Sunday, December 22, 2024

Carrying Christ Into Our World



This week, people all over the world will be visiting family or friends for Christmas. So, what more fitting Gospel account for this final Advent Sunday than the forever familiar story of Mary’s visit to Elizabeth?

 

On the other hand, as we all well know, holiday visits are not always as wonderful as we would like them to be or as we try to pretend that they are – whether for the visitors themselves or for the ones being visited. There was a lot of chatter in the media at Thanksgiving time about how difficult this year’s Thanksgiving dinner conversations could be because of political differences within families. Personally, I find that concern somewhat troubling, because it presumes, first, that this is the only time of year when many of us talk at all to some of our relatives, and, second, that most people live in politically defined bubbles and do not normally speak or engage with anyone they disagree with, all of which is really quite troubling. That said, it is hard sometimes to show affection when affection is not fully felt, to come up with the right words that won’t cause or exacerbate conflict! This is, as that great 19th-century fan of Christmas, Charles Dickens, delightfully described it: “the only time … on the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely.” Sometimes, however, opening our “shut-up hearts” may be difficult, undertaken only grudgingly – more a matter of duty than desire – or, more likely some confusing combination of the two. How fitting, then, to hear today about a visit by someone whose motives, we know, were never mixed!  

 

The traditional site of Zechariah and Elizabeth’s home and so the presumed site of the Visitation is a little town some five miles west of Jerusalem – a journey of several days from Galilee through Samaria to Judea. Obviously, we cannot know now exactly what Mary may have felt as she undertook that difficult journey, in response to God’s plan that had been revealed to her by an angel. 


But the story does say she set out in haste. No procrastination, no putting off what, to our “shut-up hearts,” might seem merely a dutiful but burdensome social obligation.    Perhaps, she sought to draw on the wisdom and strength of her older relative. Surely, she must have wanted to make contact (in a world without social media) with the only other person who had thus far been let in on God’s great plan, that was even then quite literally taking shape in the bodies of these two remarkable women.

 

After so long, Elizabeth in her old age had also conceived a son - and had responded to this incredible favor by going into seclusion. Also unexpectedly pregnant, Mary had responded to this problematic and potentially dangerous development by rushing off to visit Elizabeth. 

 

Instead of shouting her good news to the world (which until then had reproached her for being childless), Elizabeth waited silently for the miracle’s full meaning to make itself known. Instead of cautiously keeping quiet, Mary rushed to tell all to Elizabeth, thus showing her own complete confidence in the God who had totally taken over her life.

 

What a wonderful story, this episode in the greatest story ever heard, this story that every year at this time demonstrates its incredible capacity to command our attention and touch us where we feel it most deeply!  Every year, despite all the personal and political tragedies and difficulties that get in the way, all sorts of people, all over the world, with different personalities and preoccupations, different needs and wants, different fears and hopes, hear the Christmas story and are captivated by it - for it speaks directly to each one of us, reviving our capacity to believe and our willingness to hope.

 

Back in fifth century Christian North Africa, one of the great Doctors of the Church, Saint Augustine, said: “If God’s Word had not become flesh and had not dwelt among us, we would have had to believe that there was no connection between God and humanity, and we would have been in despair.” That is what the Christmas story is all about – a reason not to despair, an incentive to hope. How fitting, therefore, that the forthcoming Jubilee Year which will begin on Christmas has for its focus hope!

 

The God for whom Elizabeth silently waited for so long, the God whom Mary carried in her womb so faithfully, has come at last to live with us. In the process, he connects us not only with himself but with one another. As he brought Mary and Elizabeth together, filled with the Holy Spirit, so he leads us to one another and unites us, thought the same Holy Spirit, in a new community, formed by faith, directed by hope, and alive with love. And we, as a result, must never let things be the same again!

 

And they won’t be if, like Elizabeth, when we hear him coming, we offer him the hospitality of our hearts, and if, like Mary, having conceived him in our hearts, we are willing to carry him into the world with confidence – so that, through each of our no longer “shut up” but now wide open hearts, Christ can truly be our hope and become so for all the world.

