University of Chicago Law School, by the way, is considered to be one of the best places in the country for the study of law and economics.

I am posting Brown’s comment in full along with my own interpolations:

Dear Friends and Foes, Torture of prisoners can be approved in some cases when there are specific reasons for doing so, but my belief is that in the case of torture, we have to examine first and foremost the case of the innocent preborn child. His limbs can be ripped off and noone calls that torture. His head can be crused with forceps and noone calls that torture.

I am not sure who Judie Brown’s foes are at Vox Nova or why she feels compelled to presume that there are, indeed, persons inimical toward her here. In fact, we have had a link to the American Life League since the Vox Nova was first initiated, and we certainly have made no effort to conceal it (it occupies the top place in our alphabetical list of Catholic Organizations, Institutes and Ministries in the right sidebar).

More apropos of the matter at hand, I want to direct your attention to the very first line of Brown’s comment. She affirms unequivocally that torture of prisoners (i)can be approved in (ii)some cases when there are (iii)specific reasons for doing so.

As to (i), whose approval is needed? Brown doesn’t say. We know, obviously, that the act of government-sponsored torture, which is the sort we have been discussing at length at Vox Nova, needs only the approval of the Executive Branch of government without the consent of the legislature or the American people in order to be performed. But Brown seems to want to say more than that since, after all, she left her comment on a post that discusses the moral legitimacy of torture from the Catholic prospective. Is Brown suggesting that torture of prisoners may be approved of according to the magisterium of the Catholic Church? If she is, she is dead wrong. This is well-traveled terrain at Vox Nova, but it bears repeating that the Second Vatican Council and Pope John Paul II, whose teaching authority unquestionably extends to morals, both condemned torture as intrinsically evil without qualification (i.e., under no conditions is an act of torture morally licit). For those teachings, see Gaudium et spes 27 and Veritatis Splendor 80.

As to (ii), we have already ruled out from the Catholic stance any circumstances in which an act of torture may be morally licit. So Brown’s suggestions that there are “some cases” where torture can be approved are well outside Catholic boundaries. What is less astonishing, but no less irresponsible, is that Brown blithely mentions “some cases,” but leaves us only with an indeterminate idea. To which cases is she referring? It seems to me the Brown herself does not know.

As to (iii), once more Brown short-changes her friends and foes by neglecting to indicate which and whose reasons may be supplied to justify morally an act of torture. Such vagueness is reprehensible, especially in discussions about what the Church considers a grave human rights violation.  It seems to me that, in her haste to justify torture, Brown has not thought about the matter in any depth.  In the absence of reasons, we can only desire that something be true.  Does Brown desire torture to be legitimate and morally acceptable in some way?  If so, her belief stems from an inordinate will, not from responsible, pro-life reasoning.

Brown continues her thought:

…but my belief is that in the case of torture, we have to examine first and foremost the case of the innocent preborn child. His limbs can be ripped off and noone calls that torture. His head can be crused with forceps and noone calls that torture.

Indeed, the description of certain methods of abortion that Brown provides is horrific and accurate. And, indeed, I do acknowledge that the pain inflicted on the child is indescribably cruel and abominable. But all Brown is suggesting is that in common parlance we extend our talk of torture to the pain and suffering inflicted on a human fetus.  This in no way advances a case for torture.

There are many other examples I could provide but I think you get the picture.

I do.

When you write about torturing someone guilty of murdering innocent soldiers, civilians and the like and you compare that with what is being done to preborn babies under cover of law, I have to say … no contest.

The safeguarding of human rights and the condemnation of an intrinsic evil is never a contest. We are not in the business as Catholics of cashing out intrinsic evils in some sort of comparative or competitive enterprise.

In this one line, Brown shows her true colors. She submits that the pain inflicted upon a “guilty” person through torture is not in the same moral realm as the pain inflicted on the unborn through abortion. First, from a logical point of view, this a red herring (fallacy of relevance). The introduction of the pain inflicted on aborted children does not change the reality or status of any other intrinsic evil, be it torture or euthanasia. Furthermore, noting the pain and suffering involved in abortion does not establish Brown’s previous point about torture being morally licit in “some cases” for “specific reasons.” In other words, Brown is not making any sort of point here, but is instead distracting from the relevant discussion.  Again, in the absence of reasons, Brown’s case is just a matter of hand-waving.

