What happens when an atheist doctor and historian is given access to the Vatican’s Secret Archives to investigate miracle claims? Just such a thing happened in the early 2000s, and both the story behind it, and the doctor’s conclusions, are worth recounting.

Dr. Jacalyn Duffin, a hematologist (M.D.) and historian (Ph.D.), was the Hannah Chair of the History of Medicine at Queen’s University from 1988 until 2017, and she’s served as both the President of the American Association for the History of Medicine and Canadian Society for the History of Medicine. It was in her role as a hematologist (a blood doctor) that she got involved with miracles in the first place, as she would later recount:

About twenty years ago, in my capacity as a hematologist, I was invited to read a set of bone-marrow aspirates “blind,” without being given any clinical details or the reason why. The fourteen specimens had been taken from one patent over an eighteen-month period. Using the microscope, I found this to be a case of severe acute leukemia with a remission, a relapse, and another remission. I assumed that the patient must be dead, and the review was for a lawsuit. Only much later did I learn, to my great surprise, that the patient was (and is) still alive. Although she had accepted aggressive chemotherapy in a university hospital, she attributed her recovery to the intercession of Marie-Marguerite d’Youville, a Montreal woman who had died two hundred years earlier. This case became the capstone in the cause for Youville’s canonization as the first Canadian-born saint. Again, I was surprised.

This experience, and the Vatican’s invitation to come to the canonization of St. Marie-Marguerite d’Youville, piqued Dr. Duffin’s interest. She asked for, and received, access to the Vatican’s Secret Archives, containing “the documentation on more than 600 miracles pertaining to 333 different canonization or beatifications from 1600 to 2000,” including at least one miracle for almost every canonization since the early seventeenth century. As a non-believer who was new to this, she wanted to know what the process was like: how medically serious were (and are) the Vatican investigations? And how unusual was it that Youville’s canonization involved the testimony of a non-believing physician?Many people assume that belief in miracles is anti-scientific. In The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins mocked the idea of miracles, and declared them (by definition!) to be against science:

I suspect that alleged miracles provide the strongest reason many believers have for their faith; and miracles, by definition, violate the principles of science. […] The last King of the Belgians is a candidate for sainthood, because of his stand on abortion. Earnest investigations are now going on to discover whether any miraculous cures can be attributed to prayers offered up to him since his death. I am not joking. That is the case, and it is typical of saint stories. I imagine the whole business is an embarrassment to more sophisticated circles within the Church.

This is characteristic of Dawkins’ approach: he laughs at an idea he’s incapable of actually refuting. He simply asserts that miracles “violate the principles of science” without specifying which principles or why, and then holds the whole thing up to laugh at with a sort of “can-you-believe-it” mockery… even though his own account suggests an approach resembling that of science. Dawkins’ argument amounts to saying that if a doctor says “let’s try Drug X and see if it has any effect on the patient’s disease,” that’s respectable science, but if someone says, “let’s pray to Baudouin for his intercession, and see if it has any effect on the patient’s disease,” that’s silly! The only problem is that, amidst his sneering, he forgets to actually give us any reason why. We’re just left with the blanket assertion that the sacred Principles of Science have been somehow violated.

Contrast this with what Dr. Duffin found when she actually examined the centuries’ worth of medical records related to miracle cases. Her findings were originally presented in a Presidential Address that she delivered to the seventy-ninth annual meeting of the American Association for the History of Medicine in Halifax, Nova Scotia. A revised version of these remarks were published in the Winter 2007 issue of the Bulletin of the History of Medicine under the name The Doctor was Surprised; or, How to Diagnose a Miracle. The whole report is worth a read, and includes several interesting details:

• The way that “new technologies appear in the Vatican records soon after their invention” (in other words, that miracle investigations were relying on the best medicine available at the time);
• The crucial role that medical experts play throughout the whole history of these miracle investigations;
• The use of non-practicing and non-Catholic medical experts, dating back at least to the Middle Ages;
• The high standard to which medical testimony was required to comport (for instance, an apparent miracle in 1906 involving the healing of a 49 year-old nun was treated as inconclusive because the treating physician failed to order a bacteriological examination on the pleural effusion to confirm his clinical diagnosis of tuberculosis).

Dr. Duffin concluded:

With codification of the Consulta Medica of the Vatican in 1949, the gold standard of a miracle cure entrenched three specific characteristics: that the healing be complete, durable, and instantaneous. [….]

Gradually, I began to understand that the process cannot proceed without the testimony of a physician. The doctor need not believe in miracles, the doctor need not be Roman Catholic, nor even a Christian – but the doctor must fill two absolutely essential roles.

The first role is to declare the prognosis hopeless even with the best of the art. This rigorous duty is built into the drama of every final illness. Many of the miracle healings occurred in people who had already received the last rites. No doctor – be she religious or atheist – takes that decision lightly; nor can it be taken in private. As a result, it becomes a public admission of medical failure, available for corroboration in a distant future. Its credibility resides on trust in the physician’s acumen: the diagnosis and prognosis must have been corrected; the learning and experience, solid. Treating physicians who happened to be academics held great sway over the proceedings. A doctor is a good witness, not for being a good Catholic, or a believer in miracles, but for being demonstrably skilled in medical science.

The second role, which is equally, if not more, important to the recognition of a miracle, is to express surprise at the outcome. And here’s the rub – although the doctors must have used the best scientific medicine available, they can take no credit for the cure. A religious miracle defies explanation by science. Traditionally arrogant, medicine must confess its ignorance. [….] For the Vatican, miracles occur when the patient recovers from certain death or permanent disability, following excellent, up-to-date medical care which the doctor claims had nothing to do with the cure. To turn a familiar phrase on its head: the doctor must say “the operation was a failure, but the patient lived.” And only the doctor can say it.

Unless one arbitrarily defines science as denying miracles, the entire investigation into whether a particular healing is or isn’t a miracle is a scientific question, just as much as the question of whether or not a particular healing is a full recovery or only a temporary remission. The same techniques, the same methodology, is used in both.

Duffin noticed what Dawkins was too bigoted to see: that both medicine and science are looking at the same problems, along parallel and complementary lines. When the Church declares that a particular event was miraculous, it’s not just on the basis of faith. It’s after carefully reviewing the relevant medical information, and in light of the latest and best medical technology. Rather than contradicting the principles of science, this is a healthy integration of science and faith, and her research into the process led Dr. Duffin to say, “though still an atheist, I believe in miracles—wondrous things that happen for which we can find no scientific explanation.”

Pope Francis just landed yesterday in America, and today he's being welcomed at the White House. Much of the country has turned its attention to his visit.

Whatever you might think of the Pope Francis, it’s hard to deny the fact that people are listening to him; if not his words, certainly his example.

I heard someone say, when Pope Francis embraced that man covered with tumors, the world changed! Beautiful.

Among those being moved by Pope Francis are atheists. I recently spent time hunting down comments from atheists posted on secular news sites. Here are fifteen, though if I kept looking I’m confident I could have found 1,000:

1. I’m an athiest and do not believe, but I love this new Pope, Pope’s are put on a pedestal and seem untouchable, this Pope, from the get go, has been a people person. You can almost feel the love radiating from him. So from one human to another, he shows such compassion and humility. Love him. – Sarah, England, UK.

2. I’m an atheist, but i believe he is a great example of how religious folks ought to be – Cort R

3. As an atheist (not speaking for all of them), I’m a huge fan of this pope. I think people need to find their own reason to be good to others. For some, it is god (whichever flavor he/she/it may be). Others find that they want to be good for other reasons. I’m just glad that the big C found a leader willing to try his best to not just preach to his crowd, but try to show them how.

4. On the other hand, some people use god as their excuse to be a d*ck. So I’m not sure if this is an example of the pope acting like a good god, but rather he is a good person and his faith only amplifies the goodness of his own character. – Wesley_Song

5. Left the church many years ago. Don’t believe in god mainly due to the Catholics and southern baptists is was raised around. This pope embodies the teachings of the church I actually liked. He’s pro something. He takes careof the less fortunate. Wonder what our nation wld be like if all the Catholics and baptists followed his lead and voted for people who cared about the poor?? Go ahead pope. Show the way – Cellstrom.

6. I don’t even believe in God. But, this guy, as a human being, just rocks. – Ironhand43

7. He’s setting a new standard for future popes to follow. I’m an agnostic, but this guy has truly awed me with his actions. So unlike other popes in my lifetime (even JP2, who seemed okay to me). – Rob_Cypher

8. I was raised Catholic but am now an atheist, but I’m growing to respect this man more and more. He’s actually following Christ’s teachings… imagine that! – Alex D

[In response to Alex D was this comment,] Me too! I am returning to the church because of this fine priest! – tau4444

9. A good person is good regardless of religion. I do believe this pope has actually publicly recognized this fact and for that (as an atheist) I applaud him. He seems a very good man. My respect for him grows by the day. – Marc T

10. As an atheist, let me say that I wish more people in general, religious or otherwise, followed this man’s example. The world would be a better place for it. – Thank4Watching

11. As an atheist, I’m impressed, I feel jaded about a lot of religions these days . . . [but] it looks like this pope is making an effort to do some good in the world rather then take advantage of it. – Theoricus

12. I’m an Atheist, and even I have respect for this guy. If he can get Christians to actually act like christians, maybe I won’t have such an issue with “organized” religion. – John S

13. As an atheist, I’m officially changing my opinion of him from ‘admired’ to ‘loved’. This is precisely the “walking the walk” the world needs, especially from its religious population. – Michael Kirby

14. As an atheist this pope does many great things, I still disagree with the church as a whole but as a person this pope gets it. He is a great role model as a person not a living deity. – Vendictavis

15. I don’t believe in gods and myths, but this man is truly a man of his word and someone everyone could look upon as a role model. I just wish that more holier than thou types could be like this man, if so the world would be a better place.Walks what he talks. – Joe Bigg

What do you think about Pope Francis?

 
 
(Image credit: Philly Mag)

A few years ago I was preparing to debate an atheist on the existence of God at my home church. One lady came up to me, curious about the posters she was seeing advertising the event, and asked about the individual I was debating. “He’s an atheist,” I explained. Immediately her expression tightened and a look of confusion came over her as if to say, “Why would you talk to an atheist?”

Forming opinions about the atheist community

To be honest, it’s not an unusual reaction. Indeed, in my experience Christians have a lot of negative assumptions about atheists. For many, the attitude is summarized in Psalm 14:1, “The fool has said in his heart, ‘there is no God’.” “You see?” the argument goes. “Atheists are fools!”

Alleged biblical proof-texts aside, the biggest catalyst for this negative perception may be the words of atheists themselves. The new atheists in particular have led the charge in ratcheting up the rhetoric and thereby deepening the divide between Christians and atheists.

Consider the case of Christopher Hitchens (d. 2011) who was widely lauded as one of the so-called Four Horsemen of the New Atheism. While Hitchens always called himself an atheist, he also frequently insisted that he is an antitheist. That is, not only did he disbelieve in God’s existence, but he insisted that he was positively against the idea of God’s existence. He didn’t want there to be a God.

For many Christians, the antitheism of Hitchens is the face of atheism. And this, in turn, allows the Christian to conclude that atheism is not so much an intellectual issue as a moral one: that is, atheists are simply in rebellion against God. And to come back to that lady’s look of confusion: why would you invite a rebel against God into church for a chat? Isn’t this tantamount to casting pearls before swine?

Unfortunately, it is common for Christians to form their opinions about the atheist community based on the declarations of some of the loudest and brashest atheists. But this is no better than atheists forming their opinions about the Christian community based on the declarations of some of the loudest and brashest Christians. (Who among us in the community of faith wants to be identified with Pat Robertson, for example?) In short, it’s simply unjustified to dismiss an entire community, Christian or atheist, based on a few loud voices.

Atheists who want there to be a God

In fact, Hitchens himself recognized that many atheists do not share his antitheistic sentiments. In his 2001 book Letters to a Young Contrarian (Basic Books, 2001), Hitchens lays out his position as follows:

“I am not even an atheist so much as I am an antitheist; I not only maintain that all religions are versions of the same untruth, but I hold that the influence of churches, and the effect of religious belief, is positively harmful. Reviewing the false claims of religion I do not wish, as some sentimental materialists affect to wish, that they were true. I do not envy believers their faith. I am relieved to think that the whole story is a sinister fairy tale; life would be miserable if what the faithful affirmed was actually the case.” (55)

Note that even as Hitchens stakes out his own antitheism, he also recognizes a type of atheist, he calls them “sentimental materialists,” who hope that God does exist and that something like Christianity is true. In other words, even if Hitchens is himself against God, he concedes that many other atheists are not.

