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My main question is: why do you rest your argument on "dignity"? In my experience, when someone argues from "human dignity" it is generally with the aim of undermining some traditional practice or belief. Most often there lurks in the background--though the person mounting the argument may be only dimly aware of it--the Kantian vision of man as an autonomous being subject to no law save that which he rationally chooses. Thus homosexual love must be respected because not to do so is to impugn the dignity of the homosexual; the right to abort must be respected because not to do so is to impugn the dignity of women; etc. In fact, the very notion that "choice" is some kind of absolute value derives from this conception of human dignity. Christians, of course, see man's dignity as due to his being made in the image of God, and real freedom as conformity to His will. So there is a Christian as well as a Kantian conception of human dignity. But the two are so readily confused and so intimately linked in the popular mind that it is very dangerous simply to appeal to "dignity" without specifying what you mean. You are liable to be be taken as speaking the lingo and appealing to the assumptions of the enemies of the Faith. In the present case, it seems to me that there is a much better route to the end you propose. This is the teaching of Our Lord on divorce (Mt 19 and Mk 10). He grounds the entire question of the nature and purpose of marriage on the creation account in Genesis, and though he does not directly address polygamy, there can be little doubt that it would fall under the same type of ban as that against divorce. I was greatly surprised that you did not refer to this fundamental passage. Your reason, I suppose, was that you are arguing about the content of "natural law" as against "the positive moral law of the Church." But doesn't this very case show how specious that opposition is? Here we have the Creator himself explaining the purpose and boundaries of human nature; how could what he says possibly not belong to natural law? You seem to share with your opponents the assumption that natural law can be determined by looking at the present state of nature. Against this, I would urge that "nature" in its primary sense is what the Creator intended, and that the real dimensions of human nature are even now most clearly revealed in the lives of the saints. To look at fallen nature as a guide to natural law will inevitably mislead. I fear that your attempt to give a purely "natural" argument against polygamy also leads you into factual errors, or at least into painting with too broad a brush. You write: "Polygamy degrades woman unspeakably because, rather than treating her as man's companion, equal in dignity and therefore worthy of his entire self, it subordinates her to him, making her one among the many objects of his pleasure and subjects of his dominion." This is quite a sweeping claim! How do you know that it is true? If you were speaking only of harems I might be inclined to agree, but of course there are many other types of polygamous arrangement. Not long ago I read in the newspaper an interview with a dissident Mormon family composed (as I recall) of one husband and two wives. All three were adamant in defending their way of life against a charge of much the type that you make here. Now I do not assume that they were right; they might be self-deceived or fail to understand what a real companionate marriage is like. On the other hand, I hesitate to assume that they were wrong. People have very different conceptions of what companionship and dignity really are, and an arrangement that satisfies some will be found objectionable by others. Here again, our fallen nature deceives us, and we must turn to the Creator in order to discover who we really are. Only then will we know whether our feelings of dignity and worth are really well-founded or are mere self-deception. To put my argument in a nutshell, it seems to me that the dichotomy of natural vs. revealed law is a misleading one, and that to attempt to flesh out the content of "natural" law by appealing to a vague and largely secular notion of dignity only compounds the error. What do you think?
David Bradshaw
As a friend and observer of Franciscan University, I wish to commend all of you involved in the Concourse for providing a civilized forum for the exchange of ideas. When debate takes literary form, it allows for clearer thinking and more careful explanations than structured oral debate--and it certainly offers a more civil and tempered discussion than spontaneous sidewalk argument. I have especially appreciated Kathleen van Schaijik's insights on the charismatic/traditionalist dichotomy that has developed on campus in the past six or seven years. In her article on liturgical music in Vol. 1, Issue 7/8 and in her editorial in Vol. 2, Issue 1, she gives an accurate description of what I also have seen. And her plea for openness echoes my own desire. I came into the Church through the charismatic renewal. I have experienced the great joys as well as the abuses that have been part of the renewal. My spiritual journey did not stop there but carried me on to a great appreciation for tradition and orthodoxy. My love for the Catholic Church, which acknowledges that spirituality has many expressions, has grown deeper and stronger as a result. Thus I was saddened to find one portion of this wonderful family of Faith coming into conflict with another, causing heated arguments and divisions among us. Yet perhaps this "creative tension" is normal and healthy. As alumna Regina Doman Schmiedicke once wrote in another journal, Franciscan University is like a big Catholic family with its usual arguments and sibling rivalries. But if ever the family is attacked from the outside, all disagreements are put aside and a united front is presented to the assailant. My husband and I brought our family to Steubenville because of the charismatic renewal over thirteen years ago. Even then, wise men realized that the Holy Spirit could not be limited. The late Father Jim Ferry, one of the founders of the Fraternity of Priests, once reminded me that charismatics must be prepared for new movements of the Holy Spirit and not hold on to that with which we have become comfortable. Father Michael Scanlan also warned us to beware of the "comfort Gospel"--that which fits like an old shoe and no longer challenges us or stretches us. Christianity should be consoling and strengthening, yes, but not comfortable. If we are finding it so, we can be sure that God will soon boot us out of our comfort zone. And so, rather than feeling upset that there is this charismatic/traditionalistic debate, I have become grateful for it. It keeps us on our intellectual toes, makes us rethink our positions and beliefs. And I thank the Concourse for being willing to air these differences, for making us a bit uncomfortable, for challenging us to think, and for allowing us to hear one another clearly.
