Barry Hudock's Blog, page 7

Twitter, too!

Blogging has slowed here, as is clear. For an individual, relatively unknown writer, it tends to be not worth the significant time and effort it takes to provide consistent, quality posts. I had considered, for example, preparing a whole series of posts here on the new encyclical, but just thinking about the investment of time involved, compared to the number of people who would see them, was daunting.

I’ll be here occasionally with updates and comments, but for more regular thoughts, follow me on Twitter. I’ve been having fun playing in those neighborhoods lately.

Laudato Si: “Everything is connected”

In a book on Catholic social teaching that I wrote some time ago, I included a whole chapter on care for the environment. In it, I pointed out that Pope Benedict was sometimes called the Green Pope, thanks to his frequent teaching and even practical action on the topic. But, I said, church teaching in this area was surely in its infancy and “[p]robably one day, not long from now, Pope Benedict’s greenness will appear pale compared to that of a successor, and Catholic social teaching on the environment will develop rapidly.”

Ironically, that book was published the same month that Pope Francis was elected (the manuscript having been completed, of course, nearly a year earlier). I can’t help noting that I even suggested in my book a title for the environmental encyclical that would one day come: Sollicitudo Dei Mundis, “Care for God’s World.” For what it’s worth, this is not too far from the subtitle of Laudato Si, Pope Francis’s new encyclical on our responsibility to care for the environment.

Keeping up with the avalanche of commentary on the document — positive and negative, insightful and inane — would be nearly a full time job. This is a gratifying fact if the point of an encyclical is to make people aware of church teaching.

A good bit of the conversation has been about the Pope’s acceptance of the scientific consensus that climate change is a reality and that it is caused in large part by human activity (that is to say, by that portion of humanity living in the West). Many “conservatives” have labored to point out that one needn’t accept this assertion as Gospel in order to be “a good Catholic,” and there can be no question that’s true.

But there’s more to the document than that, of course, and most of its contents – and certainly the heart of its contents – fall very much within the Pope’s job description.

If there is an overarching theme to the encyclical – a leitmotif, if you will – it is surely that all people are call to “a deep sense of communion with the rest of nature” (91). “Everything is related,” Francis writes, “and we human beings are united as brothers and sisters on a wonderful pilgrimage, woven together by the love God has for each of his creatures and which also united us in fond affection with brother sun, sister moon, brother river, and mother earth” (92). Again and again the Pope insists that “everything is connected.” It is an assertion that can be found no less than eleven times in the document.

This is a spiritual and moral assertion. It is also absolutely consistent with and nourished by modern science. Anyone who knows the work of American theologian Elizabeth Johnson could not but be reminded of it while reading Laudato Si.

“[W]e share with all other living creatures on our planet a common ancestry,” Johnson has written. “Bacteria, pine trees, blueberries, horses, the great gray whales – we are all genetic kin in the great community of life.” Since the first time reading it, I have been moved and awed by the fact that our blood (and the blood of the rest of earth’s animals) is red because of the iron it contains – iron that was produced billions of years ago in great galactic explosions and condensed in the crust of our planet as it formed and from which we emerged.

These are scientific facts, yes. But just like the scientific fact that an unborn fetus has a distinct, individual, and entirely human genetic make-up from her mother has moral implications, so do these facts and many more related to the nature of nature (of which we are a part) and what is currently happening to it (and therefore also to us). Francis has pointed this out to us in a document that is well worth our time and indeed our embrace.

 

Review: Charles Camosy’s Beyond the Abortion Wars

Our Sunday Visitor has just published my review of Beyond the Abortion Wars: A Way Forward for a New Generation, by Charles Camosy. My take is generally positive, but not without serious criticism. A snippet:

Furthermore, Camosy says abortion law in the U.S. cannot be understood as “settled” (a legal term used to justify maintaining status quo). The 1992 Supreme Court decision Planned Parenthood v. Casey said states may restrict access to abortion as long as these restrictions do not pose an “undue burden” on the mother seeking one. This was a new standard, and one very different than a supposed right to “privacy,” as Roe v. Wade established in 1973.

Pro-life Catholics take note: Since Casey, social programs that make child-rearing less difficult for parents — especially poor women — also make it harder to call a proposed abortion restriction an “undue burden.” Any law that provides wider access for poor families to welfare, family and medical leave, and health insurance serves to erode the legal grounds for abortion. Arguably, the long list of recent significant state-level abortion restrictions succeeded thanks in part to such programs. The same programs will make future restrictions all the more reachable.

The full review is here.