This is significant for at least two reasons.

To begin with, the existence of so-called sentimental materialists means that Christians cannot dismiss atheism as always arising from a sinful rebellion against God. And that means that it is disingenuous at best to highlight the more provocative passages of antitheists like Hitchens as if they represented the true spirit of atheism.

This leads to a second point. What is the Christian to do with these so-called sentimental materialists? Philosophers of religion describe a non-theist who is not opposed to the idea of God as a non-resistant non-believer. I have met many non-resistant non-believers, and more than a few of these even bore that more positive disposition Hitchens describes of positively hoping that God does exist. So how should we think about these people?

Conceding the existence of non-resistant non-believers and sentimental materialists in particular presents a practical problem for the theist. In short, if there are atheists who want there to be a God, we must ask, why doesn’t God reveal himself to them? Philosophers call this the problem of divine hiddenness and they have offered several responses to address this problem. (For a brief introduction to the problem see John W. Loftus and Randal Rauser, God or Godless (Baker, 2013), chapter 20.) However we propose to address the problem, at the very least, we should concede that the existence of non-resistant non-believers makes things significantly more complicated for the Christian theist.

To sum up, not all atheists are against God, and some even hope that God does exist.

Antitheism: It’s more complicated than that

But what about those atheists like Hitchens himself who endorse explicitly antitheistic convictions? Do they really hate God? Do they embody the consummate rebel of the popular Christian conception of atheism?

Maybe. But then again, maybe not. To see why it’s more complicated than that, we can return to Hitchens’ own words. Immediately after insisting that he hopes the whole religious story is false, he goes on to explain why:

“Well, there may be people who wish to live their lives under a cradle-to-grave divine supervision; a permanent surveillance and monitoring. But I cannot imagine anything more horrible or grotesque. It would be worse, in a way, if the supervision was benign. (I have my answer ready if I turn out to be mistaken about this: at the bar of judgement I shall argue that I deserve credit for an honest conviction of unbelief and must in any case be acquitted of the charge of hypocrisy or sycophancy.”(55-56)

I agree that Hitchens’ words look bad at first blush. But a closer examination calls to mind that old saying “Tell me about the God you don’t believe in, because I probably don’t believe in him either.” And once we factor that in, things do indeed begin to look more complicated.

The first problem concerns Hitchens’ uncritical anthropomorphism. In short, he describes God as akin to a Big Brother government that is engaged in permanent surveillance of its citizenry. But this crude image fails abjectly to grapple with the concept of God in Christianity, namely as the creator and sustainer of all things who is essentially omniscient from eternity. Indeed, if you really want to get technical, in the classical theist view of God as Pure Act, his knowledge of creation derives not from external observation of creation but rather from his knowledge of his own decrees. It certainly doesn’t derive from God monitoring our ongoing activity like an eavesdropping government official. Consequently, Hitchens’ analogy is a complete and unmitigated failure.

This brings us to the second related problem concerning the divine goodness. We would all rightly be unsettled by the notion of a government monitoring our activities, not least because governments are fallible and can become corrupted and even despotic. In short, a government might use information on its citizens for nefarious ends. So it is no surprise that we cringe at the thought of living out our lives in the spotlight of a “cradle-to-grave” government supervision.

But God isn’t a fallible (still less a despotic) power. Rather, he is (to borrow a line from Anselm) that being than which none greater can be conceived. The only reason we might be unnerved at the prospect of a maximally good being observing our activity is if we are behaving in a less than maximally good way. The Christian might be inclined to assume that Hitchens doesn’t want God observing him because he wants to sin with impunity behind the back of the Anselmian deity. But the fact remains that Hitchens never seriously considers God is perfectly good in the first place.

Finally, let’s turn back to Hitchens’ parting words in which he boldly opines how he would respond to God should it happen that God does exist. As he boldly puts it, he claims that he will plead his case by noting that “at the bar of judgement I shall argue that I deserve credit for an honest conviction of unbelief and must in any case be acquitted of the charge of hypocrisy or sycophancy.”

Once again, it must be said that the conception of God that Hitchens assumes in this hypothesized interaction is such a crude caricature that he hardly seems to grasp what he is really proposing. His flippant commentary at this point strikes me as akin to a ten year old boy scout who boasts to his friends around the campfire that he would boldly chase away any grizzly bear that should happen upon their camp. If an 800 lb bear did find its way into the camp, we can predict that a confrontation would be the last thing on that little boy’s mind. In short, that boy never seriously considered what he was proposing.

It seems to me that Hitchens is like that boy in that he is utterly failing to grapple seriously with the scenario he is proposing. This fact complicates things somewhat. You see, when a person doesn’t understand the significance of what they are proposing, we tend not to hold them to the commitment in the same way we would if they did fully understand that significance. For example, let’s say that I ask my friend Don to cut my grass while I’m out of town. He looks at my house, sees that I have a small yard, and readily agrees. Unbeknownst to him, I’m also expecting him to mow the vacant ten acre field beside my house which also happens to be my property. Since Don had no clue what he was getting into, it would be inappropriate to hold him to his initial commitment.

To be fair, not all commitments are qualified like this. For example, we don’t exempt folks from their marriage proposals when things get tough simply because they didn’t anticipate all that was implied by “for better or for worse”. So I’m not claiming Hitchens is not at all responsible for his flippant response. Rather, I’m simply pointing out that it isn’t obvious he is fully culpable for his words given his obvious failure to grapple seriously with what he’s proposing.

At this point it is probably also worth noting that atheists like Hitchens aren’t the only ones to make trite and silly comments about God. Christians frequently do so as well. In her book Bait and Switch Barbara Ehrenreich (who is an atheist, by the way), describes encountering a Christian man at a conference who suggested that the best way to get a job and build a business is to network with others … beginning with God! Ehrenreich was incredulous at the suggestion:

“If the Lord exists, if there is some conscious being whose thought the universe is—some great spinner of galaxies, hurler of meteors, creator and extinguisher of species—if some such being should manifest itself, you do not ‘network’ with it any more than you would light a cigarette on the burning bush. Francois is guilty of blasphemy.” (Barbara Ehrenreich, Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream (New York: Henry Holt, 2005), 139).

I don’t know if Francois is guilty of blasphemy or not. But if he is, I suspect God will go easy on him given that he never really grappled with the audacity of his advice. If God will extend some grace to Francois, might he do so for Hitchens as well?

Rethinking Atheism (and Antitheism)

I started this article with the widespread and deeply negative perceptions that many Christians have about atheists. These perceptions are often driven by a selected range of experience with particular vocal atheists. But, as I noted, judging the atheist community based on the words of a self-described antitheist like Christopher Hitchens is no better than forming opinions about the Christian community based on a fundamentalist like Pat Robertson.

Next, I noted that even in the case of the most combative of new atheists like Hitchens, the issues are often significantly more complicated than a cursory reading of their rhetoric would suggest. Indeed, in some cases one suspects that the target of their vitriol has less to do with the God of Judeo-Christian faith than a caricature of their own making. (And lest we become too smug, let us remember as well that Christians are often guilty of similar misunderstandings.)

So where does this leave us? For that I return to that debate at my church. The event went over very well. We had a packed audience of Christians, atheists, and many folks of other persuasions as well. One man at the end of the night stood and identified himself as a Hindu. He then went on to observe how his temple would never sponsor a debate like this. He then added, “Neither would the Sikh gurdwara or the Muslim mosque. But because you Christians have hosted this debate, it tells me that you really care about truth.”

Rather than allow our presuppositions about other people to settle our perception of them, it is always better to invite them into our space so they may share their perspective. Doing this values our interlocutor as a neighbor, and that man observed, it also demonstrates our commitment to truth.
 
 

 
 
(Image credit: MySanAntonio.com)

This post will articulate the final eight of fourteen principles that I think underlie the Catholic environmental vision. Part one ended on the thought that the first six principles imply a positive and optimistic attitude toward the natural world, the creator, and the human race.

Principle seven, however, is not positive, since Catholicism holds that at the very beginning, something happened which damaged the way man relates to creation. Original sin has disrupted the harmony that ought to exist between humanity and the rest of the natural world. After the fall, God says to Adam:

Cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth to you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. (Gen. 3:17-19)

In reflecting on the effect of the fall of man on creation, in his January 1, 1990 World Day of Peace address Peace with God the Creator, Peace with All Creation (PC), Pope St. John Paul II offered some sobering thoughts. “When man turns his back on the Creator’s plan, he provokes a disorder which has inevitable repercussions on the rest of the created order” (PC 5). For John Paul II, this is reflected by the Old Testament prophet Hosea when he wrote, “Therefore the land mourns and all who dwell in it languish, and also the beasts of the field and the birds of the air and even the fish of the sea are taken away” (Hos 4:3). In our day, the pope continues, people inside and outside the faith sense that the earth is suffering. The cause of this suffering is “the behavior of people who show a callous disregard for the hidden, yet perceivable requirements of the order and harmony which govern nature itself” (PC 5).

Catholic theology claims that original sin has affected every human being in many ways. In terms of the effect of original sin on man—and thus on people’s regard for nature—I will point out just three: a darkened intellect, a weakened will, and concupiscence.

• It is hard for people to know the truth. Mankind, in fact, makes profound errors, many of which are self-chosen out of self-interest.
• In addition, our wills are weak: we might see exactly what we should do but we don’t seem to have the strength of will to do it. “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Mt. 26:41).
• Finally, we are subject to concupiscence. This means that our passions and emotions rule our reason and will rather than being directed by them.

Many if not all environmental problems stem from original sin in so far as they are a result of ignorance, short-term thinking, or willful selfishness. For example:

• Ignorance. Until recently, people simply didn’t know that some forms of irrigation could deposit so much salt in the soil that it would eventually kill the plants they wanted to grow, and so, they irrigated their fertile fields into deserts.
• Short-term thinking. Some early Yankee settlers in California learned from Native Americans that some pine trees on the eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada mountains were edible. So they cut down the trees to get the nuts.
• Selfish evil. In places where organized crime controls the garbage industry, toxic waste is illegally and unsafely dumped because the gangsters make more money that way.

These are examples of how humanity’s actions negatively affect the environment. But this is not inevitable or even the norm, which leads to our eighth principle: the positive transformation of the world through work.

Creation, including human nature, is wounded but it is not ruined. Creation and human nature remain essentially good. As Pope St. John Paul II points out in his encyclical Laborem exercens, “Man is the image of God partly through the mandate received from his Creator to subdue, to dominate, the earth” (LE 4). In carrying out this mandate to work, “man, every human being, reflects the very action of the Creator of the universe” (LE 4).

Even though work—humanity’s primary activity—is difficult, it is still the way we transform creation and build up human culture. Labor is one of the basic means by which people sanctify themselves, others, and creation itself.

All work which is not evil per se (like criminal activity) has dignity and value. This includes both intellectual and manual work, as well as ordinary, everyday tasks.

Just as our present world is the result of the work of hundreds of generations of people before us from which we benefit (and in some cases suffer), our work today contributes to the cultural and environmental inheritance of those who will succeed us. We stand on the shoulders of giants, and those who will come after us will benefit from any good work we do during our time on earth.

Mankind’s basic role in the natural world is to be a sub-creator or co-creator with God. Man takes things in the natural world and recombines them in order to create new things. Whether it is the creation of stories or of cell phones, this remaking of things out of something is another dimension of man’s creation in the image and likeness of God, who makes things out of nothing.

In addition, I think we can be very optimistic about the future, despite the environmental problems we face today. The reason is that just as human ingenuity has had a great role in creating our environmental problems, it can also find solutions to these problems. Henry Ford figured out a way to mass produce automobiles so that cars were affordable for everyone. This set off a worldwide transportation revolution with many positive effects, as well as negative environmental problems, like L.A. smog. However, there are far more cars in the Los Angeles basin today and far less air pollution than in the 1960s.

The ninth principle is the universal destination of goods. It answers the question of who should benefit from the goods of God’s creation and human co-creation.

God created the earth for the benefit of all human beings, not just some. This means that the resources of the earth belong to everyone. They belong to all the people living now, including the poor, and they also belong to future generations.