Also telling is Brown’s assumption (unsubstantiated and empirically false) that those who are torture are “guilty” of murdering innocent soldiers and civilians (can we really talk about the innocence of soldiers in the same way as we do the innocence of civilians?). First, torture can be done (and has been done) on human persons who have not been judged guilty by any tribunal or court. Second, torture can be done (and has been done) on human persons who have not murdered innocent persons. So the concept of torture in no way contains the idea of “guilt” as one of its essential features. Rather, torture is defined without respect to guilt or retribution. Now, torture can, indeed, be done on those who are found guilty of murder or other crimes, but this is only a contingent connection, not a necessary one. One of the hallmarks of Catholic teaching on morals specifically, and logical analysis generally, is precision in analytic description. We are able to conduct ourselves morally in view of Catholic teaching because we understand its moral concepts. That’s what makes morality, according to Aquinas, reasonable.  The prohibition on torture extends to all cases without respect to specific reasons to torture, no matter if the human person who is to be tortured is innocent or guilty.

In her last gasp to make a cogent argument, Brown turns to the Catechism:

As for the Catechism, this might interest those of you with a logical thought process:

2297 Kidnapping and hostage taking bring on a reign of terror; by means of threats they subject their victims to intolerable pressures. They are morally wrong. Terrorism threatens, wounds, and kills indiscriminately; it is gravely against justice and charity. Torture which uses physical or moral violence to extract confessions, punish the guilty, frighten opponents, or satisfy hatred is contrary to respect for the person and for human dignity. Except when performed for strictly therapeutic medical reasons, directly intended amputations, mutilations, and sterilizations performed on innocent persons are against the moral law.

Brown wants us to utilize our “logical thought process.” She then quotes the Catechism, which paraphrases the teachings of the Second Vatican Council and Pope John Paul II. This passage condemns torture as contrary to respect for the person and for human dignity. The “logical thought process”  is not Brown’s.  She contradicts her earlier comments about torturing being legitimate in “some cases” and for “specific reasons” by citing this passage, which in turn draws from the teachings of Vatican II and John Paul II.   The truth of the matter is, Brown has no argument from morality and no argument from the Church’s teaching to support her claim. She is right, however, to put a premium on logical thought process, and she would do well to employ it herself.

To close, allow me to post the paragraph in the Catechism that immediately follows the paragraph Brown quotes, which she conveniently omitted:

In times past, cruel practices were commonly used by legitimate governments to maintain law and order, often without protest from the Pastors of the Church, who themselves adopted in their own tribunals the prescriptions of Roman law concerning torture. Regrettable as these facts are, the Church always taught the duty of clemency and mercy. She forbade clerics to shed blood. In recent times it has become evident that these cruel practices were neither necessary for public order, nor in conformity with the legitimate rights of the human person. On the contrary, these practices led to ones even more degrading. It is necessary to work for their abolition. We must pray for the victims and their tormentors. (CCC 2298)

The Catechism itself states that the practices of torture that were overlooked or permitted by clerics in the past were cruel and out of conformity with the rights of the human person. Furthermore, we are to work for the abolition of torture (notice the Catechism switches from a reference to the past to a present imperative).

I do not doubt the sincerity of people like Judie Brown, David Carlin, and Deal Hudson in promoting respect for the unborn. But they have shown themselves to be in deep need of catechesis and moral formation on the issue of torture. And as long as they continue to try to find loopholes in the Church’s doctrine (such as Brown’s emphasizing that the victims of torture are guilty or Hudson’s outrageous claim that torture can be permissible when subsumed as a measure of a just war), they remain at odds with the Church. They very well may be the “foes” of certain Catholic moral principles that Brown acknowledged in her comment.

Let’s start with some of the superfluous elements of Carlin’s article that have little to do with what he wants to establish.  As a former middle school Latin teacher, I thought this was a rather comical line:

One of the unfortunate byproducts of the fact that, for many years now, nobody has studied Latin in school is this: Hardly anybody remembers Cicero and the conspiracy of Catiline. If we could remember this, it would be helpful in thinking about what those on the American Right call “enhanced interrogation” and those on the Left call “torture.”

