by James F. Keenan, S.J.

On the front page of The Boston Globe I recently found an example of the worst kind of moral argument. It quoted a retired army colonel predicting that to curb a commander’s ability to investigate gay behavior would “devastate cohesion, morale and trust.” This argument against changing policy because it would undermine authority is a commonplace.

Though we can find examples of it any day in any newspaper, most of us are unaware of its name, the frequency with which it is used and the great obstacles it presents to ordinary moral reasoning. This article addresses these three points.

Slippery slope arguments, as they are called, are not just invoked in newspapers. We first encounter them during childhood. To understand, then, why they are so called, let me return to childhood and reflect on encounters between parents and their firstborn children.

We (yes, I’m one) would wait as Mom and Dad stood atop the slippery slope and resisted yet again giving us permission to use the car, to stay out later, to go to the party, to hang out with those friends, to take that particular trip, to see that new movie. Other parents gave in to their children, but our Mom and Dad hesitated and regularly refused. Mom and Dad thought it better to err by being cautious than by leniency. We thought otherwise: Mom and Dad worry too much, won’t let us grow up.

Faced with sanctioning our request, my parents feared sliding down the slippery slope of permissiveness and so stood their ground. If they yielded on this occasion, what, after all, could brake their descent? What argument would they have for saying “no” next time? Permissive parents, they knew, slid rapidly through leniency into laxity, finally crossing at breakneck speed the finish line of irresponsibility and recklessness. They knew, too, that my metamorphosis from innocent to wanton depended on their own sure-footedness; but, lacking experience, they trusted the solid ground more than their own untested deftness on the perilous slope.

One, two or three children later, Mom and Dad learned to negotiate the field of permissions and found a moderate course of trust and accountability, of give-and-take. One sibling after another “got away with murder.” We firstborns were convinced of one thing: Mom and Dad went down the slippery slope after all!

Despite the fact that the slippery slope argument is rooted in profound self-doubt, betrays a lack of experience and depicts the future as unavoidably worse than the present, it gets invoked more often than any other form of moral argument. It is cited more frequently than the principles of double effect, material cooperation or toleration, certainly more than “the lesser of two evils” and more than the principles of justice or the common good and probably as much as “the greater good” or the principle of utility. It enjoys great popularity.

Consider the recent round of debates: Concerning the television networks’ proposal to forewarn viewers of violence, the overwhelming reaction from the media was, “Where could this lead? If we issue warnings now, we will have censorship tomorrow. If we voluntarily set limits today, someone else will impose them next year. We have curtailed and threatened artistic expression more than it can stand.” In the midst of these dire predictions driven by alarm over control, few words were uttered by the networks about the amount of violence on television.

Likewise, the military argued against permitting gays in their ranks. A high-level officer fears for his son’s wellbeing. Other officers predict that their soldiers will willfully disregard their orders and threaten to harm, or even murder, their gay colleagues. Others fear taking showers, sleeping in bunks or going to the latrine. Here we have (mostly) men capable of policing the most dangerously destabilized areas of the world predicting a collapse into lawlessness of arguably the most sophisticated military ever to have served in human history. Whether, all things being equal, gays ought to be in the military is really not debated. Impending chaos becomes the issue-a clear example of the slippery slope.
Against the abortion lobby, any moderate attempts to legislate a 24-hour waiting period, a test for viability in a late pregnancy or parental permission for minors have often met slippery slope arguments. Harvard law professor Mary Ann Glendon observes that while many Western European countries have legislated these same measures, the United States, with the most liberal abortion pOlicy in the entire industrial world, remains firm against any modification of Roe v. Wade. These measures, then, are not really the issue. Rather, they are perceived as steps onto a steep chute away from Roe v. Wade.

Finally, like pro-choicers, pro-lifers have long resorted to the slippery slope, and from distant peaks both have so pitched the debate that little ground has been gained (or lost) regarding fetal rights. Can the fetus, or even the embryo, be regarded as a patient, as in many pregnancies both parents and physicians regard them? Some political scientists, like Andrea Bonnicksen, see this as a clear descent onto the slippery slope. She wrote recently: “The embryo as patient runs the danger of personalizing the embryo and further confusing the question of the beginnings of life. It also sets the stage for elevating the embryo to the status of an entity with rights. This restricts experimental protocols and defines the embryo as ill or needy, which in turn creates a new set of medical ‘needs’ for embryo therapy” (“Genetic Diagnosis of Human Embryos,” Hastings Center Report 22.4, [1992] S5-S II). The question about whether the embryo is entitled to patient rights has grave and problematic consequences. Like other users of the slippery slope, this writer wants to scare proponents away from entertaining the question in the first place.

Mom and Dad, the military, pro-lifers, pro-choicers, the media, researchers and a host of others use the slippery slope argument to frighten the opposition. Surprisingly, despite the extraordinary frequency with which it is used, it is usually not successful, simply because those against whom it is used are rarely persuaded by it. Our suspicion of it is rooted in childhood insights: When parents used it, we knew that they would not allow reasonable discussion. Had we known the word, we would have described their position as simply “intransigent.”

We find the slippery slope argument implausible when used against us, but ironically we use it against others as much as anyone else does. When we do, it reveals as much about us as it did about our parents. First, when we use the slippery slope argument we are putting ourselves on high moral ground. Those making a contrary proposal approach us from a lower vantage point. The only people with whom we see eye to eye are those who share the same ground. Convinced that our position is, from our viewpoint, patently self-evident, we talk among ourselves reassuringly.

As Mom and Dad commiserated with one another, so too do the military officers about the gays, the television producers about the censorious parents, the pro-choicers about the pro-lifers. Reinforced by these closed discussions, we view the counter-proposal’s proponents from above, and our act of engagement with them becomes an act of condescension. The proponents, of course, are not necessarily bad or immoral people. They just “don’t understand.” As Mom and Dad responded “Because” when asked “But why?” we likewise assume that our opponents cannot see the manifest merits of our position. Thus, instead of explaining, we predict and take on an air of wizardry in our stance, tone and words.

Second, the proposal’s proponents are often either subordinates or simply outside the field. Not being parents, researchers, television producers, military officers or lobbyists, they lack competence. From that vantage point their proposals appear intrusive. The new proposal is being raised by someone other than the normal rule-makers. They want change in our home, in our military, at our networks, at our research labs, places we run. If the proposal’s proponents find those in authority intransigent, those in authority find the proponents impertinent.

Third, the central threat we perceive is the loss of authority. Our bottom-line fear is not that we will fall into the muck and mire of unethical conduct, but that we will no longer be king (or queen) of the hill. Were we to lose our authority, who would be in charge? Our opponents do not have the training, experience or discretion that we have. Their apparent lack of good judgment and their evident inability to appreciate the demands of leadership make them, in our eyes, incapable of governing. Just what do they know, after all, about embryos, the military or programming? We use the slippery slope argument, then, because we believe that the proponents are unable to see what we do: Their proposal does not simply change a rule, it changes the way we govern.