(Incidentally, I reviewed Camosy’s previous book, For the Love of Animals: Christian Ethics, Consistent Action, on this blog, here.)

“Solidarity in times of sickness”

Beautiful words from Pope Francis at his general audience this morning about sickness, suffering, and family bonds:

Faced with sickness, difficulties can arise in the family as a result of human weakness. But in general illness strengthens family bonds. And I think of how important it is to educate children, starting from infancy, on the importance of solidarity in times of sickness. An education that shelters them from sensitivity to human sickness hardens the heart and anaesthetizes the young to the suffering of others, rendering them incapable of facing up to suffering and living the experience of limits.

The weakness and suffering of our most loved ones … can be … a school of life … and especially when illness is accompanied by prayer and the fraternal, affectionate closeness of families. The Christian community is well aware that the family, during the trials of sickness, must not be left alone. … This Christian closeness of family to family, is a true treasure for a parish: a treasure of wisdom, that helps families in difficult moments and enables them to understand the Kingdom of God more clearly than through words.

The lessons Murray offers, at Pray Tell

This morning, the Pray Tell blog has posted the conclusion to my John Courtney Murray book. Fr. Anthony, the blog’s moderator, introduces the post by noting that the text was “not written with the upcoming 2015 Synod of Bishops explicitly in mind, but it touches upon themes that apply remarkably well to the synod and the conversations now taking place in preparation for it.” About that, he is right.

He’s also right when he notes that it is not my intention to advocate any particular doctrinal (or, for that matter, pastoral) development by the upcoming synod. Indeed, I’m happy to acknowledge my uncertainty and ambivalence about the most controversial issues facing the synod. But the historical account offered by my book on Murray might certainly be, as Fr. Anthony says, “helpful in thinking about Christian faithfulness in a rapidly-changing world.”

The Pray Tell post is here.

Romero, politics and all

With the Romero beatification happening this weekend, Our Sunday Visitor has kindly been pushing my set of articles, first published 2 months ago, via social media. You’ll find there a summary of Romero’s dramatic story, as well as sidebars on Rutilio Grande, the controversy surrounding the decision to recognize him as a martyr, and the political and social context in which the whole thing played out.

They’re all worth another look as we observe this rather historic moment. (John Allen, Jr., calls it “arguably the most important beatification of the early 21st century.”) But if I may, let me encourage you to scroll all the way to the sidebar called “Politics at play in Archbishop Romero’s Assassination.” It’s one of the more interesting aspects of the entire picture and essential to really getting what Romero was about.

A win

The Association of Catholic Publishers has announced the winners in its 2015 Excellence in Publishing Book Awards, and Goffredo Boselli’s The Spiritual Meaning of the Liturgy: School of Prayer, Source of Life has won second place in the “Resources for Liturgy” category. It’s an excellent book, and the honor is, without question, Fr. Boselli’s. But I’m proud to have been the translator of the book. Congratulations to Fr. Boselli!

Q&A: Struggle, Condemnation, Vindication

I had��fun��a couple of years ago, just before the release of my book Faith Meets World: The Gift and Challenge of Catholic Social Teaching, doing��my own quirky��little interview with myself about the book on this blog. You can read that here. I decided to give it a go one more time, in these days just prior to the release of Struggle, Condemnation, Vindication: John Courtney Murray’s Journey toward Vatican II. Here goes.

Why did you write this book?

About six years ago, I read something about John Courtney Murray and��decided I wanted to understand him a lot better than I did. That’s when I found that the best, most recent book about him and his work was published in 1976. That’s Donald Pelotte’s Theologian in Conflict. There are certainly��some more recent things, but they’re almost all about specific aspects of his thinking, not narratives that “tell his story” in any detail.��And it’s a great story.

Then I realized that there were a lot of information and resources available today that weren’t when Pelotte wrote his book. So before you knew it, I was digging in to a long period of research and writing. And I had a heck of a lot of fun doing it.

Do you have a favorite part of Murray’s story?

I have a lot of favorite parts, both about Murray himself and about several of the other people in the story. I could go on at length! But I suppose if I had to pick just one moment, it’s the image of Murray returning his library books.

It was 1955. After a period of time under Vatican scrutiny (“There are people after my head,” he had written to a colleague), he had just been refused permission to publish an article by the censors in Rome. His Jesuit superiors saw the writing on the wall and told him it’s time to take a break from writing about religious freedom, before you get yourself in serious trouble with the Vatican’s Holy Office. And Murray, with humility and obedience, agreed to it. One of the first things he did was return to the library every book he had related to the topic. It was his concrete way of saying, even to himself, I’m done with this.