 

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, December 22, 2024.


Photo: Paulist Fathers' Motherhouse Chapel, NY.

Friday, December 20, 2024

An Old Book for a New Day

 


Recently, there has been a resurgence of interest in a book from 1981, American Politics: The Promise of Disharmony (Harvard U. Pr.), by the then political scientist and Harvard Professor of International Affairs, Samuel P. Huntington (1927-2008), author most famously of Political order in Changing Societies (1968) and The Clash of Civilizations? (1993). In 1981, I was at the end of my political science career, and I somehow managed to miss American Politics: The Promise of Disharmony, an omission I have now at last corrected.

When on sabbatical at Windsor Castle in 2005 and on other occasions when explaining (or, at least, trying) to explain “American Exceptionalism” to foreigners, I have usually fallen back on the distinction between ethnically identified nation states (e.g., France, Germany, Italy, etc.) and the very different civic identity of the United States, something Samuel Huntington in this prescient book calls our American creedal identity. By the “American Creed,” Huntington has in mind certain basic values and ideas - such as those articulated in the Declaration of Independence and other classic American expressions – which are widely and broadly endorsed by most Americans and which have continued for over 200 years to occupy a central place in American National identity. Particularly prominent among these creedal values, according to Huntington, are the 18th-century value of liberty and the 19th-century value of equality, with the former generally accorded precedence by Americans.

Huntington highlights the high degree of consensus among Americans with regard to the values of this creed, with the broadest consensus “among those more active in the system and who benefit the most from it.” The failure of any serious socialist movement in the U.S. “is perhaps the most dramatic evidence of the preponderance of liberal-democratic values in America.” 

Of particular significance for Huntington is how “all the varying elements in the American Creed unite in imposing limits on power and on the institutions of government.”

Of course, there is an inevitable gap between the ideals of the American creed and actual reality. This gap – more precisely, the varied ways Americans respond to this cognitive dissonance - is the basis for much of Huntington’s analysis. “Cleavage in the United States thus does not take the form of idea versus idea as in Europe, but rather of idea versus fact.” 

Huntington identifies four responses to this cognitive dissonance - moralistic reform ("eliminating the gap"), cynicism ("tolerating the gap"), complacency ("ignoring the gap"), and hypocrisy ("denying the gap"). Presciently, in terms of subsequent political history (and recent elections), he notes that those "who have less income and less education and who do not occupy leadership roles are more likely to be hypocritical or moralistic and lower status people cynical or complacent."

Huntington's emphasis is mainly on the periods of moralistic reforms, what he calls "creedal passion periods," which occur periodically through American history. He identifies four such periods in particular: the American Revolution, the Jacksonian era, the Progressive era, and the 1960s-1970s. "The Revolutionary era was the prototypical period of creedal passion. The three later periods represented a rearticulation of the themes of the Revolutionary years and a replay of the features and patterns of Revolutionary politics." The general direction of these efforts was "to make political institutions more responsive, more liberal, more democratic."

With certain exceptions, the great reforms in American political history have been associated with these periods, which seem to have occurred at approximately 60-year intervals. Reforms have not, however, been unambiguously successful. "The reforms of one generation often produce the vested interests of the next."

Another theme to which the author gives some attention is religion. "Not only was America born equal and hence did not have to become so, but it was also born Protestant and hence did not have to become so." The lack of establishment reinforced the weakening of the state, while strengthening religion.

Bringing his analysis forward, Huntington foresaw several possibilities. First, the core creedal values, which derive from the 17th and 18th centuries, could "come to be seen as increasingly irrelevant in a complex modern economy and a threatening international environment," an irrelevance potentially exacerbated by rising secularism. Second, the transition to post-industrial society could be accompanied by an increasingly "communitarian" ideology, in place of Lockean individualism. Third, the increasing influence of recent immigrants could also dilute that Lockean tradition. Finally, having been in existence as a nation for over 200 years, what Huntington calls "the ideational basis of national identity" might "be replaced by an organic one." In his book, Huntington did not foresee these developments occurring in the late 20th century. Given the changes that have characterized the first quarter of the 21st century, however, Huntington's concerns appear to have much more relevant merit. 