Fourth, we really do not believe that, given the full picture, our opponents’ interests are that important. The researcher on embryos is interested in curing Alzheimer’s or helping couples become parents; the military wants order and efficiency to carry out its dangerous mission; the pro-choice advocates want to protect against any possibility that women will be treated as objects again; the networks want to depict life as it is–never again “Donna Reed” or “Father Knows Best.” Therefore, embryo rights, gay rights, parental consent, viewer warnings are all more trouble than they’re worth.

Fifth, as Americans we value our individual liberties and we resent any encroachment on the exercise of our prerogatives and responsibilities. Nor will we tolerate bullying. Just as Mom’s and Dad’s “Because” is sometimes no more than an exasperated response to an ever-insistent firstborn, similarly our slippery slope is sometimes no more than an equally tired reaction to constant, willful challenge. In a word, we believe we are entitled to be intolerant and unreasonable when beleaguered.

Sixth, when using the slippery slope argument, we reveal what we cannot ourselves see: The proposal is raised by proponents who see things otherwise. Like the firstborn who believes that it is time for a change, other proponents see the need for new rules precisely because the rule-makers themselves do not. Thus, while those making the proposals do not have the experience of leadership within the field that they are seeking to reform, they do have the experience that prompts their call for’ reform. They are adolescents who want greater freedom, they are parents whose children have too much access to violence on television, they are people who see the fetus as more than a threat to privacy, they are gays tired of being intimidated and compromised .

The slippery slope argument is used by those with power against those seeking reform. At its core it is an authoritarian device designed to dismiss reformers’ proposals as dangerously intrusive into daily operations. It forestalls any discussion and basically operates on the presumption that the only significance the proposal has is the degree of authority it can undermine. Moreover, those who advance the slippery slope argument never consider the reformers as equals. On the contrary, the reformers are children, subordinates, outsiders, uninformed. This stance often engenders an equally hostile response from the reformers who have been stonewalled out of the deliberative process. But, perched above the reformers, those who advance the argument simply repeat their utterances about “the view from here.” That they have missed an opportunity to lead often goes unnoticed. Worse, their intransigence prompts the reformers to abandon any recognition of those in power as having authority.

Good thinkers and leaders often abandon the slippery slope argument and search out a context for discussion. Parents, as noted above, may initially meet their child’s innovative requests with some fear and reluctance. They typically invoke the slippery slope argument to forestall such discussion. Eventually, however, most parents begin to recognize their child as less a subordinate asking for change and more a person growing into responsible self-governing conduct. They may also admit their fear of a loss of authority or of unforeseen consequences. As the occasion for discussion, slippery slope language provides parents with an opportunity to share adult concerns with a growing child.

Likewise, medical ethicists and researchers often ask whether genetics will take us down the slippery slope. The slippery slope enables us to entertain two issues simultaneously. First, what may we reasonably anticipate as the consequences of this course of action? What will we do, for instance, after experimentation on sick people? Will we experiment on our reproductive cells and, in tum, on our progeny? Will we experiment for cosmetic, as well as health-related, reasons? Second, once we engage this course of action, what type of authority will we have to exercise control over our choices? As we begin genetics, will we become so enamored of the engineering that we will be unable to place limits on its use? Will we aHow the wealthy such access to genetics that only they wiJI benefit from it? Thus, the slippery slope language allows us to speculate about consequences and to articulate our fears about the extent of our authority in the future.
The of slippery slope language as an occasion for deliberation differs from its more frequent argumentative use. Rather than being used against a proposal, this language is used precisely to entertain the proposal by anticipating difficult consequences. Second, descriptive language is used to encourage advancement of the argument, rather than to engender fear. When slippery slope language is not used as an argument, it occasions step-taking. Its tone, moreover, is completely modest. Rather than predicting unavoidable disaster if the course of action is taken, it notes the difficulty of forecasting the future and sees its cautions as provisional. In turn, the steps it recommends are equally modest. Alert to possible dangers, this modesty drives the entire inquiry. Moreover, uncertain about the future but believing steps can and ought to be taken, it seeks a variety of advisers and therefore broadens the context for discussion rather than restrict it. Finally, fostering dialogue, it displays within its leadership considerable self-confidence. This leadership promotes the tolerant exchange of proposals precisely by assuming that its own viewpoint is not all encompassing.

Our parents gave up the slippery slope as an argument and instead faced it as a real concern. Could they trust us with responsibility? Would we adhere to the new rules? Would we continue to recognize their authority? Instead of using the slippery slope argument, they developed the habit of talking to us, their children, on a new level, a level occasioned by our requests. In that they taught us then, and again today, that ignoring others remains the worst moral alternative. Moreover, they instilled in us the guideline that those who will be affected by decisions ought to be brought into deliberations whenever possible. Finally, they taught us that dialogue between people of varying ages, competencies and interests can be considerably successful. Through these lessons, they helped us to see how true it is that models for right moral reasoning are found first and foremost in the experienced judgments of parents.

James F. Keenan, S.J., is a professor of theological ethics at Boston College

By Fr. Ryan Maher S.J.

I LOVE BEING A JESUIT. ONE OF THE greatest joys of Jesuit life is that in joining the project of my life to the project of the Society of Jesus and its mission in service of the Church and the world, I have lived and worked with some truly remarkable men.

This weekend I found myself reflecting on my experiences and why I love being a Jesuit.

The answer is complicated, but it comes down to passion, especially the sort of passion that manifests itself in a bred-in-the-bone love of teaching.

All Jesuits, in one way or another, are teachers. Teaching is a natural “vocation within a vocation” for us because of the experience of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola that undergirds everything we do and informs the imagination out of which we do it. In the Exercises, Ignatius provides a framework that enables us to discover that the spirit of God is active and laboring in every human life, whether people realize it or not. The Church asks Jesuits to help people realize exactly that and, further, the Church asks Jesuits to find ever more effective ways of inviting people, especially young people, to cooperate more fully in the grace-fueled project of their own lives.

That Ignatian two-step – helping people recognize reality with a capital “R” and inviting them to choose to cooperate with it – is what Jesuits do. That’s why our guts call us to go where people are asking tough, smart questions about themselves, God, the world and what really matters. That’s why the order gravitated so early and so easily to work among young people in schools. We came to that challenge with a particular way of proceeding, one born of great confidence in the power of the Spirit and steely-eyed trust in the ability of an honestly searching human heart and intellect to grow in understanding and trust to the point of being ready and willing to be grasped by God.

That’s why we’ve always been more concerned with coaxing people to ask the right questions than with trying to force them to memorize the right answers. We know that real learning takes time, sometimes a very long time. We understand our work in education in a strategic and optimistic way because we know that life is messy but good, that truth is elusive but knowable, that people learn by trial and error, and that God is very patient.