Judith Bratten
Disappointed with the Concourse I am writing to express my disappointment with a recent issue of the University Concourse. In past issues, you have stated that your goal is to pursue truth and stimulate intellectual debate at Franciscan University. Unfortunately, in reading the two lead articles of your September 18 issue, it appears that you are straying from your purpose: the articles are less of informed intellectual argument and more of emotional and unreflective reaction. In your article on polygamy, you seem to make sweeping generalizations based upon one discussion which you "heard took place." From this one instance, you immediately claim that "there evidently still exist any number of serious Catholic intellectuals (my guess is they are all men)," who would advocate polygamy. Just how do you know, from one discussion, that there are all these men out there arguing for polygamy? It is quite a leap. I have never, nor has anyone else that I have spoken to, heard of anyone arguing for polygamy based upon St. Thomas' precepts of the natural moral law. If you didn't want to let the remarks of these students pass without comment, you ought to have addressed yourself to those who made them, not to the entire readership of the Concourse. This leads me to my second concern, which is that I would think you owed it to your readers to at least research into what Saint Thomas says on this subject. Your self-proclaimed ignorance in this area lessens your credibility in arguing against "these men," and gives the impression that instead of intellectual research, you prefer supposition. Perhaps a bit more research on the natural moral law might have helped you to refute those in the discussion. I also have some concerns with Miss Bratten's article regarding sports. First, although there are quite many abuses of the athletic scholarship system, I do not believe it tends to render the scholarships themselves invalid--which she seems to imply. In fact, there are many financially disadvantaged student athletes with decent grades who would not be able to attend institutions of higher education if it were not for the use of their God-given athletic talent. Second, in regard to her specific experience with the Honors symposium, the conflict she describes does not indicate that "something is rotten" in Steubenville, but rather that there is a mere scheduling conflict between two goods. It is well known that the intramural sports events are scheduled for set times at the beginning of the season. Thus, if there are students involved with both sports and the Honors Symposium, why not schedule the symposium meetings so that they do not conflict with previously scheduled games? It seems that Ms. Bratten wants to jump to a general conclusion based upon her experience. But if someone chooses a Frisbee game "over" an Honors symposium meeting, it does not necessarily mean he is selling out to the sports-god. The point to be grasped in this letter is that these two articles do not encourage serious intellectual debate among students. Instead, they have the effect of decreasing the respect people have for your journal as a serious intellectual forum, and of questioning whether your motives are more emotional than intellectual. I am sure many would agree that you have done and can do much better. I pray and hope you will continue in your noble efforts and more consistently fulfill the stated purpose of your journal.
Steven J. Brust, M.A. Philosophy
Just one last word in my discussion with Mark Fischer on the core curriculum. I think it will be my last, because I do not see much to disagree with in his letter to me in the last issue of the Concourse. In fact I agree with him when he says that in trying to improve the core curriculum we need not disparage what has gone before. In my original piece on the core I was making a point of looking for the deficiencies of the core, just as a doctor at a medical exam is looking for signs of sickness. But it is undoubtedly the case that a great deal of serious learning has taken place within the core; what Mark Fischer tells of himself is surely true of others. I would just say that the core can be made better. It can be revised to give our students more fundamentals and more first principles; it can do better in conveying to them a sense of the unity of all knowledge; it can give them more of the direction that I hear so many of them asking for; it can initiate them more effectively into the heritage of Christian culture. It is clear from our discussion that Mark Fischer and I agree about such potential for growth and improvement. We will surely also agree on this: it is certainly no disparagement of the present core to say that it, after all the dramatic changes that have occurred in the University and in the student body in the 22 years since the core was established, can now be revised and adapted so as to serve our students better.
