Catholic Theology: Another Take
In light of the discussion of David Brooks’s account of the state of theology and philosophy, I thought, given the number of theologians and philosophers who participate in this blog, it would be interesting to discuss Reinhard Hutter’s piece on the subject. Trained as a Lutheran theologian in Germany, Hutter is now transforming himself into a Catholic theologian at Duke.(It’s also a nice opportunity for ecumenical discussion between First Things and Commonweal).
In a nutshell, Hutter surveys the landscape of his new theological home, and doesn’t like what he sees.
On the whole, Hutter’s article seems to me make arguments that are roughly similar to arguments I heard (and made) twenty years ago in grad school at Yale. Twenty years is a long time. I started thinking lately about what I still think is true in that approach, and what I would tell my younger self differently, in light of what I’ve learned since.
Hutter is rightly concerned with the community, being a theologian for the church. One thing that studying law has brought home to me is the importance of MacIntyre’s insight about the relationship of f institutions and practices in actually dealing with real communities.
One side effect of institutional theology–of theology done in and for the church–is that it wasn’t about producing great systematic theologians, or theological personalities. It was about producing the manuals, training the next generation of priests in the faith. It’s kind of anonymous work, much as the work of those who carry on the common law tradition is. So the idea of being a great “communitarian” theologian–a towering figure as an individual for the community —is kind of an oxymoron. Individuality and originality in its raw form isn’t prized for its own sake. And it needs to repackaged as continuity when it is presented for acceptance. My colleague Robin Darling Young has an important, forthcoming article on just how much deLubac selectively retrieved the early Church Fathers in doing the work that prepared for Vatican II. John O”Malley’s book supports the same point. It doesn’t surprise me –lawyers do the same thing. But what does surprise me, therefore, is Hutter’s apparent dismissal of Rahner: Much of the Theological Investigations are a series of finely crafted attempts to address current problems with the tools of the tradition. He’s using the characteristic methodology of a churchman. If I remember correctly, Nick Healy and Karen Kilby have done wonderful work on Rahner, highlighting this aspect of his methodology.
At the same time, I tend to worry that those who wax nostalgic for pre-Vatican II theology are nostalgic for something they/we didn’t know. I have heard enough stories about what going through the theologates in that era was like. So I was tempted to send Prof. Hutter a copy of Denzinger, in case he doesn’t have one. Now that’s old school. I actually kind of like Denzinger–and I can work with it just fine. Not, however, because I’ve been trained in theology post-Vatican II, even at Yale. Because I’ve been trained in law, post-Vatican II, even at Yale. And I certainly wouldn’t want all Denzinger, all the time. I can’t believe Prof. Hutter would, either. So what does he want?
Looks to me like we’re starting to see the negative impact of two decades or more of obsession with “the church as polis,” “splendor of the Church,” etc. Theology conceived as a way, not of engaging with the world, but of talking about and among ourselves.
I suspect that what Hutter wants is what John Milbank wants and what a lot of people want: the Church as an enclave, a community insulated from the vicissitudes of time. They won’t get it — it’s a fiction, and a pernicious one at that — but that’s what they desire.
Perhaps you need to send him The Christian Faith, in the Doctrinal Documents of the Catholic Church by Jacques Dupuis, S.J., and Josef Neuner, S.J. http://www.albahouse.org/dupuis.htm
This is mind-opening stuff.
Paul F. Ford, Ph.D.
Professor of Theology and Liturgy
St. John Seminary
5012 Seminary Road
Camarillo, CA
I think Huetter is less critical of Rahner himself than of third-generation Rahnerians, isn’t he?
The ressourcement Thomists–Gilles Emery, Matthew Levering, Guy Mansini, etc. etc.–are interesting indeed. They write vigorously, making the case for Thomism in light of all sorts of theological and cultural challenges, but without the defensive posture that has made past Thomisms seem weak. I think it’s an exciting time to be a Thomist.
“One side effect of institutional theology–of theology done in and for the church–is that it wasn’t about producing great systematic theologians, or theological personalities. It was about producing the manuals, training the next generation of priests in the faith. It’s kind of anonymous work, much as the work of those who carry on the common law tradition is.”
While I’m not qualified to participate in this conversation, and look forward to reading the contributions from those who are, I will risk a tangential remark re: anonymous work for the church. The snippet I’ve pasted here reminds me of the tradition of composing liturgical texts and music for the church. Historically, that also has been thought to be a rather anonymous service. More recently, though, it has evolved into a more personality/brand-driven practice – for good or ill (perhaps a bit of both).
There is something very attractive about doing something for the church and with the church, with no attendant thought of fame or riches. Pretty contrary to the spirit of the age, though.
I think it would help if all that last chapter of the APOLOGIA were read and not just the one section Hutter quotes about the lowest ground of authority claiming Newman’s allegiance. Newman’s dialectic is quite complex and merits a full exposure.
I think it would be helpful if The Bishops recognized that in order to be a Catholic Theologian one should first be properly Catechized.
http://www.nccbuscc.org/bishops/mandatumguidelines.shtml (see section 3 under Nature of the Mandatum)
I would agree with Kathy in identifying Hutter’s focus on third generation Rahnerians, although only to a point: Hutter does nick the latter-day Rahner’s methods: “Rahner himself, however, developed in ways that led him to read Vatican II more and more through a hermeneutics of discontinuity and rupture, and this mentality came to define the work of most of his American disciples.”
I am not sure it is quite fair to Hutter to dismiss him as simply desiring a conclave (or more pejoratively, a fortress, if you like), as Eugene suggests. I think what he wants is a teaching tradition in which theologians can be formed, a school – one which is not just a academic exercise but retains some kind of continuity with the centuries of tradition that came before. Which is not to suggest that what he craves is merely mid-twentieth century neoscholasticism version 2.0.
It brings strongly to mind (since we are digging into First Things) something that R.R. Reno observed in his 2007 review of Fergus Kerr’s Twentieth Century Catholic Theologians. Noting Henri de Lubac’s frustration with what he perceived as younger theologians’ misunderstanding of his works, he said, “the message is clear”:
Readers cannot understand Henri de Lubac’s theology of nature and grace unless they know and accept the basic outlines of classical Thomistic theology. Thus the paradox, once again. By the 1980s, Henri de Lubac, the great critic of dry and dusty neoscholasticism, saw that the younger generation needed to be catechized into the standard, baseline commitments of Catholic theology. Ressourcement does not work if students have neither context nor framework in which to place the richness and depth of the tradition. Like Lonergan, de Lubac is characteristic of the Heroic Generation: He helped destroy the theological culture that, however inadequate, provided the context for a proper understanding of his generation’s lasting achievements. … The collapse of neoscholasticism has not led to the new and fuller vision sought by the Heroic Generation. It has created a vacuum filled with simple-minded shibboleths.
(Link: http://www.firstthings.com/article/2007/04/100-theology-after-the-revolution-10)
A closing statement some here will object to as much too strong and unfair. But I think the larger point – that it has almost become impossible to understand fully the work of the great mid-20th century theologians simply because we no longer have the living tradition (however inadequate as manifested in the theological schools at that time) in which they were formed, and which they (or rather some of them, at least) in turn unwittingly helped to dismantle – is worth considering seriously in weighing Hutter’s argument. It’s a badly fragmented theological landscape, and the aspiring young theologian hardly knows where to turn, or even how to discern how any of the fragments are related to each other or, indeed, the past.