The Church teaches that private property and the rule of law are two powerful ways to protect people’s right to secure the goods of the earth for their own and for others’ welfare. In fact, poverty and injustice actually increase in places where governments appropriate property in the name of “the people,” where laws are inconsistent, and where contracts cannot be enforced.

Nevertheless, a street orphan in Central America has an intrinsic right to a family, to food, to shelter, to education, to a safe and clean environment, to marry (at least potentially), and so on, even though practically-speaking it is impossible to enjoy these goods at this moment. In the same way, future generations have a right to a healthy planet in which the resources are not all used up.

I think it is important to note that wealth is not a zero-sum game. Because of the innovative creativity of human beings, there is not a fixed amount of the goods of the earth such that if one person has more another person necessarily has less. The marvel of the modern world is that wealth can be created and the goods of the earth can be multiplied.

For example, in the late 1960s, Paul Ehrlich in his wildly successful book “The Population Bomb” predicted massive famines and wars due to the pressure the world’s growing population was putting on the world’s food supply.

But these famines and wars never materialized. Why? Plant breeders such as Norman Borlaug, using philanthropic funding from sources like the Rockefeller Foundation, had by that time effectively solved the world food problem by developing new strains of cereal crops which produced greater and greater yields. Just as we have more cars and less smog in Los Angeles, around the world fewer farmers are growing more food on less land than ever before. There is no foreseeable end to these developments. For example, a high protein/low starch corn has been developed which could be a great boon to the millions of people for whom corn is the staple of life.

Closely connected to the universal destination of goods is the Catholic principle that “we are all in this together” as human brothers and sisters. This is the tenth principle: solidarity. Solidarity or “brotherhood” is the practice of the sharing of material and spiritual goods (CCC 1948).

In If You Want to Cultivate Peace, Protect Creation (CPPC), Pope Benedict XVI points out that solidarity should be both intragenerational, that is, lived in regard to all who are now alive, wherever they are or whatever their economic situation, and intergenerational, that is, practiced toward those who will come after us (CPPC 8). Borlaug’s work is a prime example this solidarity. Borlaug’s green revolution helped hungry people all over the world and it will help future generations. And his work was funded, in part, through the philanthropy of John D. Rockefeller, who had long-since died but who had wanted to leave a legacy for the future.

Lack of solidarity can create environmental problems. Out of ignorance, people have thought that natural resources were limitless or that oceans were so vast that one could dump anything in them and it would simply “disappear.” This was a common attitude in the United States in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries with our vast, resource-rich continent to settle. Shortly after World War Two, for example, the Atomic Energy Commission had some steel barrels of nuclear waste. It dumped them in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of San Francisco. That took care of the problem, didn’t it? We know better now. Polluting the environment is like urinating in a swimming pool. We really are one human family and so, out of solidarity, we should care about what happens to other people in the world and to our descendants.

The eleventh Catholic environmental principle shapes the way we practice solidarity. It is the idea of subsidiarity. According to the Catechism, “a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to co-ordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good” (CCC 1183).

Subsidiarity means that higher levels support and coordinate the lower levels when—and only when—necessary. Higher levels do not interfere with the legitimate life and functions of the lower levels.

When it comes to environmental questions, individuals, families, civic organizations, businesses, governmental entities, and international bodies each have a legitimate sphere in which to exercise their specific responsibilities. Solutions cannot be handed down from above for everyone to obey because centralization and authoritarianism simply do not work. Individuals and groups should take responsibility within their own realm.

The twelfth principle of the Catholic environmental vision is the problem-solving virtue: prudence. Prudence is the natural virtue which governs our practical decisions. Prudence means using reason to recognize a problem or opportunity, to gather and weigh evidence, to apply objective standards, and to arrive at a decision for action. Prudence counsels us not to ignore problems. If, for example, global warming is both real and a bad thing for us and for future generations, then we are obligated to take realistic steps to act against it, without embracing impossible utopian agendas.

A particular application of subsidiarity and prudence for Catholics is that the Magisterium or teaching authority of the pope and bishops provides the principles (such as those articulated here) but the laity has the responsibility to work out concrete solutions.

As Pope Benedict XVI points out, the application of the principles of the Gospel to social life is the work of reason, “enlightened reason,” which requires Christianity to constantly “reshape and reformulate social structures and ‘Christian social teachings’” according to the concrete demands of the time (Jesus of Nazareth 126-27). This reliance on reason is why Catholics can work with fellow citizens of widely different ideologies, since we are looking for solutions which accord with reason. However, prudence is not confined to technical, practical solutions. There is another whole dimension to consider.

The thirteenth principle is that environmental decisions are moral decisions. Although some environmental matters are purely technical questions (should I use aluminum or titanium?) or involve prudential choices between goods (should I raise chickens or grow vegetables?), one must always begin environmental problem-solving by examining the moral issues involved. When prudence makes a decision, one of the sets of standards it judges by is the standard of the morally right thing to do. One may never do a direct evil or do evil so that good may come of it (Rom 3:8). To give an extreme example, if a government decided to do its part in ending its country’s “addiction to carbon” by cutting off all use of oil, natural gas, and coal, it would probably plunge its people into extreme poverty and suffering that would be morally reprehensible. This would be an example of illegitimately putting environmental ecology over human ecology.

This brings us to the have-nots.

The fourteenth and final principle of the Catholic environmental vision is the option for the poor. The Church insists that the poor and powerless must always be taken into consideration both in assessing environmental problems and in proposing solutions. Out of solidarity, those with power must take the poor into account because the poor don’t have a way of asserting their own dignity and rights. The powerless “poor” includes future generations. These have absolutely no ability to determine our decisions but nevertheless they have to live with the consequences of them.

Conclusion

The Catholic Church sees God as the good creator of his good creation. Within this creation, God has placed his god-like creature, man, to discover creation’s inner nature and wisely to direct it to his own fulfillment. Despite original sin, man can bring the goods of creation to every human being on earth and safeguard these goods for the benefit of future generations, all the while never forgetting the poor. I think this, in brief, is the Catholic vision of creation, stewardship, and solidarity.

Tomorrow (June 18), Pope Francis will release his long-awaited teaching document on the environment and human ecology. With that in mind, I wrote this article to articulate some principles that underlie the Catholic environmental vision, with the hope that atheists can better understand it and perhaps find common ground. I don’t know if these principles have been set out systematically, but in my research, I have uncovered fourteen. My selection of them is my own, as is the order in which I present them. In this article I'll identify and explicate the first six, then we'll cover another eight in my next article.

The first principle is that God is the sole creator and sustainer of the universe. This includes the laws of nature implanted in things. Because God is also good in himself, we can say that God is the good creator.

A second principle is that everything God has created is good. In Genesis, when God looks at the entire creation, including the first man and woman, he sees that it is “very good” (Gen 1: 31). One reason the author of Genesis may have included this is that human beings have a recurring temptation to see physical reality, including the human body, as evil. Gnosticism, Manichaeism, and the Albigensian heresy are three examples.

An axiom of Catholic philosophy is: “All that is is good.” This is to say, everything which has being is good. It is easy to feel that wheat, wine, sunshine, and butterflies are good. But subatomic particles, uranium, arsenic, crocodiles, and killer whales are also in themselves good. Physical evils, such as floods, tornadoes, blizzards, man-eating tigers, and dangerous microbes, are bad for us but good in their being.

The third principle is that part of the goodness of the universe is that it has a design and a purpose. Things have an inbuilt order which we can discover, recognize, and cooperate with. Everything in the universe behaves according to laws, from subatomic particles, to atoms, to molecules, to chemical compounds, to cellular life, to plants and animals, even to the human body. Matter obeys the laws of physics, plants and lower animals obey their genetic programming, and animals follow their instincts. An amazing dimension of design is the potentiality in being. Assuming the Big Bang is correct, everything that exists now is a coming into being of potentialities inherent in the singularity.

In addition, everything in nature acts for an end or purpose. Every human organ, for example, is marvelously ordered to carry out a function: the eyes see, the fingers feel, the digestive system digests, and the sex organs reproduce. All technology is predicated on discovering and using things according to the way they naturally work. When Orville and Wilber Wright understood the physical laws of thrust, lift, drag and stability on three axes, and built a machine which could exploit these laws, they learned to fly. Hence, Artigas argues that modern science and technology have grown from the specific Christian premises that there is a natural order, we can know this order, and it is good to know it (Artigas 29-30). As Feser points out, it is not necessary that anything know its end or purpose in order to act toward it (Feser 35). For example, the human reproductive system produces new human beings without any awareness and it produces human beings, not bonobos, carrots, or lead.

The fourth principle is that the human race is singular and the summit of creation. Man is singular on the earth in that there is nothing else like him. There is no other being in the physical world—at least on planet earth—with a nature which makes it possible for it to exercise reason and free will. This is one of the things we interpret Genesis to mean when it reports that God made man, “in the image and likeness of God” (Gen 1:27). As awe-inspiring as are the number, variety, complexity, and beauty of the creatures of the natural world, humans alone possess oral and written symbolic language, mathematics, art, music and philosophy.

I think it is also true to say that man is like everything else . . . but more. Man is the summit of creation because he holds within himself all the lower levels of the created world. His body is made up of subatomic particles, atoms and molecules, which obey the laws of physics. He is composed of chemicals which obey the laws of chemistry. He is a conglomerate of trillions of cells which act just like all other cellular life. His body carries out all kinds of operations automatically, like plants and animals do. He has a body which has instincts and emotions, like the higher animals. While contemplating the wonders of the natural world, the Psalmist exclaims amazement that God has made man, “little less than God, and dost crown him with glory and honor,” giving him dominion over all His creatures (Ps. 8: 3-8). We do have god-like powers.

The fifth principle is that the earth is for our use. This principle is perhaps the hardest Christian environmental truth for modern people to accept, although almost no one had a problem with it until about 1960.¹ The earth and its creatures exist for us, not us for them. In Genesis, man receives the command to “subdue” the earth. He possesses “dominion” over the animals and is “given” the plants to eat.

Why is it morally legitimate for us to “use” creation? According to the Catholic vision, there is a fundamental difference between human beings and everything else in creation. Human beings have absolute value: we are ends in ourselves. According to the Vatican II Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, man is “the only creature on earth that God has willed for its own sake” (Gaudium et spes 24). The rest of creation is of limited value: it is a means to an end. This is already seen in God’s mandate to Adam and Eve to subdue and use the things of the earth. In a highly technical explanation of this in his Summa Contra Gentiles, Thomas Aquinas writes, in reference to “subsistent intelligences,” by which he means men, “the good things which are given them . . . are not given them for the profit of any other creature: while the gifts given to other creatures by divine ordinance make for the use of intellectual creatures.” In other words, the gifts which man is endowed with are for his own benefit, not for the benefit of the creatures below him. On the other hand, the good things lower creatures possess are for our benefit (and the benefit of other lower creatures). They are for us; we are not for them. We are not designed to be shark food or malaria hosts, even though we can be those things.

This is why the earth’s ecology is at the service of human ecology and not vice versa. According to Pope Benedict XVI in his January 1, 2010 World Day of Peace Message, If You Want to Cultivate Peace, Protect Creation (CPPC), “Our duties towards the environment flow from our duties towards the person, considered both individually and in relation to others” (CPPC 12). Note that our duties towards the environment do not flow from any “duties” towards trees, dolphins, the air, or the earth as a whole. For example, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) tells us,

[I]t is legitimate to use animals for food and clothing. They may be domesticated to help man in his work and leisure. Medical and scientific experimentation on animals is a morally acceptable practice if it remains within reasonable limits and contributes to caring for or saving human lives. (CCC 2417)

On the other hand, an environmental policy or practice that does real harm to people to benefit “the environment” is wrong. For example, some environmental activists hammer spikes into trees to “save” them and to punish the logging industry. If the spikes are discovered, they must be laboriously removed, and they lower the economic value of the trees. If they are not found, they could physically injure a logger or sawmill worker when the saw hits the hard object.

If it is legitimate for man to use creation, may he use it any way he wishes? As we will see later, the answer is no.