First, one need not have ever taken a single Latin course to have done some basic historical reading on the Roman Republic and Cicero’s political career therein. Nor does learning Latin necessitate any reference to Cicero and Catiline (unless, I suppose, you are following Wheelock’s Latin page-by-page). Carlin even sketches the account of Cicero and Catiline before the Roman Senate without having to use a single Latin term! So what knowing Latin has to do with a dabble in Rome history is unclear.  Second, Carlin sounds his not-so-subtle rallying cry of the American Right by insinuating that the American Left, presumably out of its ignorance of Latin, just doesn’t get what’s important about the Bush administrations use of torture enhanced interrogation.  So Carlin’s rhetoric (he probably could have benefited from actually reading Cicero’s orations) serves to accomplish little more than to arouse the passion of those already predisposed toward hostility against the “American Left.”  This takes absolutely no intellectual work to accomplish, let alone any knowledge of Latin.

Now let’s move to the actual argument that Carlin attempts to make.  He observes:

The trouble with these executions, even though they may have saved the republic (at least for the time being: less than 20 years later, Caesar, a far more brilliant leader than Catiline, would extinguish the republic forever), was that they were, strictly speaking, illegal.

Cicero was faced with a choice: Do I break the law, or do I let Catiline and his friends make a coup d’etat? When he saved the republic by breaking the law, he had every reason to believe that he would never face prosecution for his deed. The traditional Roman attitude had been to look the other way when some savior of the city cut legal corners.

Cicero, knowing full-well that he was breaking the law, followed through on the execution, thus saving the Republic. He was the “savior of the city,” according to Carlin, and the Roman attitude toward Cicero’s illegal actions, described by Carlin as innocuously “cutting legal corners,” was to simply “look the other way.” What we are to glean from Carlin’s shoddy account is that idea that the Roman people permitted those illegal measures taken by their officials for the good of the Republic. You can probably see where Carlin is going with this.

Regarding our present political climate in the U.S., Carlin asks: What Would Cicero Do? (I’m having the bracelets and t-shirts patented, by the way):

What would Cicero say? He would say, “Go ahead and torture.” He would say, “Necessity knows no law.”

In other words, Americans in the 21st Century who have the benefit of 2000+ years of legal and moral development after the time of Cicero–not to mention the privilege of having the moral standards of Christianity available to them–should pay attention to what Cicero would recommend with respect to the United State’s prisoners in the War on Terror. If Cicero would do it, then shouldn’t we?

The immediate question that any intelligent reader of Carlin’s piece would ask is: Why should I care what Cicero did in the First Century BC when determining how to view government-sponsored torture in the 21st Century? Perhaps detecting that his case is a bit week, Carlin throws in a very vague and unsubstantiated reason:

Keep in mind, however, that Cicero was a man of high ethical standards. He was one of the most notable moralists of the ancient world: see, for example, his work De Oficiis (On Duties). It is one thing for a good man to feel that he has a license to break the rules; it is something else for a bad man to feel he has that license.

Ah, so since Cicero was a “good man” of “high ethical standards” we don’t employ typical standards of justice. I mean, just read De Oficiis [sic] (how ironic that, after having lamented the absence of Latin in contemporary education, Carlin misspells the only Latin word in his entire piece). And what about reading De Officiis? Do the ethical standards outlined in one’s writings necessarily correspond to the ethical standards by which one lived one’s life?  Of course they don’t by necessity, yet Carlin’s argument needs us to think they do since he offers absolutely no other reason to think that Cicero’s life was one of high ethical living.  Carlin infers (without good reason) that Cicero embodied the ethical standards he codified in De Officiis.

But, for the sake of argument, let’s say that Carlin has convinced us that Cicero’s hypothetical opinion on torture in our day is worth entertaining and that Cicero’s life was one of high ethical standards (I know, we’re granting a number of astonishing concessions to Carlin).  The ensuing point Carlin is trying to make is that Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld went the Ciceronian way and, like the Romans of the First Century BC, we Americans should consider just “looking the other way.”  So if the Romans could overlook Cicero’s illegal actions, so too should we Americans overlook any illegal actions of the Bush administration, be they hypothetical or actual, as long as they are being done to save the city.  Just take a moment and think of what sort of license such an attitude of the American public would grant a government: The government may break its own laws and those of the international community as long as the government intends to save its own nation.  Can you think of the abominations, historical or hypothetical, that may be justified from such a proposition?