And perhaps it’s worth asking Hutter what he thinks this “disciplined school of inquiry” that he seeks would look like in the concrete. Perhaps that’s what Professor Kaveny is groping for here.
Oops – forgive my typo above: My sentence should have read: “I am not sure it is quite fair to Hutter to dismiss him as simply desiring an enclave.” Not a conclave. I am sure that Professor Hutter wishes the incumbent pontiff a long life.
I have often wondered at the cause of, and demise of, the flourishing of Catholic thought in the 20th century. With no offence to anyone here, gone are those towering Thomistic intellects: Gilson, Maritain, Copleston, Lonergan, Rahner, Congar, de Lubac, D’Arcy, Chenu, Schillebeeckx.
What confuses me is Hutter’s attempt to advocate the Angelic Doctor by siding with Ratzinger and von Balthasar (two Augustinians) through Communio, while the vast wealth of Thomism seems aligned with Concilium. I think this is nothing but an attempt by the (sorry for the politics) more “conservative” theologians to co-op Aquinas, a position that is not always tenable.
On a side note, I often hear John Paul II’s theology of the body/phenomenology advocated as a new dawn in Catholic thought, though my usual response is to note what Anthony Kenny noted about Thomism…that enthusiasm seems to be more related to apologetics than actual intellectual assent. Or David Hume’s comments about his writings are equally applicable to ‘Love and Responsibility’: fell stillborn from the press.
Here’s a new book, co-edited by Hutter and Matthew Levering, called Ressourcement Thomism: http://cuapress.cua.edu/books/viewbook.cfm?Book=HURT
Here’s a Levering book with a substantial preview: http://books.google.com/books?id=BbsmdgKRwC4C&printsec=frontcover&dq=scripture+levering&source=bl&ots=Xj9kqKxrJs&sig=g58J1B0p6Wrpv-frtdfwr5fih0s&hl=en&ei=edg0Tf2nDcWt8Aabrp2UCQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CBMQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false
This is a terrific article on Thomas’ reading of Scripture by an American bishop: http://cat.inist.fr/?aModele=afficheN&cpsidt=17512863
Hutter’s piece is a tired essay in restorationism — he rightly calls for deep knowledge of historical theology but he seems unaware of the possibilities of rereading the tradition in light of contemporary philosophical, ecumenical and interreligious awareness.
Not to be missed in Levering’s book is the full paragraph on p. 3 (part of the preview).
Speaking as an outsider to the academic theological and philosophical community, but as one who studied Catholic Thomistic philosophy and graduate theology, I think that Thomism in whatever gradient or school (transcendental or existential and I was more influenced by the existential Thomism of Gilson and Maritain) is not speaking to the Church any longer. Theologically, I was impressed with George Tyrrell when a priest introduced me to his writings. Interestingly, a Russian philosopher/theologian, Berdyaev who I also deeply admired took note of Tyrrell and saw in Tyrrel’s thought an ecclesial vision that did not set Protestant individualism against the authority of the Church. Instead he believed that Tyrrell was close to a kind of collectivism characterized by the Russian term “sobernost”. Speaking of the “Church” as an existential reality, Berdyaev wrote:
From what I recall of Thomas (and I could be wrong), faith itself is not a rational gift, although it is supported by the rational capacity.
Finally, if you read the quotes that Fr K gives of St Augustine they read like they could have been written by someone today. They contain all the affective, spiritual and intellectual currency of today. Not so for Thomas. What does that say?
George,
I think faith, in Thomas, is participation in God’s own self-knowledge.
Very rarely does Thomas wax lyrical in the Summa, although it happens from time to time. Augustine’s works quoted by Fr. Komonchak are often homilies, a different kind of discourse than treatises, though Augustine can certainly wax lyrical in any literary genre.
You might like this from the Summa:
The Holy Ghost appeared over Christ at His baptism, under the form of a dove, for four reasons. First, on account of the disposition required in the one baptized–namely, that he approach in good faith: since! as it is written (Wisdom 1:5): “The holy spirit of discipline will flee from the deceitful.” For the dove is an animal of a simple character, void of cunning and deceit: whence it is said (Matthew 10:16): “Be ye simple as doves.”
Secondly, in order to designate the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, which are signified by the properties of the dove. For the dove dwells beside the running stream, in order that, on perceiving the hawk, it may plunge in and escape. This refers to the gift of wisdom, whereby the saints dwell beside the running waters of Holy Scripture, in order to escape the assaults of the devil. Again, the dove prefers the more choice seeds. This refers to the gift of knowledge, whereby the saints make choice of sound doctrines, with which they nourish themselves. Further, the dove feeds the brood of other birds. This refers to the gift of counsel, with which the saints, by teaching and example, feed men who have been the brood, i.e. imitators, of the devil. Again, the dove tears not with its beak. This refers to the gift of understanding, wherewith the saints do not rend sound doctrines, as heretics do. Again, the dove has no gall. This refers to the gift of piety, by reason of which the saints are free from unreasonable anger. Again, the dove builds its nest in the cleft of a rock. This refers to the gift of fortitude, wherewith the saints build their nest, i.e. take refuge and hope, in the death wounds of Christ, who is the Rock of strength. Lastly, the dove has a plaintive song. This refers to the gift of fear, wherewith the saints delight in bewailing sins.
Thirdly, the Holy Ghost appeared under the form of a dove on account of the proper effect of baptism, which is the remission of sins and reconciliation with God: for the dove is a gentle creature. Wherefore, as Chrysostom says, (Hom. xii in Matth.), “at the Deluge this creature appeared bearing an olive branch, and publishing the tidings of the universal peace of the whole world: and now again the dove appears at the baptism, pointing to our Deliverer.”
Fourthly, the Holy Ghost appeared over our Lord at His baptism in the form of a dove, in order to designate the common effect of baptism–namely, the building up of the unity of the Church. Hence it is written (Ephesians 5:25-27): “Christ delivered Himself up . . . that He might present . . . to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing . . . cleansing it by the laver of water in the word of life.” Therefore it was fitting that the Holy Ghost should appear at the baptism under the form of a dove, which is a creature both loving and gregarious. Wherefore also it is said of the Church (Canticles 6:8): “One is my dove.”
But on the apostles the Holy Ghost descended under the form of fire, for two reasons. First, to show with what fervor their hearts were to be moved, so as to preach Christ everywhere, though surrounded by opposition. And therefore He appeared as a fiery tongue. Hence Augustine says (Super Joan., Tract. vi): Our Lord “manifests” the Holy Ghost “visibly in two ways”–namely, “by the dove corning upon the Lord when He was baptized; by fire, coming upon the disciples when they were met together . . . In the former case simplicity is shown, in the latter fervor . . . We learn, then, from the dove, that those who are sanctified by the Spirit should be without guile: and from the fire, that their simplicity should not be left to wax cold. Nor let it disturb anyone that the tongues were cloven . . . in the dove recognize unity.”
Secondly, because, as Chrysostom says (Gregory, Hom. xxx in Ev.): “Since sins had to be forgiven,” which is effected in baptism, “meekness was required”; this is shown by the dove: “but when we have obtained grace we must look forward to be judged”; and this is signified by the fire.
(ST III. 39. 6 ad 4)
Augustine wrote that the wish is the father to the thought. This appears to apply to Hutter. Looking for the assurance of stability and infallibility he was surprised to see different opinions on what he deems unchangeable items. His experience is probably the reason converts drop out. The reality is quite different from the rhetoric. Hutter also speaks too generally. More specifics are offered in the comments here. But even then a few quotes from Thomas does not explain Thomism. So as usual the theology become disconnected and one is left wondering what is being asserted or advocated.