Huntington was also veery prescient in considering future possibilities for the traditional pattern of American creedal movements. One possibility would be continuity, with "a major sustained creedal passion period" occurring in the second and third decades of this century (in other words, now). A second possibility would be a stabilizing greater acceptance of this cognitive dissonance. Finally, the third possibility, which he considered the most dangerous one, may also be the most relevant for our present predicament. Huntington notes "the continued presence of deeply felt moralistic sentiments among major groups in American society could continue to ensure weak and divided government, devoid of authority and unable to deal satisfactorily with the economic, social, and foreign challenges confronting the nation. Intensification of this conflict between history and progress could give rise to increasing frustration and increasingly violent oscillations between moralism and cynicism. ... The weakening of government in an effort to reform it could lead eventually to strong demands for the replacement of the weakened and ineffective institutions by more authoritarian structures more effectively designed to meet historical needs."

A lot has happened in this country since the las creedal passion period in the 1960s and 1970s, which was the immediate background for Huntington's work. It remains to be seen which of his predictions may come to pass and exactly how under these new political conditions. Meanwhile the scenario Huntington feared most - an increasing embrace of anti-creedal authoritarian structures - seems increasingly realistic. Huntinton may have predicted better than he knew.









Wednesday, December 18, 2024

A 19th-Century Vision for a Polarized Nation

 

 

One of the current popular preoccupations (both before and since the recent election) has been the destructive divisiveness and political polarization that characterize contemporary American society. Everywhere we look, Americans appear more divided than at any time in our recent history. Certainly, our two political parties have moved apart, which is to say that the once central middle ground previously occupied by moderate-to-liberal Republicans and moderate-to-conservative Democrats has largely disappeared. This has happened steadily over the last 50 years, thanks to a multitude of political factors, which students of the subject have easily identified. It is likewise obviously problematic that we have increasingly re-sorted themselves socially, politically, geographically, and most evidently educationally. 


In the post-war world in which I grew up, American pluralistic politics used to be characterized by what were commonly called "cross-cutting cleavages." That described a situation in which different groups and interests overlapped, in which voters allied with one another along different lines on different issues depending on their different interests, in which all the aspects of one's life did not all align together. One can trace some appreciation of this back to James Madison's Federalist 10, and it was the staple of mid-20th-century American pluralist political thought. In contrast, "reinforcing cleavages" occur when the groups and issues which one identifies with all fall on the same side of the political spectrum.  The problem is not that there are disagreements among different groups with different interests, which is, of course, inevitable; but that the differences are increasingly reinforcing, rather than cross-cutting.  All of which at best tests - and at worst corrodes - our capacity to advance the country's interests and the common good.


Many have compared this situation to the pre-Civil War period in American history. It was, of course, precisely in that period of division and polarization - in 1857, the same year as the infamous Dred Scott decision that helped make the Civil War inevitable - that the Paulist Fathers' founder, Servant of God Isaac Hecker, proposed to Blessed Pope Pius IX that Catholicism might “act like oil on troubled waters” and so “sustain our institutions and enable our young country to realize its great destiny.”


Isaac Hecker lived from 1819 to 1888. (Today would have been his 205th birthday.) His life spanned the Second Great Awakening, the rise (and fall) of Jacksonian democracy, the U.S. Civil War, and the Gilded Age, formative periods for 19th-century America with lingering lessons for us now in the 21st century.


For Hecker, the Roman Catholic Church - as the Body of Christ which continues the mission of Christ’s Incarnation in the world - was a powerfully unifying force, binding citizens together, and thus blunting the dangerously sharp cutting edges of conflict and dissension, fusing the private interests of individuals and factions into a common social and civic unity.At the heart of what he said and wrote, was this basic appreciation of what he had experienced in the Catholic  Church as the Body of Christ which continues Christ’s life and work in the world - and the individual and social effects which flow from openness to that divine activity. As he wrote in his final book, published the year before he died, “The church must justly be said to be the expansion prolongation, and perpetration of the Incarnation” (The Church and the Age). 