What happens in our classrooms will bear fruit (or not) decades and decades from now in the lives our students will choose to live. Ultimately, our success will be assessed not by some metric that can be displayed on a spreadsheet, but in the content and quality of the conversations that will take place between our alumni and their Creator before the judgment seat of God at the end of history. We believe that what we do at Georgetown can influence and inform those conversations. So Jesuits teach. So Jesuits love teaching.

I have been reminded of that mission and that love several times over the course of the past month or so by some conversations I have had with various Jesuits I have bumped into at the coffee urn or in their rooms or at the dinner table. For some reason, in each of these conversations the topic of teaching came up. Not some abstract theory of teaching, but the actual human undertaking of a professor standing up in front of a group of intelligent young people and asking, “OK, so what do you think of this?” and then engaging wholeheartedly in whatever happens next.
I wish I could describe for you the energy that rises, the glint that comes to the eyes of men like Rick Curry, David Collins, Ron Murphy, Matt Carnes, Mark Henninger and Jim Schall when you ask them, as I have, about their teaching, about their interaction with students in the classroom, about their vocation as teachers. It’s the stuff of Jesuit legend, and even after all these years in Jesuit schools, it still quickens my pulse and stirs in me a love of my Jesuit vocation.

We Jesuits are teachers, and we have been blessed with the stunning invitation to help young people wrestle with the most important subject matter there is, whatever our particular discipline. We’re teachers of Humanity 101, and there just isn’t any better or more important job than that on the planet. At least that’s how this Jesuit sees it.

Fr. Ryan Maher, S.J. is an associate dean and director of Catholic Studies in the College. He can be reached at [email protected]. AS THIS JESUIT SEES IT . . . appears every other Tuesday with Fr. Schall, Fr. Maher and Fr. O’Brien alternating as writers.

Theologians and other scholars respond to Cathleen Kaveny

In her article “Catholics as Citizens” (11/1), M. Cathleen Kaveny calls for new moral thinking to address the complex ethical dilemmas facing Catholics today.

Kaveny argues that the moral theological category of “cooperation with evil” is insufficient to address questions such as whether Catholics can vote for a pro-choice politician or shop in a big-box store if some of the products are made in sweatshops. In such an environment it is necessary to “develop new ways of analyzing the involvement of individuals in systemic structures of complicity.” America asked Lisa Sowle Cahill, John A. Coleman, S.J., and Lisa Fullamto address these and other issues raised by Professor Kaveny’s article.

The Power of One

“Theoretical principles and ideal or absolute values are not enough to set the moral rules.”

Lisa Sowle Cahill

Cathleen Kaveny helps us recognize a basic fact about moral agency: individuals are always embedded in historical, cultural and social collectivities, networks, and patterns of action. The “aggregated agency” and “currents of action” in which we participate sometimes dilute or diminish the results of our personal decisions. Yet they also give our decisions power to reach across time and space, affecting an indefinite number of other people and social realities. The traditional principles of moral theology (such as double effect, direct and indirect intention, and cooperation) are not adequate to define what moral responsibility requires in the face of these new or at least newly recognized developments.

The idea, for example, that indirect causation of evil is inherently less wrong than direct causation becomes problematic once we recognize that all social causation is necessarily indirect as far as the individual is concerned; but it is precisely participation in social collectivities or movements that magnifies and extends the power of one.

One factor that needs greater attention in analyzing the morality of collective behavior is the importance of firm grounding in reliable factual evidence about actual and likely outcomes. Theoretical principles (double effect, cooperation) and ideal or “absolute” values (unborn life, women’s well-being) are not enough to set the moral rules. To understand what “incentives and pressures” social agents are likely to produce or reinforce by their policies and behavior requires data from the social sciences, for example.

It is interesting to apply the criterion of substantiated social prediction to the behavior of “the church” itself as a collective social agent, or constellation of such agents. (These include the Vatican, bishops’ conferences, religious orders, entities in Catholic education, the Catholic Health Association and other Catholic-affiliated organizations.) On abortion, for example, there is good evidence that illegality of abortion in any given nation does not correlate with prevalence of abortion; and domestically, studies have shown abortion rates decline in states where social services for pregnant women (like health care) are more generous. Moreover, polling data from the Pew Center shows that Catholics who oppose health care reform are much less concerned about abortion than they are fearful of government control and expense, and anxious that their own health care not suffer when benefits are extended more widely.

In their recent book, American Grace, social scientists Robert Putnam and David Campbell argue that the increasing identification of organized religion with conservative politics is causing increasing disaffection among young adults. Beyond being ineffectual, do Catholic abortion politics create a huge distraction from the message of just access to health care, and tacitly validate voters who want to protect their own coverage but not pay for others, while actually scandalizing young people who are still idealistic enough to care about social justice? Such consequences cannot be dismissed as merely indirect or remote cooperation in outcomes that Catholic agents do not want.

Kaveny is absolutely right that we are morally responsible for the coordinated action we take or fail to take, and that social agency should not be eclipsed by personal moral absolutes. We also don’t have to choose between being a pilgrim or a prophet. It is a matter of when to engage in either mode, and on the basis of what evidence and to what probable effect.

Lisa Sowle Cahill is a professor of theology at Boston College and the author of many books, including Sex, Gender and Christian Ethics.

Traditionally Catholic

“Catholics should not be, lightly, called to heroic and exceedingly costly virtue.“

John A. Coleman, S.J.

Cathleen Kaveny has done us all a notable service in recalling very traditional Catholic moral theology about direct versus indirect (or more remote) material cooperation with evil. She notes that new social conditions, and a society increasingly based on networking, shifts but does not wipe out these distinctions.

Kaveny’ s example of the taxi driver taking drunks to the Los Vegas strip reminded me that when I was taught these moral distinctions 45 years ago by Joseph Farraher S.J. Farraher enjoyed a reputation as a relatively strict or conservative moral theologian. Yet he once said in class that a taxi driver asked to drive someone to a place where abortions might be performed was, certainly, as such, not subject to excommunication for doing so. He claimed it was remote cooperation in evil. (Farraher was fiercely opposed to abortion.)

Kaveney’s distinction between pilgrims and prophets also resonate with me, as does her evoking of alternative forms of protest, such as boycotts. I remember during the Vietnam War (which I judged an immoral war and thus returned my draft card), I withheld in protest a phone tax, levied to support the war, from my phone bill each month. Though the phone company continued to provide my landline, periodically the government seized the equivalent of the tax from my bank account. I did not, at that time, assume my many friends who paid the tax were, ipso facto, directly cooperating in evil.

Ordinarily, I have always thought Catholics should not be, lightly, called to “heroic” and “exceedingly costly” virtue. Thomas Aquinas teaches something similar. Sometimes, of course, such virtue is demanded of us. Even the “prophet,” however, remains a “pilgrim” in many areas of his or her life. Again, Kaveny helps us to gauge or ask how “seemingly” virtuous or well-meant actions can carry counterintuitive consequences. While Catholic moral theology is not consequentialist, traditional Catholic casuistry always demanded that we weigh-as best we can-the likely consequences, before we take action.