But I do like the comments of Berdyaev quoted above. As for the lack of theological thought in the post council era we can blame Ratzinger and Co for all the people he censured. The thoughts are there. One has to look for them and in some cases visit them. Lambasting theologians has become quite political in the church. Those who are left with imprimaturs are too often uninspiring.
Cathy ==
My plea for apologists in the earlier thread was not for either the manualists of the seminarians nor the how-tos or the 10-easy-answers-to-10-hard-questions type of popularizers. What is needed is solid theology written by truly first-rate minds — the sort which have both the depth and clarity to write solid theology clearly enought for the uninitiated to understand it. Unfortunately, those sorts of minds are rather rare, and the Church doesn’t encourage their development.
One only has to look at the many converts among the most outstanding Catholic intellectuals of the 20th century to see that the Church has not been a seed-bed of intellectual accomplishment. The philosophers Maritain, Anscombe, Dummet, Marcel, and MacIntyre, the historians Frederick Copleston and Christopher Dawson were all converts. How many of equal stature in the general intellectual community have been trained in the Church schools?
I”m not optimistic that such intellectual leaders will come from cradle Catholics unless Rome becomes more appreciative of honest dissent.
Speaking as an outsider, it seems to me that there are three distinct tasks for theologians. First, there is the purely academic — the theologians talking to theologians. Then there are the theologians who teach the seminarians who in turn teach the faithful directly. Then there are the best of them, those whose thinking has the depth and clarity needed to communicate with the educated public and who engage with people outside of theology and outside of the Church.
Aquinas and the other medievals were expected to do all three tasks — even being available on occasian to answer the questions of the common people. But I don’t think his theology would appeal to today’s people. Our assumptions and questions and philosophical problems are very, very different from those of the 13th century. The most obvious differences are that these days people are much more skeptical and they think they have no use for dogma.
I wonder: how many more years can people like Hutter continue to harp on the “hermeneutic of discontinuity” which often amounts to nothing more than the old “blame the 1960s”. It’s the year 2011 (by the way) and in 9 short years we’ll be writing 2020 on our checks (if they still exist). Can you imagine people in 1920 blaming the 1860s for everything? Or people in the 1820s wagging their fingers at the 1760s? Anyone who did that would be understood by his peers as having NOTHING to offer.
Ann, I couldn’t agree more about the lack of intellectual vigor in Catholic circles…especially when I consider the wealth we have to work with (I just read Boethius for the first time). I frequently tell my students (while pointing to Aquinas) that any thinker worth his weight should expect to be condemned at some point and that “in the Middle Ages such condemnations were not taken with the degree of seriousness with which they were taken in the highly centralized and authoritarian Church of later date.” (Copleston, Medieval Philosophy, p. 209). But it takes something like a Francis in ‘A Canticle for Leibowitz’ patience to brush aside a couple decades of ones own life to prove ones position. My favorite quote from Copleston is: “There are always people to whom anything which sounds novel smacks of heresy.” Medieval Philosophy, p. 328
Now I don’t hold anything against Peter Kreeft, but apologetics seems to be the enemy of scholarship and he is frequently at the forefront of that defensive position.
Adam –
I guess there are apologists and then there are people who write such books as “Apologia Pro Vita Sua”. (Written by another convert. Sigh.)
“Can you imagine people in 1920 blaming the 1860s for everything?”
Strachey published the iconoclastic Eminent Victorians in 1918; Queen Victoria in 1921 (Bloomsburyites like Virginia Woolf kept on deconstructing Victorianism for another 20 years after that).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lytton_Strachey
By the way, Lawrence Feingold’s dissertation, which was hard to find, has now been published as a book: http://www.amazon.com/Natural-Desire-According-Thomas-Interpreters/dp/1932589546
It’s an answer to de Lubac’s Surnaturel based on a close reading of Thomas. That is one characteristic of Ressourcement Thomism–reading Thomas rather than later interpreters. (I suppose that’s why they call it “Ressourcement.”) But the others are vigor, communication, and as I’ve mentioned before, a certain open, non-defensive posture towards the world.
Brian,
While I take your point about how maybe we need to get over the ’60s, I’m not sure your argument is so strong. The Civil War happened in the 1860s, but the implications of the war seem to have been with us until the 1960s at least.
Here is my response to Hütter’s piece in First Things: http://wp.me/p16fWT-sA
I read Dr. Hutter’s piece a few months ago, and found that I resonated with some of it, but on the whole, find it to be a rather romantic piece. I do, however, have some observations/questions.
First, the point has been raised above about converts and their impact. This is not in any way to critique or attack those who have decided to become Catholic. But it is interesting to me that many of the specifically academic critiques of Catholic theology (Reno, Hutter) come from converts to Catholicism. Is it possible that some of the dissatisfaction is that they had romantic illusions about what it meant to be a Catholic or Catholic theology, and that these have been proven false (like when people go from being in love to actually having to live together in marriage?). I know neither of these men, so I wouldn’t push it far, but it is intriguing to me that there were not born and formed in the Catholic Church.
Secondly, though in theory I agree and love the phrase “thinking with the church,” I confess I have no idea what it usually means. Is thinking with the Church taking consideration and account of the entire 2,000 year tradition(s) (for they are wonderfully multiple, diverse and varying though with the center being the incarnation of Jesus Christ and the creeds), even those parts–say Gregory of Nyssa and ancient views of gender–which fly in the face of much contemporary thought, including in Rome? Is it really code for “thinking with the Vatican?” Do Catholic theologians who are not formed in Neo-Scholasticism or some other ‘school’ really have as little grounding as Dr. Hutter suggests? I, for one, have taken only one class specifically on Thomas Aquinas in my 22 years of Catholic education, but did not feel as though I couldn’t follow the arguments in de Lubac’s “Mystery of the Supernatural”. (And incidentally, the nature/grace argument has been taken up cogently and persuasively by a non-Catholic in Kathryn Tanner’s recent Christ the Key).
Finally, it should be remembered that the theological uniformity that Hutter seems to romanticize came at a very strong price. Outside of the mystical tradition (and even today many will scoff at allowing Julian of Norwich or Mechthild of Magdeburg the title “theologian”), theologian=priest. Which of course meant celibate (in theory), male, and for most of the Church’s history, more than relatively privileged. Again, this is not to make “single, white dudes” the bad guys–I love the writings of many of them and have profited more than I can say. What I question is the adequacy of this theology. When women, married persons, persons of non-European descent, poor people, gays and lesbians and a multitude of other excluded voices began to write and think theologically, it was inevitable that the comfortable answers that had been given would prove inadequate and questions asked that were never previously even considered. This is what we have seen over the past sixty years. It has been chaotic and confusing, oftentimes painful. It has, however, also been of incalculable service to the church.
Kathy–
I agree that Ressourcement Thomists want to return to the actual texts and not just the interpreters. I think it is unfair though to make it sound like this wasn’t exactly what de Lubac was doing. He had to spent a great deal of time discussing the interpreters because it was they, rather than Thomas, who had shaped the manualist tradition he was critiquing. In fact, his critique was precisely that they didn’t properly “get” the man they claimed to be interpreting.
