But not all pro-lifers need to wait until Election Day to vote. Many states offer voters the option to cast
their ballots when it's convenient for them, through absentee ballots, early voting, or even through the mail.

Voting regulations vary from state to state. For details, contact your
state or county Board of Elections by phone or visit the board's web site.
The Internet is also a convenient place to find voter registration forms,
absentee ballot applications, and specific details about where and how to
vote. A useful clearinghouse for election information can be found at
www.nrlpac.org.

Every state offers absentee voting. Some require a specific reason for
voters to be allowed to vote absentee, such as being out of town on Election
Day or in a hospital or nursing home. Voters need to first request an
absentee ballot and then turn it back in by fax or mail or in person. Check
your local voter registration office and regulations for information.

Early voting is a recent development in elections. In Florida, all registered voters can cast their ballots beginning 15 days before the election at sites designated by each county’s election board. These sites can include election supervisors’ offices, City Halls, and public libraries.  

Floridians can also request an absentee ballot to be sent by mail, which they then send back after marking their choices. They do not need the ballots to be signed by witnesses, which had been the requirement in the past.  

“I think both types of early voting help to get more people to the polls,” Robin Hoffman, president of Florida Right to Life, told NRL News. “Sometimes a group will get together, have everyone bring absentee ballots, and have a party. It’s another way to encourage people to vote.”  

The hurricane season has caused problems for pro-lifers, but it also shows the advantages of having a longer time for voting. “We lost power in our offices for a week, so it’s been challenging,” Hoffman said. “But we hope pro-lifers will vote as soon as they can, since you never know what the weather’s going to be on Election Day!”

Georgia voters can choose to cast their ballots on Monday to Friday the week before November 2 in their county voter registration office. Voters do not need to have a reason to take advantage of the extended voting period.

Other states that allow voters to cast their ballots in person before
Election Day, without needing a reason, include Alaska, Colorado, Hawaii,
Idaho, Indiana, Kansas, Maine, Nevada, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Tennessee,
Texas, Vermont, and West Virginia.

Oregon is the only state that conducts elections by mail, sending a
voting packet to each registered voter. The ballots will be mailed between
October 15 and 19 to all voters registered by October 12. Voters mail back
their ballots before Election Day or turn them in at a designated drop-off
site.

No matter how the ballots are cast, pro-lifers need to make sure each and
every friend of the unborn casts a vote for life in the 2004 election. In
addition to education about the positions of each candidate, right to lifers
should educate voters about their state's election procedures so that each
pro-life vote is counted

The Pilgrim's Regress
C.S. Lewis, read by Roger Whitfield, Blackstone Audiobooks (unabridged), five cassettes, $39.95

What is the purpose of desire? C.S. Lewis's allegory of conversion, The Pilgrim's Regress, answers this question through the journey of a boy named John. In Robert Whitfield's masterful reading of this classic work, both the smooth, rhythmic cadence of his narrative voice and a broad range of convincing dramatic voices immerse us quickly and memorably in the land of Puritania.

After wandering away from his home, John sees a vision of a beautiful island. Right away, he wants nothing other than to go there. He visits the site of the vision often, but one day it does not appear. Instead, a girl arrives and tells John that she is what he truly desires. He goes with her into the woods, forgetting about the island. After some time, he leaves her and seeks out the island anew.

Just as sins of the flesh tempt him away from his true desire, the sins of the intellect work on John as well. Mr. Enlightenment (Rationalism), Media Halfways (Escapism), and Sigismund (Psychologism) all tell John in various ways that his island does not exist. Only after encounters with Reason, Mr. Wisdom, and Mother Kirk (Christianity) is John able to escape doubt and despair. Eventually he finds his island.

At the heart of Lewis's book is an apology for Christian anthropology. In one section, Mr. Wisdom tells John about the difference between his soul and his body. The important point to grasp, says Mr. Wisdom, is that what the soul wants, the body can never possess if full-at least in this life. However, John should not give up and choose base pleasures just because they are more easily obtained than the deeper pleasure of contemplating God. When his body leads his soul, John is nothing but disappointed. But when his soul leads his body-that's the point where life becomes a true adventure: "Out of the soul's bliss overflows the pleasures of the body."

In a world that has lost its sense of God largely because it has lost its capacity for awe and wonder, this audiobook is a gem. John's island (Heaven) is a vision for all of us to rediscover, because in the end, God desires us to desire Him.

If you are interested in similar stories, read John Bunyan' s Pilgrim's Progress (on which Lewis's story is loosely based), "The Celestial Rail-Road" by Nathanial Hawthorne, "The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World: A Tale for Children" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Peter Kreeft's Heaven, the Heart's Deepest Longing

Pro-life efforts rarely make the front page, much less above the fold. In fact, it seems the only time pro-life demonstrations make the evening news is when a handful of abortion activists peddle their pitch to sympathetic media ears across the street from our crowd of protestors.

It took the !events of September 11 to put death back in the headlines. This time it wasn't the death of the unborn but the ghastly, tragic death of thousands who also did not deserve to die.

A trauma of this magnitude is bound to teach us much about ourselves-to expose the strengths and
weaknesses of individual and corporate character. Most of what we have learned about ourselves, about our much-derided, decadent culture, has been a welcome surprise: the long-ignored courage and sacrifice of our police, firemen, and armed forces, along with the deep generosity of a philanthropic nation ready to help those who lost friends and family.

But not all the reports have been so edifying. There have been disappointments as well. For example, we have all heard rumblings through pro-life communities, both Protestant and Catholic, that America got what it deserved for harboring a culture of death. Some have said that the towers of the World Trade Center were symbol!s of America's godlessness, of its greed, its gross commercialism, and its trade in baby-killing.

Other pro-lifers have complained about the volume of public grief over the events of September 11: How can we lament so loudly, they ask, when nothing is said about the unborn?

You may be thinking these comments are from a radical fringe. They are not. They began shortly after September 11 with the televised statements of Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson and have persisted in spite of the subsequent apologies of those two men.

In these attitudes-revealed suddenly by the flash of an immense tragedy-we can see one reason why the pro-life movement has reached an impasse: It has come to suffer from spite. Such comments suggest that a passionate protest against one form of evil has led some pro-lifers to begrudge the grief of those who suffer from another. Obeying the gospel admonition to "love thy enemy" i!s difficult. Hating the enemies of life infuses the pro-life message with an unfortunate bitterness.

Don't get me wrong-I understand how and why these thoughts and feelings can arise. Year after year, we watch children die. They die in the name of love and happiness; they die in the name of equal rights and freedom. How can we not get angry, or be tempted to spite? How can we not pray for the moment when this truth is revealed to all who deny it, who scorn it, laugh at it?

Because children continue to die in this way, all other causes of death seem to pale in comparison. In other words, how can anyone be upset with terrorism when abortion goes on and on?

Those who aim the highest will always face the greatest of spiritual temptations-in this case, the temptation to pride and envy in the cause of defending life. Could anything but pride exploit the September 11 disaster as proof of a given cause, even the pro-life cau!se? Is it anything but envy that begrudges mourning the thousands who died in the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the four downed airliners?

Now is the time for showing a compassion that isn't reserved for only one group of victims, no matter how large, no matter how innocent. Many souls have been shaken in the wake of this tragedy. The witness of the Church must be heard without the dissonant voices of pent-up frustrations and resentful "I-told-you-so's."

The concern for innocent life can be a new common ground for evangelical outreach. It's an opportunity for Americans to hear the gospel without spite or bitterness. The pro-life community surely has a large enough heart to embrace the suffering of those who have rejected its pleas.

Why Blue-Collar Catholics Won’t Vote Republican

Florida might not be synonymous with hand counts and butterfly ballots if Catholics in Pennsylvania had preferred George W. Bush to Al Gore in Election 2000. If Bush had won the Catholic vote in Pennsylvania, he would have carried that key swing state, garnering almost enough (just two short) Republican electoral votes to win the White House without Florida.

Bush’s undeniably strong pro-life credentials, along with his generally more traditional views on other moral issues, should have endeared him to Pennsylvania Catholics, a predominantly blue-collar group. Catholics in Pennsylvania, however, went 53 percent for Gore and only 46 percent for Bush, rallying around a Democratic candidate whose absolutist pro-choice stand was diametrically opposed to the social teachings of the Catholic Church. Catholics in other swing states that Bush hoped to carry voted similarly, nearly throwing the electoral college to Gore.

Catholics as a whole have begun to mirror the general population’s voting habits, but blue-collar Catholics like the ones who predominate in Pennsylvania continue to side disproportionately with the Democratic Party, in spite of its support for abortion and gay rights. Herein lies the paradox of the blue-collar Catholic voter. Understand him or her, and you increase your chances of becoming president.