It’s not often that��returning books to the��library��carries such a��flavor of heroism, you know? (And only a decade later, an Ecumenical Council of the universal Church, in a dramatic��act of development of doctrine, enshrined in Church teaching basically the same ideas that he had been silenced for writing about.)

What was the most interesting part of writing Struggle, Condemnation, Vindication?

That might have to be exploring the copious��personal journals of Joseph Fenton. Father Fenton was Murray’s main theological “nemesis,” if you will. He kept journals for decades. It’s easy to see him as “the bad guy” of the story, when it’s seen from Murray’s point of view and from the point of view of history. But he was a real person, too, a priest and theologian, who was, we must presume, doing the best he could as he understood God and what God teaches the Church. And as the man chosen to be the personal theological expert to the Church’s primary theological watchdog, Cardinal Ottaviani, at a historic moment in the Church’s life, Fenton must have felt like he was doing that pretty well.

But he ended up so disappointed and bitter about the direction the Council took, and what ended up in its documents, that he left Rome early, not bothering to stick around for its historic closing events. I’d love to have been able to talk with him over drinks as he sat at the airport waiting for his flight back to the United States that early winter of 1965, and at many other times as well. Reading his journals is the next best thing.

S o how is this story relevant to us today?

Well, in a lot of ways, for sure. I’ll name one. When the 2014 synod on the family happened in Rome, I had just finished writing this book. I was very struck by the nature of the��conversation about a few controversial issues — especially about the possibility of allowed some divorced-and-remarried people to receive Communion at Mass. What struck me was that the reasons voiced by those opposed to the idea were so similar in content and tone to the opposition that Murray encountered from Cardinal Ottaviani, Fr. Fenton, and others. Murray’s proposals were (or seemed, anyway) contrary to long doctrinal and theological tradition. They would confuse the faithful and jeopardize their faith.

Now, there absolutely are ideas and practices about which that would be true. But the Murray story teaches us clearly that just because someone says that’s the case, or just because that might seem to me to be the case, does not mean it’s the case. Something that seems — even to someone with advanced theological degrees, even to the Church’s highest ranking prelates — contrary to Scripture, tradition, and doctrine might not be. It might just be a new way of looking at problem, a new way of answering a question because we realize we’re able to ask the question from a different direction.

Are you still getting up at 4:30 am to write?

Yep. I said a couple of years ago that��I was doing that with the help of Colbie Callait. These days, it’s more often with Rihanna. That set she did��at the Concert for Valor is excellent (at least the first two songs; I love her singing in “The Monster,” too, but can’t stomach Eminem), and then there’s “FourFive Seconds,” with Paul McCartney and what’s-his-name. Good stuff.

How do I get a copy?

Thanks for asking! I know the default approach��of many folks today, understandably,��is Amazon, and you can get it there, of course, and I’ll thank you if you do. But if you care to make sure more of your purchase goes to supporting the little people who are doing important work, and for whom every bit of revenue��means a lot, I’d encourage anyone to buy either directly from the publisher — in this case, Liturgical Press, which is also (full disclosure) my employer��— or from an independent��bookseller. So you might consider getting it here, here, or through your local bookseller.

Free sample

A free��excerpt (the introduction and chapter 1) of my new book, Struggle, Condemnation, Vindication: John Courtney Murray’s Journey toward Vatican II, is now available here. Just click on “Sample/Preview.” The book will be available in about a week!

Caller on the private line

On this day of Cardinal Francis George’s funeral, don’t miss this story about him told (here) by Msgr. James Moroney, now rector of Boston’s St. John’s Seminary:

During the years he served as chairman of the USCCB Committee on the Liturgy I had the privilege of flying to Chicago to meet with him for an hour or so every month to discuss current liturgical questions.�� One day, in the course of our meeting his private line rang.�� He looked at his watch and excused himself, saying this would probably take a while.�� He then greeted someone on the phone, telling his caller how glad he was to hear from her.�� The next twenty minutes consisted of questions about how she was doing, quiet listening to her stories and strong interjections reminding her to ���take her meds.���

When he returned, Cardinal George explained that his caller was a woman he had met at random after a confirmation years before.�� She has been diagnosed as a schizophrenic and had so enjoyed his gentle and patient listening to her that she asked for his private number, which he gave to her, with the agreement that she would call him only once a month on a given day.�� And once a month the Cardinal Archbishop of Chicago sat there like the good priest he was and listened to her struggles, encouraging and shepherding her in the model of Christ the Priest and Shepherd into whose image he had been molded.

Thanks to Michael Sean Winters for pointing it out.