Hecker’s charism is thus a continuing invitation to read and reread our time and place through the unique experience of the Church’s life and then to share that experience with the world in our particular time and place. So, while many of Hecker’s 19th-century hopes and aspirations have obviously been contradicted by historical developments, we may still rightly seek inspiration in Hecker’s vision of social reconciliation through religious renewal. In our own time of religious division and decline, we may do well to look at our church life more intensely through this particular lens.

 

Hecker’s proposed solution to the problem of polarization was the Roman Catholic Church, which he himself had discovered as the solution to his own spiritual search. That search had started at an early age, in the era of religious revival known as the Second Great Awakening, which was even more socially and politically conscious than the earlier, colonial-era First Great Awakening. Much of the distinctive character American culture and its mingling of religion and politics stem from this period. It was when the U.S. became what Chesterton would famously call (1922): “a nation with the soul of a church.” 


In our contemporary idiom, Hecker had been “spiritual but not religious” for the first 25 years of his life. The story of his spiritual search eloquently exemplifies the appeal of such searching and speaks to the spiritual longings of some in our own society today. What was significant about Hecker’s “spiritual but not religious” period, however, was that he did not remain that way. For Hecker, seeking was never an end in itself. The point of seeking was finding. Once the object was found, the search ended. Having found fulfillment in the Catholic Church, he never desired to look farther. Rather, he desired to devote his life to helping others – especially other seekers, such as he himself had been – to find the truth in the Catholic Church. His missionary activity reflected his deep devotion and fidelity to the Church. Above all, he prized the unity and universality of the Church, which had attracted him to it in the first place. Reflecting upon his experience many years later, Hecker wrote that he “not only became a most firm believer in the mysteries of the Christian religion, but a priest and a religious, hopes thus to die.” For us today, living in an era when people find it increasingly hard to make substantial commitments, those are words well worth meditating upon.


In 19th-century Europe, in the wake of the French Revolution and its aftermath, the Catholic Church was struggling to survive as an institution against an increasingly individualistic and irreligious liberal political order that sought to constrain it. In reaction, the 19th century Church sought to counteract the growing social fragmentation and to reconnect increasingly isolated individuals into a community by preserving, repairing, or restoring religious bonds. One approach was to assert the Church’s claims to authority as vigorously as possible and to insist upon the Church’s political privileges and institutional rights in relation to the state and upon the traditional constitutional arrangements (for example, the union of throne and altar) that appeared most compatible with the Church’s social and political position, if only because of the security this seemingly offered in the face of frightening and unpredictable change. 


(A somewhat contemporary version of that is “Integralism,” which is enjoying a certain renaissance among conservative Catholic intellectuals, but which, whatever may be said as an abstraction, seems unlikely to have any serious prospect of relevance in an American context, something Hecker certainly understood.) 

 

Hecker’s religious alternative to that primarily political approach envisaged a social solution in which citizens, converted to Catholicism as the answer to their deepest human aspirations would be empowered, by combining true religion and democratic political institutions, to develop society along Catholic lines. His was a thoroughly religious form of discourse, uniquely capable of addressing social and political concerns.

 

Whereas for Hecker’s famous contemporary Karl Marx (1818-1883), religion meant alienation and its survival in society showed the inadequacy of its purely political separation from the state, for Hecker Roman Catholicism was the fulfillment of the most authentic aspirations of human nature; and its power to transform society through the conversion of citizens more than compensated for the Church’s loss of political power thanks to its separation from the State.

 

In one of his last Catholic World articles, published in the year he died, Hecker, quoting an anonymous acquaintance, said “he didn’t care for union of church and state if he could have union of church and people.” Such comments convey how he continued to conceptualize religion’s role in the transformation of society, and how he confidently expected this to accomplish more effectively what others hoped for from politics.

