The Totalitarian Impulse

In this morning's New York Times, Gail Collins writes about the Catholic Church's opposition to the recently enacted mandate requiring most employers to pay for medical insurance that covers contraception: "The problem here is that they’re trying to get the government to do their work for them. They’ve lost the war at home, and they’re now demanding help from the outside."

Now if that isn't a good example of getting the story backwards, what is? This isn't about the Church trying to get the government to do anything. It's about the government forcing the Church to do something. Specifically, it is about a particular political class using State power to impose its ideology on the institutions of civil society.

The essence of totalitarianism lies in its elimination (or at least their disempowerment) of all subsidiary social institutions, leaving the individual dependent entirely on the State. The Founding Fathers designed a strong federal government with power to act in the national interest and a constitution adaptable to changing times and circumstances. But they also understood the totalitarian temptation and so added (admittedly as an afterthought) a Bill of Rights. The political class has gotten so used to trying to turn the 1st Amendment against religion that they may have forgotten why it was included in the constitution in the first place, which was, of course, to protect the religious freedoms of citizens from the power of the federal government.

In her column, Collins makes another interesting point, however, with which I am in partial agreement. "In a sane world, the government would be running the whole health care plan, the employers would be off the hook entirely and we would not be having this fight at all. " Indeed, if only the Democrats had been willing to cooperate with President Nixon in 1973 to extend Medicare to everyone! Then we would indeed have had universal health care - and without the baggage of maintaining private insurance! Collins is wrong, however, in thinking that contraception would likely have been included in such national health care coverage. (One of the curious things about that part of the political class's cultural ideology is that, even though its moral ideas are for the most part strikingly novel, it acts as if they were self-evident universally recognizable truths that are just obvious to any normal person!). It is safe to assume, of course, that in the 1970s, the idea of including contraception would have been anything but obvious to most people. And, if the issue had actually arisen, some sort of legislative prohibition - something like the later Hyde Amendment - would almost certainly have been included.

In any case, universal health care remains a genuine public good which the Administration did well to pursue. Given the double danger facing the survival of its health care reform (in the courts and in the election), one would have thought that the Administration would be doing everything possible to build up popular support for it - instead of engaging in ideological grandstanding that, whatever else may happen, will almost certainly result in further undermining the commitment of many Americans to any federal effort to guarantee universal health care

(The photo above, taken from the opposite side of the Ponte Umberto I, is of the Palazzo di Giustitia, located on the west side of the Tiber in Rome. The massive building, derisively referred to by Romans as the "Palazzaccio,"was built after Italy's conquest of Rome to house the new secular law courts. By 1970, this monument to secularism was in danger of collapse and had to be evacualted, but has since been restored.)

Back to Normal

Now that it’s convenient to get around again, this morning I walked down the Via Bissolati and the Via San Basilio to Piazza Barberini, and then from there down the Via del Tritone to its end. There I visited two churches. The first, the Servite Church of S. Maria in Via, enshrines a famous Madonna found in a well by Cardinal Capocci in 1256. (One can still drink water from the well in the Madonna chapel).The second, S. Claudio in Piazza S. Silvestro was originally the national church of the Burgundians and was rebuilt in the 18^th century. The Blessed Sacrament Fathers have staffed it since 1886, and the body of their founder St.Peter Julian Eymard (1811-1868) is venerated there.

Since there were no political demonstrations today, after a quick cappuccino I crossed the Via del Corso to take in the Piazza Colonna, adjacent to the Italian Parliament. The column referred to is a tall Roman Victory Column in Doric style built in A.D. 193 in honor of Emperor Marcus Aurelius’ victories and modeled on Trajan’s Column. Just as Trajan’s Column is now topped by a statue of St. Peter, this one is topped by a statue of St. Paul.