There are also many Thomas experts who find the Ressourcement Thomist’s approach strongly lacking, less because they don’t read Thomas, but that they don’t have a robust appreciation of the medieval tradition and world. They often approach Thomas (and I apologize for painting all with the same brush) they way Benedict and the “hermeneutic of continuity” folk want to approach Vatican II: focus solely on the texts and pay little attention to how they actually got there and were produced. Levering may indeed be popular right now, but I’m not sure his reading is either as profound (or accurate) as Dr. Hutter suggests.
“…apologetics seems to be the enemy of scholarship.”
True. Further, after scholars develop their thoughts they many times consider those who disagree as heretics. Rahner, de Lubac, VonBatlhasar, Ratzinger and others had trouble taken the next step however logical. Kung, Congar and Schillebexx stuck to the scholarship while the others were not open to change they did not spend enough time and research contemplating. Even Congar thought Kung was moving too fast. At any rate as Rome co-opted the great minds of the Council the table was set for atrophy post council. Kung still produced a tremendously important body of work. But Rome’s damnatio memoriae was so effective with Kung that too many have not heard of him nor read him. Same with Schillibexx to a lesser extent. Today the great scholarship of Roger Haight is out of the mainstream. Those scholars who like him stay low keyed about ut not to stir up the waters.
What was central to Vatican II was its insistence of returning to the gospel while pointing out serious defects of the magisterium. Those efforts were a large success notwithstanding Ratzinger’s Inquisition. To this day we benefit even though Vatican patronage is able to keep plenty of agitators to prevent serious objective scholarship. The church has definitely gained by Vatican II. As for Ratzinger and Co. they have the apostasy of Europe on their resume.
Andy,
I didn’t say that de Lubac didn’t read Thomas closely. The contrast I am pointing out is between Ressourcement Thomists and the Thomists of de Lubac’s day, whose works he thought were inadequately based on Thomas himself.
As opposed to the earlier thread, this one seems clearly to be about the state of Catholic theology.
I’m glad to see Rahner and Lonergan mentioned as the giants they were, though how they are currently viewed is part of the “impasse” we see in the Church today.
I’d like to note that the name of Dave Tracy is strangely missing from this thread (though BXVI did turn his back on him)
I think Fr. Tilley was right about the state of impasse and hence what some perceive as the awful state of theology today.
Hutter’s complain about engaging modernity is significant, I think, so the works of folk lime Peter Phan or Elizabeth Johnson can be written off by lovers of the old days he imagines and which are cherished by some here. (I also note that Hutter, like Scott Hahn, is a convert to the current Church polity.)
The inability to question, whether it’s by CDf or the USCCB doctrinal committee or even the”finest brian” who wants all institutuions to fall in line with the three legged stool , hobbles the effort to have some real progress on a broad scale – the effect of pushing institutional loyalty over honest inquiry I submit is destructive.
Beyond that, the lurch to the past in what many think is an incredible “continuity” with VII creates a divide within where we get craziness, even here at this blog, about poor Fr.McBrien charged with heresy and ramblings about the “infallible’ ordinary magisterium.
Meanwhile, some (with further abuse revelations) drift or move out while those who long for the Church that looks like the Ottaviani days come into the Church, perhaps as an ordinariate.
While I think there is still lots of good thinking going on in the Church, the current atmosphere, where some can just pooh pooh efforts say in CTSA, is hardly conducive to the give and take that the best thinking needs.
BM:
“What was central to Vatican II was its insistence of returning to the gospel while pointing out serious defects of the magisterium.”
Wow, that’s quite a claim.
“It’s an answer to de Lubac’s Surnaturel based on a close reading of Thomas. That is one characteristic of Ressourcement Thomism–reading Thomas rather than later interpreters. (I suppose that’s why they call it “Ressourcement.”) But the others are vigor, communication, and as I’ve mentioned before, a certain open, non-defensive posture towards the world.”
Kathy –
i find it highly ironic that some of the contemporary Ressourcement theologians are calling themselves Thomists and talking about reading Thomas’ texts. As I understand the history of Vatican II, the “Ressourcement theologians” such as Ratzinger meant by “the sources” not the medievals (including Thomas — Ratzinger doesn’t even seem to know Thomas very well) but the pre-medieval Fathers. They were sick of the pseudo-Thomism of the manualist theologians. That is why you find few if any quotations from Thomas himself in the documenets of Vatican II.
In other wordss, the term “Ressourcement” applied to Thomists is a misuse of language because it misleads mightily.
That Hutter finds Aquinas appealing is a fine thing for a theologian talking to theologians. But does he realize that Thomas took the truth wherever he found it? That the medieval theologian=philosophers fought like cats and dogs. theology being at the time literally a matter of life and death? That Thomas was brought before the bishop of Paris on many charges of heresy, and that he defended himself successfully? That included among the strongest influences on Thomas were Jewish and Muslim theologian and he was supported in such interests by at least one pope?
The spirit of medieval theology was not what Pius IX apparently thought it was. In those days if a theologian was accused of heresy he was informed of what the specific charges were and was allowed to defend himself personally to his bishop. If the bishop took the case to Rome, the theologian had a right to appeal to the pope himself.
JAK will correct me if I’m wrong, but this is the opposite of how theologians were treated by the Ressourcement theologian Joseph Ratzinger under JP II. Under their CDF, theologians were sometimes accused of heresy without knowing exactly who made the charges or even what the charges were, and they did not have the right to confront their accusers before the CDF, much less the pope.
If you want to know why there are no leading light Catholic theologians these days of the stature of a Barth or Niebhur or Schweitzer who were taken seriously outside of their own traditions and even outside of Christian circles it’s because of the repression by the Vatican. The irony of that is that JP II kept repeating over and over, “Be not afraid, be not afraid”, but when it came to theology, he was a coward. There, I’ve said it.
Ressourcement Thomists, indeed.
Ann,
At least we agree on our respect for St. Thomas.
I don’t see a downside to studying his works carefully, do you?
As to “ressourcement” including only the Fathers and excluding Thomas: many of the key figures of ressourcement in the 40s and 50s were very interested in Aquinas, but tended to read him “back” through the Fathers rather than “forward” through the Thomist commentarial tradition. De Lubac, of course, is a prime example, but there is also Henri Bouillard and Marie Dominique Chenu and numerous others.
Actually, it seems to me that what is distinctive about the current crop of “ressourcement Thomists” is that they do read Thomas in light of his later interpreters, but these interpreters are not 20th folks such as Rahner and Lonergan, but rather people like Cajetan and other 16th and 17th century commentators. This is, I suspect, one reason for the criticism of de Lubac, since he was pretty dismissive of that commentarial tradition.
As to the issue of Vatican repression: all of the protestant giants that Anne mentions are long dead. If Vatican repression accounts for the absence of giants in Catholic theology today, what accounts for the absence of protestant giants?
Kathy: Cut out the snark. Obviously Ann didn’t mean that Aquinas shouldn’t be studied carefully. And please don’t try to dominate the thread.
Cathy,
Absolutely no snark intended.
A few comments, none of which is meant as a rebuttal of anything any of you have said.
First, though I understand the importance of the controversies among the theologians whose works are mentioned here, I’d like to say how glad I am for the work of all those that I know anything of. For example, whatever I know about any of their discussions of the Eucharist is, for someone like me, informative. So I find no need to rate them, much less to dismiss any of them. But then I have no business claiming to write any theology.