John A. Coleman, S.J., is a sociologist and assistant pastor at St. Ignatius Church in San Francisco, Calif.

Giving Scandal

“Yet opposite scandal is still scandal-it still leads people to a misunderstanding of moral truth.“

Lisa Fullam

Cathleen Kaveny’s essay raises urgent questions about individual responsibility in the face of structural evil. She points out the shortcomings of cooperation in addressing complex moral, social and political problems. I want to expand on another bad side-effect of over-reliance on cooperation: over-emphasis on scandal.

As Kaveny states, one of the questions we ask in deciding whether to cooperate in another’s evil act is whether it will cause scandal. In general, people who are cooperating in evil should do so in a way that minimizes scandal. Scandal is, literally, a stumbling block: in morals it means an act or moral stance that might lead others to sin by confusing them about moral truth. To cooperate materially might lead others to wonder if formal cooperation-agreeing with the evil act-is OK.

Scandal is over-emphasized when the risk of scandal seems to decide the issue at hand, rather than taking its proper place fairly far down the “decision tree.” A current example is the question of the use of condoms by married couples, one of whom is H.I.V.-positive, to prevent infection of the seronegative spouse. On its face, it seems like a fairly clear case of double effect: one act produces two effects at equal causal “distance” from the original act. Here, using a condom in marital intercourse has the good effect of preventing infection, and the bad effect (under Catholic teaching) of acting as a contraceptive agent. In double effect, we ask, among other things, whether the good effect outweighs the bad effect-in this case, surely it does. For an H.I.V.-positive person to risk the health of his or her partner threatens not only the partner’s life, but, in many cases, the security of their children. Some describe advocacy of condom use in such situations as impermissible on grounds of scandal. Since condoms are a contraceptive device, people might think that church support for condom use in disease prevention means that the magisterium has moderated its stance against artificial contraception. A clear case of double effect is thereby reversed by concern for scandal.

Scandal, however, is always a double-edged sword. Those who oppose condom use in such couples on grounds of scandal court the opposite scandal. People might think-surely incorrectly-that the church is more concerned with sustaining its public stance on contraception than it is about the welfare of people in danger of H.I.V. infection. A similar situation arises when some say that voting for a pro-choice candidate is unacceptable under any circumstances on grounds of scandal. The scandal is that some might infer support for pro-choice policies; the opposite scandal is that some might infer-surely incorrectly, according to magisterial texts like the voter guide “Faithful Citizenship”-that abortion is the only important moral issue.

This is germane to Dr. Kaveny’s excellent distinction between prophets and pilgrims. Prophets, in their zeal for clarity of message, generally disregard “opposite scandal.” They set up stumbling blocks when any hint of contact with an evil act or stance is possible, no matter how distant from the original act, or how dire the effects.

Yet opposite scandal is still scandal-it still leads people to a misunderstanding of moral truth, generally by refusing to grant moral weight to the real complexity of our lives, individually and socially. Ignoring opposite scandal too often leads prophets to imply that Christian faith requires keeping one’s own hands completely clean of any involvement in morally messy situations. Jesus, however, seemed to wade into morally messy situations by, for example, getting a woman caught in adultery off the hook for a capital crime; inviting women, including healed demoniacs, into his inner circle; healing people with non-urgent troubles (like the man with the withered hand) on the Sabbath; receiving the ministrations of women of imperfect virtue; speaking of Samaritan heretics as moral examplars; and generally not seeming to care about the sinfulness or virtue of those who would follow him, so long as they would throw their hearts into the hard work of preaching the Good News and building the Kingdom. There is a role for prophetic zeal and clarity of message in the church; but it must not undermine that work of bringing about the Kingdom that is our most basic task as followers of the Lord.

Pilgrims, on the other hand, seek to navigate the road as well as we can, wary of all stumbling blocks. Pilgrims know that while it is important to note risk of scandal and to act in ways to counteract it, the route to the kingdom leads inevitably through complex and rock-strewn moral territory. And pilgrims know that an argument that stands or falls on risk of scandal alone is generally a weak argument, hinging as it does on asserting the lack of knowledge or discernment of those who would be scandalized. Better that we all talk together as we walk the pilgrim way, helping each other to grow in wisdom, not afraid to risk scandal, lest we stumble and fail in love.

Lisa Fullam is associate professor of moral theology at the Jesuit School of Theology of Santa Clara University at Berkeley.

Theologians and other scholars respond to Cathleen Kaveny

In her article “Catholics as Citizens” (11/1), M. Cathleen Kaveny calls for new moral thinking to address the complex ethical dilemmas facing Catholics today.

Kaveny argues that the moral theological category of “cooperation with evil” is insufficient to address questions such as whether Catholics can vote for a pro-choice politician or shop in a big-box store if some of the products are made in sweatshops. In such an environment it is necessary to “develop new ways of analyzing the involvement of individuals in systemic structures of complicity.” America asked Lisa Sowle Cahill, John A. Coleman, S.J., and Lisa Fullamto address these and other issues raised by Professor Kaveny’s article.

The Power of One

“Theoretical principles and ideal or absolute values are not enough to set the moral rules.”

Lisa Sowle Cahill

Cathleen Kaveny helps us recognize a basic fact about moral agency: individuals are always embedded in historical, cultural and social collectivities, networks, and patterns of action. The “aggregated agency” and “currents of action” in which we participate sometimes dilute or diminish the results of our personal decisions. Yet they also give our decisions power to reach across time and space, affecting an indefinite number of other people and social realities. The traditional principles of moral theology (such as double effect, direct and indirect intention, and cooperation) are not adequate to define what moral responsibility requires in the face of these new or at least newly recognized developments.

The idea, for example, that indirect causation of evil is inherently less wrong than direct causation becomes problematic once we recognize that all social causation is necessarily indirect as far as the individual is concerned; but it is precisely participation in social collectivities or movements that magnifies and extends the power of one.

One factor that needs greater attention in analyzing the morality of collective behavior is the importance of firm grounding in reliable factual evidence about actual and likely outcomes. Theoretical principles (double effect, cooperation) and ideal or “absolute” values (unborn life, women’s well-being) are not enough to set the moral rules. To understand what “incentives and pressures” social agents are likely to produce or reinforce by their policies and behavior requires data from the social sciences, for example.

It is interesting to apply the criterion of substantiated social prediction to the behavior of “the church” itself as a collective social agent, or constellation of such agents. (These include the Vatican, bishops’ conferences, religious orders, entities in Catholic education, the Catholic Health Association and other Catholic-affiliated organizations.) On abortion, for example, there is good evidence that illegality of abortion in any given nation does not correlate with prevalence of abortion; and domestically, studies have shown abortion rates decline in states where social services for pregnant women (like health care) are more generous. Moreover, polling data from the Pew Center shows that Catholics who oppose health care reform are much less concerned about abortion than they are fearful of government control and expense, and anxious that their own health care not suffer when benefits are extended more widely.