This brings us to the sixth principle: Stewardship is man’s God-given mandate to direct wisely the development of the earth. If we look back over the five principles articulated so far, one could argue that the first great principle of the Catholic environmental vision is that God is the good creator of everything that is. The second is that man is God’s steward of creation. The principal of stewardship is also the answer—or at least an answer—to those who (falsely) say Christians believe God has given them license to rape the environment. A steward is not the owner of a good thing but rather the one who is entrusted with its use and care. The owner of the entire natural world is God who has given mankind the order to fill the earth and subdue it. Man’s stewardship imposes responsibilities on him.

Man’s stewardship includes respect for God’s creation. A person’s abuse of creation is wrong because it degrades him and is an injustice to other people on earth and to future generations. However, it is not wrong because of any inherent rights which lower created things possess. Abuse of creation is also wrong because it is a kind of insult to God who has created it good.

Man’s actual practice of stewardship can be seen in human history, which is an astonishing account of man’s dominion over and use of the goods of the earth through discovery, adaptation, and technology. We rightly think of our age as one of an explosion of knowledge and of astounding scientific and technological progress. But the discovery and use of fire, the domestication of animals, and the development of agriculture all occurred in human prehistory.

Stewardship is also not optional. As Pope Benedict XVI points out, God has created the world with a certain “grammar” which includes “giving man the role of a steward and administrator with responsibility over creation, a role which man must certainly not abuse, but also one which he may not abdicate” (CPPC 13). Whether anyone likes it or not, man is master of creation. Therefore, he has a responsibility.

In the next post, I will articulate the final eight principles. After that, if there is interest, I can start applying these principles to specific environmental issues.

First, allow me to start this short article with what might be deemed a startling confession: I am not a Catholic, nor am I even a Christian. In fact, I am a secular Muslim and an avid reader of philosophy and history with an unswerving commitment to the unmitigated truth no matter where it is even, nay especially, if it runs counter to commonly held beliefs.

I have spent the last few years researching the history of Christianity, especially the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages, and was shocked to discover that almost everything we had been taught about Catholicism was erroneous and apparently affected by anti-Catholic bias. In contradistinction to what most people both in the West and Middle East think, the Catholic Church and Church Fathers did not suppress science, reason, and knowledge. Quite the opposite, in many cases they even encouraged the acquisition of secular learning and the pursuit of science, and placed a high premium on man’s rational faculties. I was also astonished to discover that the “dark" Middle Ages were not intellectually barren after all. This period was not one of utter stagnation, superstition, or the persistent persecution of natural philosophers. In fact, the universities—where unhindered scholarly and intellectual debates were held—were founded in Europe during the High Middle Ages. In addition, 12^th- and 13^th-century Catholic scientists, who were committed both to their Christian faith and the scientific method, laid the groundwork for the Scientific Revolution. It is becoming more and more evident that this revolution, which began with the publication of Nicholas Copernicus' On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres and Andreas Vesalius' On the Fabric of the Human Body, was not an abrupt outburst of creativity but a continuation of intellectual headway reached in previous centuries, namely the High Middle Ages. What is equally stunning is the importance medieval Catholic theologians and philosophers attached to human intellectual capacities, and their relentless pursuit to create a synthesis of reason and faith. In a nutshell, years of intensive research have made me respect and even admire the Catholic Church even though, as I have said earlier, I hail from a secular Arab family that has taught to investigate all issues without any pre-conceived dogma and to accept the truth even if it turns out to be incongruent with generally accepted views.

I feel utmost respect for the work of Catholic monks and monasteries in the Middle Ages. Their intellectual activities are one of the brightest chapters in the history of the Catholic Church. The monasteries played a positive role as centers of teaching, learning, and scholarship, and they can be aptly described as "proto-universities" (Trombley 58). These monasteries taught grammar, logic, rhetoric, and later mathematics, music, and astronomy, and they were "among the most important libraries in the history of Western thought” because they copied, transcribed, and stored valuable texts (58). While the Catholic Church is persistently accused of destroying classical or Greco-Roman culture, the fact is that the monasteries should be credited for "the careful preservation of the works of the classical world and of the Church Fathers, both of which are central to Western civilization" (Woods 42).

Christianity in general and the Catholic Church in particular could not have stifled or destroyed Classical learning because it emerged in a Greco-Roman environment and as a result it had to have assimilated Greek philosophical notions, such as Logos, synderesis, the idea of a rationally ordered and mechanical universe operating according to fixed and consistent laws, etc. This enabled Christianity to live in peace with Greek/pagan philosophy and rationalism—a crucial accomplishment that Orthodox Sunni Islam has unfortunately failed to make following the suppression of Mu’tazalite thinking (this topic in itself requires a long and thorough study).

Sometimes I wonder out loud: if the Catholic Church had indeed snuffed out the Classical tradition, as many scholars claim, then how come many early and medieval churchmen were conversant with Classical writings? Indeed, many monks and churchman commanded immense knowledge of classical texts, especially those by Virgil, Cicero, Pliny, Ovid, Horace, Plato, etc. These churchmen include, to name but a few, Alcuin (one of the architects of Emperor Charlemagne’s intellectual project), Lupus (805-862), Abbo of Fluery (950-1004), Desiderius (one of the greatest successors of St Benedict as the abbot of Monte Cassino and later served as Pope Victor III), Archbishop Alfano (a monk at Monte Cassino), Gerbert of Aurillac, Saint Hildebert (Woods 40-41). Clement of Alexandria (150-215), whom Pope Benedict XVI has described as "one of the pioneers of the dialogue between faith and reason in the Christian tradition" (16), stressed that the study of Greek philosophy was not only permissible but necessary for Christian believers (Kenny 95). In addition to viewing it as "instruction which prepared for Christian faith", Clement of Alexandria elevated Greek philosophy to the domain of revelation and compared it to the Old Testament (Pope Benedict XVI 18). In fact, God had given philosophy to the Greeks so as to ensure humanity had reached intellectual maturity by the time of Christ's arrival (Kenny 95). Justin Martyr (100 – 165) held the Greek philosophical tradition in high regard as well, viewing it as a legitimate property of Christians. Both the Old Testament and Greek philosophy are two paths leading to Christ and therefore there can no contradiction between Greek philosophical ideas and the gospels (Pope Benedict XVI 9-10).

To go back to the valuable monastic activities I was discussing, I would add that in addition to copying and preserving texts, the monks, especially Cistercian ones, were known for their technological sophistication and ingenuity. They used waterpower for all kinds of activities (including crushing wheat and tanning), demonstrated knowledge in metallurgy, and devised sophisticated clocks. In 996, Gerbert of Aurillac, later known as Pope Sylvester II, is believed to have built the first clock for the German town of Magdeburg. For his part, the Benedictine abbot Richard of Wallingford designed in the 14th century an astronomical clock, the most sophisticated one for the next two centuries. Monks also engaged in manual activities that brought benefits for their human surroundings. For example, they cultivated lands, drained swamps, cleared (and at other times preserved) forests, planted trees and vineyards, bred and reared animals, and introduced new crops, etc. They also produced wine, beer, champagne, and cheese, and stored up water for distribution in times of draught. They taught irrigation to peasants in places like Lombardy, and "were the first to work toward improving cattle breeds, rather than leaving the process to chance" (Woods 31).

The Middle Ages "offered some important antecedents to the Italian Renaissance," including the Carolingian Renaissance of the 8th and 9th centuries; the 10th-century Ottonian Renaissance, and 12th-, 13th- century Renaissance (Trombley 85-86). One of the important intellectual figures of the Carolingian Renaissance is the Irish Neo-Platonist John Scotus Erigena (810-877) whom I admire very much. Erigena was well-versed in Greek and conversant with the writings of both Western and Eastern theologians, especially St. Augustine, Maximus the Confessor, and Denys the Areopagite. Erigena translated the writings of Denys the Areopagite into Latin, thus enabling later medieval theologians, such as St. Bonaventure, to become familiar with the Greek philosopher’s work.

What is truly remarkable about Erigena is the high status he accorded reason. He stressed the harmony between faith and reason because of their common source, namely God, and encouraged its use to shed light on the Scriptures and the writings of Church Fathers. In fact, he seems to have seen reason as an arbiter of the validity of any authority including sacred one: "Any type of authority that is not confirmed by true reason must be considered weak...Indeed, there is no true authority other than that which coincides with the truth, discovered by virtue of reason, even should one be dealing with an authority recommended and handed down for the use of the successors of the Holy Fathers" (Pope Benedict XVI 187). He adds: "Let no authority intimidate you or distract you from what makes you understand the conviction obtained through correct rational contemplation. Indeed, authentic authority never contradicts right reason, nor can the latter ever contradict a true authority. The one and the other both come indisputably from the same source, which is divine wisdom" (187). Commenting on these brilliant passages, Pope Benedict says: "We see here a brave affirmation of the value of reason, founded on the certainty that the true authority is reasonable, because God is creative reason" (187). Erigena’s emphasis on the harmony between faith and reason anticipates the philosophy of 11th-, 12^th-, and 13^th-century theologians such as Saint Anselm, Thomas Aquinas, Peter Abelard, and others.

I need to say a few words about Gerbert of Aurrillac whom I mentioned earlier as the maker of a sophisticated clock. He is one of the key figures of the Ottonian Renaissance and the most erudite scholar in Europe at the time. His encyclopedic knowledge spanned a broad range of topics, including mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, logic, Latin literature, music, and theology. He secured his place in the history of the scientific development of the West by introducing the abacus or counting board and the Hindu-Arabic numerals (Huff, The Rise of Early Modern Science 50). He also is credited for being "the scholar who first brought Arabic science to the West," as he spent three years in Spain where he may have acquired knowledge of Arabic scientific work, and "traces of Arabic influence" are manifested in his astronomical and mathematical texts (Zuccato 192-93). Two years before becoming a pope, Gerbert received a letter from the German Emperor Otto III requesting his services and pleading with the great scholar to educate him and explain a book of arithmetic. Gerbert complied with the request, and stressed to the emperor that the Holy Roman Empire had a legitimate right to claim Greek and Roman wisdom as its own (Woods 23).

Like Erigena before him and many church figures after him, Gerbert of Aurrillac underlined the need to combine faith with learning, knowledge, and science. He is reported to have said that "[t]he just man lives by faith, but it is good that he should combine science with faith" and that “[t]he Divinity made a great gift to men in giving them faith while not denying them knowledge," adding that "those who do not possess it [knowledge] are called fools" (23). It is this profound commitment to reason that has made me admire Catholic philosophers and theologians.

Another Christian scholar and philosopher who has commanded my respect is Saint Anselm (1033-1109), the Archbishop of Canterbury. Anselm has been described as "the father of the Scholastic tradition" (Stokes 48) and "the most important philosopher of the eleventh century" (Kenny 119). His balanced commitment to faith and reason is evident in a saying attributed to him: "It seems to me a case of negligence if after becoming firm in our faith, we do not strive to understand what we believe" (Watson 330). Rather than accept God’s existence purely on the basis of faith, Anselm sought to devise rational arguments for the existence of God, one of which is known as the Ontological Argument. He also came up with a rational argument for the Christian doctrine of Incarnation. Like Aquinas after him, Anselm saw reason as a legitimate tool for defending and justifying the faith.

Anselm's basic definition of God, which he says both the believer and non-believer would agree on, is the foundation upon which he constructs his ontological proof. He defines God as "a being than which nothing greater can be thought." God is a perfect being and the greatest entity imaginable or conceivable. It follows that such a being has to exist because existence is a necessary attribute of perfection. If God didn't exist, He would not be perfect and this would contradict the premise of the argument. Something that exists is surely greater than that which does not. If God is the greatest entity possible then He must exist because otherwise He wouldn't be. In other words, "the existence of God would seem to follow necessarily from the definition. For it would be a contradiction to suppose that God is on the one hand something than which nothing greater can be thought of and on the other hand does not exist" (Stokes 49).

Anselm's argument drew a response from a Benedictine monk called Gaunilo who claimed that one could conceive of the greatest island imaginable and, if Anselm's reasoning were correct, it would follow that the existence of such an island is necessary because otherwise it would not be the greatest island imaginable. Gaunilo charged that Anselm's argument "licenses the existence of all sorts of imaginary objects and must therefore be faulty" (49). Anselm responded by saying that his definition only applies to God and therefore it cannot be used in relation to other beings or objects. The exchange or debate between Anselm and Gaunilo suggested that nothing lay outside the realm of intellectual inquiry including the issue of God's existence; it "assumed that one could talk about God in terms that were 'reasonable', that God could be treated like anything else..." (Watson 368).