John F. Crosby, Professor and Chair of Philosophy
Scholarship at Franciscan University Just a few words on scholarship and athletics at the university. In my view, Joanna Bratten's attack on sports as virtually idolatrous was harsher than necessary--particularly at a university where athletics do not pose a serious threat to the academic welfare of the vast majority of students. Still, the failure of those who criticized her position to seriously address the issue of what a university should be in this area (i.e., the area of tension between athletics and academics) brings me to a position of defending Ms. Bratten to a limited extent. Even if sports do not seriously threaten studies here, certainly something does. So far in this discussion, neither side has addressed without personal bias the question of what role athletics should play at a university. Ms. Bratten writes with a bias against athletics because of one particularly unpleasant incident, in which she was personally involved. Those who respond to her article write in defense of a sort of pet interest or favorite pastime that they prefer not be criticized. But the key question still stands: What role do athletics play in the ideal university? As both Maria Ellis and Ivan Ortiz state or imply in their responses of Vol. II, issue 2, and as Ms. Bratten concedes in her article, sports do without doubt have a legitimate place in a university setting. But this is not to say that the current role which athletics play in the life of the average student at the Franciscan University is perfectly unproblematic. One would hope that a student enrolled in the Honors Program would actually want to attend the Symposium, which stands as a sort of celebration of the year's advancement in scholarship. Whether it is required is beside the point; it shouldn't have to be. If scholarship at the University were what it should be, students in the Honors Program would simply attend, even if they didn't want to. They would feel it part of their duty or role as Honors students. To say, as Mr. Ortiz does, that the Honors Symposium is merely another "extracurricular activity...[which] should take no higher importance than any other extracurricular activity, such as intramural sports," is to completely overturn the ideal of the university, which is primarily an academic setting by definition. Ultimately, I would say, even an academic lecture should take precedence over an athletic competition; students should arrange their athletic schedules around their academic schedules and not vice versa. And the amount of time put into academics should by a large margin surpass the amount of time put into athletics or any other extra-curricular activity, and even all such activities added together. Otherwise, what makes a student a student? As to the values gained through intramural sports (e.g., teamwork and respectful competition) which Ms. Ellis cites: these are important, but they should all be already well-ingrained in us; we are, after all, adults. And thus the simple fact remains: sports are fun, and recreation is an important and healthy way to maintain that "tripartite composition of mind, body and soul" of which Mr. Ortiz speaks. But the fact also remains that sports are, in the end, "just games"; and the university is primarily an academic setting. Even the student attending college only through the aid of a football scholarship will, if he seriously wishes to study, place primary emphasis on his academic activities rather than athletic. And this is how the university should be. Before I close, I would like to affirm that I do not find sports to be the "most insidious" threat to academics at Franciscan University. There are serious problems in various other areas and programs, which tend to distract the student from his studies even more than intramural sports do. For example, many students will actually forego the pleasure and duty of competing with their teams in intramural competitions when their studies very obviously demand their time and attention. But how many are equally willing to forego the pleasure or duty of going on a household or other university-sponsored retreat, or even to a household or other meeting? I do not say that no student should ever go on retreat; I myself would not have survived my four years without such spiritual vacations. Neither do I make the sweeping generalization that no student should be involved in clubs, households or other organizations; nor that he should feel free to skip all the meetings. But the many long Saturday hours I spent virtually alone in the library during my undergrad years here proved to me that the average student does not suffer from an over-heavy burden of academics. The problem is more general than simply a tension between academic and athletics; it is a problem of tension between academics and many, many things. And, from my experience of four years here in Steubenville, I would say that all too often the academics lose.
Mary McElwee, Class of '96
On dwarfs, giants and little boys In Issue 2, Michael Waldstein expresses his regret that last semester's debate in the Concourse on the role of St. Thomas as teacher was "dominated by the question whether or to what extent one is free to disagree with him." He points out that given "the Church's recommendation of St. Thomas as the 'doctor communis,' the teacher of all ... the first question should not be 'Must I agree with him?' but 'How can I learn from him?'" Dr. Waldstein is entirely right to urge us all to approach St. Thomas with an attitude of reverent openness and eagerness to learn. And I share, to some extent, his regret about the focus of the debate so far. But there is an important reason why it has been dominated by the question "Must I agree with him?" which, judging from his article, I'm not sure Dr. Waldstein fully appreciates. I think it is this: much of the devotion found in orthodox Catholic universities to St. Thomas as teacher is infected by something like a misplaced or excessive modesty, which not only undermines our intellectual well-being in general, but prevents us from being able to truly learn from Thomas. Let me try to explain what I mean. Many students and teachers take the Church's recommendation of St. Thomas as meaning that we should trust him to be generally right (especially with respect to fundamental principles), and that if a certain teaching of his fails to convince us or seems false, we should humbly assume that we have not yet properly understood him. We should admit that our minds are infinitely inferior to Thomas' and that he knows better than we do. Their point is not that Thomas is infallible--that would be heretical--but that his mind is so much greater and deeper than ours that we are in no position to criticize him. In practice this means we never disagree with Thomas, except in the few places where his conclusions clearly contradict Church teaching.