 

Hecker never wavered in his conviction that what he had found in Catholicism – and what he had been able to find only in Catholicism – could and would be America’s answer as well. Having himself experienced the divided and fragmented character of modern society, Hecker had found an alternative in the mission of the Church, as the organic temporal expression of Christ’s life, to continue Christ’s work by pouring oil on the troubled waters of the world. According to Hecker, to discern the Church’s action clearly, “and to cooperate with it effectually, is the highest employment of our faculties, and at the same time the primary source of the greatest good to society” (The Church and the Age). 

 

On this basis, Hecker rooted the renewal of American society in a Catholic religious renewal inseparable from the spiritual renewal of his fellow citizens made possible by grace. Hecker’s important insight was that, since all creation is always ultimately ordered to grace, even certain new situations and social arrangements, which are perceived as obstacles, (like American democracy and separation of church and state) may actually be new opportunities for individual and social transformation through the Church’s ongoing realization of Christ’s incarnation. Today we might also ask what other novelties which might be perceived as obstacles might really be opportunities?

 

Hecker was well aware that his spiritual insights into American democracy’s compatibility with Catholicism and what Catholicism had to offer to America hardly corresponded to conventional wisdom – on either side of the Atlantic. He never wavered, however, in his conviction that what he had been able to find only in Catholicism could and would be America’s answer as well. He combined Catholic universalism and a distinctly American self-understanding of the relationship between religion and society in a providential perspective, which could work politically within the framework bequeathed by classical liberalism’s separation of society and state. 


Admittedly, much of what Hecker admired about America, including its egalitarianism and sociability, no longer characterizes the contemporary post-industrial, late-capitalist, centralized state the U.S. has largely become. Likewise, American Catholicism - the religious remedy he posited for the social fragmentation which the United States still experiences - has changed as well. While conversions continued both during and after Hecker’s lifetime, they have never been in the numbers necessary to make the kind of impact on society Hecker had hoped for. What did make an impact, then and now, has been immigration, which has historically uniquely positioned the American Catholic Church to play a prominent part in the desperately required mission of cultural, ethnic, and racial reconciliation in this country, assuming the Church in America can summon the will to play that part.  

 


 


Monday, December 16, 2024

The Electors Vote



Tomorrow is presidential election day in the United States. Yes, tomorrow! It is the day when, according the 12th Amendment to the Constitution, The Electors shall meet in their respective states and vote by ballot for President and Vice-President, one of whom, at least, shall not be an inhabitant of the same state with themselves; they shall name in their ballots the person voted for as President, and in distinct ballots the person voted for as Vice-President, and they shall make distinct lists of all persons voted for as President, and of all persons voted for as Vice-President, and of the number of votes for each, which lists they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to the seat of the government of the United States, directed to the President of the Senate.

For philosophical reasons, rooted in classical city-state and Roman republican experience as well as classical political theory, the Founders feared direct democracy, and were understandably reluctant to countenance direct popular election of the president. Direct democracy was anyway impossible in a large continental republic, where any form of constitutional government was obviously going to have to be a representative system. The question was how much of a "mixed constitution" it should be, and how extensive should the democratic component be (which in the original constitution was confined to the House of Representatives). Philosophical issues aside, it appeared excessively challenging to imagine how citizens spread out over such an extensive territory would be able to know whom to vote for in a presidential election, given the communications and travel technology of the 18th century.

The founding philosophy was quickly undercut by the very unexpected but rapid development of political parties, which immediately nationalized American politics and presidential elections. Once political parties were structuring the vote and once more and more states used popular election to choose presidential electors, the founders' original concerns became more or less moot. The Washingtonian king-like, above-party model of President quickly evolved into the President as party leader. As a result, what the U.S. has had since the early 19th century has, in effect, been a de facto popular election of presidents, but with the electoral outcome distorted by the defective representation of the popular vote by two factors - the overrepresentation of smaller states in the electoral college and the almost universally used winner-take-all system of allocating electors.