Anselm also set out to justify the Incarnation or the central Christian idea that God became incarnate in man. Adam's original sin was an offense against God and the scale of atonement had to be congruent with the severity of the offense. Man as a finite being could not by dint of his own efforts expiate the infinite sin against God and therefore needed divine assistance or intervention. Kenny explains: "Satisfaction can only be adequate if it is made by one who is human (and therefore heir of Adam) and one who is divine (and can therefore make infinite recompense). Hence the incarnation of God is necessary if original sin is to be wiped out and the human race is to be redeemed" (121).

No essay on the rational tradition of the Catholic Church and the place of reason in the West can skip the thought of Dominican theologian and philosopher Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274). His importance lies in the bold attempt to stand up to the challenges Aristotelian thought supposedly posed to Christianity (especially the idea of an eternal universe) and to dispel the fears Aristotle's philosophy had instilled in some ecclesiastical quarters. Aquinas sought to reconcile reason and faith, Christianity and Aristotle, thus incorporating Aristotelian elements into Christian theology. Not only did Aquinas establish common ground between Christianity and Aristotle, but he also found Aristotelian logic a useful tool for defending the Christian doctrine. Like his teacher Albertus Magnus, Aquinas admired Aristotle, seeing that the Greek master's philosophy was "the greatest achievement of human reason to be produced without the benefit of Christian inspiration" (Watson 330).

Like many theologians of his time, Aquinas advocated the unfettered and free pursuit of knowledge. It is incumbent on human beings to pursue knowledge wherever it leads because it reveals God's design and enhances man's knowledge of Him (331). There are only three truths that must be accepted because they cannot be proved rationally: the creation of the universe, the Trinity, and Jesus' role in our salvation (370). Any other truth, however, should not just be accepted, but it has to be demonstrated and proved by reason. Osborne argues that Aquinas sought "to reinstate reason as a legitimate and worthy element in human nature" (220). The conclusions reached by human reason can never contradict or clash with the Christian doctrine because they both emanate from the same source, God.

This Dominican philosopher also revived the ancient Greek idea that the universe is imbued with order and purpose and that man is a rational creature. God is a rational and just creator who laid down the rational order of the universe and bestowed reason on man. Explaining Aquinas' thought, Osborne says: "Since both order in the universe and reason in the human mind were deliberate creations of God, it was a legitimate enterprise, indeed a Christian duty, to use the gift of reason to explore the meaning of God's creation" (221).

As evidence of his commitment to reason, Aquinas tried to prove God's existence through rational arguments unaided by revelation, known as the Five Ways (the last of which, the teleological argument, best demonstrates Aristotle's influence). Stokes has described the Five Ways, which appeared in the voluminous work Summa Theologica, as "the clearest and most succinct attempt to prove the existence of God by means of logical argument" (51). These five proofs show that Aquinas viewed reason as a legitimate tool for proving what is arguably the most important article of faith.

In addition to Aquinas, Peter Abelard (1079-1142) is considered one of the icons of rational Christian thought and one of the masters of logic. Huff opines that "it is virtually impossible to pick up any major work on the renaissance of the twelfth century dealing with law, logic, ethics, philosophy, reason, and conscience, as well as the founding of the universities, that does not give a major (and positive) role to the teachings and writings of Abelard" (140). Abelard is primarily remembered for formulating dialectical logic aimed at solving or reconciling what he saw as contradictions in Biblical passages and statements by religious authorities. The dialectical method consists of the following parts: (1) a questio presenting the contradictory passages in a text (2) a propositio spelling out reasons and arguments in support of one position (3) an oppositio stating reasons and arguments in favor of the contrary view (4) a solutio or conclusio resolves the conflict between the propositio and the oppositio (128). Abelard also emphasized the unity of truth and the harmony of its diverse manifestations, saying: "Truth cannot be opposed to truth" (141). His commitment to reason and logic did not in any way detract from his faith as evident in his famous assertion: "I do not wish to be a philosopher if it means conflicting with Paul nor to be an Aristotelian if it cuts me off from Christ" (141).

The Unprecedented Translation Activity

Those who still insist on calling the Middle Ages a “dark” period in the history of Europe choose to ignore the magnificent translation activity in Spain following the expulsion of the Muslim occupiers. There is no doubt that medieval Muslims, with the assistance of Nestorian Christian scholars (such as Hunayn Ibn Ishaq, his son Ishaq, and nephew Hubyash, in addition to Abu-Bishr Matta Ibn Yunus, Yahya ibn Adi' the Logician, Isa ibn Zur'a, and many others), had preserved Greek texts that had been lost in the West as a result of the Barbarian invasions and disintegration of the Western Roman Empire. Also, many Muslim scholars such as Ibn al-Haytham (a pioneer of the scientific experimental method), Kamal al-Din al-Farisi, Ibn Sina, Al-Razi, Nasir al-Din al-Tusi, Ibn al-Rushd, and others had produced excellent scientific and philosophical works. Following the liberation of some Spanish territories, Latin scholars flocked to these areas and collaborated with Spanish Christians (known as Mozarabics, those Christians who adopted Arabic culture) and Jews, producing translations of Arabic and Greek texts. In most cases, the Jewish and Christian scholars translated the Arabic texts into Spanish and their Western counterparts in turn translated them into Latin (Watson 279-80). This fruitful cooperation resulted in the translation of Ibn al-Haytham's Optics, the algebra of Al-Khwarizmi, Euclid's Elements, the medical writings of Ibn Sina (Canon), Galen, and Hippocrates, as well as Ptolemy's Almagest (Huff 181). This "unprecedented translation activity" or “monumental translation feat" eventually brought the corpus of Aristotle and his commentators, as well as other Greek and Arabic works, into Europe "in scarcely a hundred years" (180).

In Barcelona, Italian mathematician and astronomer Plato of Tivoli collaborated with Savasorda (a Jewish mathematician, astronomer and philosopher) in translating Arabic texts on astrology and astronomy (Watson 279). The center of translation was Toledo, where Archbishop Raymond spearheaded a major translation activity. Examples of productive cooperation between Latin and Iberian scholars include Gerard of Cremona and Gallipus (Ghaleb); as well as Dominicus Gundisalvi and the Jew Avendeath, also known as Ibn Dawwud. Two Englishmen, Adelard of Bath and Robert of Chester played a key role in this activity as well, as the former translated Euclid and Al-Khawarizmi while the latter is "notable for producing the first Latin version of the Qur'an and the first translation of Al-Khawarizmi's algebra" (280). As a result of this translation activity, “by the close of the 13th century, the bulk of Arabic (and therefore Greek) science had been transmitted to Europe” (280). From the Iberian Peninsula, this knowledge passed into southern French towns and from there to Liege (among other places) and on to Germany and England (280).

The 12^th- and 13^th-century Renaissance

This translation activity had the ultimate effect of sparking or igniting what is known as the 12^th- and 13^th-century Renaissance, which included brilliant Catholic scholars and scientists, such as Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, Robert Grosseteste, Jean Buridan, William of Conches, Thierry of Chartres, Peter Abelard, High of Saint Victor, Thomas Bradwardine, Witelo, and many others.

What characterizes their thought is (1) the idea that the universe is a rationally structured sphere or machine that operates according to consistent, intelligible, and discernable patterns. In other words, there is regularity, order, harmony, and purpose in nature. God is the ultimate or primary cause, but there are secondary causes independent of God that man is capable of discovering and understanding. The laws of nature operate independently of God and on the basis of cause and effect (natural causality). God is a loving, rational, and beautiful creator who does not interfere with the laws He has laid down. In fact, it would be inconsistent with His nature to tamper with these laws or to create randomness and arbitrariness in the cosmos.

Hugh of Saint Victor, for example, perceived orderliness and unity in the universe where all parts are somehow interconnected: "The ordered disposition of things from top to bottom in the network of this universe...is so arranged that, among all the things that exist, nothing is unconnected or separated by nature, or external" (Huff 99-100). He espoused a mechanistic view of the visible universe: "As there are two works, the work of creation and the work of restoration, so there are two worlds, visible and invisible. The visible world is this machine, this universe, that we see with our bodily eyes" (100). For his part, Adelard of Bath hailed the "amazing rational beauty of the universe" (Woods 87) while Thierry of Chartres (d. 1150) asserted that "the world would seem to have causes for its existence, and also to have come into existence in a predictable sequence of time. This existence and this order can be shown to be rational" (Huff 100).

(2) God has endowed man with rational faculties, and as a rational creature, man has the ability to decipher the laws of nature and to unravel the mysteries of the universe. Adelard of Bath said that “[i]t is through reason that we are men,” adding: "Although man is not armed by nature nor is he the swiftest in flight, yet he has that which is better by far and worth more -- that is, reason. For by possession of this function he exceeds the beasts to such a degree that he subdues them...You see, therefore, how much the gift of reason surpasses mere physical equipment" (102).

Man also possesses an innate moral faculty or agency that allows him to reach moral truths, solve moral dilemmas, and distinguish between good and evil unaided by revelation (106-108). Furthermore, man has the rational capacity to understand the scriptures and to decipher their mysteries without the aid of revelation (102).

The Catholic view of a rationally ordered universe shot through with purpose and of man as a reasonable creature capable of predicting nature’s operations encouraged medieval Europeans to engage in scientific activities and paved the way for the Scientific Revolution.

It is also noteworthy that this mechanistic view of the universe leaves little room for miracles. In contrast to the skewed belief that Catholicism is riddled with nothing but superstitious beliefs and myths completely detached from reality, here we have Catholic philosophers who seem to believe that miracles are not a norm or a regular occurrence, but a departure from the fixed laws of nature. Miracles do happen, but only against the backdrop of regularity and order. For example, Adelard of Bath charged that "we must listen to the very limits of human knowledge and only when this utterly breaks down should we refer things to God" (87). On the interpretation of Scripture, Andrew of St. Victor argued that the interpreter "should realize this: in expounding Scripture, when the event described admits of no naturalistic explanation, then and only then should we have recourse to miracles" (Huff, “Science and Metaphysics in the Three Religions of the Book” 189).

(3) a strong commitment to doubt, rationalism, and the unhindered, unfettered search for knowledge, learning, and the "truth": Hugh of Saint Victor encouraged his students to “learn everything” because “later you’ll see that nothing is superfluous” (Watson, 330). He is reported to have also said: “Learn willingly what you do not know from everyone. The person who has sought to learn something from everyone will be wiser than them all. The person who receives something from everyone ends by becoming the richest of all" (Pope Benedict XVI 220). Peter of Poitiers, chancellor of the University of Paris, went as far as saying that "although certainty exists, nonetheless it is our duty to doubt the articles of faith, and to seek, and discuss" (Watson 367). The great logician Peter Abelard said the search for the “truth” is founded on doubt: “We seek through doubt and by seeking we perceive the truth" (366). John of Salisbury, bishop of Chartres, saw reason as central to understanding and knowledge: “It was the mind, which by means of the ratio, went beyond the experience of the senses and made it intelligible, then, by means of the intellectus, related things to their divine cause and comprehended the order of creation, and ultimately arrived at true knowledge, sapentia” (367).

(4) the harmony between the truths of revelation and truths of reason, as both reason and faith originate from the same source, God.

(5) experimentation and observation as the basis for investigating the physical world: Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus, and Robert Grosseteste can be seen as the precursors or forerunners of the scientific method in the West. These three scientists/priests embraced an empirical or experimental method that prioritized empirical data over theory. Bacon stressed that "the strongest argument proves nothing, so long as its conclusions are not verified by experience" (Woods 94). He added: "Without experiment, nothing can be adequately known. An argument proves theoretically, but does not give the credence necessary to remove all doubt; nor will the mind repose in the clear view of the truth, unless it finds it by way of experiment” (94). Echoing the same sentiments, Albertus Magnus said the aim of natural philosophy or science is "not simply to accept the statements of others, that is, what is narrated by people, but to investigate the causes that are at work in nature for themselves" (95). In science "only experience provides certainty" (Watson 369).

For the sake of intellectual accuracy, I would have to add that the three Christian scientists/theologians mentioned above were influenced by the Islamic medieval tradition of scientific experimentation and observation. Huff points out that "the scientific world of Islam was rich in experimental ideas...in optics, astronomy, and medicine" (218). Ibn al-Haytham and his successor Kamal al-Din al-Farisi performed experiments in optics while .Avicenna's Canon, which held sway over the medical field in Europe for centuries, laid down rules for testing drugs. Al-Razi refused to accept statements that had not been validated or verified by experiments and observations (216-18).