The Republican National Committee (RNC), well aware of this trend, has recently set up an outreach to this traditionally Democratic segment of the population. It is the first time the RNC has attempted to recruit Catholics outside an election cycle, and it represents a change from a reactive to a proactive posture with regard to the Catholic voter.

Many political scientists regard Catholics as a critical swing group. In a tight election, they say, Catholics can determine the outcome. Before Ronald Reagan ran for president in 1980, Catholics traditionally favored Democrats in national elections. But they swung to the socially conservative Republican Reagan twice, the second time helping him retain the White House in 1984. By 1992, however, Catholics were returning to their Democratic Party roots, supporting Bill Clinton, a doughty champion of abortion and gay rights.

Clinton won 44 percent of the Catholic vote in 1992, as compared with only 34 percent of Protestants that year. In 1996, 53 percent of Catholics supported Clinton, while only 35 percent of Protestants did so. Clinton locked up eight of the nine states with the largest Catholic populations in 1992 and 1996: California, New York, Florida, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, New Jersey, and Massachusetts, while only Texas remained in the Republican column. Gore managed to keep six of these nine states in the Democratic column, while losing Texas, Ohio, and Florida to Bush. Gore’s victories in these states with large Catholic populations came directly from the urban and industrial areas of these states, where blue-collar Catholics typically form a larger portion of the total population.

Microcosm of Catholicism

When it comes to the Catholic vote, Pennsylvania is a microcosm of the nation, the perfect place to pose the question: Why do Catholics vote the way they do? Catholics are the largest single religious group in Pennsylvania, comprising about a third of the population. There are ten Catholic dioceses in the state: eight are Latin-rite, and two are Byzantine-rite. Most Catholics in Pennsylvania are Democrats. Their clout is felt in Erie in the northwest, Pittsburgh in the southwest, the economically depressed Rust Belt, Scranton in the northeast, and Philadelphia in the southeast. All these places send a large number of Democrats to the state legislature. By contrast, parts of the state with a larger Protestant population such as Lancaster County in the southeast, and even outlying areas of Democrat-controlled Erie County, tend to elect Republicans to state offices.

One reason is simply a long-standing image problem Republicans face: Many blue-collar Catholics view the Republican Party as the party of the rich. Consequently, they vote with the Democrats because they view the Democratic Party as the protector of the poor and powerless. "Catholics," Rev. Nicholas DeProspero, pastor of St. John the Baptist, a Byzantine-rite church in Pottstown, explains, "vote for Democrats because their parents and grandparents were Democrats. Democrats are seen as being for the poor and workers, and the Republicans favor the rich.

"Labor issues and money trump everything else," the priest continues. "The Democrats have been extremely adept in waging class warfare and exciting jealousy of the rich. Moral issues [such as abortion] are not strong enough to break down old stereotypes. They think the Democrats will take care of you, and they think that government is the answer. The Democrats hand out things to win votes. They say, ‘I’ll give you this if you vote for me.’"

Democratic strategists have done a good job of exploiting class antipathy, while the Republican Party all too often has failed to make the case that it is now more the party of the people than the Democrats. "The Republicans only care about the rich. They don’t want anybody but the rich to get anything," says a parishioner at the Latin-rite St. Thomas More Church in North Coventry, Pennsylvania. He is a retired member of the Teamsters Union.

"I voted for Al Gore because the economy is good, and we are not at war," says a member of the Latin-rite St. Agnes Church in West Chester, Pennsylvania. Another retired union member, he adds that a woman has a "constitutional right" to an abortion and "should only answer to God."

adjustrightMany working-class Catholics equate Republican-supported right-to-work laws, which weaken unions, with the loss of their jobs. In explaining his support for the Democrats, one Pennsylvania union man says, "When Reagan was president, all our jobs went out of the country." Other Catholics remember the implosion of American manufacturing during the 1970s and 1980s and regard it as a result of Republican policies.

The Democratic Safety Net

Blue-collar Catholics often say that they are closer to the Democratic Party positions on issues relating to assistance for the poor, health care, and a government safety net. The U.S. hierarchy itself sometimes seems to encourage this very position. In 1999, the bishops issued an influential document titled Faithful Citizenship: Civic Responsibility for a New Millennium. In it, Catholics were called on to consider a candidate’s stance on abortion. Issues such as wages, assistance for the poor, and affordable health care, however, seemed to be of equal weight. Critics of the bishops’ document have insisted that it did not adequately focus on the abortion issue, instead making abortion only one of many issues for Catholic voters to consider. Thus, bishops have, in many cases, set an overall tone closer to that of the Democratic Party than to that of the GOP by favoring such things as opposition to the death penalty, labor unions, rights for the sick and the dying, and opposition to the U.S. military buildup of the 1980s.

Many lay Catholics can’t help but see the bishops forging an agenda that creates a natural alignment with left-of-center Democrats. As Rev. Thomas Reese, S.J., a former political scientist at Georgetown University and editor of America, the Jesuit magazine, noted in a 1995 National Public Radio forum, "The Republicans, with their position on abortion and their position on aid to religiously affiliated schools, are very attractive. On the other hand, when you look at issues like welfare reform, the earned-income tax credit, all sorts of programs that are aimed at helping poor people, the bishops and the Democratic Party are much closer together. In fact, the bishops are much more liberal than the Democratic politicians are today."

Paul Weber, a political scientist at the University of Louisville, Kentucky, wrote an article last year in America, saying, "A solid majority of Catholics are economic liberals, pro-safety net, pro-progressive taxation, pro-labor unions, pro-foreign aid, pro-environmental protection, and pro-government regulation of industry and consumer products—all traditional Democratic themes."

What this boils down to is that the Catholic voter often faces a special dilemma in the voting booth. A recent expression of this sometimes painful dichotomy came from an Ohio Catholic: "I am one of the Catholics who voted for Gore for president, and I believe that the right-to-life issue is the most important issue we face in our society today," Jack Keane wrote to the diocesan newspaper in Youngstown, Ohio. He added, "I believe letting a child die from hunger is a terrible thing. I believe letting our aged die alone, neglected, and in poverty is a terrible thing. As a whole, I consider the Democratic Party to be more in tune with the social-justice issues that our bishops have asked us to take into consideration when making our political decisions."

Pro-Choice Republicans

But the bishops aren’t the only leaders whose positions confuse voters. The presence of vocal pro-choice Republicans has led some Catholic Democrats to conclude that there aren’t any real differences between the two parties on the abortion issue. Indeed, Pennsylvania is home to a number of highly visible pro-choice Republicans, including Senator Arlen Specter and Governor Tom Ridge, who is a Catholic. Bishop Donald Trautman of Erie, Pennsylvania, banned Ridge from speaking on Church property because of his pro-choice views. In the Bush cabinet, Christine Todd Whitman, former governor of New Jersey and now Environmental Protection Agency secretary, is another prominent pro-choice Republican. Many Catholics look at it this way: The Democratic Party favors abortion, while I do not; but though the Republican Party officially opposes abortion, its members speak with a divided mind on the issue.

Some say that the Catholic voter is no different from others on the issue of abortion. While this may be the case for lapsed Catholics, Mass-going Catholics are likely to accept the Church’s teaching. The truth is that people want clear leadership, not mixed signals. Like the bishops, the Republican Party in Pennsylvania often sends a confused message. Republicans in the state, and in the rest of the Northeast for that matter, don’t speak with a single voice on abortion. "There is a battle for the soul of the party right now over the issue of abortion," says Julia McDonald, a Chester County GOP committee member who is pro-life. She says that pro-choicers constitute the majority of the Chester County Republican Committee.

This doesn’t mean that pro-life forces aren’t powerful. The 1990 gubernatorial election was a case in point of the Pennsylvania GOP’s equivocal position on abortion’s possibly costing the party the election. A staunchly pro-choice Republican, Barbara Hafer, the state’s auditor general, ran against the late Robert Casey, a steadfastly pro-life Democrat. Abortion was a hot issue in the 1990 campaign. Hafer’s support for abortion was likely the key factor in Casey’s landslide victory, the largest in the history of the state.

A small third party in Pennsylvania, the Constitutional Party, is composed largely of former Republicans who can’t stomach what they regard as the GOP’s wishy-washy attitude toward abortion. The Constitutional Party’s founder is Peg Luksik, a pro-life Catholic and erstwhile Republican. She has run three times for governor, winning a surprising 14 percent of the total vote in 1994. This is a strong showing for a small, relatively new party. "We need the Constitutional Party because the Republicans are not conservative enough, and the Republican Party is not strong enough on the abortion issue," says John McLaughlin, a Catholic member of the new party. "The Constitutional Party has a strong Catholic leadership, and I think that it wants what is good for America. You just have to vote on your conscience.