In their recent book, American Grace, social scientists Robert Putnam and David Campbell argue that the increasing identification of organized religion with conservative politics is causing increasing disaffection among young adults. Beyond being ineffectual, do Catholic abortion politics create a huge distraction from the message of just access to health care, and tacitly validate voters who want to protect their own coverage but not pay for others, while actually scandalizing young people who are still idealistic enough to care about social justice? Such consequences cannot be dismissed as merely indirect or remote cooperation in outcomes that Catholic agents do not want.

Kaveny is absolutely right that we are morally responsible for the coordinated action we take or fail to take, and that social agency should not be eclipsed by personal moral absolutes. We also don’t have to choose between being a pilgrim or a prophet. It is a matter of when to engage in either mode, and on the basis of what evidence and to what probable effect.

Lisa Sowle Cahill is a professor of theology at Boston College and the author of many books, including Sex, Gender and Christian Ethics.

Traditionally Catholic

“Catholics should not be, lightly, called to heroic and exceedingly costly virtue.“

John A. Coleman, S.J.

Cathleen Kaveny has done us all a notable service in recalling very traditional Catholic moral theology about direct versus indirect (or more remote) material cooperation with evil. She notes that new social conditions, and a society increasingly based on networking, shifts but does not wipe out these distinctions.

Kaveny’ s example of the taxi driver taking drunks to the Los Vegas strip reminded me that when I was taught these moral distinctions 45 years ago by Joseph Farraher S.J. Farraher enjoyed a reputation as a relatively strict or conservative moral theologian. Yet he once said in class that a taxi driver asked to drive someone to a place where abortions might be performed was, certainly, as such, not subject to excommunication for doing so. He claimed it was remote cooperation in evil. (Farraher was fiercely opposed to abortion.)

Kaveney’s distinction between pilgrims and prophets also resonate with me, as does her evoking of alternative forms of protest, such as boycotts. I remember during the Vietnam War (which I judged an immoral war and thus returned my draft card), I withheld in protest a phone tax, levied to support the war, from my phone bill each month. Though the phone company continued to provide my landline, periodically the government seized the equivalent of the tax from my bank account. I did not, at that time, assume my many friends who paid the tax were, ipso facto, directly cooperating in evil.

Ordinarily, I have always thought Catholics should not be, lightly, called to “heroic” and “exceedingly costly” virtue. Thomas Aquinas teaches something similar. Sometimes, of course, such virtue is demanded of us. Even the “prophet,” however, remains a “pilgrim” in many areas of his or her life. Again, Kaveny helps us to gauge or ask how “seemingly” virtuous or well-meant actions can carry counterintuitive consequences. While Catholic moral theology is not consequentialist, traditional Catholic casuistry always demanded that we weigh-as best we can-the likely consequences, before we take action.

John A. Coleman, S.J., is a sociologist and assistant pastor at St. Ignatius Church in San Francisco, Calif.

Giving Scandal

“Yet opposite scandal is still scandal-it still leads people to a misunderstanding of moral truth.“

Lisa Fullam

Cathleen Kaveny’s essay raises urgent questions about individual responsibility in the face of structural evil. She points out the shortcomings of cooperation in addressing complex moral, social and political problems. I want to expand on another bad side-effect of over-reliance on cooperation: over-emphasis on scandal.

As Kaveny states, one of the questions we ask in deciding whether to cooperate in another’s evil act is whether it will cause scandal. In general, people who are cooperating in evil should do so in a way that minimizes scandal. Scandal is, literally, a stumbling block: in morals it means an act or moral stance that might lead others to sin by confusing them about moral truth. To cooperate materially might lead others to wonder if formal cooperation-agreeing with the evil act-is OK.

Scandal is over-emphasized when the risk of scandal seems to decide the issue at hand, rather than taking its proper place fairly far down the “decision tree.” A current example is the question of the use of condoms by married couples, one of whom is H.I.V.-positive, to prevent infection of the seronegative spouse. On its face, it seems like a fairly clear case of double effect: one act produces two effects at equal causal “distance” from the original act. Here, using a condom in marital intercourse has the good effect of preventing infection, and the bad effect (under Catholic teaching) of acting as a contraceptive agent. In double effect, we ask, among other things, whether the good effect outweighs the bad effect-in this case, surely it does. For an H.I.V.-positive person to risk the health of his or her partner threatens not only the partner’s life, but, in many cases, the security of their children. Some describe advocacy of condom use in such situations as impermissible on grounds of scandal. Since condoms are a contraceptive device, people might think that church support for condom use in disease prevention means that the magisterium has moderated its stance against artificial contraception. A clear case of double effect is thereby reversed by concern for scandal.

Scandal, however, is always a double-edged sword. Those who oppose condom use in such couples on grounds of scandal court the opposite scandal. People might think-surely incorrectly-that the church is more concerned with sustaining its public stance on contraception than it is about the welfare of people in danger of H.I.V. infection. A similar situation arises when some say that voting for a pro-choice candidate is unacceptable under any circumstances on grounds of scandal. The scandal is that some might infer support for pro-choice policies; the opposite scandal is that some might infer-surely incorrectly, according to magisterial texts like the voter guide “Faithful Citizenship”-that abortion is the only important moral issue.

This is germane to Dr. Kaveny’s excellent distinction between prophets and pilgrims. Prophets, in their zeal for clarity of message, generally disregard “opposite scandal.” They set up stumbling blocks when any hint of contact with an evil act or stance is possible, no matter how distant from the original act, or how dire the effects.

Yet opposite scandal is still scandal-it still leads people to a misunderstanding of moral truth, generally by refusing to grant moral weight to the real complexity of our lives, individually and socially. Ignoring opposite scandal too often leads prophets to imply that Christian faith requires keeping one’s own hands completely clean of any involvement in morally messy situations. Jesus, however, seemed to wade into morally messy situations by, for example, getting a woman caught in adultery off the hook for a capital crime; inviting women, including healed demoniacs, into his inner circle; healing people with non-urgent troubles (like the man with the withered hand) on the Sabbath; receiving the ministrations of women of imperfect virtue; speaking of Samaritan heretics as moral examplars; and generally not seeming to care about the sinfulness or virtue of those who would follow him, so long as they would throw their hearts into the hard work of preaching the Good News and building the Kingdom. There is a role for prophetic zeal and clarity of message in the church; but it must not undermine that work of bringing about the Kingdom that is our most basic task as followers of the Lord.