Second, though I do recognize that a philosopher’s religious commitments or lack thereof will influence the topics he or she addresses and will make some appearance in his or her works, I find the notion of “Catholic philosophy” pretty peculiar. I do try to write some philosophy and I’m sure that my choice of topics is in part affected by my Catholicism, but what I have to say ought to be worth the attention of any serious reader, Catholic or otherwise. There are very good philosophers who work in the Thomistic tradition. That doesn’t mean that they are “catholic philosophers. Their work stands or falls as philosophy, not on its Catholicism. In that sense, I take it that Taylor and MacIntyre are to be read as philosophers, first and foremost, not as “Part of our club.”I have always thought that it was to my advantage as a student of philosophy to work in university departments whose members came from a variety of intellectual traditions.
Finally, within philosophy, I take it that what mainly matters is the quality of what a philosopher says about the issue at hand. It is not his or her consistency or even his or her overall system. Think about Plato or Aristotle. Does one have to give them the last word about every topic that they address in order to show them proper respect? Of course not.
Paul Ricoeur, whose work I’ve often said I admire, once said that he never argued against any thinker with whom he did not share some intellectual sympathy and for whom it was intellectually costly for him to disagree with. That makes a lot of sense to me.
Kathy –
For theologians whose task is to talk with theologians (doing foundational work), reading Thomas carefully could be highly valuable. But if all they want to do is high-class commentaries like Cajetan’s, I’m not sure it would be.
For theologians who teach seminarians and other college students, I think Thomas is pretty much a waste of time. The faithful of today have very different’ assumptions, problems, and questions from the 13th century faithful.
For theologians who teach seminarians and other college students, I think Thomas is pretty much a waste of time.
Wow. To think I’ve wasted my life…
Please allow me add one more observation to what I’ve said above. There are no “last words” about any topic of any significance. Jesus’ words are not the last words about anything he talked about. Nor are Paul’s. There are important words, there are illuminating words, there are trivial words, there are misleading words. What we argue about is whether the word in question is illuminating or misleading or….
No last words, though!
Addendum: would the same apply to Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Schleiermacher, Newman etc.? If not, why not? (this is a sincere question, no snark intended)
Seven years ago, I was asked to give a major lecture for the 50th anniversary of the College Theology Society on the topic “The Future of Theology.” I hate topics like that because, as I say in the first paragraph, “I’m not a prophet nor the son of a prophet”. Instead, I spoke of the history of theology in the 20th century. I have a description not too far in of the benefits and the disadvantages of four years of theology in the manual tradition such as I received between 1960 and 1964 at the Gregorian University in Rome. I have just figured out how Google Docs works, so if you might be interested in reading the talk, you’ll find it at: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1–JZ1RYBUYLkrdF_BGQmczV4xxTQs56fgKCfBYzWlhQ/edit?hl=en&authkey=CJitgOgN
FCB ==
I was thinking of teaching Thomas in introductory courses from his own writings. Most students don’t get more than one introductory philosophy course, if that, and an all Thomas course is just too dry for that. His five proofs for the existence of God are of great interest to them (or they used to be), and they are standard parts of intro courses, and rightly so. But a whole course of Thomas?
Yes, there are some gifted teachers who can make Thomas interesting. There was a very fine one in my department who was generally considered the best teacher in the whole university. But the way he taught Thomas was to ignore the problems in Thomas, and to ignore criticisms of Thomas’ positions. I think that short-changes the kids — they need to learn to think critically. Our world presents too many challenges to let them remain intellectually naive.
As for the lack of recent Protestant giants, please remember that at least there *were* some verey great Protestant scriptural scholars and theology into the 19th and 20th centuries. Were there any Catholic giants during those times? Yes, there were Rahner, Lonergan, deLubac et al, but who among them besides Ratzinger has even been heard of in the wider world?
That’s a real question. I’m not a theologian, and so maybe there were some who have yet to be recognized as greats. I’ve read some Lonergan and a bit of Rahner, and I tried deLubac, but frankly, they’re not my idea of giants. Merton is the only Catholic theologian I’ve read a lot of, and of his works I’d say that only New Seeds of Contemplation is a great work. (So I think I’d best leave this thread to the theologians :-)
Fr. Ernest Fortin, described by the philosopher Leo Strauss as the most educated Catholic priest he had ever met, explained in an essay “Why I Am Not a Thomist.”
Thomism “had no interest in political philosophy and thus it lacked self-knowledge, i.e., it was unaware ot its dependence on the larger political context. And second, it was too provincial. It did not have an adequate knowledge of modern thought, and that meant no adequate knowledge of ancient thought. With its exclusive focus on Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, there was no Plato, no Machiavelli, no Bacon, no Spinoza, no Rousseau, no Nietzsche…This knowledge of and appreciation for the great authors, incidentally, is what I learned from Leo Strauss. Strauss gave me a new insight into the classics, a clearer understanding of the ‘Quarrel between the Ancients and the Moderns’ and, underlying that, the issue of Athens and Jerusalem, the highest theme of all.”
Joe, thanks — I was actually hoping you’d have something written about that time that you could share!
Patrick M. –
Obviously Strauss didn’t take Maritain seriously, unlike many, many other political scientists outside of Thomism. Maritain was highly enough regarded as a political philosopher to be made one of the 5 members of the U. N. Commission that drew up its statement of the rights of men. The statement is still stands, has been expanded to include specific criteria regarding women and other matters. It has subsequently had great influence, being also incorporated in to many contemporary constitutions.
Maritain wasn’t the only Aristotelian in the Commission. A Lebanese Aristotelian (I think it wasJacob Malik) was also a member of the Commission. There were also two judges, whose philosophy I don’t know, and Eleanor Roosevelt. So it seems that Aristotle is still standing up well to the test of time.
Yes, Strauss was a fine scholar. But he didn’t look around him very carefully apparently.
“Addendum: would the same apply to Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Schleiermacher, Newman etc.? If not, why not? (this is a sincere question, no snark intended”)
FCB –
Much of Plato is clear enough and asks universal enough questions to serve as a very fine introduction to philosophy. The Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle is also clear and highly relevant (having been written for his son, apparently), and I’d include some of the Confessions of Augustine, and some or Descartes. But the others are just too technical or obscure for beginning students, especially students who are taking philosophy because they’re required to. (Oops — don’t know about Schleiermacher — haven’t read any of him.)
I taught mostly laystudents, but some seminarians, I found that approaches to them had to be quite different. The seminarians I taught tended to be conservative and docile, and if you told them they needed Aquinas they’d go hard at him. Some resented it highly when I criticized any of Aquinas. Not so the typical lay student. But maybe they weren’t typical seminarians and maybe seminarians have changed.
P. S. Yes, to Newman also. And I’ll grant you that he was at major theologian. I went to a secular university and parts of The Idea of a University were required reading there. I’ll be eternally grateful for that. But you didn’t find that being required at the neighboring Loyola University — Newman was a great defended of academic freedom. In the courses at Loyola which I took it was manuals all the way down.
“Oops — don’t know about Schleiermacher — haven’t read any of him”
As somebody who has had to sit through an intro theology class within the last 5 years, I will say that I would rather read my own obituary than read Schleiermacher again.
Was Newman a great defender of academic freedom? I hear that in Dublin he stopped students from reading Hume. Coaching students for university he deplored the immorality of the classics he had to read with them. The Idea of a University sees the Church’s tutelage as necessary to restrain the wilful human intellect corrupted by Original Sin.
One of the many interesting questions raised in the comments here is whether theology should have a primarily inward focus–preaching to the choir, as it were–or whether it should have dialogue as its primary focus.
