II’s teaching on the Theology of the Body (which, if I’d needed to learn WordPress 20 years ago, I’d have blogged on) and a long Christian tradition, Francis starts with the assertion that our God of Love is first and foremost a Creator who creates out of love in order to love all that He has created. This may sound like mushiness.

But if we were created by and for a God who loves all that He has created in order that we can participate in that act of love and act of creation, then that has implications. Francis counters this understanding with an instrumental one, in which the world around us (and, let’s face it, all but a few of the people around us) are instruments for us to bend toward our will. When Francis rails against an anthropocentric understanding, it is this instrumentalism. If we profess God the Creator and Lover, then we cannot be the center of the universe. Which means that we cannot evaluate the world solely or even primarily about how we can benefit from manipulating it.

This is a big deal wrapped in small words. If we believe that God made all of this out of Love, not only for us but for the rest of it, then we better treat it – both the natural world and the people we don’t have a direct emotional investment in – as something God loves as much as He loves us. If we choose to treat the people around us or, Francis says, the natural world that is our home and theirs, as a resource, an object, rather than a beloved and a fellow subject, then we are making a statement about how much we really believe in God.

Francis’ predecssors since Leo XIII have made variations of this point about other people. The ways in which Francis extends this thinking to our common home are fascinating to watch and reminiscent of his papal namesake.