From there, I stopped at the Piazza di Pietra to admire what remains of the Temple dedicated to Emperior Hadrian, buit by his son, Antoninus Pius, in A.D.145. Just south from there is the Piazza S. Ignazio, where I visited the beautiful Jesuit Church of S. Ignazio and venerated the relics of St. Robert Bellarmine. Back on the Via del Corso, I visited the church of S. Marcello, built over the supposed site of the prison where Pope St. Marcellus was confined in the early 4^th century. Destroyed by fire, the church was completely rebuilt in the 16^th century. Its famous 14^th-century wooden Crucifix, which alone survived the fire, is venerated in a chapel in the church.

Finally, I crossed the Corso to the Palazzo Doria-Pamphilj, where an amazing museum housed in part of that princely Roman family’s palazzo. Among the famous members of that (originally Genoese) family was Emperor Charles V’s Admiral Andrea Doria, after whom the ill-fated Italian ocean liner was named. (The Church of S. Agnese in the Piazza Navona, which the Paulists were allowed to use as the temporary American Church while S. Susana was being repaired in the late 1980s-early 1990s, was owned by Princess Orietta Doria-Pamphilj. Her father, Prince Filippo Andrea VI Doria Pamphilj, was appointed Mayor of Rome after the city's liberation by the Allies in 1944, thanks to his strong anti-Fascist credentials).

The multitude of paintings and sculptures on display in the museum – too much perhaps for the non-expert to absorb all at once - is considered the most important of the Roman patrician art collections to have survived to the present. I was actually as interested in the elaborate state rooms themselves, with their furniture and family portraits. I also noticed in the Sala del Trono that the Throne was turned backwards. If my history is correct, I believe that was common among the Roman Nobility in the years after 1870, as a way of recognizing the Pope as still the legitimate sovereign of Rome, whose throne they believed had been usurped by the Italian King in the Quirinale.

More Thoughts on the HHS Mandate

There are all sorts of ways one can look at the unjust HHS mandate forcing most employers to provide health insurance containing coverage for intrinsically immoral practices.

Perhaps the most entertaining – but also in the long run likely the least important – lens through which to look at it is that of electoral politics. Thus considered, this measure may serve to shore up the enthusiasm of the extreme cultural left for the President’s reelection campaign. Of course, that constituency was unlikely in any case to vote for Romney (or whoever the Republican candidate might be), but keeping a major constituency sufficiently enthused to bother to vote at all and to contribute to and otherwise support one’s campaign can be essential. Barack Obama benefited from the “enthusiasm gap” among Republicans in 2008, and his campaign certainly will want to avoid sharing John McCain’s fate this time around

Calculations about its possibly opposite effect on the “Catholic Vote,” however, may be exaggerated – or at least premature. Except in the purely demographic sense, it is not clear to me that there exists a “Catholic Vote.” I suspect that Catholics can be found at virtually every point on the political spectrum and that their voting decisions reflect the same multitude of issues that concern other Americans. It is possible, however, if this becomes widely seen as mainly an attack on the independence and integrity of Catholic social service institutions, that there will be some significant reaction among some Catholic voters, who identify with or care about the continued viability of those institutions. Certainly the sense of betrayal by the Administration felt by liberal Catholics who, so to speak, went out on a limb to support the President, particularly on Health Care Reform, has alienated that particular constituency. In a close election, any previously predictable constituency’s “enthusiasm gap” can count.

But there are other – more important – lenses through which to look at this crisis.

There is, for example, the moral or philosophical lens. The fundamental fact is that no one should be forced to provide or purchase health insurance that covers the procedures in question. Pregnancy is not an illness. Universal health care is greatly to be desired, but it should be about preventing and treating genuine disease – not redefining disease to reflect the anti-natalist prejudices of the cultural left. In the current ideological climate, there seems little likelihood that this argument will get much effective attention. But neither should it be left out of the discussion. The Church, after all, has a concern for the common good of society a whole.

All of which brings us back to the sectarian lens that rightly looks at this issue as a matter of properly protecting the right of religious Americans to follow their consciences. If the Church cannot advance the common good of society as a whole on this issue, it can certainly try to carve out a zone of privacy within which its members can practice their religion without State intrusion – as, for example, sects such as the Quakers and the Amish have historically struggled to do. As a practical matter, given that the First Amendment is still on the books, that is the most promising avenue for litigation, which is most likely where this issue will eventually be resolved.