The experimental method of both Catholic and Muslim scientists stands in contrast with the predominantly theoretical, contemplative, and abstract approach of ancient Greek and Hellenistic scientists. Greek science was founded on all-embracing or overarching theories, and instances that challenged these theories were either brushed aside or forced to somehow conform with these theories. One medical theory, which "would bedevil the practice of medicine for more than two millennia" (Kriwaczek 199), claimed that illness was a result of the imbalance of the four bodily humors: blood, black bile, yellow bile, and phlegm. Aristotle had argued that an object twice as heavy as another object would fall twice as fast if both objects were dropped from the same height. This statement remained unchallenged for centuries even though a simple experiment would have proved him wrong. Though Aristotle collected empirical data for his studies on biology, he "persisted in believing that natural philosophy could be based on purely rational, as opposed to strictly empirical, investigation" (Woods 81). In The Republic, Plato was even more committed to the theoretical and abstract approach than Aristotle: "We shall approach astronomy, as we do geometry, by way of problems, and ignore what is in the sky, if we intend to get a real grasp of astronomy" (Freeman xvii). This Greek attitude to science may have been influenced by Plato's idea of the Forms, namely that sense perceptions do not convey reality and could only lead to opinion; what we see with our eyes are mere shadows or images of their ideal forms which can only be accessed through contemplation or reflection rather than observation.

Aristotle also made a distinction between two types of knowledge: "techne" and "episteme.” Techne is knowledge of recurring natural patterns or knowledge derived from experience, such as that the sun rises every day, clouds produce rain, etc. Aristotle defined episteme as knowledge that comes from the application of reason and the search for causes (knowledge of the "why" or "how" of things; knowledge of causes; how/why clouds produce rain, why the sun rises every day, etc). In the Greco-Roman world, scholars pursued the acquisition of episteme knowledge rather than techne (Osborne 285-6).

The Establishment of Universities

The establishment of universities in Europe during the Middle Ages is sufficient to debunk the myth of the “Dark Ages.” The first European universities were set up in Bologna (1088), Paris (1090), and Oxford (1096). Subsequently, a spate of other universities cropped up, especially in European cities such as Montpellier, Salamanca, and Cambridge. Certain universities were famous for their instruction in particular subjects: the University of Salerno was famous for its medical studies; Paris for theology and logic; Bologna for civil and canon law (Irnerius and Gratian taught there); and Oxford for mathematics and the natural sciences.

What is striking about these institutions of learning is that they incorporated into their curricula the natural sciences and the newly discovered texts of the Greek ancients and Arabs, especially Aristotle, Ibn al-Haytham, Euclid, Ptolmey, and others. Science was deeply embedded in medieval university education, and that is why Huff goes as far as saying that the medieval universities laid "the foundations for the study of modern science" (180). In other words, the study of science underwent a process of institutionalization during the High Middle Ages, thus enabling its dissemination. What is also interesting is that European universities were legally autonomous entities that provided their students and masters with legal protection and intellectual freedom to pursue their studies undisturbed. They created a protected and autonomous sphere where scholars could freely engage in intellectual and scientific inquiries. As corporate entities, the universities enjoyed several rights and privileges, such as legal autonomy from the church and secular rulers and the right to legislate their own laws and to run their own affairs without outside interference. University scholars enjoyed several privileges and prerogatives, such as exemption from civil duties, local taxes, and the jurisdiction of the town in which the university was located. They also enjoyed protection from the potential rage of the masses (Huff 234).

What struck me the most, however, is that the papacy in many cases played a key role in the establishment of universities and in providing a free academic environment. By the time of the Reformation, 81 universities had already been set up, 33 of which had received papal charters and 20 had obtained both imperial and papal ones (Woods 48). In 1254, Pope Innocent IV conferred upon the University of Oxford the privilege to award degrees without papal, imperial, or royal intervention. Pope Gregory IX issued in 1233 a document entitling students with a master's degree to teach anywhere in the world, thereby "encouraging the dissemination of knowledge and fostering the idea of an international scholarly community" (49). Two years earlier, this same pope issued a bull protecting the legal and academic autonomy of the University of Paris and giving students and teachers the right to go on strike if their rights were infringed upon. Pope Honorius III acted similarly when he interfered to protect the autonomy and independence of the scholars at the University of Bologna. In other cases, popes protected university students from the rage and abuse of the local townspeople by granting them the benefit of clergy. This meant that they had the right to have their cases heard in ecclesiastical rather than secular courts. Popes like Boniface VIII, Clement V, Clement VI, and Gregory IX are recoded to have intervened to pressure the universities into paying the salaries of the professors (48-51). Pope Innocent IV hailed the universities as "rivers of science which water and make fertile the soil of the universal Church" while Pope Alexander IV (1254-1261) described this institution as "lanterns shinning in the house of God" (65).

It is worth pointing out that the Catholic Church’s sponsorship of scientific activities persisted well after the Middle Ages and many Catholic priests continued making significant and often trailblazing scientific contributions. For example, Nicolas Steno (1638–1686) is considered the father of geology; Athanasius Kircher (1602–1680) the father of Egyptology; Roger Boscovich (1711 –1787) the father of atomic theory; Gregor Mendel (1822 –1884), the founder of the modern science of genetics; and Francesco Lana-Terzi (1631–1687), the father of aviation. Giovanni Battista Riccioli (1598 –1671) is credited with computing the acceleration of falling bodies while Francesco Maria Grimaldi (1618 –1663) discovered the diffraction of light and measured the height of lunar mountains and clouds. Father Nicolas Zucchi is considered the inventor of the reflecting telescope and Father J.B. Macelwane (1883–1956) introduced the first textbook on Seismology in America. All this valuable information is taken from Woods’ highly informative and well-researched book, How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization.

I have not written this essay to whitewash Catholic history. Nor am I claiming that the Catholic Church has been nothing but infallible or that its record has been immaculate. My aim was to express admiration for the prodigious achievements that Catholicism and the Catholic Church deserve credit for—credit that is not often given to it due to deep-seated bias and firmly established myths.

Works Cited

Freeman, Charles. The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith and the Fall of Reason. New York: Vintage Books, 2002. Print.

Huff, Toby. The Rise of Early Modern Science: Islam, China and the West. 2nd edition. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Print.

_________. 2000. “Science and Metaphysics in the Three Religions of the Book.” Intellectual Discourse 8, no. 2: 173-98. Print.

Kenny, Anthony. A Brief History of Western Philosophy. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998. Print.

Kriwaczek, Paul. Babylon, Mesopotamia and the Birth of Civilization. London: Atlantic Books, 2010. Print.

Osborne, Roger. Civilization: A New History of the Western World. New York: Pegasus Books, 2006. Print.

Pope Benedict XIV. Great Christian Thinkers: From The Early Church Through The Middle Ages. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 2011. Print.

Stokes, Phillip. Philosophy: 100 Essential Thinkers. New York: Enchanted Lion Books, 2005. Print.

Trombley, Stephen. A Short History of Western Thought. London: Atlantic Books, 2011. Print.

Watson, Peter. Ideas: A History of Thought and Invention, From Fire to Freud. New York: Harper Perennial, 2005. Print.

Woods E. Thomas. How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization. Washington: Regnery History, 2012. Print.

Zuccato, Marco. "Gerbert of Aurillac." Medieval Science, Technology, and Medicine: An Encyclopedia. Ed. Thomas F. Glick, Steven Livesey, Faith Wallis. New York: Routledge, 2005. 192-94. Print.

 
 
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Western civilization is greatly indebted to the Catholic Church. Modern historical studies—such as Dr. Thomas E. Woods' How The Catholic Church Built Western Civilization—have demonstrated with force and clarity that it is the Catholic Church who has been the primary driving force behind the development and progress of the civilized world.

The Church has provided innumerable 'goods' for the benefit of humanity. Nonetheless, modern critics assert that no amount of good could outweigh the evil the Church has allegedly committed in contrast. Talk is cheap, however. We must look at the evidence. Has the Church really been an irreconcilable force for evil in the world?

Big Questions

There are three principal issues repeatedly brought to the table by adversaries of the Catholic Church: religious violence, priest scandals, and ill-treatment of women. But do these objections hold water when their integrity is put to the test? And are they enough to render the Church "no good" in our final analysis?

Now let's be clear: throughout the duration of this piece, I am not seeking in any way to deny or defend the sins of any Catholic individual or group. The chief question I propose is not whether there have been malicious members of the Catholic Church (there obviously have been). The question at hand is whether the Catholic Church as a whole ought to be considered a force for evil.

Let's consider briefly the general assertion that religion is the chief cause of violence in the world. This position, in fact, is not supported by the data. Joe Heschmeyer has shown this quite articulately in his recent article at Strange Notions, Is Religion Responsible For The World's Violence?

Evil members of a Church do not necessarily indicate an evil Church. One must be cautious; because this line of reasoning commits an error in logic called the fallacy of composition. We would not say, "the elephant consists of tiny parts, therefore the elephant is tiny"; and thus, we should not say that the Church is sinister because she has sinister members. The parts do not necessarily define the whole; and in the case of the Catholic Church, the parts justify the whole. As G.K Chesterton writes in The Everlasting Man:

“The Church is justified, not because her children do not sin, but because they do. ”

Reclaiming The Homeland

Sound historical scholarship has shown—contrary to what modern textbooks might falsely suggest—that the Crusades ought not be considered such a black mark in Catholic Church history. Dr. Diane Moczar summarizes the facts in her historical defense, Seven Lies About Catholic History:

"To recapitulate: the Crusades were a response to unprovoked Muslim aggression against Christian states, as well as a response to the enslavement, killing and persecution of countless followers of Christ. They were not examples of European colonialism or imperialism, which lay far in the future, nor were they intended to convert anybody; they were a military answer to a military attack." (p.73)

Moczar demonstrates that the Crusades were largely just (see CCC 2302-2317) and with far-reaching benefits for the people of Europe. She cites historian Louis Bréhier, who also concludes:

"It would be unjust to condemn out of hand these five centuries of heroism which had such fertile results for the history of Europe and which left behind in the consciences of modern peoples a certain ideal of generosity and a taste for sacrifice on behalf of noble causes....." (from The Crusades: The Victory Of Idealism)

Steven Weidenkopf, a lecturer of Church History at the Notre Dame Graduate School of Christendom College, has also clarified the true nature of the Crusades in his footnote-laden treatise, The Glory of the Crusades. Weidenkopf's title is bold, but his analysis is fair and evidence based. In his scholarly assessment of the Crusades he carefully notes:

"To recognize the glory of the Crusades means not to whitewash what was ignoble about them, but to call attention to the import in the life of the Church" (p.14).

Moczar likewise recognizes that not all things regarding the Crusades are to be "glorified." Nonetheless, both Moczar and Weidenkopf decisively demonstrate in their research that, by and large, the Catholic Church's participation in the Crusades ought not be considered evil nor unjust.

Handling Heretics

The real story of the Inquisition is—like the Crusades—not congruent with what one finds in today's error-ridden history textbooks.

Statistics regarding the total number of Inquisition-related deaths have been shamefully embellished by antagonists of the Church, with some asserting numbers in the millions. Though the precise numbers are foggy, recent scholarship has put the number of deaths at just a few thousand over several centuries.

Modern research by historical experts, such as Henry Kamen, Benzion Netanyahu and Edward M. Peters, have demonstrated that the Inquisition was not nearly as harsh or cruel as popularly suggested. Overturning traditional views, they have shown that the Church courts were often both patient and fair in their treatment of heretics. In fact, Church officials were so reasonable in the Inquisition process that heretics in the secular courts (heresy was also a political concern) would blaspheme with hope that they might be transferred to the more merciful Church inquisitors.

