Pope John Paul II places his teaching about economics and the social order within the framework of his Christian personalism, in which the human person is the starting point of his analysis and the primary criterion of his evaluation. He has made the cornerstone of his entire pontificate the teaching of the Second Vatican Council that the true nature of the human person is fully revealed in Jesus Christ and that every person has a fundamental vocation revealed by the commandment to love, to give himself to God and to others.
When the poet and novelist Robert Graves titled his account of the period between the two world wars The Long Weekend, he was summoning the sort of irony appropriate for a period that seems to us now a feckless pause between world crises. Certainly the “Roaring Twenties” retain a bit of luminosity, but the 1930s do not retain any sheen, in large measure due to the rampant, and eventually tragic, political polarization of the decade.
A French woman was raised a Roman Catholic but reveals that today she no longer considers herself one. Indeed, she has taken herself off the church rolls. When asked why, one might expect from her the sorts of complaints usually leveled against established religion. But not in this case. Her answer came directly and without qualification: She could no longer afford to pay the taxes. It turns out that in France, to be a member of a church means to pay tribute to the state, which, in turn, supports various religious institutions.
Most would agree that the rule of law is an absolute requirement for any society wishing to enjoy order, prosperity, and freedom, but what is the nature of this law, that we claim ought to rule? The typical modern understanding is that law is something decreed by executive officials, legislative assemblies, or bureaucratic agencies. Often forgotten is that this view of law has not been the predominant perspective through most of Anglo-American history.
Few today believe that socialist economics is the wave of the future, but most nations still find it difficult to root themselves in capitalism, democracy, and moral purpose. Most have little experience under the rule of law. Most of the countries of the former Soviet Union, most of Asia (emphatically including China), much of the Middle East, and most of Africa lack many of the cultural and political habits and institutions required for a successful capitalist system.
As I sat in the audience during Pope John Paul II’s final Mass in Cuba in January of last year, I was impressed by the explosion of exaltation from the crowd when he spoke firmly to the question of education. He told all parents in Cuba that they, not the state, are entrusted by God to make decisions about their children’s education.
The eleventh-grade catechism class I taught was looking forward to the big day. The confirmation mass would mark the culmination of twelve years of religious education and would be a kind of graduation ceremony inducting them into the responsibilities of a mature Christian life. Confirmands had been prepared to pray for a special outpouring of the Holy Spirit, for special grace that would strengthen them in their baptismal vows and help gird their loins for Christian battle.
The culture these days seems distinctly unfriendly to both freedom and virtue. For all of the rhetoric about the end of big government, the GOP Congress has made peace with Leviathan. At the same time, evidence of moral decline, from family disintegration to artistic obscenity, lies all around us. Superficially, at least, enhancing state power in order to make society more virtuous seems to be a losing strategy.
Environmental thought is being used increasingly, not to preserve nature’s beauty, but to restrict economic prosperity. As a priest, I am concerned about this movement, not only because I believe that economic development is good for the human family but also because, under the guise of environmentalism, certain heresies are making inroads into our houses of worship. Of late, we have witnessed the rise of what some have called a “green spirituality,” said to blend nicely with traditional faith.
The modern environmental movement originated during the 1970s in response to serious environmental conditions–polluted rivers, blighted landscapes, and noxious air. We owe great tribute to those who worked tirelessly to remind us of our obligation to be good stewards of the earth. In a relatively short time, we responded to the environmental calls to action, and the results are noteworthy.
A Christian living in the late-twentieth century United States faces several tensions, not the least of which is how to be salt and light in an increasingly secular environment. In such a world, both institutions and culture may differ dramatically from God’s principles for organizing our lives and relating to our fellow human beings. Given this tension, it is instructive for Christians to reflect upon particular policy issues and bring scriptural insights to bear on them.
Like other religious leaders, I was courted by the makers of Prince of Egypt to review the project and offer my perspective. I was prepared to resist these overtures for fear of being politically manipulated. I viewed parts of the film in earlier stages and made suggestions, which were taken seriously, as were those made by others from a variety of religious traditions. In the end, again like the others, I, too, am won over.