But there are deeper flaws to Carlin’s piece that suggest that he has not really thought through this matter.  Consider that last line I quoted:

It is one thing for a good man to feel that he has a license to break the rules; it is something else for a bad man to feel he has that license.

Now read it in light of this assertion from Carlin:

Were Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld good men doing illegal things (assuming, for the sake of argument, that they did illegal things), or were they bad men doing these things? Today’s American Left would have us believe that they were bad men. This, to my mind, is an utterly preposterous accusation. Clearly they were well-intentioned American patriots, even if their judgments may not have been error-free.

Let’s put aside the obviously blithe and unsubstantiated assertion that it is “preposterous” to think of Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld as “bad men” since “clearly” they were “well-intentioned patriots.” Carlin wants us to take this as a brute fact that needs no real support, but let’s indulge him just for the sake of argument. This “fact” serves an important premise to Carlin’s argument. We can break down the argument as follows:

1. If a good man breaks the rules (i.e., does something illegal), then we should look away.
2. If a bad man breaks the rules (i.e., does something illegal), then we should not look away [implied premise].
3. Cicero was a good man.
4. Therefore, we should look away when Cicero breaks the rules.
5. Bush and Co. were good men.
6. Therefore, we should look away when Bush and Co. break the rules.

What this amounts to is the relativizing of law, conditioning its authority and its attendant penalties on the disposition of the agent.  Imagine you, an average American citizen, are being prosecuted for a crime you really did commit, and you tell the judge and jury to “look the other way” since, after all, you ordinarily hold to very high ethical standards.  Joking aside, this really is what Carlin is arguing.  We, the American people, should “look the other way” when our government breaks laws and justifies such actions on the pretense that it was “saving the city.”  Ultimately, Carlin is suggesting that the law, justice, and the morality that ought to ground both can be brushed aside when the State is at risk, especially when the State’s leader is a good man. But if he’s a bad man…we’ll get back this in a moment.

Carlin’s analogy is terrible. If I may be so brash as to adopt Carlin’s opening line, I must admit that one of the unfortunate byproducts of the fact that, for many years now, no one has studied logic in school is this: Logical fallacies in argumentation abound (especially on blogs)!  Carlin commits one of the classic logical fallacies: the false analogy.  The case of Cicero ordering the execution of men and the case of Bush and Co. ordering the torture of men are not analogous.  The case of Cicero entails an actual crime committed by Catiline and retributive justice, with the execution as the penalty.  Furthermore, the crime committed by Cicero was not the execution itself. Executing without trial was Cicero’s crime (indeed, execution was a legal punishment in the Roman Republic and Catiline may well have been executed still).   The case of Bush and Co. entails no retributive justice for those who are tortured and, by implication, no legal penalty.  Rather, the case of Bush and Co. is the infliction of suffering in order to extract information about possible crimes and threats.  There are no conditions under which torture would be legal in this context, whereas there were conditions under which execution was legal in the Roman context.  Cicero misapplied a normally just and legal punishment under Roman law.  Bush and Co. conducted an illegal practice under international law.  There was no misapplication of justice in the latter.  The only common feature of both cases is the breaking of the law by government officials.  But this feature is insufficient to draw an analogy for argument (would government-sponsored genocide be analogous to a president cheating on his taxes?).

But perhaps Carlin will object here and say: But both Cicero and Bush were trying to save the city!!!  Again, we refer Carlin back to the question of whether the preservation of the state can legitimately relativize morality (Bush is still a good man, says Carlin!) and bypass established law.  Carlin, departing from any semblance of Catholic reasoning and moral rectitude, believes it can.  In fact, he has a thought for those who think otherwise:

There was a time when Americans were politically wise enough, like traditional Romans, to look the other way when the nation’s leaders cut legal corners for the good of the republic — for instance, when President Lincoln illegally suspended habeas corpus in the early days of the Civil War. But this wisdom has now deserted many of us, in particular those on the American Left.