The ‘Caseycrat’ Difference

As the relative success of the fledgling Constitutional Party shows, a pro-life stance can win votes. The career of Robert Casey is probably the best evidence that opposing abortion, when combined with attractive stands on other issues, is a big draw for the Catholic voter. Casey was an old-fashioned Democrat and the epitome of the Catholic pro-lifer who championed the right to life from conception to old age. Casey always showed courage defending his faith against his party’s leadership, standing as a vocal critic of the pro-choice hierarchy of the Democratic Party. Ultimately, Casey’s opposition to abortion made him a pariah among the most radical Democrats. He was banned from speaking at the 1992 Democratic National Convention in New York. He continued to insist until his death last year that only the pro-life stance reflected the Democratic Party’s traditional commitment to the weak and the powerless.

When arguing before his party’s platform committee that he had a right to speak at the convention, Casey said, "Our party has always been the voice of the powerless and the voiceless. They have been our natural constituency. Let us add to this list the most powerless and voiceless member of the human family: the unborn child. We have an obligation to protect and promote the health and well-being of all mothers."

While Casey strongly opposed abortion, he clung to traditional Democratic positions such as support for unions, expanded aid to poor women and children, an increase in funding for welfare programs, and state-supported health care. He pushed through the largest tax increase in Pennsylvania history to support his social programs. Casey made his Catholic faith the centerpiece of his political career, and like the Catholic hierarchy, he took staunchly conservative stances on abortion and other moral issues and very liberal stances on socioeconomic issues.

Casey represented values that many Pennsylvania Catholics still cherish. "Caseycrats" aren’t comfortable with the Democratic Party that emerged during the 1960s as the party of alternative lifestyles and what Pope John Paul II has branded the "culture of death." While Caseycrats have an aversion to gay rights, pornography, and abortion, they still have high regard for the New Deal and don’t trust the Republican emphasis on limited government. Like many other churchgoing Catholics, Caseycrats worry that Republicans are too materialistic, too fascinated with economic policy.

Wooing the Blue Collars

All of this suggests that if the Republican Party is to attract more Catholics, it will have to do two things: convince them that it’s serious about the rights of the unborn and show them that the GOP is better for ordinary folks than the Democratic Party. Bush has admittedly gone a long way toward addressing some of these concerns. The president believes that the way to attract Catholics into the GOP is by focusing on issues such as education, taxes, Social Security, and Medicare, in addition to abortion. The Bush administration knows that it’s going to have to change the way people think. For example, Democrats have long stood for higher taxes to support social programs. Bush believes that the burden of heavy taxation ultimately harms working Americans, preventing families from purchasing many of life’s necessities.

To win over blue-collar Catholics, the Republicans are going to have to show that many of the programs beloved of Democrats are actually harmful to the poor. Marvin Olasky, whose work has influenced Bush’s brand of compassionate conservatism, has been trying to help Republicans frame the issues in a new way. Olasky argued in his seminal 1992 book, The Tragedy of American Compassion, that the welfare state has had a devastating effect on the poor. Olasky’s thesis is that the impersonal welfare bureaucracy has eroded values and the values-oriented concept that was once beneficial to the poor and vulnerable members of society.

"We want to put more money in the pockets of union households so they can take care of their families," says Ana Gamonal, a co-coordinator of the RNC’s national outreach to Catholics. She adds that the Bush administration wants to increase the earned-income tax credit from $500 to $1,000, which would benefit families. "The Republican Party places heavy emphasis upon school-choice initiatives and testing as a way to help people who want to remove their children from failing public schools," Gamonal says.

Loyalty to unions has kept many Catholics in the Democratic Party. But are the unions still loyal to their members? "The unions no longer exist for the protection of workers," Gamonal insists. "They exist now solely as a fund-raising machine for the Democratic Party. They exist to promote a left-wing agenda that has nothing to do with protecting their workers. We will be working with pro-labor Republican officials in the Northeast to organize union members."

Furthermore, says Gamonal, the RNC has committed itself to the pro-life cause in keeping with the party platform and Bush’s own pro-life beliefs. "There is no question of which party is the pro-life party," she says. The RNC points to Bush’s suspension of federal funding for International Planned Parenthood as a visible example of the Bush administration’s support for the pro-life cause. The RNC does not take a position on the pro-choice stances taken by individual Republicans, saying only that their views do not represent those of the party on the national level. "We cannot do anything about where individuals stand on the pro-life issue, but the Republican Party is unquestionably pro-life on the federal level," Gamonal says.

Will this be enough to win the king-making Catholic vote in heavily Catholic blue-collar swing states such as Pennsylvania in the future? Only the results of the 2004 election will answer that question.

As I'm sure you already know, the pope called the American cardinals to Rome for a meeting last year on the current sexual abuse scandal. Frankly, no one is sure what specific points they discussed, though we all hope that some kind of progress was made.

This is a truly dark time for the American Church -- surely its lowest point in history. Orthodox laypeople need to step forward now and help repair the damage done by some of our shepherds.

With that in mind, I want to suggest 8 discussion points for the Bishops to consider now that the meetings are over. This isn't exhaustive, and if you think of additional points, please email me. Also, I know that some of these points are controversial (not even my wife agrees with me on all of them).

Nevertheless, this is a crisis for the Church, and needs to be treated as such.

Let me know what you think.

The 8 Points Rome Needs To Consider Are:

1. The root cause of the present crisis in the Church is the presence of active homosexuals in the seminaries and rectories. For decades, certain bishops and their administrators have allowed an active gay subculture to flourish in the American priesthood. It's time to do something about that.

2. Active homosexuals ought to be banned from the seminary and removed from the priesthood. This may be painful, but it's absolutely necessary -- not only because they've chosen to violate their vows of celibacy, but for prudential reasons: Homosexual men are 3 times more likely to abuse minors than their heterosexual counterparts. If we're really serious about protecting our kids, we just can't take that kind of a risk.

3. A bishop's first response to the news that a priest has sexually abused a minor shouldn't be administrative or "therapeutic." It ought to be spiritual and moral. He's a shepherd. His job is to keep wolves out of the sheepfold. He's dealing with a scandalous betrayal of priestly vows -- a betrayal that puts souls in jeopardy. Any bishop who can't understand this is unfit for the office.

4. In some cases, the local bishop has been so shamefully negligent that the only meaningful form of apology is resignation. Sexual predators have been moved from parish to parish, their crimes covered up and the families of victims bullied or bought into silence. The solution isn't just instituting new procedures but installing bishops who understand the responsibilities of their office.

5. At what point should a sexually predatory priest be defrocked? Isn't sex with a minor serious enough to institute a "one strike and you're out" policy? And if a priest has committed a criminal act, shouldn't he be turned over to the civil authority?

6. One of the most important duties of a bishop is to run a good seminary which will attract devout and intelligent young men and give them sound formation for the priesthood. It's no secret that many American seminaries have turned into "pink palaces" where heterosexual men are unwelcome. Are some seminaries so corrupt that they ought to be closed down? Or transferred over to orthodox orders? Should seminary education in the United States be monitored by a central authority for a period?

7. The current scandals clearly demonstrate the failure of the "therapeutic culture" which has invaded the Church. For decades, many Church administrators thought that the way to deal with sexual predators among the clergy was to rely on "experts" in the psychiatric profession. Unfortunately, these same "experts" were quick to label their patients as normal and harmless after a few months of counseling. While therapies may have their place in some cases, the basic problem is moral and spiritual. No counselor is going to cure that.

8. This crisis presents an enormous opportunity for legitimate reform and renewal within the Church. Orthodox Catholics should finally pay attention to the documents of Vatican II, which are an antidote to the stranglehold of clericalism in the American church. Frankly, in too many dioceses, there's a closed and arrogant clerical culture, which ignores the many orthodox laypeople who have real expertise in areas like management and organization. I'm not calling for the "clericalization" of the laity or agitating for the liberal agenda of Church dissenters. All I'm saying is that the hierarchy needs to grow out of the old ways of doing things, which often involves protecting disgraced priests and ignoring the legitimate needs of the laity.

While the Democratic primary has gotten more interesting with Senator John Edwards' strong showing Tuesday in Wisconsin, it still looks like Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts will be going head-to-head with President Bush in this fall's election.

An election year demands a certain perspective about where our great, increasingly adrift, nation stands in the world. We have been nettled over France lately, with good reason. France claims political and cultural importance, a sad self-deception for a once-great nation. And then there’s Italy. No one—especially Italians—thinks of Italy as politically important, though it has been a welcome ally in Iraq. But Italy is special, a country many of us believe we might live in if we weren’t Americans. 

The “fatal beauty” (Byron) of Italy trumps everything else because most people go home after a brief stay. Unless you have wrestled with the Italian bureaucracy, or lost hours to the ineptness of Italian government and businesses, you don’t realize how uncharming a country it can sometimes be (Italians spend two weeks a year tangled up in lines and have a term for it: lentocrazia). So don’t underestimate the colorless but reliable Calvinist ethos in America that keeps things moving.