There remains, however, also the Civil Society lens. Government is a good. A Hamiltonian at heart, I believe in strong, activist Government that articulates the values of society and marshals society’s resources to promote those values. But it is not Government’s mandate to suffocate society by displacing all non-governmental social activity and eliminating all social institutions that serve as intermediaries between the individual and the State. In this respect, the HHS regulation at issue is a direct challenge to the very existence and ideological legitimacy of non-governmental social institutions. And that is a very issue indeed.

Snow Day

Not too far where I am living is the Papal Basilica of Saint Mary Major (Santa Maria Maggiore) on the Esquiline Hill. Originally built by Pope Liberius (352-366) and restored by Pope Sixtus III (432-440), it houses a painting of the Madonna and Child known as Salus Populi Romani, the Protectress of the People of Rome, and also the supposed relics of the original crib from Bethlehem. It is the Roman “Stational Church” for the 1st and 3rd Masses on Christmas and is where St. Ignatius Loyola celebrated his First Mass on Christmas morning 1538. It is commonly considered the most popular of the papal basilicas among Romans themselves.

According to a later legend, during the pontificate of Pope Liberius, a certain Roman patrician and his wife, being childless, made a vow to donate their possessions to Our Lady. and prayed to her to make known to them how to do so. Our Lady appeared to them in a dream on the night of August 4-5 and requested that they build a church in her honor on the Esquiline hill on a spot that would be covered with snow. She also appeared to Pope Liberius in a dream that same night so that he too would see the miraculous snowfall on the site. And so, during that hot summer night, snow fell on the Esquiline Hill, tracing the form of the future basilica. Many people gathered to see the unusual event, and before the snow had melted they marked the footprint of the future basilica, which was soon quickly constructed. The legend is still recalled annually on the feast of the Basilica’s Dedication (August 5) when a shower of white rose petals falls from the Dome at the end of Mass.

Whatever may be thought about that legend, there was nothing miraculous about today’s snowfall in Rome! It was just winter being winter – albeit more forcefully than usual. This time of year in Rome is typically cold and wet, but it has been relatively mild and dry this winter until this week. It has been cold and snowy over much of Europe these past few days. Still snowfalls are sufficiently rare in the city itself to be considered newsworthy in Rome. Where I come from, of course, this kind of weather may be more common, but it is still serious enough to be a disruption. Already last evening the Mayor of Rome had closed the city’s schools for today (and tomorrow).

I myself made a good faith effort to get to my class. I left earlier than usual; but, by the time I got to the bus stop, my feet were already soaked and I had almost slipped several times. The traffic was completely snarled. It would have taken at least twice as long – or longer – than normal to get to class. And my anxiety about walking up the Janiculum Hill – and even worse walking back down in the dark and then hoping to catch a bus home – finally persuaded me to give up and go home.

This evening, I ventured out to go to church to get my throat blessed. Treading carefully through the icy slush, I saw several Romans - all adults - thoroughly enjoying themselves making and throwing snowballs at each other.

I have always loved snow, which I frankly consider one of the most beautiful of God’s creations. I hate driving in snow (but then, of course, I hate driving, period!) The fact that snow impedes us from carrying out some of our ordinary activities may be a good reminder that winter was intended to slow us down and stop some of those ordinary activities. It’s not winter’s fault if our modern, industrialized economy needs to continue at the same consistently frantic pace all year round. Winter is just being winter!

On the 40th Day of Christmas

Rome’s several hundred churches are justly famous for their history, for the saints whose relics are venerated there, and for their artistic treasures that draw admirers from all over. Additionally, during the Christmas season, each church features its own distinctive presepio (nativity scene) – often comparable artistically to the mosaics, paintings, frescoes, and sculptures that surround them. Not just tourists but regular Romans visit the different churches during this season to admire them. But, with the feast of the Presentation of the Lord on this the 40^th day of Christmas, the Christmas season finally comes to an end, and the presepe disappear for another year.