An “outward” orientation can be found on both the right and the left, I think, either with a defensive or a conciliatory posture.
Just to reiterate, what I find refreshing about the Ressourcement Thomists is a non-defensive, yet engaged, posture. There’s an engagement with mystery, too. I suppose a person could read them and not like what they have to say, but I think they deserve a fair reading.
Fr. O’Leary ==
The parts of The Idea of a University that I read in college were parts which in essence defined a university as a place for the presentation of *all* sides of a question with the expected that truth would eventually win out given free and vigorous debate. Of course, it was published in 1858, long prior to the declaration of the dogma of infallibility at Vatican I (1868-70.
So I suppose he changed his mind, at least about ‘infallible” dogmas.. Anyway, his work still lives.
So we are supposed, it seems, to overlook Heidegger’s associations with Nazism, but complain because Newman was a Victorian?
Perhaps the answer is that Hutter should have remained a Lutheran so he would not have to enter the schizophrenia or self deception of Catholic theologians who deny their reason and insist that so many items that were declared dogma make sense. He would have found peace if he just accepted that the church has always taught the perfect truth…….
JAK –
My complaint against Newman is that he apparently abandoned his earlier powerful notion of academic freedom. It showed an optimism about the workings of the intellectual Church that we don’t find in Rome, or among the faithful either these days.
As to Heidegger, I do not condone his Nazism, though I do think he was a bit crazy, somewhat schizoid and rather paranoid. But that is just amateur psychologizing.
I don’t judge either man’s conscience, but Newman’s earlier one was wiser, and his earlier conception of what a university is meant to be is for the ages. Nobody’s perfect.
Hello All,
I’m late into this discussion (having been in an incredible work panic over this past month). I find a number of the posts here in response to Cathy’s original post very interesting. I’m a professional philosopher who studied as an undergraduate at a Roman Catholic university and did graduate work in a secular state university. Since my PhD I have so far taught only in secular universities. I also reverted to the Roman Catholic Church a bit over three years ago. So perhaps some of my observations might be relevant to the discussion Cathy has started.
Way back when as an undergraduate (mathematics major) I was fascinated by the readings in my philosophy courses in what’s today called the analytic tradition. Most of my undergraduate philosophy professors represented other traditions such as the Thomism and the phenomenological tradition, and I later learned that this is the situation in most philosophy departments in Roman Catholic universities in North American, though I think this is now changing. Since I was so interested in analytic philosophy and was surprised at hearing being disparaged as “Anglo-American philosophy” by my undergraduate professors I got the idea that I would like to learn more about this tradition and someday teach in a Roman Catholic university. Alasdair MacIntyre’s work in moral theory was also key to drawing me into philosophy as a full time venture.
After a few years in the corporate world I started a PhD in philosophy under the guidance of one of the world’s formost analytic philosophers. I also became expert in the moral philosophy of the early modern period (17th/18th century), especially figures like Hobbes and Hume who have been so disparaged by some of the most prominent Catholic philosophers. Indeed, while I continue to have great respect for Alasdair MacIntyre and think he is one of the few of the Catholic philosophers I have just alluded to who has serious arguments against early modern philosophy, I ended up disagreeing with most of MacIntyre’s specific conclusions.
I have never once regretted my decision to study analytic philosophy at a secular university. But my career plans did not progress as I had originally thought. When I was first looking for a teaching post, the Roman Catholic universities were for the most part not interested in my research, and the faculty at one leading Roman Catholic philosophy department were quite honest in telling me that most philosophy departments at Roman Catholic universities preferred philosophers trained at other Roman Catholic universities, because the philosophy departments at secular American universities are so predominantly analytical. Georgetown and Notre Dame were the main exceptions at the time, in that their philosophy departments had a significant representation in analytic philosophy. (I have wondered if it is no accident that Notre Dame and Georgetown also are the two American Roman Catholic universities that get the most criticism for not being “Catholic enough”. I hear a fair amount of griping about the theology departments at these two universities as well.)
Again, I think all this is changing. Philosophy departments in many more Roman Catholic universities are these days more welcoming to philosophers who did their graduate training in secular universities, and philosophy departments in secular American universities are becoming better represented in other philosophical traditions. Indeed, many philosophers currently working in secular universities think there is no longer a monolithic analytic tradition, if ever this tradition was so monolithic. But I also think that we still far from a time when modern and contemporary analytic philosophy will receive the respect in American Catholic philosophy departments it deserves.
Hello Ann (and All),
I had not heard before that Newman discouraged his students from reading Hume. If this is the case, then Newman most probably would have flunked me had a I been one of his students.
Occasionally some of my colleagues and some of my friends who are Roman Catholic wonder how I can do so much research in an area of philosophy (early modern/contemporary moral conventionlaism) that so many Catholics have been told they should hate, particularly since I have my personal doubts regarding moral conventionalism. My own take on the question is sort of twofold. I think anyone can profit from studying carefully and sympathetically a view one is unsure of and might even oppose. And to be honest I think some are too confident that all the answers we want are to be found in the classical natural law tradition of Augustine and Aquinas.
Peter ==
As a teacher in a secular school, what do you think are the theological questions or kinds of theological questions, if any, students and faculty might be interested in considering these days? Do any of them read any theology? Are they too ignorant to ask questions? Or indifferent? Skeptical? Curious? Or what?
What are they *not* interested in or prejudiced against?
Peter — I didn’t know that about Newman and Hume either. But he did accept the infallibility of the popes and councils, and “the magisterium”. I have wondered how he could make that profession, and I assumed he made exceptions for those teachings.
Hello Ann (and All),
I think I got a bit mixed up because upon review I realize Fr. O Leary gave us the anecdote about Newman and Hume and I should have directed my response to him, but I’m glad to get your response.
I certainly can’t speak for Newman, but I’ve thought about the question you raise in my own case and I am able to make the profession by interpreting infallibility in this context as a negative infallibility. That is, popes, councils and the magisterium might not teach true claims or forbid us to do wrong 100% of the time, but neither popes, councils nor the magisterium will ever command us to believe what is false or to do what is wrong. For example, a number of popes up till 1866 stated in writing that one may under certain circumstances own slaves, but no pope has or ever will command any of us to own slaves. (John Noonan’s recent book A Church Than Can and Cannot Change contains an in depth discussion of this and other related examples.)
Going back to the subject of Cathy’s original post, I’d be interested to hear from the theologians who participate here if my interpretation of infallibility is acceptable. I’ve done my best to arrive at this interpretation in good faith after careful study and prayerful reflection, but for all I know I may be illustrating (albeit as a philosopher and not a theologian) what Prof. Hutter thinks is wrong with we contemporary folk who work in universities.
Ann: I didn’t have you in mind with my comment about Heidegger and Newman.
Hello again Ann (and All),
“What are they *not* interested in or prejudiced against?”
My short answer to your question would be that in my opinion the students at the schools I have worked in are increasingly prejudiced against all institutions from marriage to the United Nations, but especially organized religions and governments of states. Ditto for the faculty at these schools with the exception of the academic profession. As I think about it, seems to me the generalization I just made regarding professors in secular universoties (and I am one of them) parallels the view of a good number of Roman Catholics who regard all institutions, and especially other Christian churches, as suspect except this Church. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older and have changed both careers and churches a few times, but my take on this phenomenon is that when one is an insider one has the opportunity to learn why an institution works in ways thay may look perverse to outsiders.