Many writers have tried to parse out the lovable improvisation and distressing chaos that is Italy. One of the most lively recent attempts is British journalist Tobias Jones’s The Dark Heart of Italy: An Incisive Portrait of Europe’s Most Beautiful, Most Disconcerting Country (North Point Press). Dark Heart appeared last year in England and achieved great success in Italy, even before being translated. It came out this year in America. As the title makes clear, there are worse things than maddening inefficiencies in Italy. Jones tries to assess them by the novel approach of applying the same standards that we use for other places. He still loves Italy (he married an Italian woman and lives in Parma) but has freed himself from the usual British Romanticism, at least on public affairs. And despite some exaggerations, he has painted a suitably complex portrait of a seductive subject.

The biggest puzzle for any outsider is how Italy can be at once a spontaneous chaos and a func-
tioning society (forget Hay- ek and “spontaneous order”; the Italians scoff at such grandiose ideas). In a country so chaotic, the social glue comes from direct acquaintance with persons in various client networks and  hierarchies, an assembly of big and little, innocuous and dangerous mafias, because the rule of law means little and anyone who tried to follow all the rules would soon find himself penniless, in a lunatic asylum. (Regulation junkies, please note: Italy has more laws than any other country in Europe.)

 The “dark heart” of Jones’s title, however, reminds us that behind the good humor and improvisation lie some nasty struggles. Few people know that Italy has had “low-intensity terrorism” for years. Except for notorious cases—the kidnapping of the Christian Democrat Aldo Moro by the Red Brigades in 1978, or the bomb set in Florence’s Uffizi Gallery, or the assassination of several anti-Mafia judges and prosecutors—the thousands of lesser incidents remain little noted. Yet because of lingering fascism and a large and nasty Communist Party, Italy was one of the ideological battlegrounds during the Cold War, with almost 500 people dead from “the late 1960s to the early 1980s.”

These events produce even more frustration because the Italian legal system prevents a straight verdict on anything. In an event that inaugurated this whole period—a bombing in Milan—the initial suspects were anarchists (another rabid movement among a people generally considered quite docile). Decades later, an investigation concluded that maybe the perpetrators were fascists. But the system’s “rubber wall” makes it impossible to definitely convict—or exonerate—anyone. And when anti-corruption and anti-Mafia investigators come close to real facts, they have frequently ended up as “illustrious corpses.”

This is one reason why many Italians practice a paranoia about all public affairs, which they call dietrologia, the study of what lies behind (dietro) the surface. A large number believe the British Secret Service killed Princess Di, or that America went to war in Iraq for oil, and will not be moved by arguments that, if so, it would have been far easier and cheaper simply to bribe Saddam. Young Italians are inclined to credit the claim that several thousand Jews did not show up for work on 9/11 because Israel’s Mossad warned them away. Jones observes that about soccer, terror, or the Mafia, the dietrologia is the very same, “almost word for word.”   &nbs p;   

But he practices some unfounded speculation of his own. Jones is a British Methodist and tries somewhat not to let that color his view of Italian Catholicism. Like much else in Italy, the Church operates more on an aesthetic and symbolic, rather than a moralistic and discursive, level. Jones notes this and, over time, appreciates it. But he never challenges his belief that it would be better if Catholics were as discursive and individualist as Protestants. Yet Italian Catholicism, for all the failures and outright scandals, may be closer to early Christianity, which was probably far more communitarian and typological, than are individualist Protestants who return to “the Gospel” largely through reading a text.

Jones’s Catholic friends don’t help much. They misleadingly encourage him to read “not encyclicals from the Vatican but the gentler words from the Second Vatican Council.” He takes the usual swipes against Pius XII rather than looking into the way that Italians and the Church preserved large numbers of Jews in Italy. John Paul II, of course, is harsh and unecumencial: “Even Catholics complain that the incessant traveling and press releases and political stances somehow detract from what’s actually written in the Bible.” All this ignores the real difficulty in Italy: finding adequate space for proper lay initiatives, as much needed in Italy as elsewhere.

But Jones does better in other areas, especially about the Byzantine structure of the Italian economy, which he rightly describes as both large (seventh in the world) and beset by practices of nepotism, conflict of interest, and lack of transparency that would be illegal anywhere else. This, however, is partly a consequence of Italy’s social history and a tax structure that all but confiscates reported salaries and, therefore, forces much economic activity into black markets or “illegal” channels.

 Which leads Jones to Silvio Berlusconi, the current Italian prime minister, an amazing figure. He is not only very rich, but his kind of wealth, in the Italian context, is comparable to several figures in our own. Berlusconi owns several television networks (“His Emittenza”), other news outlets, and a publishing house; a major soccer team; and various enterprises including real estate developments. In American terms, he is Rupert Murdoch, George Steinbrenner, and H. Ross Perot all rolled into one, with perhaps a touch of The Donald. But he’s no philistine; he regularly goes to one of his retreats to read the Great Books. And Berlusconi is politically shrewd and mesmerizing as a speaker, even for skeptics like Jones: “When, as occasionally happens at press conferences, I am in the same room as him [sic], I personally find it riveting. He talks and talks and talks. You never want him to stop.”

Berlusconi has performed the magic trick of convincing his supporters that attacks on him are motivated by left-wing ideologues. And attempts to prosecute him for financial irregularities, he suggests, are just more of the same kind of legal harassment that make almost all Italians regard their justice system like many Americans view the IRS. Those who don’t like him believe he is a fascist, a mafioso, or a buffoon (it has to be said that Berlusconi, who often shoots from the hip in sensitive and official public settings, at home and abroad, hasn’t helped himself). I’ve heard him referred to in Italy as Burlesconi.

So as you listen to the presidential campaign this fall or enter the voting booth, be of good cheer. Yes, the country’s a mess, but this could be Italy—without the food, the history, the art, the culture, and the necessarily extralegal and redeeming ingenuity of the Italian people.

Depending on Facts

In his Confessions, the young Augustine proudly tells of coming across a copy of Aristotle’s Categories, which his professors were having a difficult time understanding. Augustine boldly says that he read the short treatise and had no difficulty whatever. The Categories is generally a brief treatment of the ten ways of predication that we can use to explain things. It is placed as the first book in Aristotle’s Organon, his logical works. No one should be surprised, on reading these pages, if he has a more difficult time comprehending their meaning than Augustine did. But that is all right. Aristotle wants us to know what we are talking about when we talk about anything.

“The truth or falsity of a statement,” Aristotle writes, “depends on facts, and not on any power on the part of the statement itself of admitting contrary qualities. In short, there is nothing that can alter the nature of statements and opinions.” These two short sentences stand as the basis of our freedom to know. They mean, in short, that no manipulation of words or mind can change the nature of things, the what is of things. Our mind is not functioning properly if it does not turn outside itself to see and affirm what is there. Indeed, the mind only knows itself when it is first open to something else.

Much of modern thought, from Descartes on, wants to declare its independence from facts, from what is. The reason for this turning away from Aristotle’s affirmation about the mind’s dependence on things is the fear that reality has an order, a structure. If reality has a structure, it must be itself a reflection of some order or design that it did not make or give to itself. The further reaches of this consideration have to do with the origin of this discovered order, which evidently could not be self-imposed. If it were, we would be independent of it, able to change it.

Thus, we can postulate two kinds of adventure in the universe. One begins with the supposition that nothing exists but ourselves, a postulate I find rather boring. If this self-construction is so, then reality is about imposing what we conceive or make ourselves out to be on what is not ourselves. The “exhilaration,” so to speak, comes about when we finally reconfigure ourselves and the world according to an order concocted only by our own minds. What we really see in whatever we see or think is only ourselves. This endeavor is sometimes called “atheistic humanism,” that is, a reconstruction of the human and material world, not with lines of intelligence, but of such lines that are only traceable to ourselves as their origins. And since there is no reason why one human construct need be superior to another, we can change our “order” of man and world at will.

The second way proceeds by means of Aristotle’s affirmation that the human mind is not itself a “divine creative mind” but one that depends on “fact,” on what is. In this case, the “discovery” of what is only ourselves is eminently dull and constraining, no matter how intricate. The purpose of intellect is rather related to the idea that in discovering the what is of things, we are in contact with reality, but a reality that can lead us into the deepest mystery. This is why intimations of transcendence are found in the smallest flower or insect and, even more so, in the life of any
human being.

Plato tells us that what is ourselves is itself not complete unless someone, in this case ourselves, appreciates it, praises it. It is almost as if what is is something to which our minds need—and want—to respond with a sense of the glory
of things.