(1) This not always explicit, but rather widespread way of thinking is attractive because it seems so humble. But the problem with it is that, in stressing the greatness of Aquinas, we make our own minds so insignificant that they can do nothing but 'float' (to put it perhaps a bit too strongly) in his thought. We lose confidence in our ability to think independently, and thereby cut ourselves off from truth--including the truth to be found in Thomas. We may be able to think the same thoughts as Aquinas, but we cannot know them as true. If we are in no position to criticize his thought, then neither are we in a position to evaluate it and hold it as true. Thus, it seems to me that the frequent insistence on our freedom to disagree with Thomas is not so much an attempt to assert our autonomy and intellectual rights (though it is that too), as it is an attempt to safeguard our relation to truth itself. Let me draw an analogy with the moral life. We are all aware that to be morally mature, our actions and choices must be our own. We cannot hand our consciences over to someone else, no matter how much holier he is than we. We may well be tempted to do this from time to time; it would be easy and seem humble, to say to another: "You are so much wiser than I am; you decide and just tell me what to do." But it would be wrong to do this. If we do not act out of our own consciences, we do not act morally well. It goes without saying that we should imitate the example of the saints and turn to wise men for advice, but if, in the end, we do not "stand on our own two feet," we condemn ourselves to moral backwardness and immaturity. The same is true intellectually. We must learn to relate to Thomas, not in a servile way, but as his fellow-laborers in the search for truth. Now, I know Dr. Waldstein well enough to know that he would be among the first to acknowledge the centrality of truth in the intellectual realm, and the need for it to be individually appropriated. But, in my opinion, his article is likely to aggravate the problem I have tried to describe and force the debate exactly in the direction he knows it should not go. The fact, for instance, that he presents St. Thomas' third argument for monogamy (aware that this was just the sort of argument my wife's article had rejected) without any critical commentary on it or any attempt to justify it to her and other readers of the Concourse, leaves the impression that to have stated Thomas' opinions and arguments is enough to have settled the problem. Even worse, I think, is his use of the analogy of "a boy sitting on his mother's lap as she traces the letters in the primer" to indicate our relation to the great thinkers of the past. This analogy leaves no room for exactly the kind of "critical independence" which I think is so necessary for a genuine, personal appropriation of truth. I personally much prefer the dwarfs on giants' shoulders analogy (which Dr. Waldstein seems not to like very much). It expresses our awareness of the great teachers' superiority over us and the debt of gratitude we owe them for most of our knowledge and understanding, and at the same time, makes clear that we view the same reality they viewed, through our own eyes.
Jules van Schaijik,Class of '89
Having known Katie van Schaijik for some time, I can understand her concern over any indication of chauvinism in Catholic academia. I also remember that during conversations with her over coffee she rarely paused to drink. Nevertheless, it is evident that a more in-depth reading of St. Thomas Aquinas is needed in order for us to be able understand the nature of marriage and spousal relations. After all, how would it be possible to attain "more depth and completeness" in our understanding of these mysteries without Thomas? The issue here is the Church's understanding of polygamy and marriage. Polygamy (in both its forms) is forbidden according to the moral law of the Church. But there is a weak case to be made for polygyny in natural law, which goes as follows: It is critical for a child's self-identity to know who his parents are. Therefore, the practice of polyandry is unthinkable as "man naturally desires to know his offspring, and this knowledge would be completely destroyed if there were several males for one female. Therefore, that one female is for one male is a consequence of natural instinct." (Summa Contra Gentiles III. 124.1) In the practice of polyandry there is no certainty of family relations as the woman has sexual relations with numerous men. Simply put, according to Thomas, polygyny does not directly conflict with natural law because in it the child knows who his parents are. However, this is not where Thomas' discussion of marriage ends. Relying on Aristotle, Thomas speaks of the need for friendship within the marriage covenant. Polygyny debases women because there is no opportunity for friendship. Friendship demands equality, and "the greater that friendship is, the more long lasting it will be, [and] there seems to be the greatest friendship between husband and wife." (SCG III. 123.6) An unfortunate type of abandonment takes place in a polygynous environment. A covenant of love is eradicated for the utility of a contract involving the breeding of offspring. If this were the precedent for marriage, then there could be no real friendship, and no effectual love for children coming from a plurality of wives. The wife (wives) would then be relegated to a position of servitude. (SCG III 124.4) Throughout Church history the love of God for his people has consistently been in reference to the marriage of one man and one woman. Ephesians 5: 24-32 speaks of this and, indeed, the analogy is widely used in the Old Testament, as in Hosea and the Song of Songs. Holy Mother Church holds steadfast to the sanctity of marriage and has done so from its creation. Our Faith wrapped in the warmth of its living tradition edifies and uplifts both the man and the woman in a marriage covenant. When the dignity of one spouse is gone, the unity of husband and wife suffers. This could hardly be contrived as chauvinism. St. Thomas Aquinas knew this because he studied nature, Scripture and the traditions of Holy Mother Church.
Eric M. Weldon
© The University Concourse, October 16, 1996 |