That’s right. Wisdom enables us to see that government-sponsored torture is merely just “cutting legal corners,” sort of like when you go a little bit over the speed limit or when a governor violates state ethics rules. So it is morally acceptable (Bush is a good man!) and legally permissible for the government officials to sponsor intrinsically evil actions (they’re just cutting legal corners!) as a means for serving the good of the State. And, really, if you can’t see this, then I guess you need to study some Latin.

Something else that struck me about Carlin’s analogy is the demonizing of the “American Left.” In recounting the story of Cicero, Carlin points out:

It was a sign that traditional Rome was coming to an end when, a few years after the execution of the Catilinians, a political enemy of Cicero indicted Cicero for the illegal executions. This political enemy was a reprobate by the name of Publius Clodius — who, among his other claims to ill-fame, was at one time the adulterous boyfriend of Caesar’s wife. To avoid standing trial, Cicero was forced to go into voluntary exile, leaving Italy for a few years, although eventually he came home when political tides shifted.

So if Bush and Co. are like Cicero, then who is like Clodius? Why, the American Left, of course! Those adulterous reprobates! Carlin is explicit with this identification:

Imitating Publius Clodius, they want to prosecute those who authorized the enhanced interrogation/torture that took place at Gitmo. If the indictment of Cicero by Clodius was an ominous sign that the Roman republic was on its last legs, I fear that the widespread leftist desire to put Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al. on trial is an ominous sign that something dreadful is happening to the American political system.

Recall Carlin’s bizarre excuse for excusing Bush’s illegal actions:

It is one thing for a good man to feel that he has a license to break the rules; it is something else for a bad man to feel he has that license.

It is one thing if Cicero and Bush (the good men) break the rules: we should just look the other way. But if a bad man breaks the rules, what then? Teasing out the rest of Carlin’s confused analogy, Clodius, the adulterous reprobate, would be a bad man, right? And who, according to Carlin’s analogy, are like Clodius? The American Left. Why else would Carlin point out Clodius’ immoral disposition before comparing him to the American Left? So flip the scenario. What if a government official who belonged to the American Left were to break the rules? The implication of Carlin’s analogy is that we would not just look away. I doubt very much that Carlin intended this to be conveyed by his analogy, but unfortunately this is just what his analogy cashes out: It is okay for Bush to torture, but it would not be okay for an official of the American Left to torture. What Carlin is really up to throughout his piece is cheer leading for his contrived club, the American Right. If Carlin doesn’t intend to communicate any of this, then he should not have been so sloppy with his analogy, which is central to every point he wishes to establish.

Before I close up shop here, I should note that perhaps Carlin has made unwittingly a strong case for prosecuting Bush and Co. Recall that last line:

If the indictment of Cicero by Clodius was an ominous sign that the Roman republic was on its last legs, I fear that the widespread leftist desire to put Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al. on trial is an ominous sign that something dreadful is happening to the American political system.

Had Carlin studied his Latin and his Roman history, he would have noticed something interesting: The time between the Punic Wars and the rise of Julius Caesar were some of the most corrupt and impoverished times of the Roman Republic. These were the years of Cicero’s career. After the exile and death of Cicero, the weakening of the Roman Senate, and the rise of the Roman Emperors (especially Augustus), Rome enjoyed a time of prosperity, wealth, and renewal. Education was improved, infrastructure was established, and trade was made safer. That’s why they call it the Pax Romana. Christian missionaries benefited from these improvements, helping Christianity to spread despite periodic and intermittent persecutions. So, if we carry Carlin’s analogy all the way to its conclusion, then he is actually giving us hope for an American renewal should we prosecute Bush and Co.! Life in Rome in the ensuing decades after Cicero’s prosecution was anything but “dreadful.” Perhaps the same may be said for America? I doubt Carlin wants to go there. Again, sloppy analogy.

So what Carlin gives us is bad reasoning, partisan venom, and ignorance of history. But perhaps worst of all, his views on torture means he is feeding us from the Catholic cafeteria. What more needs to be said? A little more, but not by me. I want to reproduce some very smart comments left on Carlin’s post that I think cut to the hear of the matter:

Aaron writes:

Legality is one thing, morality another. We can be shrewd enough to recognize that a law fails in a given situation, and accordingly look the other way. But the debate over torture involves a line that may not be crossed by anyone, regardless of the utility, and if that line has been crossed we cannot look the other way. It’s one thing for a society to disregard its own laws when they are seen to be defective, quite another for that society to disregard the natural law, which undergirds arguments from human dignity (we’ll save the excursus on defective conclusions from the natural law).