By a delicate symmetry, the parable of the mustard seed takes up just two verses of the Scriptures (Matthew 13: 31-32). In the 18th century "the smallest of all the seeds" was! such a convenient metaphor for next-to-no-thingness that land was sometimes rented for the symbolic fee of one peppercorn, its minuteness a sign of royal largesse.

The Lord of Creation knew, and knows, more about the intricacies of His creation than any modern microbiologist or geneticist. His earthly contemporaries would have been confounded by the system that encodes in the first inkling of a life all that the organism will become. In modern bioethics, it is easy to lapse into a primitivism by claiming that a thing becomes alive only when it looks alive, but that contradicts genetic fact. A stem cell has as much claim on reverence for its life as a pope or president or Nobel laureate. A seed is alive, even if it looks like little more than lint, and the first cell of human life is alive, though a clinician chooses to call it a blastocyst. The mustard bush is implanted with its mustardness and bushness even when it is a negligible seed, prey to rapacious birds, as the first cells of human life are prey to genetic engineers.

Does the Church not realize how pernicious the politicization of the Sacrament of Holy Communion would be?

During the Vichy regime, some members of the resistance and anti-governmental side were denied Holy Communion because they were defying the “legally constituted” government of Vichy—a regime that had the support of 90 percent or more of the Catholic clergy. All this while members of the Milice—vicious thugs that killed Jews and leftists indiscriminately—were never given any trouble at the altar rail.

Don’t you think that a Church more aware of its failings during World War II should be more careful today? So too pro-abortion Catholic politicians deserve to maintain the full respect of the lay Catholic faithful. Principled reasons exist to refrain from the pastoral practice of withholding the Eucharist:

Bishops should scrupulously avoid even the appearance of political partisanship or interfering in temporal matters. At a minimum, that means discreetly waiting until after an election before publicly confronting a politician in such a manner. Better still, how about not waiting 20 years until a career pro-abortion official decides to run for president before suddenly finding him unworthy of sacramental Communion? That, I respectfully submit, would be both prudent and truly charitable.

Politicians aren’t the only lay Catholics who influence public opinion and policy. Many others, such as professors, authors, editors, newswriters, judges, lawyers, and political activists who don’t hold office are engaged in one way or another in the public debate on issues such as abortion. Are politicians being singled out because they actually have political power (as opposed to mere influence)? This is about the most temporal, non-spiritual reason one can imagine for a bishop to act.

Abortion is not the only issue upon which Catholics publicly dissent. Homosexuality and contraception also involve grave sin. Should those who cause scandal within the Church by dissenting publicly on such issues receive less pastoral attention than pro-abortion senators?

Laymen aren’t the only ones who dissent. When it comes to bishops and priests, I don’t name names. But come on. When was the last time you heard of a bishop denying Holy Communion to a fellow bishop, a priest-theologian, or any other member of the clergy? Does anyone seriously believe that none of the bishops, priests, and deacons ever scandalize the faithful through public dissent?

George Pataki and Rudy Giuliani. These two Catholic politicians were among the most prominent speakers at this year’s Republican National Convention. Both have been seriously discussed as presidential contenders and both have a public record of supporting legalized abortion. Has either ever been denied Holy Communion? Does anyone else see the potential problem with this?

All bishops need the prayers, encouragement, and public support of the lay Catholic faithful. To divide the episcopacy between the “good” bishops who deny Holy Communion to John Kerry and the “bad” bishops who don’t ignores the complexity of the pastoral situation.

When de Wo'ld Trade Centers wuz attacked and reduced t'a pile uh dust at da damn hands uh Islamic activists, ah' wuz hopin' t'see da damn followers uh Islam denounce such some cowardly and henious attack. Ya' know? Afta' all, we wuz always taught dat Islam respects love and life and considers all life t'be precious and sacred. While ah' dun did see some few Arabs openly condemn de attacks, most remained silent. Man! De ones who dun did condemn de attacks wuz rada' meek and not real endusiastic in deir condemnashun. De message ah' wuz hearin' fum "Mainstream Islam" wuz "we feel so'ry fo' de victims, but ya' had dis comin' some long time ago, and ya' deserved every raple bit uh it". And in de process, Islam be touted as some religion uh peace, love, and tolerance. When Osama Bin Laden wuz gloatin' upside de dead and destrucshun and compared da damn destrucshun t'dat uh winnin' some soccar game and claimed dat Allah wuz pleased dat many innocent sucka's got wasted, most sucka's in de Arab communities refused t'rap against such raw hatred. And we wuz told, wid much fan-fare, dat Islam wuz some religion dat promotes peace, love, and tolerance When innocent children is killed, plum so some "political statement" could be made, do we see "peace-lovin' Islam" condemn de attacks? No we see dem boogeyin' in de streets, passin' out kindy, and rappin' de praises uh de terro'ists. And once again, Islam be promoted as some religion uh peace, love, and tolerance When wheels bombs 'esplode in populated civilian secto's and when suicide bombers blow demselves down and everybody around dem duz "peaceful Islam" denounce such raw, unbridled hatred? No. 'S coo', bro. Dey applaud dem and call dem "heros" and call de innocent deads "justified" and da damn parents uh de suicide bombers stay at crib and wait fo' de bre'd fum "Uncle Saddam" and "Uncle Yasser". To Islam, it seems dat sacrificin' yo' own child plum to dig bre'd, be an acceptable practice. And in de process, de self-titled, and self-crowned "Holy leaders" uh Islam claim deir religion be about "peace, love, and tolerance". When innocent civilians is openly targeted, duz "peaceful Islam" condemn de attacks? No dey praise da damn terro'ists and claimed "Allah be pleased" And in de process, Islam be placed on some high pedestal, and we is told it be a "religion uh peace, love, and tolerance" When suicide bombers attack farms, bus stashuns, marketplaces, o' oda' highly populated civilian areas, de biased liberal medias uh de wo'ld all turn some blind eye. When "peaceful Islam" wages wars on defenseless children and old ladies and oda' innocent civilians, de liberal medias all look de oda' way. Slap mah fro! When suicide bombers is sent out t'kill demselves and many around dem, de biased liberal-sponso'ed medias uh de wo'ld look de oda' direcshun and act as if nodin' happened at all, while da damn parents uh de suicide bombers hide at deir crib, waitin' fo' de promised bre'd fum "Uncle Saddam" and "Uncle Yassar". But when Israel and da damn Western Wo'ld tries t'fight terro'ism in deir own back yards, de biased liberal media and Arab special interest groups po'trays dem as "de baaaad dude", and da damn Arabs and da damn Arab lobby groups all jump down and waaay down and scream likes so's many packs uh rabid hyenas and rabid banshee. And at da damn same time, Islam be glo'ified as some "religion uh peace, love and tolerance". When Super-dude Bush declared dat no country o' sucka' should be subjected t'live in terro' o' fear, den de once-silent Arab Secto's decided t'make deir voices heard, loud and clear. Ah be baaad... But dey dun did not praise Bush and his plans fo' some terro'ist-free wo'ld. Dey shouted dat we should simply allow de terro'ists t'do as dey pleased, bomb where-eva' dey pleased, o'waste whom-eva' dey pleased and t'terro'ize any place dey so's wished and should we try t'interefere wid de terro'ist's plans fo' global terro' and bloodshed we would "suffa' de Wrad uh Allah". But Islam be a "religion uh peace, love, and tolerance"....... Or so's we wuz stupid enough t'recon'.

 Tuesday 09.28.04 [1:38 am]