Again in my opinion, I think students in the schools I work in and have worked in care very much about questions of morals and faith, but I also think they increasingly doubt that churches, governments or other institutions (like their universities) are likely to help them much to find the answers they seek.
Peter, I’m interested in your move from studies in mathematics to analytic philosophy. Is there a connection?
(I wouldn’t want to propose a primitive schema like left-brain vs. right-brain into the discussion, although to be honest that is something like what I am suggesting.)
Sometimes it seems to me that the strongest differences of opinion come down to differences in temperament and thought processes.
Hello Ann,
If you want to know why there are no leading light Catholic theologians these days of the stature of a Barth or Niebhur or Schweitzer who were taken seriously outside of their own traditions and even outside of Christian circles it’s because of the repression by the Vatican.
Repression which was by any measure more pervasive and severe under Pius XI and Pius XII via the old Holy Office. And yet so many of the great 20th century Catholic theologians – Lonergan, Rahner, de Lubac, Congar, et al – did much of their best work in this period.
This is not to make a defense of what Ratzinger may or may not have done as CDF Prefect, only to suggest that the actions of the CDF alone can’t explain the apparent absence of speculative theology in the last two generations of anything like similar caliber to that generation. Something more fundamental seems to be at work.
RM and everyone: could it be that we do have theologians of the caliber of Rahner, Conger, de Lubac etc., but this generation hasn’t had a signal event like Vatican II to validate and enshrine their work more deeply into the sinews of the church?
Lender –
Rahner, de Lubac and Congar were repressed by Rome! And Maritain was afraid to publish his views on contraception (he was pro some kinds) because he was afraid if he did the Vatican would condemn one of his major works on social philosophy (I think it was the important Integral Humanism). Think what the Church might be today if that bombshell had been set off! It would have pitted Maritain against Woytila and I’d put my money on Maritain, that French bulldog. As it is, Woytila won, and millions have left the Church because of it.
Think what we might have had from those shining lights had they been encouraged to think freely rather than tip-toe around to avoid more censure.
Hello Kathy (and All),
Your conjecture is exactly right. I loved (and still love) the precision and the rigor to which both mathematics and analytic philosophy aspire.
I think a stereotype remains largely true that most professional philosophers of roughly the last century were formed primarily in either what is today known as the analytic tradition (I’m one of those.) or what is called the Continental tradition, which really is better thought of as a family of traditions that includes phenomenology and even deconstruction. The analytic tradition is influenced in part by mathematics and the sciences, whereas the Continental tradition is influenced to some extent by literature and literary theory. These days not too many philosophers are conversant in both traditions. One of my best friends from graduate school is a notable but rare exception — She’s now one of the world’s foremost analytic metaphysicians and she also does serious research in the phenomenological tradition. I think it’s no accident she was a philosophy and literature double major in graduate school.
Philosophers who work outside the tradition that grew from analytic philosophy criticize this tradition for ignoring many of the questions most important to human life. Philosophers working in the tradition I was formed in criticize the Continental tradition for lack of clarity, erratic scholarship and sometimes lack of in depth argumentation. Both sets of criticisms are largely unfair, but I think not entirely so. An example relevant to all of us here is the work of John Paul II. As Adam noted here earlier and others have noted in past threads JP II’s “Love and Responsibility: and “Lectures on Theology” are hailed in some circles as marking a new epoch in Catholic thought. I find trying to read these works by JP II and his encyclicals very frustrating reading even though he was for a time a professional philosopher, so one would think I’d eat up his work. I think they are obscure and filled with assertions that are not adequately defended. I also get frustrated when I can detect lines in JP II’s thought that are clearly Kantian but that he does not clearly develop or even clearly acknowledge to be Kantian. But I keep reminding myself that the problem could be on my end, because JP II was working squarely in the phenomenological tradition.
In my opinion, this is an excellent discussion, and I thank the contributors for their serious analysis of the current state of Catholic theology. I do not think I can add much, but I do want to say that I found the Hütter piece to be superficial and narrow. On the question of continuity/discontinuity he shows a profound lack of knowledge of the history of Christianity. To be succinct, I will simply say that there cannot be continuity without discontinuity, and to think otherwise is naïve. When did continuity become divinized? If it were the controlling norm for the development of Christianity, Christianity would be a form of Judaism today, and who knows whether there would be a form of it called Catholicism. His reading of Rahner on continuity/discontinuty is flawed, for Rahner rightly noted the significance of Vatican II representing the movement to a world Church that had inherited the tradition of Judaism first and then Gentile Christianity finalized in a Roman Church. Rahner’s thought is not deserving of the simplified category “hermeneutics of discontinuity.”
I am not pleased with myself in this regard, but I grow increasingly uncomfortable about the Tiber swimmers, whose first order of business is the reform Catholicism. They demonstrate how thoroughly Protestant they are. I suspect their attraction to Catholicism is based on a deep seeded dissatisfaction with any religion they belong to.
Finally, the most creative Catholic theology today is being done in the areas of religious pluralism and inter-religious dialogue. The age of apologetics and navel gazing is past. But the Vatican will have none of this, as represented by what it has done to Roger Haight, Jaques Dupuis, and Peter Phan.
While it is important to engage in inter-religious dialogue so that others can come to know the fullness of The Truth, inter-religious dialogue cannot contribute anything new to our Deposit of Faith.
“So we are supposed, it seems, to overlook Heidegger’s associations with Nazism, but complain because Newman was a Victorian?”
This thread is not about Nazism and I have addressed this issue elsewhere, including in a correspondence in the TLS. Indeed you trivialize the issue by using it like this.
And you are quite incorrect if you think I am attacking Newman, whom I venerate.
Newman was NOT a typical Victorian in his championing of church authority — he was perhaps close to the John Paul II of Ad Tuendam Fidem.
Discourse IX of The Idea of a University insists that for the practical realization of the ideal of a Catholic university “a direct and active jurisdiction of the Church over it and in it is necessary, lest it should become the rival of the Church with the community at large in those theological matters which to the Church are exclusively committed, – acting as the representative of the intellect, as the Church is the representative of the religious principle” (184). Universities tend to become centres of an intellectualism which rejects “the very principle of dogmatism” (186). Science then leads to the exclusion of Revealed Truth and literature to its corruption (187). Literature presents “the natural man” who “is sure to sin, and his literature will be the expression of his sin” (194). Science “is dangerous, because it necessarily ignores the idea of moral evil; but Literature is open to the more grievous imputation of recognizing and understanding it too well” (195). Here the Church has a remedial role: “Literature does not argue, but declaims and insinuates; it is multiform and versatile: it persuades instead of convincing, it seduces, it carries captive… Is it wonderful that with an agent like this the Church should claim to deal with a vigour corresponding to its restlessness, to interfere in its proceedings with a higher hand, and to wield an authority in the choice of its studies and of its books which would be tyrannical, if reason and fact were the only instruments of its conclusions?” (199)
See http://josephsoleary.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/03/newman_on_educa.html
“inter-religious dialogue cannot contribute anything new to our Deposit of Faith.”
Yes it can — a deeper understanding and a healing of misunderstandings. Just a.s Platonism and Aristotelianism contributed in the middle ages and the Enlightenment made us see your errors about slavery and the inquisition
Newman memorably proclaimed Knowledge as an End in Itself, and this part of his text has been received as a charter of academic freedom. Needless to say many reactionary Newmanites pointedly disagree with him on this!