This is not to deny, however, that the actions of some Christians were unjust. Moczar concludes:

"Were there cruel inquisitors in some places? Of course. Were methods of interrogation distasteful to modern sensibilities? Sure... [But] given its formidable task of guarding the purity of the Faith in Christian souls, however, the overall record of the Inquisition in dealing with heresy is not only defensible but admirable." (p. 102)

Celibacy Isn't The Problem

This is not a defense of the guilty. It is a defense of the unjustly accused and stigmatized. The data is clear—celibate Catholic priests are no more likely to abuse children than clergy from any another denomination, or even teachers and other secular adult leadership. As Ernie Allen, the president of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, has stated:

“We don’t see the Catholic Church as a hotbed of this [abuse] or a place that has a bigger problem than anyone else." (Pat Wingert, “Mean Men,” Newsweek, April 8, 2010)

Professor of psychology, Dr. Thomas Plante, agrees with Allen:

"Catholic clergy aren’t more likely to abuse children than other clergy or men in general." ("Do the Right Thing", psychologytoday.com, March 24, 2010)

Celibacy is not the problem—and Dr. Chris Kaczor has made this decisively clear. He summarizes the evidence with this statement:

"The evidence is substantial and confirmed by psychologists, researchers, and insurance companies: Priestly celibacy is not a risk factor for the sexual abuse of children." ("Celibacy Isn't The Problem", This Rock, vol. 21, 5)

In his vastly informative book, The Seven Big Myths about the Catholic Church, Dr. Kaczor's research conclusively disarms the celibacy-leads-to-pedophilia myth and puts it to rest once and for all.

Indeed, Catholic clergy should be held to a higher standard—the highest standard in fact—but it is unreasonable to condemn the whole priesthood because of the sins of an ultra-minority. There is simply no good reason to fear Catholic clergy any more than other religious leaders, teachers or the general population. I say without hesitation (and as a dad) that Catholic priests, by and large, are among the most trustworthy citizens of our society today. And the data agrees.

"She Shall Be Called Woman"

Finally, is the Church's view on women really immoral? Let's begin with the fiery issue of "female ordination": Why aren't women allowed to serve as priests in the Church? Is this not a violation of gender equality?

Properly understood, this is a matter of the Church's incapability to ordain women due to what a Catholic priest is. It is the nature of the priesthood that makes female ordination an impossibility. These key facts may help to underline this point:

I) Jesus called twelve apostles, all of whom were men (Mk 3:14-19; Lk 6:12-16)

II) The twelve apostles ordained men only to succeed them (1 Tim 3:1-13; 2 Tim 1:6; Titus 1:5-9)

III) These men were given a special gift and authority to serve in persona Christi or "in the person of Christ" (see 2 Cor 2:10; John 20:21-23)

IV) Christ was a man; therefore those who serve "in his person" must also be men.

Therefore a female Catholic priest is about as possible as a male mother. The nature of the Catholic priesthood renders female ordination impossible, just as male mothers are an impossibility because of the nature of motherhood. Indeed, male-only ordination is discriminatory; but this is not a matter of preference but of deference to the "nature of things"; for it is the nature of nature to discriminate.

St. John Paul the Great understood this with profound clarity:

"The Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and...this judgment is to be definitively held by all the Church’s faithful" (Ordinatio Sacerdotalis 4).

What was Jesus' attitude toward women? Once again, we turn to the words of St. John Paul the Great:

"When it comes to setting women free from every kind of exploitation and domination, the gospel contains an ever relevant message that goes back to the attitude of Jesus Christ himself. Transcending the established norms of his own culture, Jesus treated women with openness, respect, acceptance, and tenderness. In this way he honored the dignity that women have always possessed according to God's plan and in his love." (Letter to Women, 3)

Like her Founder, the Catholic Church reveres 'woman' and attributes to her the highest dignity. The mother of Christ, for example, has been widely revered by Catholics from the earliest centuries of Christianity as the mother of all Christians (Jn 19:26-27). No person in history—except perhaps Christ Himself—has received more love and honour than Mary. The Church has also named four female Doctors of the Church—Sts. Teresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena, Therese of Lisieux and Hildegard of Bingen—and recognized them for their extraordinary influence on the life of the universal Christian Church.

And is it not true that women largely tend to avoid places where they are unfairly discriminated against and patronized? If the Catholic Church really treated women unjustly, would we not expect a female aversion to the Church? Surely. But this is not what we find.

Notre Dame theologian, Catherine Lacugna, states:

85% of those responsible for altar preparation are women. Over 80% of the CCD (religious formation) teachers and sponsors of the catechumenate are women. Over 75% of adult Bible study leaders or participants are women. Over 70% of those who are active in parish renewal and spiritual growth are women, and over 80% of those who join prayer groups are women. Nearly 60% of those involved with youth groups and recreational activities are women. (Catholic Women As Ministers And Theologians, 240)

Women are not afraid of the Church. They are attracted to it. Why? Because she fights for the beauty and dignity of femininity as no other institution on earth does.

Referring to the words of his saintly predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI said these words in praise of women:

"As my venerable and dear Predecessor John Paul II wrote in his Apostolic Letter Mulieris Dignitatem: "The Church gives thanks for each and every woman.... The Church gives thanks for all the manifestations of the feminine 'genius' which have appeared in the course of history, in the midst of all peoples and nations." (General Audience, February 14, 2007)

Final Thoughts

In the final analysis, the Catholic Church is unquestionably a force for good in the world—indeed a force for greatness. She always has been; and because the gates of hell can never prevail against her, she always will be. We have Christ's promise.

Yes, the Church has proven herself to be the lifeline of our civilization—and without her—humanity will fail to thrive. As the great defender of the Church, Hilaire Belloc, concluded in Survivals And New Arrivals:

"If the influence of the Church declines, civilization will decline with it... Our civilization is as much a product of the Catholic Church as the vine is the product of a particular climate. Take the vine to another climate and it will die."

May God continue to bless His Church for goodness' sake.
 
 
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“Christ prophesied the whole of Gothic architecture in that hour when nervous and respectable people (such people as now object to barrel organs) objected to the shouting of the gutter-snipes of Jerusalem. He said, 'If these were silent, the very stones would cry out.' Under the impulse of His spirit arose like a clamorous chorus the facades of the mediaeval cathedrals, thronged with shouting faces and open mouths. The prophecy has fulfilled itself: the very stones cry out.”  - G.K. Chesterton

 
We lost something important when our Western culture ‘outgrew’ its infatuation with obscenely large cathedrals, ornate basilicas, dark stone chapels, stretching towers, and lonely crypts. We lost something important – a unique human experience – when religious people began their relationship with the plaster-church over the ‘old-school’ church.

We lost our awareness of the power of Place, specifically, its power to shut us up. Have you ever seen a group of tourists walk into a basilica? They respect the great artistic achievements of the Old Church without respect for the Old Church. They walk in through the creaking, wooden side-door; they are talking about their diet plans, and the relative evils of cholesterol. Through the door now, (they smell the incense), into the foyer, (they feel the cool of the stone ease away the heat of the day from their skin), and past the first arch. Wait for it, wait for it…now.

Their words die on their lips. Mouths open loosely, and necks crane instinctively upwards. Their group loosens, they begin to wander away from each other, one towards the candles, another towards Our Lady of Sorrows, and another towards the altar, each waltzing in small circles as they try to take everything in. How many times I’ve seen this, and how many more times I’ve performed this little unconscious ritual; this silent transformation; this unrequested dance.

The beauty of a basilica is that men do not visit it, it visits men. The beauty of it, yes, but also the rudeness of that dark, stone temple, for it is a hand clamped over the modern mouth, a sturdy grasp guiding one through side-chapels.

It demands that you center yourself. Here are the pews on either side, the symmetrical side-chapels, everything mirrored and proportional, even the interlacing tessellations of granite that spread out from a single star on the floor. Stand on the star. Then look straight ahead. There are two things that everything else seems to reflect from. Two things in this building that form and beauty and structure emanate from. One is you, in the center of the church, having wandered there almost by by necessity, by the strange force of the symmetry all around you. The other is the tabernacle. Of the two, choose now whom you will serve.

Every cathedral makes this bold, arrogant challenge to the visiting man. The sheer size, scope, and intricacy of these temples speaks of the total, radical commitment men gave to God; to build him a dwelling place, even if they were not to see it complete; to serve him. These living stones are their pronounced fiat; their yes; their choice. What is yours? For when Catholic or atheist leaves, the tabernacle remains. The Body of Christ will stay – the red candle still burn – and the basilica will circle and reflect around it, like ripples in a pool, emanating from the drop of some inexplicable and sublime stone.

What does a plaster-church say? “I will not be here long.”

What does a cathedral say? “You cannot deny me. For I’ve outlasted your forefathers, and I’ll outlast you.”

The cathedral speaks of the endurance of Catholicism. This is not to deny the beauty of a simple church, of the awesome fact that the universal quality of Catholicism means that Catholics can celebrate mass in their living rooms, shelters, canoes, and battle-fields. This is simply to lament that the age of the Cathedral is done, the age where one was silenced, for perhaps the briefest of moments in a life filled with noise, and brought to worship.

Perhaps the tourists would never acknowledge that they perform an act of worship, walking into a basilica. But what else are we to call it, when we all shut up, slow ourselves and walk small-stepped in awe, reduced to whispers and peace?

The Catholic Church holds that worship is not something we do. No, worship is a gift we receive. I hold that the cathedrals, basilicas, and lasting chapels of the Church are awesome conveyors of that gift, rudely thrusting worship into the hearts of all who enter them.

But perhaps there is one place left where one can experience this bit of humanity. I speak, of course, of the library, where my writings are written. It would not be unwise for the seeking, modern man, to stand in some old, dusky library, close his eyes amidst the books that surround him, and think of how such a little peace would be magnified, if he were surrounded by saints, angels, pilgrims, prayers, cool stone, and holy incense.

A man in a library - if he is a man at all – is humbled by the mass of human knowledge, wisdom, and understanding that surrounds him.

A man in a cathedral is humbled because he, as a member of the human race, has performed the incredible and audacious act of surrounding the unsurroundable God with stone.

At some point in discussions between Catholics and atheists, the Catholic is obliged to defend the flair his Church has for covering everything in gold.

The criticism, veiled as a question, isn’t without foundation. There have been all manners of abuse regarding wealth within the Church, and — if I may prophesy — there will continue to be. No sane man would defend the personal hoarding of wealth, especially not among clergymen. But when the man outside of the Church bemoans the unsold wealth of the Church, he’s not thinking of crooked cardinals or Popes parading as Renaissance princes. He is thinking of the cathedrals and the basilicas, the thrones and tabernacles of gold, the chalices of sliver and the jewel-encrusted robes, the pomp and pageantry of the largest human institution in the world. Hence:
 

 
To summarize the modern axiom: The Catholic Church has gold and refuses to sell it, thus the Church lets the poor starve.

It’s a noble complaint, but the reality is this: The Church’s wealth comes from the poor. What people miss when they speak of “The Catholic Church” — and by it mean a few cardinals, bishops, and a Pope — is that the Catholic Church is made up of every Catholic, rich and poor alike. Thus the upkeep and general wealth of the Church comes from every member of the Church, rich and poor alike, giving to their respective dioceses. As a college student who has put his laughable dollar into the collection plate more than twice, I can attest to this fact.

But most importantly — and this really is my point here — the wealth of the Church exists for the edification and benefit of every Catholic. Cathedrals are not solely for bishops. A throne exists for more than the man sitting on it. It is a certain nasty pride that tells the man suffering from poverty that the Beauty surrounding him — be he a homeless man appreciating the cool of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, or a Haitian saying prayers in the Cathédrale St. Jacques et St. Philippe — that it should all be torn down, sold, and given to him in the form of money. It is an offense to say, “this golden tabernacle you kneel before — it should be melted for bread.” The poor man in this position would do well to tell his well-intentioned but misguided friend the truth that “man does not live on bread alone.”

Faulting the Cathedrals and Basilicas of the world for containing “too much” wealth is an awkward denial of the fact that the cathedrals and basilicas of the world are explicitly for the use of the poor, and to steal from them is to steal, not merely from the Church, but from the poor themselves — the poor who, despite the perceptions of Hollywood, do not merely need bread, cash, and contraception, but beauty, ritual, and God as well.

In sum: the visible wealth — the very stuff that sets people complaining — is for the poor.

But surely the cardinals and Popes are rolling in it. Right? I can’t speak for the entire world, but the average salary of an American bishop is $23,ooo per year, about half the average American’s. The average priest’s is $40,000 per year, only $20,000 of which is actually “take home cash”. And if you’re the Pope, not only does your salary suck, but you don’t get it until you’re dead. Popes get one gold, silver, and copper coin for each year of service placed on their coffin. Blessed John Paul II received about $141 dollars.