Islam was rebealid to Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) as a mehciful 'n etehnal religion dat fits f' all ages. If durigg his life man submits t' the, uh, the will of Allah, he can depend on His mehcy in life 'n in the, uhhh, day of Dgujemin "And Webuh habe not sent you but as a mehcy t' the, uh, the world." Kr'an (21:107) Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) said: "Sure, I am a grantid mehcy." Islam enhasss each indibidual’s self-repeck: it establishes dat true 'n on ekality open t' man - the, uh, ekality in surrendeh t' Allah f' His sehbice amongst mankind. Such surrendeh gibes each one the, errr, chass t' find his place in the, uh, the whole widout fackion, partisan rule or supehiority. Each is his own masteh. Islam is a religion dat gibes high repeck t' human rites. It regulates ebehy detail of pehsonal 'n commuty life in ekity, GEEEHEEHEEE.It is de guardian of freedom bef'e Allah- Its firss 'n paramount dought is uty. It exclubes no one - dough some exclube demselbes : it opposes no one-dough some may oppose demselbes t' it. it makes no diffehesss - dough some may choose t' be diffehent. De freedom dat Islam grants is basid on commitmin 'n reponsibiltiby widout which one can endgoy no true freedom. Um uh.Freedom widout rules leads t' de breakdown 'n corrupshun of de moral 'n social ordeh. Allah says in de Ho Kr’an: "Say, O Peoble of earlieh Scrippure! Huh huh! Let us reason togedeh, dat webuh worship none but Allah 'n webuh associate nodigg wid Allah, 'n dat webuh do not set up from among ourselbes lords odeh dan Allah. But if dey turn away, den say, Bear witness dat webuh are Muslims." Kr’an (3-64) Today, peoble are in despehate neid f' uty, dgustice 'n freedom. Lee me lone!Dey want t' be sabid from exploitashun 'n war. Dey wandeh lost, uh, like sheep gone astray. Um uh.Let dem turn t' the, ERRRR, sunshine of Islam's regulashuns of life 'n libigg. Undeh dat common sun, all - black, white, uh uh uh, rid and yellow-are at one in dgustice, uh uh uh, freedom 'n ekality. F' Islam, true excelless lies, duuhhhh, not in de intelleckual or manual attainmins of peoble of diffehigg giffs; but in de lebel of piety 'n fear of Allah. Dese are ekal open t' all whatebeh deir odeh giffs. Allah says in de Kr’an: "O Mankind: Webuh cratid you from a male 'n a female; 'n made you into tribes 'n nashuns dat you may get t' know each odeh. and behy, most honorid bef'e God is de most birtuous." Kr’an (49:13) Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) assehtid sayigg: "Arab is not more pribilegid dan non-Arab, nor white dan black. Spiritual excelless 'n true piety is de on distincshun amongst humans recognisid by Allah." Afteh de Prophet's bictory in Mekkah, a proud self-seekigg group of Arabs claimid pribilege f' deir tongue 'n race. Gawlly!T' dem he (PBUH) said: "Danks be t' Allah dat by the, ERRRR, sublime doctrines of Islam He has freid you from the, duh uhh, times of ignorass, 'n strippid off pride, uh uh uh, cossit 'n powebuhr-lust. Know now dat in de Courts of God on two groups exist. De group of de riteeous who are precious in God's ahs : 'n de group of the, ERRRR, sinful who hang deir gords in shame." Submisshun t' the, uh, the will 'n laws of Allah is the, uh, essess of freedom. It libehates de mind, uh uh uh uh, soul, 'n behabiour from the, uh, ebil influesss of the, uh, the world. It helps mankind obehcome oppressibe tyrants, duuhhhh, undgust laws, duuhhhh, lusts, duuhhhh, debiashun 'n psychological c'plexes which enslabe his will. Submisshun t' the, uh, the will of Allah grants man de rite t' choose f' his life, uh uh uh, t' libe his life in a moral 'n uprite way. It is true dat worshipigg Allah shudd be parallel t' obeyigg His laws. But dis obediess is the, uh uh uh, free choice of lobe. And His laws are dose absoloot moral standards which f'mulate the, uh, essess of man's true nature, uh uh uh, as his Crator means him t' be at his best. No man who has bowebuhd his neck benead de yoke of money-grubbigg or powebuhr-seekigg can ebeh endgoy a free life in a free society. GEE danks.De Imam Ali said: "Piety is de key t' honesty 'n purity 'n to de ackiremin of mehit in store against dgujmin-day. It is freedom from the, errr, chains of ebehy bondage; salbashun from de blows of ebehy adbehsity. Piety puts a man's aim widin his reach, erds off ebil, his soul's foe, uh uh uh, 'n assists him t' attain his heart's desires." (Nahdg-ul-Balaghe: 227.) Remembeh dat he gabe dis message in an epoch when bioless, oppresshun, wrong, uh uh, class wars 'n racial strife ragid amongst men. De webuhak 'n de poor webuhre deniid ebehy human rite 'n social safeguard. Um uh.Wid matchless moral courage de pioneeh of Islam outlawebuhd all dose diffehesss 'n conflicts, duuhhhh, so illegitimate, uh uh uh, so supehstitious 'n so mistaken. Duh.He replacid dem wid the, errr, command dat ekality 'n pehfeck ekity shudd be obsehbid f' all indibiduals. He ordainid dat, uh, undeh de auspices of total submisshun t' the, uh, the will of Allah, ebehy sort of reasonaggle freedom shudd be put widin de possesshun of men; in such a way dat de undehpribilegid classes of society which had nebeh bef'e had any sort of powebuhr t' express deir desires but had mehe probokid de reackion of bioless 'n oppresshun if dey darid to protest against the, uh, the will of de powebuhrful ruligg classes, duuhhhh, shudd now, uh uh uh uh uh uh, undeh de life gibigg dgustice of Islamic laws, duuhhhh, find de political 'n social powebuhr dey lacked, uh uh uh uh, 'n shuddeh t' shuddeh mobe on until dey had deir full 'n riteful share in de leadehship of deir nashuns. Dud, Islam came t' break man's fettehs 'n enaggle mankind t' cast off the, errr, chains dat delayid his growd, it encouragid de indibidual t' gibe propeh expresshun t' his humanity 'n foll de pad t' moral pehfeckion. GEE danks.It cratid an atmosphehe of hope 'n optimism which gabe a true meanigg t' human existess.

The Foundations of Christian Bioethics
H. Tristram Engelhardt Jr., Swets & Zeitlinger, 2000, 440 pages, $39.95

Many years ago, I had my medical ethics students read Foundations of Bioethics (1986) by H. Tristram Engelhardt Jr., the renowned physician, philosopher, and ethicist. With unusual candor and clarity, Engelhardt explained that once we surrender premises drawn from nature or grace, the only remaining moral authority is procedural that is, an ethic of permission-giving among moral strangers who do not share a common moral vision. This earlier work can still be read as a forceful statement that anything is permissible if it conforms to the ethic of consent.

Since then, however, Engelhardt has converted to Antiochian Orthodox Christianity. As a result, in Foundations of Christian Bioethics he develops a quite different position. As a Christian speaking on moral theology rather than public policy, he now states that "everything is required; anything can be forgiven." From the perspective of "traditional Christianity"—by which he means the Orthodox theology of the first millennium A.D.—bioethics is not chiefly a matter of either medicine or justice. Rather, it is a spiritual ascesis by which agents and !patients prepare themselves for participation in the mystery of grace. Bioethics is a particular application of the universal principles that govern holiness. Such a view, Engelhardt says, "is one that few in the West have ever encountered, much less experienced."

Though the author is perhaps too eager to insist upon the strangeness of Orthodox theology and overly polemical in his estimation of the failure of the West to preserve Christian wisdom, there is much to be learned from this book.

The first three chapters form a picture of how ethics is situated in a post-Christian world. In the wake of popularized extreme Darwinism, bioethicists have had no way to assign compelling moral predicates to the facts of biological science, leaving subjective !consciousness as the only principle of authority. Obviously, this ideology can produce only a limited consensus—namely, a procedural ethic of permission-giving. This was Engelhardt’s own preconversion conclusion, and he still finds it reasonable so long as it is not confused with the cosmopolitan liberal ethic that insists the autonomous self is normative—and so long as it is not confused with Christian ethics.

Once this position is honestly understood, he argues, the public ethic should be libertarian. The libertarian does not attempt to remediate moral diversity by imposing a single ethic, but instead pays attention to the moral standards that groups of individuals have mutually agreed to. Though not itself a Christian ethic, the libertarian framework "makes space for such an ethic." Engelhardt argues that Christians can live with this framework.

The rest of Engelhardt’s book moves beyond public morality to moral theology. His main point is that Christian bioethicists have misunderstood the modern situation. In the past, Catholic theologians were able to presuppose a certain unity of perspective and content among the various sciences. It seemed normal for the theologian to try to harmonize theological findings and methods with those of the other disciplines. In the modern world, however, this unity has been abandoned. Rather than harmonizing faith and reason, moral theologians abandon theology on the altar of consensus.

The Christian thought of the first millennium was not warped by this false and useless ecumenism, because it never had to negotiate a moral consensus among Scholastic, Protestant, and Enlightenment thinkers. Its most distinctive characteristic was the central authority it ascribed to saints and mystics. This tradition, Engelhardt explains, "understands that to know truly is not a matter of discursive or scholastic reasoning, but of changing the knower and of being granted illumination by God." Not reason, not tradition, not Scripture, but direct experience of God is the proper foundation of Christian bioethics.

In the face of problematic issues such as abortion, contraception, in vitro fertilization, genetic engineering, and euthanasia, the Christian should not consult an academic textbook but rather seek spiritual direction from someone like Padre Pio—or, in Engelhardt’s case, St. John the Faster or the Elder Porphyrios. The mystic provides spiritual therapy, teaching us how to overcome temptation and passion in order to prepare for an experience of God. While he makes it clear that some actions are always contrary to the Christian life, he hastens to add that the nor!ms are "embedded in the pursuit of holiness, not constraints set by natural law in a structure of impersonal norms."