Mary Ann writes:

I am a pretty conservative person, but your argument doesn’t work. First, the ethical standards that Cicero upheld were a far cry from Jewish or Christian morality.

Joe H. writes:

Look the other way? Are you serious? Our leaders did not merely “cut legal corners” – they sanctioned torture, offenses against the inherent dignity of human beings.

What you have advised here – to ‘look the other way’ – stands in direct contradiction to every serious statement the Church has ever made about the responsibility of citizens to hold government to account, particularly in the Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, paragraph 567. It also stands in contradiction to what the Church has taught about the moral basis of governmental authority, in paragraphs 396-398.

I sincerely hope no one ‘looks the other way’ if or when the day comes that sincere, practicing, public Christians are declared troublesome enemies of the state.

Austin writes:

The American Left has a lot more wrong with it than its lack of knowldge of Latin and Cicero, and I am disappointed in the article. The past few articles by David Carlin have been simplistic and superficial, often clumsy attempts at barbing the Left, but really failing to do so in an elegant manner.

Kevin J. Jones writes:

This essay rejects the idea that the government must be law-abiding when it counts.

If you don’t want people to be prosecuted for torture, then make torture legal for future cases. A government can’t pick and choose what laws to follow. Arbitrary government is inimical to freedom. In the long term, it’s even more dangerous than terrorists.

Perhaps Cicero’s “extra-legal” action helped destroy the republic in order to “save” it.

How was Tully any different from the rebels? He was acting outside his authority, as were they. You don’t suppress a rebellion by becoming a rebel.

Torture was condemned by Vatican II and Pope John Paul II. Citing Cicero as a contradicting authority is a form of neo-paganism. Quit poisoning the faithful.

1 Thessalonians, perhaps more than any other New Testament letter, portrays the life and teachings of the earliest Christian communities. I say this for a number of reasons. First, virtually all Pauline scholars agree that 1 Thessalonians was the first letter written by Paul that has survived. I have seen it argued in scholarly books that 1 Thessalonians was written as early as 43 AD, though most likely it was written between 49-51 AD. In any case, this is a very early date, which supports the impression that the letter preserves and conveys the genuine Gospel message of the apostolic church. Second, 1 Thessalonians was not written by Paul to respond to a crisis or heresy in one of the local churches as was the Corinthian correspondence and Galatians. Nor is 1 Thessalonians a letter introducing Paul to a community that he did not establish as Romans and possibly Colossians were intended to do. 1 Thessalonians bespeaks of an intimate familiarity between Paul and the community at Thessalonica. Third, Paul is writing to the Thessalonians to praise and thank them for their firm witness to Jesus Christ, declaring their church to be a model for other churches to emulate. This suggests the picture given of the Thessalonian church is one that depicts the true essence of Christian faith, practice and structure.

So what sort of faith does 1 Thessalonians present?

God the Trinity – 1 Thessalonians does not have a highly developed trinitarian theology, yet Paul certainly has a firm grasp of the personal functions. For Paul, “God” is reserved only for speaking of the Father (1 Thess 1:1, 3, 9; 3:11), which is consonant with a Jewish paradigm for thinking God. To refer to Jesus, Paul uses “Lord” and “Christ” to differentiate and distinguish the Son and the Father (1 Thess 1:1, 3; 2:14; 3:24). Nevertheless, precisely as Father and Son, God and Jesus are inseparable in function and intention (1 Thess 1:1; 3:11; 5:9, 18, 23). Especially important in this regard is Paul’s juxtaposition of “gospel of God” and “gospel of Christ”, which not only associates the two in function, but in also in identity (1 Thess 2:8-9; 3:2). Finally, Paul has an early understanding of the function of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Church, a function that is indeed associated with, yet different from, God and Christ. The Holy Spirit is responsible for the spreading of the gospel through the apostles (1 Thess 1:5-6) and inspiring prophesy (1 Thess 5:19-22), and is involved in the on-going sanctification of Christians (1 Thess 4:8).