Pilgrims, on the other hand, seek to navigate the road as well as we can, wary of all stumbling blocks. Pilgrims know that while it is important to note risk of scandal and to act in ways to counteract it, the route to the kingdom leads inevitably through complex and rock-strewn moral territory. And pilgrims know that an argument that stands or falls on risk of scandal alone is generally a weak argument, hinging as it does on asserting the lack of knowledge or discernment of those who would be scandalized. Better that we all talk together as we walk the pilgrim way, helping each other to grow in wisdom, not afraid to risk scandal, lest we stumble and fail in love.

Lisa Fullam is associate professor of moral theology at the Jesuit School of Theology of Santa Clara University at Berkeley.

By Fr. Ryan Maher S.J.

I LOVE BEING A JESUIT. ONE OF THE greatest joys of Jesuit life is that in joining the project of my life to the project of the Society of Jesus and its mission in service of the Church and the world, I have lived and worked with some truly remarkable men.

This weekend I found myself reflecting on my experiences and why I love being a Jesuit.

The answer is complicated, but it comes down to passion, especially the sort of passion that manifests itself in a bred-in-the-bone love of teaching.

All Jesuits, in one way or another, are teachers. Teaching is a natural “vocation within a vocation” for us because of the experience of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola that undergirds everything we do and informs the imagination out of which we do it. In the Exercises, Ignatius provides a framework that enables us to discover that the spirit of God is active and laboring in every human life, whether people realize it or not. The Church asks Jesuits to help people realize exactly that and, further, the Church asks Jesuits to find ever more effective ways of inviting people, especially young people, to cooperate more fully in the grace-fueled project of their own lives.

That Ignatian two-step – helping people recognize reality with a capital “R” and inviting them to choose to cooperate with it – is what Jesuits do. That’s why our guts call us to go where people are asking tough, smart questions about themselves, God, the world and what really matters. That’s why the order gravitated so early and so easily to work among young people in schools. We came to that challenge with a particular way of proceeding, one born of great confidence in the power of the Spirit and steely-eyed trust in the ability of an honestly searching human heart and intellect to grow in understanding and trust to the point of being ready and willing to be grasped by God.

That’s why we’ve always been more concerned with coaxing people to ask the right questions than with trying to force them to memorize the right answers. We know that real learning takes time, sometimes a very long time. We understand our work in education in a strategic and optimistic way because we know that life is messy but good, that truth is elusive but knowable, that people learn by trial and error, and that God is very patient.

What happens in our classrooms will bear fruit (or not) decades and decades from now in the lives our students will choose to live. Ultimately, our success will be assessed not by some metric that can be displayed on a spreadsheet, but in the content and quality of the conversations that will take place between our alumni and their Creator before the judgment seat of God at the end of history. We believe that what we do at Georgetown can influence and inform those conversations. So Jesuits teach. So Jesuits love teaching.

I have been reminded of that mission and that love several times over the course of the past month or so by some conversations I have had with various Jesuits I have bumped into at the coffee urn or in their rooms or at the dinner table. For some reason, in each of these conversations the topic of teaching came up. Not some abstract theory of teaching, but the actual human undertaking of a professor standing up in front of a group of intelligent young people and asking, “OK, so what do you think of this?” and then engaging wholeheartedly in whatever happens next.
I wish I could describe for you the energy that rises, the glint that comes to the eyes of men like Rick Curry, David Collins, Ron Murphy, Matt Carnes, Mark Henninger and Jim Schall when you ask them, as I have, about their teaching, about their interaction with students in the classroom, about their vocation as teachers. It’s the stuff of Jesuit legend, and even after all these years in Jesuit schools, it still quickens my pulse and stirs in me a love of my Jesuit vocation.

We Jesuits are teachers, and we have been blessed with the stunning invitation to help young people wrestle with the most important subject matter there is, whatever our particular discipline. We’re teachers of Humanity 101, and there just isn’t any better or more important job than that on the planet. At least that’s how this Jesuit sees it.

Fr. Ryan Maher, S.J. is an associate dean and director of Catholic Studies in the College. He can be reached at [email protected]. AS THIS JESUIT SEES IT . . . appears every other Tuesday with Fr. Schall, Fr. Maher and Fr. O’Brien alternating as writers.

It’s downright “scary” how much Fr. Jim Martin knows about the saints, so who better to explain the connection between Halloween and All Saints Day? In the whimsical video below, BustedHalo.com, an online magazine for spiritual seekers, asked Fr. Martin to explain how these two back-to-back days relate to each other. The best-selling author of My Life with the Saints also answers such common questions as, How does someone become a saint? What is a patron saint? and Do Catholics worship the saints? Courtesy of Busted Halo.

Related products:

	My Life with the Saints
	Who Cares About the Saints? [DVD]
	Voices of the Saints
	Loyola Kids Book of Saints
	My Best Teachers Were Saints

by Luke Hansen, S.J.

Since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, a particular narrative has dominated the American consciousness.

It goes like this: Terrorists are unconditionally committed to a religious ideology that requires them to kill “infidels” without any regard for their own lives or any effort toward reconciliation; therefore, there is but one realistic option for the United States as it relates to such persons: permanent incapacitation through killing or detention. This narrative seeks to rationalize a perpetual war against terrorism and keeps places like Guantánamo and the detention facility at Bagram Air Base open. I reject it, however, and its conclusion that the United States must continue its war and detention policies.

Rejecting the legitimacy of such an outlook, I pray for the grace to live the Christian alternative faithfully: love of one’s enemies. Jesus commanded his followers to “do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Lk 6:43-44). He did not instruct them to kill their enemies or detain them indefinitely. Since each enemy is a human being, there is always hope for relationship and dialogue, redemption and transformation.

Since 2002 the United States has detained about 800 men at Guantánamo and about 3,000 men and women at the Bagram base. The U.S. government has reported to the United Nations that about 100 of these detainees have been juveniles as young as 13 years of age.

Concerning these detentions, the Bush and Obama administrations have made substantially the same claim: Since the nation is fighting a war, the law allows the executive to indefinitely detain those declared to be “an unlawful enemy combatant” without ever charging them with a crime or giving them due process in a court of law. As long as military authorities determine that a person either constitutes a threat to national security or possesses valuable intelligence about terrorist activities, detention may continue indefinitely.

In large part, U.S. courts have accepted the argument that in wartime it is legal for the executive to use indefinite detention. Guantánamo and Bagram remain open for business. While the number of people held has been reduced in the last year-and-a-half, currently almost 1,000 men are detained in these two facilities.

The Bush and Obama administrations have also claimed that there should be no independent judicial oversight of these detentions, that in wartime military authorities, not the courts, determine whether a person has been accurately classified as an enemy combatant. But at least in regard to those detained in Guantá-namo, the U.S. Supreme Court has rejected that claim.

In a historic case, Boumediene v. Bush (2008), the court ruled that Guantánamo detainees possess a constitutional right to have their detentions reviewed in U.S. federal courts.