For a long time, I appreciated the Electoral College for its stabilizing effect in maintaining a two-party system. (Single-member congressional districts and our "first-past-the-post" electoral system are also major factors in producing and maintaining a two-party system.) It is not so much that I think a two-party system is better than a multi-party one. In fact, I would probably prefer the latter - if we enjoyed a parliamentary system, which I would also prefer. But, in our presidential system (the ultimate "single-member district" writ large), it is hard to imagine how a multi-party system would work. In a parliamentary system, multiple interest-based parties compete and then may form coalitions after the election in order to govern. In our particular version of a two-party system, multiple interests form coalitions before the election in order to compete as two broadly coalitional parties. Yet, a multi-party electoral universe would be one of the more likely consequences of moving to a straight popular vote for president. How that would play out in practice is for now anyone's guess.

That said, the deficiencies in our electoral college process and the manifest harm it has done twice in this century in putting the popular loser in the White House, combined with the way the electoral college distorts our political campaigns, effectively confining them to a small number of states, these considerations have long since convinced me (and many others) that the electoral college no longer serves us well and instead ought to be confined to the discarded rubble of our constitutional history.

Of course, there isn't the slightest chance in the current political climate that the constitution could be amended to eliminate the electoral college.

And so the electors will meet tomorrow as the constitution and the law prescribe. On January 6, the votes will be counted. No surprises expected!

Image: The number of electoral votes, out of 538, allocated to each state and the District of Columbia for the 2024 and 2028 presidential elections, based on the 2020 census.


Saturday, December 14, 2024

Rejoice?

 



Traditionally, this third weekend of Advent marks a transition from the more penitential and apocalyptic aspects of Advent to a spirit of joyful expectation as Christmas approaches. Of course, Christmas (as we observe it now) has been in constant celebration for almost a month already. Yet, speaking personally, this year I have found it hard to get too much into the Christmas spirit. Perhaps, as we age, time seems to pass faster, and thus Christmas has just crept up on us quicker and caught me busy about other things and otherwise unready. Or maybe, despite the surrounding Christmas ambience, this really just isn't a very joyful time in 2024 America.

By any measure, this has been a difficult year. Personally, for me, it has been a year of health challenges - knee replacement surgery and rehab, covid (twice), sleep problems, etc. It has also obviously  been a very difficult year for our country - and our wider world. Enough has been said already about the election and its ramifications in terms of national divisions, political polarization, and loss of trust in our institutions and in one another. This has also been a year of wars, international and civil, and all the human and social suffering that inevitably accompany such conflicts. Add to all that the natural calamities we have increasingly experienced - fires and drought, not just in California but also in New York and New Jersey, complemented elsewhere by storms and floods! Yes, this has been a difficult year!

Rejoice in the Lord always.
I shall say it again: rejoice!
Your kindness should be known to all.
The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, 
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, 
make your requests known to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding 
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
[Philippians 4:4-7]

However jarring it may feel this year, this traditional Gaudete Sunday message is the season's much needed corrective to the malaise many may understandably be experiencing at the present moment. It reminds us that Christmas comes faithfully in good times and bad, in peace and in war, in prosperity and recession, in unity and division. Hence the perennial appeal of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - famously introduced by Judy Garland in the 1944 musical Meet Me in St. Louis.

Have yourself a merry little ChristmasLet your heart be lightNext year all our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little ChristmasMake the yuletide gayNext year all our troubles will be miles away
Once again as in olden daysHappy golden days of yoreFaithful friends who were near to usWill be dear to us once more
Someday soon we all will be togetherIf the fates allowUntil then, we'll have to muddle through somehowSo have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

Of course, we today, no more than Judy Garland in 1944, fully expect all our troubles to be out of sight and miles away. The carol, for all its sad and melancholy vibe, is an invitation to hope, which is, of course, the spirit of Christmas.

On this Gaudete weekend, we are invited to take the nearness of the Lord seriously as our entry into the peace of God that surpasses all understanding, which makes Christmas something deeper and more fulfilling that the ephemeral lights of December and sounds of the season.