Christ, Resurrection and Return – In his earliest epistle Paul is adamant over the real resurrection of Jesus. The resurrection of Christ is a key component of faith from the earliest times of Christianity (1 Thess 4:14), and all Christians should be prepared for the his return (1 Thess 4:15-18), for Christ shall “come like a thief in the night” (1 Thess 5:2).

Belief, Conduct and Action – 1 Thessalonians presents perhaps the most simple understanding of what the act of faith truly is. Leaving aside the frequent disagreements among Christians on the precise meaning and consequences of faith, which tend to focus on Romans, Galatians and Ephesians, 1 Thessalonians presents the truest meaning of faith. Paul makes no distinctions between faith, belief, and works. Rather, Paul presents the “work of faith” as inalienably tied to the “labor of love” and the “steadfastness of hope” (1 Thess 1:3). The will of God is our sanctification, says Paul, and this comes by means of living upright lives and pleasing God in our conduct, lest God avenge our immorality, lust and transgressions (1 Thess 4:1-8). Paul is quite clear that even a believing Christian may commit sins that God will avenge. The sober preparation for Christ’s return and for our salvation is not faith alone or works alone, but “the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation” (1 Thess 5:8-9).

Hierarchy – It is often said that the idea of an organized hierarchy in Christian churches is not found in the early Pauline epistles, but rather in the later Deutero-Pauline Pastoral Epistles. The story goes that the early Pauline communities were charismatic and, if anything, these communities were guided by a kind of loose-knit oligarchy. But I find this to be a forced reading with little textual support. Paul clearly makes reference to an organized leadership in 1 Thessalonians, the earliest of his letters: “But we beseech you brethren, to respect those who labor among you and are over you in the Lord and admonish you, and to esteem them very highly in love because of their work” (1 Thess 5:12-13). These leaders are “over” the faithful of Thessalonica, and Paul appears to be comfortably “over” them. After all, Paul is writing his letter to the entire church at Thessalonica, which would include its local leaders. Let us be clear here: Paul says nothing explicit about clerical offices in 1 Thessalonians. However, he does describe a hierarchical structure composed of himself, those who are over the Thessalonian church, and the faithful of the Thessalonian church.

-President Barack Obama, 4/29/09 press briefing

I will begin my studies at Notre Dame this fall, and I cannot express how disappointed I am that a minority of administrative officials can so blatantly resist the authority of the bishops and the outcry of a large chunk of its student body.  I have already expressed my thoughts on President Obama’s presence at Notre Dame’s commencement, so I will not reiterate those here.

April 27, 2009
The Rev. John I. Jenkins, C.S.C.
President
University of Notre Dame

Dear Father Jenkins,

When you informed me in December 2008 that I had been selected to receive Notre Dame’s Laetare Medal, I was profoundly moved. I treasure the memory of receiving an honorary degree from Notre Dame in 1996, and I have always felt honored that the commencement speech I gave that year was included in the anthology of Notre Dame’s most memorable commencement speeches. So I immediately began working on an acceptance speech that I hoped would be worthy of the occasion, of the honor of the medal, and of your students and faculty.

Last month, when you called to tell me that the commencement speech was to be given by President Obama, I mentioned to you that I would have to rewrite my speech. Over the ensuing weeks, the task that once seemed so delightful has been complicated by a number of factors.

First, as a longtime consultant to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, I could not help but be dismayed by the news that Notre Dame also planned to award the president an honorary degree. This, as you must know, was in disregard of the U.S. bishops’ express request of 2004 that Catholic institutions “should not honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles” and that such persons “should not be given awards, honors or platforms which would suggest support for their actions.” That request, which in no way seeks to control or interfere with an institution’s freedom to invite and engage in serious debate with whomever it wishes, seems to me so reasonable that I am at a loss to understand why a Catholic university should disrespect it.

Then I learned that “talking points” issued by Notre Dame in response to widespread criticism of its decision included two statements implying that my acceptance speech would somehow balance the event:

• “President Obama won’t be doing all the talking. Mary Ann Glendon, the former U.S. ambassador to the Vatican, will be speaking as the recipient of the Laetare Medal.”