The Obama administration has opposed extending habeas corpus to Bagram detainees, however, even when detainees were initially captured outside Afghanistan and later transferred to an “active theater of war.” In April 2009 a U.S. district judge rejected the administration’s argument, but in May 2010 a federal appeals court overturned the district court ruling. Now it is up to the U.S. Supreme Court to decide whether to hear the case.

The Guantánamo Detainees

According to the prevailing U.S. view of who the enemy is, permanent incapacitation through killing or detention appears a plausible or even necessary response. If the enemy is irredeemably evil, he or she cannot and will not change. If the United States sets them free, they will inevitably “return to the battlefield” to kill more Americans.

Civilian leaders have continually reinforced this narrative. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and Vice President Dick Cheney repeatedly characterized the detainees as the “worst of the worst” terrorists in the world, captured on the battlefield fighting U.S. soldiers. The available evidence does not support these accusations.

Since 2008, when federal courts finally began to review detentions at Guantánamo, judges have concluded that in 36 of 50 cases the executive branch failed to provide sufficient evidence to support its claim that the detainee in question is an “enemy combatant” who can be lawfully detained for an indefinite amount of time. In nearly 75 percent of cases, the courts ruled the detention unlawful and ordered the detainee released.

In May, President Obama’s Guantánamo Review Task Force finally released its review of detainee cases and recommendations for disposition. The report admits that only 10 percent of the 240 detainees (when Obama came into office) had a “direct role in plotting, executing, or facilitating” terrorist acts. A majority of the detainees, the task force reports, were “low-level foreign fighters” who “lacked a significant leadership or other specialized role” in a terrorist organization. (Note: these classifications reflect the task force’s own investigation, not the assessment of an independent court that has objectively scrutinized the available evidence in each case.)

Not only have the Guantánamo detainees been wrongly characterized as the “worst of the worst” terrorists in the world, but they have been consistently dehumanized by Rush Limbaugh and others who have called them “human debris” and “bottom-of- the-barrel dregs.” Whatever the accusations against the Guantánamo detainees, however, they retain their inherent dignity and basic rights as human beings. These men are fathers, sons, uncles and brothers.

Living the Gospel

As I learn more about the Guantánamo detainees, I have experienced a deep desire to enter into relationship with them. These days I am less interested in collecting information from legal briefs and newspaper articles. Instead, I want to meet these men, shake their hands, engage in dialogue and imagine a new way forward. I want to be a brother to them. I want to be a faithful companion of Jesus, who invited his followers to love their enemies. I want to sit down with Guantánamo detainees and learn their stories, to ask: Where did you grow up? What did you do as a child? What did you dream of? What formed you and shaped you as an adolescent? What is important to you now? What are your values?

If the person is one of the few Guantánamo detainees who is a committed member of Al Qaeda, I want to hear his reasons for joining the terrorist organization. I want to ask: “What motivates you? What are your grievances against us?” I want to learn what has compelled him to resort to violence.

He might ask similar questions of me: “Why does the United States wage war against Muslims? Why invest $800 billion in soldiers and weapons each year? Why resort to violence in an attempt to solve the world’s problems?”

Such a relationship might seem far-fetched were it not for the prophetic witness of communities and individuals who have creatively incarnated Jesus’ love for enemies. Here are three:

• The Witness Against Torture community, founded by Catholic Workers and friends, made a pilgrimage to Guantánamo in 2005 to perform a corporal work of mercy: visiting the imprisoned (Mt 25:36). Even though the pilgrims were stopped at a military checkpoint outside the U.S. Naval Base and prohibited from going any farther, they were able to hold a 24-hour fast and vigil near the barbed-wire fence as an act of solidarity with the prisoners, who were informed that the vigil was taking place.

• Marc Falkoff, a professor of law at Northern Illinois University and an attorney for 17 Guantánamo prisoners, edited Poems From Guantánamo: the Detainees Speak (Univ. Iowa Press, 2007). The collection presents the voices of detainees, who share their experiences of darkness and light, despair and hope.

• Brandon Neely, a former guard at Guantánamo, traveled to London in December 2009 to meet with two former Guantánamo detainees. During the meeting, he expressed regret and sorrow for his complicity in their suffering.

Prophetic acts entail risk. Will it be possible to build trust between so-called enemies? Will Americans who seek reconciliation be labeled “terrorist sympathizers”?

I think Jesus would understand such a loss of good repute. For touching lepers and talking with Samaritans, Jesus was declared unclean. For dining with sinners, Jesus was called a glutton and a drunkard. Jesus took this risk and entered into these relationships because he believed that redemption is possible for all people. In doing so, Jesus provides a counter-narrative to the dominant belief that perpetual war and indefinite detention are the regrettable, yet inevitable responses to alleged terrorism. He showed us another way, the way of love.

Listen to an interview with Luke Hansen, S.J.

by Gianni Criveller

The method of accommodation, central in the missionary activity of Matteo Ricci, has its theological roots in the thought of Thomas Aquinas and Erasmus of Rotterdam. It was a hermeneutical instrument suited to addressing complex cultural and religious questions, with their doctrinal implications.

Ricci noted that many passages of the classical Chinese texts coincided with Christian doctrine, and he proposed a parallel between the relationship of Christianity with Greco-Roman culture and that of Christianity with Confucian thought.

The distinction between the original doctrine of the classics and the later neo-Confucian commentaries is a key point in Ricci’s interpretation of Confucianism. He affirmed that the ancients believed in a creator God: the ancient terms “Sovereign from on high” (Shangdi) and “Heaven” (Tian) are not impersonal and immanent, but personal and transcendent. Ricci therefore adopted the terms “Sovereign from on high” and “Heaven,” together with the neologism “Lord of Heaven” (Tianzhu), to translate the name of God.
A further and fundamental proof of accommodation as hermeneutical instrument is found in the method Ricci used to preach and write books on religious subjects. In “On the entry of the Society of Jesus and Christianity into China” and in numerous letters, Ricci eloquently illustrates his catechetical method, based on the clear-cut distinction between catechism and Christian doctrine.

Ricci’s “Catechism,” published under the title “The true meaning of the Lord of Heaven” in 1603 after years of preparation, was a presentation of fundamental concepts like the existence of God and the repayment of good and evil, in dialogue with Confucian scholars and in dispute with Buddhists and Taoists.

