Some may consider a discussion about the roots of law needless. Don't we already know the roots of law? If I were to poll Christians, asking, “Where do we find the roots of law?,” no doubt the overwhelming majority would reply, “in the Bible—in the law of God.” And I agree that the roots of law are more perfectly presented in the Word of God than in any other book. But knowing this is not enough. Not in the public square. Not in the Congress, not in the courts, not in the colleges and universities.
Lord Acton, the great historian of freedom, understood that “liberty is the delicate fruit of a mature civilization.” The liberty of which he spoke embraced a broad scope of human freedom, including dimensions political, intellectual, economic, and, especially, religious. The civilization of which he spoke was the West, whose heritage of Greek philosophy, Roman law, and Christian faith indelibly marked it and inexorably pushed it toward the full panoply of liberties we enjoy today and to which the rest of the world looks.
Before the turn of this century, an entire generation of preachers and ministers concluded that a moral monetary policy was an easy-money policy. “Give the people more money and credit,” was the cry of the populist ministers. “Down with gold, up with silver.” They mistakenly believed that the Treasury's printing press was the key to earthly salvation.
In a short, inconspicuous paragraph in the conclusion to the first edition of On the Origin of Species, Darwin speculates that “in the distant future … psychology will be based on a new foundation, that of the necessary acquirement of each mental power and capacity by gradation.“ One hundred and forty years later, Darwin's eerie prediction about the revolutionary effect of his work on human beings' self-understanding seems all too prophetic.
Lord Acton, the great historian of freedom, understood that “liberty is the delicate fruit of a mature civilization.” The liberty of which he spoke embraced a broad scope of human freedom, including dimensions political, intellectual, economic, and, especially, religious. The civilization of which he spoke was the West, whose heritage of Greek philosophy, Roman law, and Christian faith indelibly marked it and inexorably pushed it toward the full panoply of liberties we enjoy today and to which the rest of the world looks.
“Freedom is offered to man and given to him as a task. He must not only possess it but also conquer it. He must recognize the work of his life in a good use, in an increasingly good use of his liberty. This is the truly essential, the fundamental work, on which the value and the sense of his whole life depend.”
Grasping the authentic significance of Centesimus Annus requires two approaches. First, one must read the encyclical on its own merits, independently of previous papal teaching. As objectively as possible, one can exegete its various passages to discern its thrust and priorities. Then one must read the document in the context of previous social pronouncements by the magisterium over the past one hundred years and see what new themes, developments, and directions the present encyclical initiates.
Attempts to write of one's own vocation often fall flat. A priest whom I know remarked recently on the fiftieth anniversary of his priestly ordination, “The Lord could have chosen much better, he could have chosen much worse. He chose me.” That is every vocation in sum, and saying anything more often means just multiplying words.
This year marks the tenth anniversary of John Paul II's most important social encyclical, Centesimus Annus. Taking its name from the first two words of the Latin text, the title means “the hundredth anniversary” and is a reference to Rerum Novarum, Pope Leo XIII's 1891 encyclical on the condition of the working classes.
The first issue of Religion & Liberty appeared in January 1991–auspiciously, the same year in which Pope John Paul II promulgated his encyclical letter Centesimus Annus, a meditation of the nature of freedom in its many forms and its role in the modern world. That encyclical prompted a wide-scale debate on the moral foundations of the free society. Since its founding, the Acton Institute has been a part of this vigorous debate, often conducted in the pages of Religion & Liberty .
The starting point for any authentic discussion of environmental stewardship must begin with the witness of the Book of Genesis: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth’” (Gen. 1:27–28).
One of the more vigorously contested conflicts between private environmentalism and governmental policy has been occurring for a decade at the international level, where the Earth Charter movement is knocking at the door of the United Nations, begging for admission. It is a project of serious, determined, and sometimes zealous environmentalists.