• “We think having the president come to Notre Dame, see our graduates, meet our leaders, and hear a talk from Mary Ann Glendon is a good thing for the president and for the causes we care about.”

A commencement, however, is supposed to be a joyous day for the graduates and their families. It is not the right place, nor is a brief acceptance speech the right vehicle, for engagement with the very serious problems raised by Notre Dame’s decision—in disregard of the settled position of the U.S. bishops—to honor a prominent and uncompromising opponent of the Church’s position on issues involving fundamental principles of justice.

Finally, with recent news reports that other Catholic schools are similarly choosing to disregard the bishops’ guidelines, I am concerned that Notre Dame’s example could have an unfortunate ripple effect.

It is with great sadness, therefore, that I have concluded that I cannot accept the Laetare Medal or participate in the May 17 graduation ceremony.

In order to avoid the inevitable speculation about the reasons for my decision, I will release this letter to the press, but I do not plan to make any further comment on the matter at this time.

Yours Very Truly,

Mary Ann Glendon

Von Hildebrand is probably best known among Catholics for his criticism of post-Vatican II reforms in the Church, which became increasingly hostile toward illegitimate changes and, regrettably, many legitimate and benign adaptations in his final years.   While his Trjoan Horse in the City of God proved to be quite prescient in its warnings on post-Vatican II trends in theology and pastoral care, The Devastated Vineyard is for the most part a tragedy of pessimism and  idiosyncratic analysis of ecclesial trends. Sometmes it’s hard for me the recognize the author of this latter anamoly as the same author of the magestic Transformation in Christ.  Fortunately, the Dietrich von Hildebrand Legacy Project is ensuring that von Hildebrand’s greatest intellectual contributions, namely his philosophical works and his theology of love, will eclipse some of his misguided criticism of the Church.  This creatively speculative, theologically faithful, and philosophically rigorous von Hildebrand is the one that all Catholics should know.

Joe comes to us from the “American Catholic” blog, and he is a writer for Inside Catholic (you can read his newest piece here).  Joe earned a MA in Political Theory at Arizona State University, specializing in modern political thought.  He is a man of the papal social encyclicals and advocates a contemporary form of distributism as a truly just economic model.  We are very excited to have a specialist in political theory and Catholic social thought joining us.  Joe’s first Vox Nova post can be found here.

Sam is a national award winning debater, a graduate of Franciscan University of Steubenville, and a current Gates Millenium Scholar at The Ohio State University where he is finishing his Ph.D. in the Philosophy of Education.  Sam is one of the smartest guys I know.  Whether its Foucault’s account of power, Dewey’s theory of education and democracy, music and art, or Catholic spirituality, Sam brings a fresh perspective and voice to the most important ideas and movements in  Western culture and society.

Welcome, Joe and Sam!

I do think Notre Dame plans to make an egregious error, however, in awarding Obama an honorary doctor of laws degree.  This award signals to me that Obama’s career as a laywer, legal scholar, and legislater is being singled out as especially praiseworthy by a Catholic university.  I find this completely unacceptable and morally offensive in light of the fact that Obama has worked through legal means to strike down restrictions on abortions at state and federal levels.  In this, I agree with the prevailing opinion of the several U.S. bishops who have spoken out against the award, and I take a stand with both Katerina and Michael Iafrate in supporting the opinions of those bishops.

I read tonight that 10 priests from the Congregation of the Holy Cross (the order that runs Notre Dame) have petitioned Notre Dame president Fr. John Jenkins and the university board to reconsider the invitation.  All things considered, I now object to the invitation itself and not only to the award.  Why the change of heart?  In light of the statements made by Bishop John D’Arcy of Fort Wayne-South Bend and USCCB President Francis Cardinal George of Chicago, and the inner turmoil of the Holy Cross Fathers, Notre Dame ought to rescind the invitation.  At stake is the authority of the Church  (especially of the U.S. hierarchy) and peace within the religious order that runs the university.  Indeed, I think it is now a matter of obedience and prudence.  At this point, I think there is a lot to be lost for both Notre Dame and the Church in the U.S.  Now that we are heading into the Triduum, some immediate humility from Notre Dame officials would not be out of place.