We should note that when many people criticize the Church's extravagant architecture and art,  they often invoke Jesus. Let's examine his response to a similar criticism:

“While Jesus was in Bethany, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head. When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. “Why this waste?” they asked. “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.”

Aware of this, Jesus said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me. When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. I tell you the truth, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

Here Jesus welcomes and praises the excessive love poured out for him  — what Judas calls "waste." But that's precisely what Catholics continue doing today. Atheists must remember that Catholics believe the words of Christ, that in the Mass he becomes bread for us, transforming mere wheat and wine into his Body and Blood. Thus when we build for him a tabernacle of gold, and chalices of silver, pillars of marble, and windows of fiery glass, we do it not to placate men but to honor God. God does not disdain these treasures any more than he disdained the Wise Men’s gold or the Bethany woman's perfume, for our praise is his gift to us, the spiritually poor, who by it are granted the desire for communion with him.

 
 
Originally posted at BadCatholic. Used with author's permission.
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The Catholic Church is subjected to a great deal of suspicion, if not outright scorn, when it comes to its treatment of women. Does the Church treat women as "second class"?

In short, does the Catholic Church hate women? Few people would put the question that strongly, yet many believe the answer is "yes."

As evidence, they point to sexist quotations from Church Fathers and sexist interpretations of Scripture. Even Scripture contains "subordination" passages, such as "Let wives also be subject in everything to their husbands" (Eph. 5:24). Moreover, the Catholic Church is also well-known for its opposition to abortion and contraception, which many believe are the keys to women's sexual and economic freedom. Finally, only men can be ordained priests. Isn't that clear evidence of discrimination? As one slogan puts it: "If women are good enough to be baptized, why aren't they good enough to be ordained?"

A Church of Sinners

 
Unfortunately, members of the Church have not always followed Christ as closely as they should with respect to the treatment of women, and this lends credence to the accusations. As Pope John Paul II confessed, many members of the Church, including some in the hierarchy, have acted – and sometimes still act – in ways that fail to express the equality of man and woman. As John Paul wrote:

"And if objective blame [for offenses against the dignity of women], especially in particular historical contexts, has belonged to not just a few members of the Church, for this I am truly sorry. May this regret be transformed, on the part of the whole Church, into a renewed commitment of fidelity to the gospel vision. When it comes to setting women free from every kind of exploitation and domination, the gospel contains an ever relevant message that goes back to the attitude of Jesus Christ himself. Transcending the established norms of his own culture, Jesus treated women with openness, respect, acceptance, and tenderness. In this way he honored the dignity that women have always possessed according to God's plan and in his love. As we look to Christ at the end of this second millennium, it is natural to ask ourselves: How much of his message has been heard and acted upon?" (Letter to Women 3)

The situation today is better than it once was, but sexual and physical abuse of women still occurs, as does unjust discrimination and the failure to recognize talents.

Of course, failing in Christian discipleship is not limited to wrongdoing against the dignity of women – baptism does not remove the believer from the temptations and weaknesses endured by all of humanity. Moreover, it is not only Catholics who victimize, and it is not only women who are victimized. As Robert Burns wrote, "Man's inhumanity to man makes thousands mourn."

But such shortcomings do not reflect what the Church is called to be. Sins against young and old, black and white, male and female are characteristic of all people. What is characteristic of Christians, though, is the imitation of Christ. The degree to which someone does not imitate Christ is the degree to which that person fails to be fully Christian. There is a long list of "Catholic" murderers. But when a Catholic commits murder, he separates himself from Christ, and therefore from the body of Christ, the Church.

Theologians Sometimes Fail

 
In addition to the sad but real failings of Catholics to live up to their calling in their treatment of women, Christian theology has also fallen short in this regard. Personal sin undoubtedly plays a role in the corruption of theology, but the cultural context must also be considered. Christianity arose in an environment of female inequality. Greek philosophy, as well as Hebrew sources, are rife with misogynistic judgments. It is not surprising that the Church Fathers sometimes adopted these attitudes without critical reflection – and some academics have been quick to interpret passages in the least charitable light. John Paul II continues in his Letter to Women:

"Unfortunately, we are heirs to a history that has conditioned us to a remarkable extent. In every time and place, this conditioning has been an obstacle to the progress of women. Women's dignity has often been unacknowledged and their prerogatives misrepresented; they have often been relegated to the margins of society and even reduced to servitude. This has prevented women from truly being themselves, and it has resulted in a spiritual impoverishment of humanity. Certainly it is no easy task to assign the blame for this, considering the many kinds of cultural conditioning that down the centuries have shaped ways of thinking and acting." (LW 3)

Just as Christian thinkers will sometimes uncritically adopt the scientific outlook of the day, so, too, in the social realm. Hence, great Catholic theologians not only at times uncritically repeated the sexist truisms inherited from the secular culture of their day but sometimes interpreted the theological tradition in light of those assumptions. The same attitudes and judgments can also inform the reading of Scripture.

Therefore, the theology of the Church sometimes stands in need of correction. If revelation is really from God, then nothing revealed can be false or lacking in justice or goodness. But the same does not hold true for any individual's interpretation of revelation, even a saintly and learned individual. The development of doctrine leads to a greater understanding of revelation in part by sorting out what actually pertains to revelation from what only seems to.

From Sublime to Repellent

 
Among all the sublime thought of great Christian theologians, we occasionally come across something repellent. For example, St. Thomas Aquinas, following the sexist views of his time, held:

"The male sex is more noble than the female, and for this reason he [Jesus] took human nature in the male sex." (Summa Theologiae III:31:4 ad 1)

At the same time, Aquinas believed that the female sex should not be despised on this account, since Christ took his flesh from a woman. In other passages, too, Thomas shows an awareness of the equality of men and women recognized by Christ:

"If a husband were permitted to abandon his wife, the society of husband and wife would not be an association of equals but, instead, a sort of slavery on the part of the wife." (Summa contra Gentiles III:124:[4])

In fact, Thomas used the idea of equality in marital friendship to argue against polygamy and in favor of an unconditional love between husband and wife:

"The greater the friendship is, the more solid and long lasting it will be. Now there seems to be the greatest friendship between husband and wife, for they are united not only in the act of fleshly union, which produces a certain gentle association even among beasts, but also in the partnership of the whole range of domestic activity. Consequently, as an indication of this, man must even "leave his father and mother" for the sake of his wife as it is said in Genesis (2:24)."

Furthermore, Aquinas believed that the fact that Eve was made from Adam's rib indicates that she was not above him (as she might be had she been created from Adam's head) nor below him, like a slave (as she might be had she arisen from his feet). She comes from his side, indicating that she is a partner and companion. These statements of the equality of man and women – not the statement of male superiority – were new and radical. The specifically Christian attitude toward women – not the pre-existing pagan attitude – was new and radical. It has taken some time, though, for the wheat to be separated from the chaff.

Equal-Opportunity Moral Code

 
As it still does today, divorce in the ancient world left many women in dire economic and social straits. At the time of Christ, Mosaic law allowed a husband to leave his wife, but a wife could not leave her husband. Jesus' prohibition of divorce established Christianity as the only religion in the history of the world to call its members to strict monogamy:

"Whoever divorces his wife and marries another, commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery." (Mark 10:11–12)"

This teaching of Jesus protected women, for, according to Church Father Gregory of Nazianzus:

"The majority of men are ill-disposed to chastity and their laws are unequal and irregular. For what was the reason they restrained the woman but indulged the man, and that a woman who practices evil against her husband's bed is an adulteress and the penalties of the law severe, but if the husband commits fornication against his wife, he has no account to give? I do not accept this legislation. I do not approve this custom." (Oration 37:6)

By establishing one moral code obligatory on men and women alike, Christianity fostered a lasting commitment of unconditional covenantal love, protecting the family structure and putting the sexes on an equal footing.

What Women Really Thought

 
Apparently the justice of Christian morality offered a refreshing perspective to women in the ancient world accustomed to husbands who cheated and left at will. The number of women who converted to Christianity in the early centuries after Christ indicates that women were attracted to this new way of life. Indeed, they were among the most zealous converts and defenders of the faith:

"Christianity seems to have been especially successful among women. It was often through the wives that it penetrated the upper classes of society in the first instance. Christians believed in the equality of men and women before God and found in the New Testament commands that husbands should treat their wives with such consideration and love as Christ manifested for his Church. Christian teaching about the sanctity of marriage offered a powerful safeguard to married women." (Henry Chadwick, The Early Church, Penguin, 58–59)

Many women today do feel alienated from the Church for a variety of reasons, but it is often because they disagree with the Church's basic beliefs about the meaning of life, the nature of human happiness, and the interaction of the divine and the human.

Is Scripture Misogynistic?

 
But what should be made of subordination passages in Scripture, such as "Let wives also be subject in everything to their husbands" (Eph. 5:24)? This appears to contradict the idea that Christianity views the sexes as equal. Pope John Paul II's answer was:

"The author knows that this way of speaking, so profoundly rooted in the customs and religious traditions of the time, is to be understood and carried out in a new way: as a "mutual subjection out of reverence for Christ"." (Mulieris Dignitatem 24; cf. Eph. 5:21).

Discussing the bond of marriage as it exists after the taint of original sin, John Paul states:

"The matrimonial union requires respect for and perfection of the true personal subjectivity of both of them. The woman cannot be made the object of dominion and male possession." (MD 10)

That husband and wife are to be subject to one another is reinforced in the next verse of the original passage cited: "Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her" (Eph. 5:25). This injunction transforms the potentially selfish orientation of male love into a form of intense self-sacrificial service. Subordination is mutual, but the admonition is given to husbands, perhaps because they need it more. What is implied, then, is not general female inferiority but general female superiority in the order that most matters eschatologically – the order of charity.

It's Not about Power

 
The reservation of priestly ordination to men is perhaps the sorest spot among contemporary critics of the Catholic Church's treatment of women. Many people understandably believe that the Church feels that women are less holy, less intellectually capable, less pastorally sensitive, or less capable of leadership than men. It is true that medieval theologians defended male priestly ordination with just such arguments, but the reservation in and of itself does not imply the inferiority of women. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church recalls, Christ himself established what constitutes the sacraments. The Church, in obedience to the Lord, is free only to follow what Christ has ordained.

Baptism must make use of water and not sand. This does not imply that sand is in and of itself less than water; indeed, those lost at sea need sand much more than they need water. The Eucharist must make use of bread and wine and not sausage and beer, even in Germany, where presumably those celebrating the Eucharist would prefer a meal of sausage and beer to one of bread and wine. Similarly, the Church teaches that Christ established that the proper recipient of the sacrament of holy orders is a baptized male; similarly, this in no way implies that men are better than women. The teaching itself does not imply in any way inferiority on the part of women.

Some theologians have even speculated that one reason for the reservation of priestly orders to males could be that men are typically worse people than women. Most murderers, rapists, thieves, and scoundrels of the highest order are men. It is, therefore, men and not women who are in particular need of models of self-sacrificial service and love. A priest is one who gives sacrifice, and the sacrifice is not only something he does but something he is:

"We who have received the sacrament of orders call ourselves "priests." The author does not recall any priest ever having said that "I was ordained a victim." And yet, was not Christ the Priest, a Victim? Did he not come to die? He did not offer a lamb, a bullock, or doves; he never offered anything except himself. "He gave himself up on our behalf, a sacrifice breathing out a fragrance as he offered it to God" (Eph. 5:2)...So we have a mutilated concept of our priesthood if we envisage it apart from making ourselves victims in the prolongation of his Incarnation." (Fulton J. Sheen, The Priest Is Not His Own, McGraw-Hill, 2)

The priesthood is misconstrued in terms of domination, power, and exultation; it is properly understood in terms of service, love, and sacrifice, and there are more than enough opportunities for both men and women to exercise these offices outside of the priesthood.

Conclusion

 
The myth of Catholic misogyny is well addressed in terms of the practical care the Church offers to women (and men) throughout the world. Has any institution educated more women? Fed more women? Clothed more women? Rescued more female infants from death? Offered more assistance or medical care to mothers and their born and unborn children? Members of the Church have undoubtedly behaved badly, but no less have members of the Church undoubtedly behaved well, heroically well. It's to those models we should turn when examining the Catholic Church's view toward women.
 
 
Originally posted in This Rock magazine, March 2006. Used with author's permission.
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