“Christian doctrine” (“Doctrine of the Lord of heaven,” 1605) contained a complete presentation of Christian doctrine for catechumens and believers: the doctrine of the Trinity and of Christ, the Sacred Scriptures, the sacraments, the precepts of the Church, Christian prayers, etc. […]

The “Catechism” was therefore a Christian representation of the cultural context and the Chinese classics. In 1609, in a letter to the vice-provincial of the Jesuits in Japan, Francesco Pasio, Ricci gave the following theological interpretation of the Confucian texts: “Examining all of these books well, we will find very few things in them that are against the light of reason, and very many in keeping with it.” […]

In the “Catechism,” Ricci’s most important book, Jesus is mentioned only in the eighth and final chapter, as teacher and worker of miracles sent by God. However, the chapter does not explicitly describe Jesus as son of God and savior of humanity. It says instead that his teaching is the basis of Western civilization, and after the coming of Jesus “many Western nations made great progress along the path of civilization.” The idea was that the figure of Jesus would raise a certain interest among the Confucian scholars if he were seen as a Western equivalent of the “masters” of the Chinese philosophical tradition. In spite of this, Ricci avoids presenting a direct comparison between Jesus and Confucius. In reality, Jesus is presented as superior to all the other teachers, saints, and kings. As much as he tries to put himself on the same level as his Confucian counterparts, Ricci always affirms the superiority of Christ. […]

“Christian doctrine,” on the other hand, contains the teachings of revelation that are essential for receiving baptism and living a Christian life. It was published anonymously because its contents were nothing other than traditional Christian teaching: no one could have put his own signature to the common doctrine that had been handed down from the beginning. […] The only thing missing from the first edition are the five precepts of the Church. At that time, there were only 500 baptized Christians in China, scattered through various cities and without any ecclesiastical organization, and Ricci probably thought that introducing the five precepts in China would be premature and impracticable. […]

Ricci also applied the distinction between catechism and Christian doctrine to his verbal preaching, shifting between what would later be called “indirect apostolate” and “direct apostolate.” The first of these had Confucian scholars as its audience; the second, the catechumens and baptized.

When he practiced indirect preaching in his encounter with scholars, Ricci used dialogue and dispute according to the model of the classical Chinese and Western texts. His conversations began on the basis of scientific, ethical, and philosophical themes, developing the kindred elements in the Chinese and Western classics in support of his arguments. After this, Ricci steered the conversation to religious and ethical beliefs, like the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, the reward of the good in paradise and the punishment of the wicked in hell. […]

Riccci’s “Catechism,” or “The true meaning of the Lord of Heaven,” was not written only for scholars, converts, and catechumens, but also for the opponents of the faith and anyone who might be interested. It was a book for all, able to be understood by anyone, and as such many copies were printed and distributed all over China. The books even spread without the help of missionaries into the neighboring countries: Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. […]

Conversely, “Christian doctrine” was not compiled to be distributed to anyone, but for Christians and catechumens. Nonetheless, this book was occasionally given to non-Christians for whom the missionaries had well-founded hopes of conversion. The dynamics of the missions in China were more complex than any simple outline can render. There is a certain resemblance between Ricci’s method and catechesis in the first centuries of Christianity, when catechumens were expected to be given a gradual introduction, in stages, to the mysteries of the faith.

____________

The book:

Gianni Criveller, “Matteo Ricci. Missione e ragione, una biografia intellettuale”, PIME, Milan, 2010, pp. 130, 13.00 euro.

__________

The official website of the celebrations for the fourth centenary of Ricci’s death, in Italian, English, and Chinese:

> Matteo Ricci 1552-1610

And on the exhibit held a few months ago at the Vatican:

> Matteo Ricci. How to “Inculturate” Christianity in China (13.11.2009)

__________

On the distance between the Western and Christian vision and the vision of another great Asian civilization, that of Japan:

> Why Christianity Is “Foreign” to Japan (19.8.2010)

__________

In the illustration, Matteo Ricci is on the left. On the right, a high-ranking Chinese official baptized by him, Xu Guangqi.

__________

English translation by Matthew Sherry, Ballwin, Missouri, U.S.A.

TAIWAN SOCIETY FOR PACIFIC STUDIES

▲ Synopsis
The Pacific world can be seen as a “oceanic continent,” mapped throughout the ages by migrations and exchanges. In its midst, islands are the vantage points from which different mapping strategies have been taking and are still taking place, offering a variety of viewpoints on the Pacific, its contours and its dynamics.

This conference – the first one organized by the Taiwan Society for Pacific Studies – aims at identifying the ways of mapping the Pacific in time and space that have been developed by islanders, especially by Austronesian populations. Such “mapping” has taken place through migration roads, tales, songs and genealogies, as well as by astronomic or geographic charts and artistic renderings. Taking these representations both in their irreducible variety and as an organic whole may help a new generation of scholars to challenges the usual ways of looking at the Pacific world, thus enabling the inhabitants of this “oceanic continent” to enrich and develop the interactive process through which they understand their history and destiny.

In other words, the objective of this conference is twofold: (a) accounting for the diversity of the “mappings” of the Pacific continent so as to challenge and renew historical, geographical and ethnographic insights on this part of the world; (b) allowing a younger generation of scholars to compare the insights they have gained in confronting local and global knowledge. Researchers from Taiwan the island between the Asian continent andthe Pacific, believed to be the starting point of Austronesian expansion into the Pacific, being the periphery and the core at the same time will also present their perceptions of this oceanic continent as it is observed and imagined from Taiwan.

The conference agenda will be divided into four sub-topics:
– Routes and Migrations
Mapping of the Pacific in terms of itineraries, migrations and spatial dynamics.
– Methods of Mapping
Mapping through tales, genealogies, drawings and pictograms, history of modern mapping, mapping perspectives according to locations…
– Sacred Space-Times
Sacred elements in traveling and mapping, missionary routes and their rationale, conversions, new religions and the blurring of traditional religious mappings…
– Alliances and Conflicts
Maritime Law and the drawing of boundaries, boundaries and conflicts around natural resources, fishing rights, garbage disposal; representations of the Pacific space and diplomatic strategies.

▲ Conference date
16-17 February, 2011

▲ Pacific Life Sustainability Awards

Four prizes will be awarded at the end of the conference to grass root leaders or communities that have made a significant contribution to cultural diversity, sustainable development and spiritual empowerment in the Pacific world.

▲Conference Agenda

Contact:
Li-chun Lee 李礼君
[email protected]

Jesuit Father Jeremy Clarke, an assistant professor of history at Boston College, premiered his film “Beyond Ricci: Celebrating 400 Years of the Chinese Catholic Church,

” which he wrote, produced and directed, at Boston College on October 7. Jesuit Father James McDermott assisted Fr. Clarke with the documentary, which tells the story of Ricci’s life.

Running 53 minutes, the documentary starts off in Macau, where Ricci began his Jesuit duties in 1582. From there, it followed his journey throughout eight Chinese cities and then describes his accomplishments, such as his skills in cartography and translation and his knowledge of Chinese culture.

The film then goes on to show how Catholicism has grown in China since Ricci’s arrival in the late 16th century.

The documentary was both an educational as well as a passionate project for Fr. Clarke and his team, he said. Fascinated with Ricci since his youth, Fr. Clarke wanted to properly acknowledge the fact that 2010 is the 400th anniversary of Ricci’s death. “I wanted to use this 400th anniversary to tell the story of his life, and, in doing so, celebrate the life of the Catholic Church in China today,” Fr. Clarke said. As a result, Frs. Clarke and McDermott decided to do a filming expedition through China in just 30 days.