This is a very ancient feast, which incorporates several interrelated themes, reflected in the different names given to this day. All these different names illustrate how full of meaning this festival is, and how much it has to teach us.

In the Western Church, today is currently called officially the Presentation of the Lord; but for several centuries it was the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary. When Jesus was 40 days old, Mary and Joseph journeyed to Jerusalem according to the law of Moses (see Luke 2:22-40), that is to say, in obedience to God’s law, in order to observe two important religious obligations. The first - the ordinary obligation to be purified after childbirth - reflected ancient beliefs about the sacredness of blood. Life was believed to reside in the blood, which was, therefore, something sacred and mysterious. Hence, any direct contact with blood required ritual purification. The second concerned the special status and religious responsibilities of a first-born son (because of God’s having spared Israel’s 1^st-born at the time of the Exodus). Jesus, Mary, and Joseph’s participation in these rituals invests them with a universal significance – highlighting for us, first, the inviolable sacredness of all human life, and, second, the special status (and corresponding responsibilities) which now define our entire lives as adopted sons and daughters of God the Father, because of our identification with his Son’s life, death, and resurrection.

Whether officially titled the Presentation of the Lord of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, however, the most common popular title for today’s celebration in the West has consistently been Candlemas Day, because of the Blessing of Candles and the Procession - originally in Rome an early pre-dawn procession – with which today’s Mass begins.

The name Candlemas calls attention, obviously, to the blessed candles, but also to their light – and to the One whom that light symbolizes. The Church’s official ceremonial books says that “on this day Christ’s faithful people, with candles in their hands, go out to meet the Lord and to acclaim him with Simeon, who recognized Christ as ‘a light to reveal God to the nations. They should therefore be taught to walk as children of the light in their entire way of life, because they have a duty to show the light of Christ to all by acting in the works that they do as lighted lamps” (Ceremonial of Bishops, Part IV, chapter 2).

A secular version of Candlemas is “Groundhog Day.” Not so long ago, everyone in the western world knew about Candlemas Day. Today, many people – even some Catholics seem to have forgotten. Yet even people who have never heard of Candlemas recognize the folklore connected with this day and connect it with the change of seasons. While the weather is still wintry, the days are noticeably getting longer. Whereas Christmas comes at the mid-point of the winter’s darkness, with the year’s shortest day and its correspondingly longest night, Candlemas comes at the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, the transition (according to one traditional way of reckoning the seasons) from winter to spring. Soon, day and night, light and dark will be equal. So this last of the winter light festivals invites us to look ahead to what these winter light festivals are meant to symbolize.

Today we recall with joy the Lord’s entry into his Temple: and suddenly there will come to the temple the Lord whom you seek (Malachi 3:1-4). At the same time, we hear, in wise old Simeon’s words to Mary, the first reference to what lies ahead, the first reference to the cross. Behold, this child is destined … to be a sign that will be contradicted – and you yourself a sword will pierce – so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed. So, even as we take a last look back at winter and Christmas, Candlemas looks ahead to spring and to Lent, and reminds us that the point of Christmas is Easter. Simeon and Anna’s encounter with the infant Jesus in the Jerusalem Temple points us toward our own encounter with the Risen Christ here and now.

In the Eastern Churches, this day is appropriately called the Encounter, the Feast of Meeting. Today, Christ comes to meet us, and we in turn get to meet him. Every Christmas we encounter Christ in a special way in the image the infant Jesus in the manger. When we encounter the infant Jesus in the nativity scene in church and at home, we appreciate anew the great mystery of the incarnation of God’s Son. When Simeon and Anna experienced in the infant Jesus the human face of God, they spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem. They hastened to proclaim & share their good news. That remains our task today – to take the light of those candles out into our spiritually still so very dark world, and so to share with all the light reflected in our own lives from the brightness of the human face of God.