Lol. Some people always get touchy when that whole Nazi thing gets trotted out re: Herr Prof. Heidegger.
Nancy –
The pagan Greeks contributed enormously to our understanding of the Faith, as did some great medieval Jewish and Muslim theologians.
Fr. O’Leary –
Unfortunately, I suppose, I wasn’t required to read more of the Idea of a University. Given that Newman thought the Church could ban books within the university, I find it contradictory of him to say that a university is the locus where ideas, right and wrong, battle it out. I’ll go with his latter opinion.
Ann, give me one example of an element of The Truth of our Faith that came from outside our Faith.
Joseph O’Leary, this just goes to show you that Newman was not a Victorian at all, he was a man for all ages.
In Oxford Newman was more famous for trying to block the appointments of people he considered unorthodox.
Nancy –
Official interpretations of Scripture and Tradition use words and meanings from the Greels (like “substancre” in “transubstantiation”) to develop what has been revealed. Al Farabi’s distinction between essence and existence is regularly used to explain the meaning of the expression “I AM” that you quote constantly.
This has been really interesting to read, although I don’t have any real substance to add (haven’t read theology since I was forced to in graduate school). I do wonder, however, at the usefulness of the “continuity” meme. I remember a friend of mine who studied Chinese art telling me how a young painter would introduce his work as continuing the tradition of his esteemed elders even as it was clear to anyone with eyes that it was a radical departure. And so Chinese painting never stagnated even though the pretense was kept up that it was all part of a continuing tradition. And really, looked at broadly, art is an enterprise that continues a tradition begun even before farming or the written word — you can look at cave paintings in Europe and see the outlines of what, many thousands of years later, is still a recognizable tradition of representational painting. Even when you consciously depart from a tradition you are continuing it.
The problem as I see it with the Vatican’s tamping down of dissent is that it stifles all inquiry — if you told people that all of their art had to be “in the tradition of” the first cave paintings, and really meant it so that departures were burned and their makers punished, a lot fewer talented people will be interested in making art. What seems especially sad is that the Church is one of the few institutions that has the wherewithal to maintain a university tradition that looks past or at least puts in context the grosser trends of higher education over the last 20 years — so while a SUNY branch abolishes its French department with the excuse that it isn’t popular enough, the Church restricts the free wheeling inquiry that might make the humanities thrive and grow, basically out of fear that its outcome determinative point of view is too vulnerable to true inquiry. And so, intellectually, what we have seems like a monoculture that is easier to maintain because of the speed with which information travels, but still, just as vulnerable as most monocultures are to pests and disease.
One of the silenced theologians, Roger Haight, made the case for continuity himself. Of those I have read, none would say, for example, that the Chalcedonian decree is irrelevant. On the other hand, these early definitions come into tension or even conflict with new priorities, often having to do with interreligious dialogue.
As the week for Christian Unity goes on, the hope for real dialogue remains elusive across many lines in the BXVI world.
I’m not sure Haight is considered by the way one of the foremost theologians, but the point I thought many made was the inability to try to break new ground due to the work of CDF, the USCCB on doctrine, etc.
(As I said in the thread on the letter to the Irish bishops, it’s hard today to maintain intellectual honesty in the current framework of imposition oif institutional loyalty.
That imposition by mainly canonists who are encapsulated in thinking about their governance role is hardly conducive to broad inquiry, discussion and dialogue. )
Ann, to illuminate an existing Truth of our Faith is not to add or subtract from that Truth. I am asking you to give me one example of an element of The Truth of our Faith that came from outside our Faith.
Nancy –
You seem to think that “a truth of our faith” is a *statement* of such a truth, e.g., “Jesus was the only-begotten Son of God”. That is a true statement, and as such we say that it is “a truth”. But “truth” can also refer to the reality that the statement refers to — in this case the reality that is Jesus Christ Who is the only begotten Son of God. The reality is a very complex reality, and many different statements can be made about Him as the only begotten Son of God.
So while I agree with you that there are a limited number of *statements* that we call “the deposit of Faith” there are many factual truths to which those statements refer, and those can and often are developed by showing what the statements imply, especailly in conjunction with other statements.
Note; to say that there are a limited number of statements which are about the deposit of Faith does NOT say just how many such statement there are, nor does it say exacely *which* statements they are in everycase. That’s all pretty mushy, it seems. But some do stand out — e.g., certain statements in Scripture and the major Creeds. I don’t see how anybody can be considered a Christian who rejects the notion that “Jesus is the only begotten Son of God” is a true statement. Just how to interpret that statement so as to reach some of the truths implied in it is another question.
What I’m saying is you need to distinguish *verbal* “truth” and the real, actual *truths* signified by verbal truths. Those words (‘truth” and “truth”) have very different meanings. You seem to lump them together as being the same thing. But note this: Jesus is not identical with the *statement*, the actual physical symbols ‘Jesus is the only begotten Son of God”.
Actually things are even more complicated than this — “truth” can signify one thing when we’re talking about statements, another thing when we’re talking about thoughts, and a third thing when we’re talking about realities apart from physical symbols and thoughts. The trick is not to over-simplify these matters. God put us into a very compl\licated world, and we simply have to accept that fact and try to see it as clearly as we can.
” — in order to be a Catholic Theologian one should first be properly Catechized.”
One should be intelligent, objective and committed to the truth. To be a protector of the institution as one’s raison d’etre is not to be a Catholic theologian of any reputable status as a theologian.
Nancy: please define what you mean by Deposit of Faith. This is a serious question because dialog involves understanding, not just terminology.
Ann,it appears you are unable to answer my simple question.
Nancy –
I appears that you still don’t realize that “Truth” and “truths” are not simple, so discussions of them (including definitions) need to be complex. There is such a thing as an over-simple question, i.e., one which by its very form would distort an answer or preclude a true one. (The classic example of an over-simple question is: have you stopped beating your wife?) Your question bout “the deposit of Faith” does not recognize the complexity of “the deposit of Faith”, so no simple answer can be truly given.
I note that you haven’t answered Jimmy Macs question: what do you mean by “the deposit of Faith? Surely you must know what you mean by the term if you used it.
I habe a question for Cathy in South Bend.
Catholic Culture(sic) has a piece from its honcho on the forthcomin gmetings of university predsidents with their bishops.
Your university gets singled ou tfor not being big enough on Catholic identity(sic).
The Cardinal Newman society (sic) is watching you!
Does anone take this seriously?
Are the screws being tightened between USCCB and higher ed?
Do we need a thread on this and, perhaps, how importan ta mandatum is to theological greatness?
I think most people at ND right now are involved in getting their courses off the ground successfully. Or keeping their pipes from freezing. Most faculty probably don’t read blogs.
Nancy: I have recommended a book in the past (“Illicit Celibacy and The Deposit of Faith” by Edgar Davie) that I commend to your reading.
Oops – I wasn’t finished. I am NOT attempting to interject celibacy into this conversation. However, Chapter 1 of the book give a definition of DOF from sources that I think you would consider orthodox, i.e., http://www.catholicfaithandreason.org and Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.
Jimmy Mac: If you are looking for a book that is a must read for everyone and will be helpful in understanding The Deposit of Faith, the book you are looking for is “The Catechism of The Catholic Church”.
You still didn’t answer my question: how you YOU define the DoF? The CCC covers everything from sacramentals to sacraments. Are either of them in the DoF? If so, why? If not, why?
What is the DoF????