Notwithstanding his negative characterization of natural law, there is hardly as much difference as Engelhardt imagines between Catholic and Orthodox bioethics. It seems, rather, that Engelhardt wants all of the traction of divine law without embracing a community that is responsible for its interpretation and application. On most (but not all) controversial issues, Engelhardt’s position coincides with the Roman Catholic Church’s teaching. His exposition of the theology of the body and the mystery of marriage, for example, is in some respects strikingly similar to John Paul II’s early papal Angelus messages on those subjects.

The distinctly Orthodox emphasis that makes his book so interesting is Engelhardt’s articulation of the idea of direct illumination of the soul. He is correct, by and large, when he claims that contemporary Western moral theologians have not shown much interest in this idea. St. Thomas Aquinas’s belief that the intellect knows by virtue of a created rather than an increate (uncreated) light minimized explorations into Christian Platonism in the West. Though the Western tradition never intended to ignore the gift of direct illumination, it has sometimes fallen into a rationalism that is contemptuous of—or at least impatient with—direct experience of God and ascetical training of the intellect. In contrast, Platonists insist that human intellection depends primarily on increate light. The problem of moral knowledge is essentially therapeutic, a removal of impurities that cloud our direct experience of God.

Engelhardt’s work is essentially a return to Christian Platonism, which has an honorable history in both East and West. This tradition is not without blemishes, however. For example, !it has a tendency to conflate science and wisdom and to distinguish inadequately between the gifts of creation and those of grace. And there is no evidence that the Orthodox approach has any cura societatis (care of society) that would allow it to formulate social doctrine. The world outside the Church is left to fend for itself.

Even so, one cannot but admire The Foundations of Christian Bioethics for its brilliant theological insight, and most of all, for raising with a certain urgency issues that have been neglected by contemporary Catholic moral theologians for too long.

Why Catholicism is not a ‘Denomination’ and What That Means
By George Weigel

Since the time of the Second Vatican Council, an almost obsessive focus on the Catholic Church as institution has preoccupied many Catholics in North America and western Europe. That obsession with the institutional dimension of the Church helps to explain why so much of the contemporary Catholic debate is framed in terms borrowed from politics: as a debate between "liberals" and "conservatives." Shortly after the council, virtually everything in Catholicism began to be described this way. There were liberal and conservative bishops, priests, nuns, parishes, religious orders, seminaries, theologians, newspapers, magazines, and organizations. There were liberal and conservative positions on every question imaginable, from the structure of worship to the fine points of doctrine and morality.

To be sure, there was something to all this. Some Catholics eagerly welcomed the revision of the Church’s worship; others were offended, appalled, or heart-stricken by "the changes." Some Catholics were entirely comfortable in the dialogue with modern culture; others thought that opening the Church’s windows to the modern world was a grave mistake; still others welcomed the new conversation but thought the Church should challenge the modern world to open its windows, too. The liberal/conservative grid was moderately useful for sorting out some of the players and a few of the issues during and immediately after Vatican II.

But the use of the liberal/conservative filter as a one-size-fits-all template for thinking about an ancient, complex religious institution was, in the final analysis, implausible and distorting. An example from another world religion illustrates why. No one ever asks whether the Dalai Lama is a liberal or conservative Buddhist. Why? Because we instinctively understand that these are the wrong categories through which to grasp the nature and purpose of a venerable, subtle, and richly textured religious tradition. Shouldn’t the same self-discipline be applied to thinking about the Catholic Church?

In the United States, the liberal/conservative filter has also reinforced the temptation to think of Catholicism as one among many "denominations." American religion, it is often said, is preeminently denominational religion. What much of American Christianity means by "denomination," though, is not what Catholicism means by "Church."

There is little that is given or secure in a denomination; the denomination is constantly being remade by its members. Christianity as denomination has no distinctive, fixed form given to it by Christ; it adapts its form, its institutional structures, to the patterns of the age. (To take a current example, if the basic institutional form of the wider society is the bureaucracy, the Church becomes identified with its bureaucracy.) In much of American denominational Christianity today, institutional process is more important than binding doctrinal reference points; anything can change. The !denominational community’s boundaries are ill- defined, even porous, because being nonjudgmental is essential to group maintenance. Religious leadership is equated with bureaucratic managership; bishops and other formally constituted religious leaders are discussion moderators, whose job is to keep all opinions in play, rather than authoritative teachers.

A denomination is something we help create by joining it; according to Vatican II, however, the Church is a divinely instituted community into which we are incorporated by the sacraments of initiation (baptism, confirmation, the Eucharist). Denominations have members like voluntary associations or clubs; the Church has members as a human body has arms and legs, fingers and toes. A denomination has moving boundaries, doctrinally and morally; the Church, according to Vatican II, is nourished by creeds and moral convictions that clearly establish its boundaries. The structures of a denomination are something we can alter at will; the Church, according to Vatican II, has a form, or structure, given to it by Christ. Catholicism has bishops and a ministerial priesthood, and Peter’s successor, the bishop of Rome, presides over the whole Church in charity, not because Catholics today think these are good ways to do things but because Christ wills these for His Church.

None of this distinctively Catholic way of thinking about the Church makes much sense if parsed in liberal/conservative terms. Better categories, rooted in a richer concept of the Church than the Church as institution, have to be found.

The Church as a ‘Communion’

What do we mean by "Church"! ? The bishops of Vatican II, having searched extensively through the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, proposed a host of biblical metaphors to describe the essence of the Church and its mission. The council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church describes the Church of Christ in these agrarian images: "This Church is...a sheepfold, the sole and necessary gateway to which is Christ (cf. John 10:1-10). It is also the flock, of which God foretold that he himself would be the shepherd (cf. Isaiah 40:11; Ezekiel 34:11ff.), and whose sheep, although watched over by human shepherds, are nevertheless at all times led and brought to pasture by Christ himself, the Good Shepherd and prince of shepherds (cf. John 10:11; 1 Peter 5:4), who gave his life for his sheep (cf. John 10:11-15)."

The Second Vatican Council also cited biblical images drawn from architecture to describe the Church. Thus the Church is the "building of God" (1 Corinthians 3:9) whose cornerstone is Christ (Matthew 21:42). Built by the apostles on the one "foundation," which is Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 3:11), the Church is the "household of God in the Spirit (cf. Ephesians 2:19-22), the dwelling place of God among men (Revelation 21:3), and, especially, the holy temple.... As living stones, we here on earth are built into it (cf. 1 Peter 2:5)." The Church is also proposed as the "holy city," and the holy city is variously described as "the Jerusalem which is above" (Galatians 4:26) and the "spotless spouse of the Lamb" (Revelation 19:7), whom Christ "loved and for whom he delivered himself that he might sanctify her" (Ephesians 5:25-26).

The council adopted this rich biblical imagery in an effort to get Catholics to think of themselves in something more than institutional terms. The biblical pyrotechnics in the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church are meant to help us imagine the Church and all its functions—including its necessary institutional functions—as a dynamic evangelical movement in history. That is what the Church is for, Pope John Paul II has insisted. The Church does not exist for her own sake. The Church exists to tell the world that "in the fullness of time, [God] sent his Son, born of a woman, for the salvation of the world." That means that "the history of salvation has entered the history of the world," and time has been incorporated into eternity. The story of salvation—the story of the Church, and the story of Israel that made the Church’s story possible—is the world’s story, rightly understood.

The primary mission of the Church is most certainly not institutional maintenance. The first mission of the Church is to tell the world the truth about itself, by means of what the pope calls a "dialogue of salvation." The Church exists to propose to the world: "You are far, far greater than you imagine."

If that is what the Church is for, that should tell us something about what the Church is. Because the Church, as Vatican II puts it, is "the kingdom of God now present in mystery," the Church cannot think of itself as one religious organization in a supermarket of religious options. The Church, writes John Paul II, has a "unique importance for the human family," for the Church is where the human family learns the truth about its origins, dignity, and destiny.

The Church is also where we experience a foretaste of that destiny, which is eternal life within the light and love of the Holy Trinity. That is why the council, the pope, and prominent Catholic theologians all suggest that the Church is best described as a communion—a communion of believers with the living God, with one another, and with the saints who have gone before us. Because the Church has a certain structure, the Church does certain things. So we can speak of the Church as institution, herald, servant, and so forth. At the bottom of the bottom line, however, the Church is a communion. Those who participate in that communion—husbands and wives, parents and children, friends and colleagues, employers and employees—have a relationship to one another in that communion that is like none other in their lives. In all those other relationships, we are "part" of one another in different ways. Those in the communion of the Church are "part" of one another as parts of the body of Christ.

The communion that is the Church extends over time and beyond time. In the Catholic view of things, the reality of the Church embraces far more than those we see around us in the world. It also, as John Paul puts it, "embraces those who now see God as he is, and those who have died and are being purified." Put yet another way, the distinctive quality of the communion of the Church is that it is a "communion of saints": those who are already saints (that is, those who "see God as he is") and those who must become saints in order to fulfill their Christian and human destiny (that is, all the rest of us).

To think of the Church as a communion of saints means that we have to think differently about the meaning of vocation.

Called and Sent

Ask most Catholics what a vocation is and they’re likely to respond, "Becoming a priest," or "Becoming a nun." Those are surely vocations within the communion of the Church. Still, limiting the notion of vocation to those who are religious professionals is a mistake, according to the Second Vatican Council and Pope John Paul II.

If the Church is the continuation in time of Christ’s mission and the mission of the Holy Spirit, then the Church’s first task is evangelization—the sharing of the good news that God loves the world, gave His Son for the salvation of the world, and invites all humankind to a life of eternal happiness. That astonishingly good news demands to be shared. The Church, by its very nature, is missionary, and every baptized Christian has a responsibility—a vocation—to be an evangelist. The council described this by saying that all the baptized share in Christ’s vocation as prophet: Every Christian shares in the prophetic mission of Christ by speaking the truth, by proposing to the world the truth about its story.

The Church’s evangelization must be nurtured in prayer, especially community prayer. There is an intimate link between the Christian vocation to evangelize and the Christian vocation to worship. In worshiping the Father, through the Son, in the power of the Holy Spirit, the Church deepens its understanding of the truth about itself and is equipped for its mission in the world. All the baptized, according to Vatican II, share in Christ’s vocation as priest: Every Christian shares in the priestly mission to worship in truth, to give the Father what is His due, and to receive in return the gift of holy communion, in and with God’s Son.

The Church’s evangelization must be lived in service. Sometimes the gospel message is best conveyed by deeds rather than by words. It is one thing, and an important thing, to preach that God loves the world and calls us to communion with Him. That message is sometimes most effectively communicated by action, by lives of service poured out for others in imitation of Christ and in obedience to Christ. All the baptized share in Christ’s vocation as king: Every Christian is called to a royal life, which is essentially a life of service and self-giving.

To be baptized, the Church teaches, is to be "baptized into Christ," to "put on Christ." That means that every Christian has a baptismal vocation to holiness. Sanctity, in Catholicism, is not just for the sanctuary. Sanctity is for everyone, for we must all become saints (whether or not we are publicly recognized as such after our deaths) in order to enjoy eternal life with God. Each of us, Catholicism teaches, has a vocation, a unique way in which we are to grow into holiness. Our vocation is the way in which we each live our distinctive Christian witness, and thus are fitted to become the kind of people who can live with God forever.

Formed in the Image of Mary

Another primary and common characteristic of all those who are embraced by the communion of the Church is that they are all disciples. In the Catholic view of things, that means that everyone in the Church is formed in the image of a woman: Mary, mother of Jesus, the first of disciples and thus the "Mother of the Church."

Every year the pope meets with the senior members of the Roman curia, the Church’s central bureaucracy, for an exchange of Christmas greetings. It’s a formal occasion, rather far removed from the typical office Christmas party. Popes traditionally use the opportunity to review the year just past and suggest directions for the year ahead. On December 22, 1987, Pope John Paul II made this the occasion to drop something of a theological bombshell.

For some years, Catholic theologians had speculated about different "profiles," or "images," of the Church, drawn from prominent New Testament personalities. The missionary Church, the Church of proclamation, is formed in the image of the apostle Paul, the great preacher to the Gentiles. The Church of contemplation is formed in the image of the apostle John, who rested his head on Christ’s breast at !the Last Supper. The Church of office and jurisdiction is formed in the image of Peter, the apostle to whom Christ gave the keys to the kingdom of heaven. All of these images are in play in the Church all the time. Yet, in a Church accustomed for centuries to thinking of itself primarily in institutional terms, the Church formed in the image of Peter’s authority and office has long seemed to take priority over all the rest.

Not so, suggested John Paul II, to what we can only assume were some rather startled senior churchmen. Mary was the first disciple, because Mary’s "yes" to the angel’s message had made possible the incarnation of the Son of God. The Church is the extension of Christ and His mission in history; in the image made famous by Pope Pius XII, the Church is the "mystical body of Christ." Mary’s assumption into heaven was a preview of what awaits all those whom Christ will save. For all !these reasons, John Paul proposed, Mary provides a defining profile of what the Church is, of how the men and women of the Church should live, and of what the eternal destiny of disciples will be.

This understanding of Mary and the Church challenges the institutional way in which many churchmen (and many Catholic laity) are used to thinking about themselves and their community. The "Marian profile," John Paul said, is even "more...fundamental" in Catholicism than the "Petrine profile." Though the two cannot be divided, the "Marian Church," the Church formed in the image of a woman and her discipleship, precedes, makes possible, and indeed makes sense of the "Petrine Church," the Church of office and authority formed in the image of Peter. That Petrine Church, the pope continued, has no other purpose "except to form the Church in line with the ideal of sanctity already programmed and prefigured in Mary." John Paul argued that these two profiles were complementary, not in tension. He also insisted that the "Marian profile is...pre-eminent" and carried within it a richer meaning for every Christian’s vocation.

It was a striking message: Discipleship comes before authority in the Church because authority is to serve sanctity. In a Church of disciples, formed in the image of Mary, the first disciple, what is fundamental is the universal call to holiness. Everything else in the Church—including the work of those with authority in the Church—exists to foster the disciples’ answer to that call.

This is not a liberal view of the Church and its mission. This is not a conservative view of the Catholic reality. This is a vision far beyond those categories.

Archaeology Teaches a Lesson

The Marian Church is the fundamental reality of the Church as a communion of disciples. Still, the Office of Peter is a crucial part of the Catholic Church. Getting at the core of its meaning requires analytic tools other than the usual political categories. The liberal/conservative debate about the papacy in recent decades has not shed very much light on the evangelical essence of Peter’s mission, which continues in the popes. Perhaps archaeology helps.

Deep beneath St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican are the scavi, a series of archaeological digs begun by Pope Pius XII during the Second World War in an attempt to find the tomb of the prince of the apostles, which ancient tradition had associated with that site. Archaeological digs don’t yield irrefutable answers, like algebraic equations. Still, the best scholarly opinion is that we can say with a reasonable degree of certainty that the apostle’s tomb has been found, almost directly under Bernini’s bronze baldachino, whose wreathed columns frame the papal high altar beneath the great dome emblazoned with Christ’s words: "Tu es Petrus et super hanc petram aedificabo ecclesiam meam et tibi dabo claves regni caelorum" (You are Peter and upon this rock I will build my Church and I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven [Matthew 16:18-19]).

In the course of their explorations under St. Peter’s, archaeologists found an enormous cemetery, a Christian necropolis dating back to the decades immediately following the life of Christ—the decades of the first evangelization of the Mediterranean world and its imperial capital, Rome. Pious Christians who died quietly at home, as well as those who died horrible deaths by torture during Roman persecutions, wanted to be buried near Peter. And so a small city of the dead arose on the Vatican hill, a half-hour’s walk from the Coliseum and the Roman Forum.

To get to the scavi you pass through St. Peter’s Square with its distinctive obelisk, a granite monolith brought to Rome in a.d. 37 by the mad emperor Caligula. His nephew, Nero, made the obelisk one of the centerpieces of his circus. It is not improbable that Peter was martyred in that circus, and it could well be that the last thing he saw on this earth was that obelisk.

In the scavi, the tourist or pilgrim is about as close as it’s possible to get to the apostolic origins of the Church. That experience poses the question of Peter, and his meaning for us, in a very sharp way.

The great challenge to Christian! faith is the incarnation of the Son of God and his death for us upon the cross: "a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles," as St. Paul put it (1 Corinthians 1:23). As if to compound the challenge, Christ left the continuation of his ministry and mission in the hands of weak, mortal human beings; he made the weakest, most impetuous of the bunch the first among them (Matthew 16:18-19); and then he told Peter that the essence of his leadership was the service of his brethren, which would, in due course, cost him his life (Luke 22:32; John 21:18-19).

The scavi make us confront, face-to-face, this bold claim: that at a certain time and place, a real human being named Simon, son of a man named John, a fisherman from Capernaum in Galilee, became a personal friend of Jesus of Nazareth. In that friendship, Simon encountered the Son of God and was transformed—not into a superhero but into Peter, an apostle, a man equipped by the Holy Spirit! for a mission of witness "to the ends of the earth" (Acts 13:47). To go through the scavi is to be confronted with the unavoidable and almost shocking particularity of Catholic faith: These were real people. They made real decisions. They had real fears, real passions, real loves, and real enemies.

The Church is not founded