Sunday, January 3, 2021

Identity and Catholicism If you don’t believe in essential human nature, why believe human beings are something special? Why not make the way you treat them, like everything else, a matter of power and expediency? January 1, 2021 James Kalb Columns, Ecclesia et Civitas, Features

 

Identity and Catholicism

If you don’t believe in essential human nature, why believe human beings are something special? Why not make the way you treat them, like everything else, a matter of power and expediency?

IImage: Jan Kopřiva/Unsplash.com)

Identity pervades Catholic thought. Things are what they are, and that doesn’t change when our way of thinking changes.

A human being is either male or female, and whichever it is stays that way. Similarly, baptism, ordination, and matrimony each have a specific nature that in turn requires (for example) those receiving the sacrament to have a particular identity. I can’t marry another man or the Rock of Gibraltar, and neither the Ford Motor Company nor my niece can be ordained to the priesthood.

Also, the effect of these sacraments becomes part of what a person is. They help define his identity, and that identity sticks. If you’re ordained a priest you become a priest in aeternum, and it doesn’t wear off or depend on changing views or intentions.

Identity likewise pervades Catholic moral thought. When we speak of an act as “intrinsically evil” we mean that it has an intrinsic identity that doesn’t depend on its setting, how someone looks at it, or what he’s trying ultimately to achieve. If someone is trying to get a job and decides to clinch the deal by having a competitor whacked, it’s murder. That’s true even if he intends to do wonderful things in his new career and engages a licensed physician to do the killing. He can’t take a Hollywood actress as his model, and reclassify the act as a praiseworthy vindication of his right “to make a life of [his] own making” in spite of human obstacles by “employing [his] right … to choose when to have [competition], and with whom.”

The principle of identity is not of course limited to Catholicism. It’s part of common sense, and is sometimes stronger in secular than in Catholic thought. And like other basic principles, it sometimes has ambiguities and difficulties of application.

For example, private property is closely connected to identity. To say something is private property is to identify it with its owner, so that its ownership becomes one of its basic features. That is why most people recoil at the notion of theft even when they think they would use the property better than its owner. It seems a violation.

But it also works the other way: when someone is very rich, for example, his property becomes basic to how people think of him, to the extent that it becomes part of his social identity. That’s hard to avoid, just as it’s hard to avoid thinking of someone’s social position as part of who he is if he’s a celebrity or the cop who just pulled you over for speeding.

Catholics mostly go along with such identifications as a practical matter, because they help structure the social world we share with other people. The Bible tells us, for example, to avoid stealing and to honor the king, even when the king is Nero. But we often mitigate them, because we have our own standard for what things and people ultimately are.

So we do not identify material goods so entirely with their owner as to make it theft for a starving man with no other resource to grab and eat a sandwich. And our understanding of human nature does not make wealth and social position part of who we truly are. The Bible warns against respect of persons, and sometimes identity really is a social construction of limited usefulness.

Today the principle of identity has notoriously run into trouble. People don’t know who they are, not even whether they are male or female, and sensitivities on a topic that goes so deep but seems impossible to resolve have multiplied acrimony without much benefit.

One reason for the confusion is that identity has a philosophical dimension: it’s pretty much the same as the Aristotelian idea of essential qualities, the qualities that make something what it is.

Modern thought, as reflected for example in modern technology, rejects essential qualities and thus intrinsic identity and nature as a real feature of objects in the world. Things are what thinking, social convention, practical effects, and the actor’s purposes make them, and it makes no sense to ask what they “really” are.

That change in thought is supported by changes in how life is carried on. To take personal identity seriously is to take your position seriously in a system of loyalties and relationships that you view as basic to your way of life.

Americans usually take the identification of property with its owner rather seriously because the system is basic to our way of life. Similarly, they usually take their citizenship seriously, because the United States government and legal system is also basic for us. When we say “I am an American” we usually mean something by it.

An Afghan might not take his citizenship nearly so seriously, since he might not care about his government. It keeps changing, and his important ties are to his village, clan, and relatives, so why should he feel special loyalty to some people in Kabul?

It’s not just state citizenship that people sometimes reject as part of their identity. Western people today go much farther. They have become convinced that the distinction of male and female should have no significant social consequences. That belief has led many to the belief that it has no ultimate reality and should be left to individual choice. So if I say, “I’m a man”, I’m a man, and if I say, “I’m nonbinary”, I’m nonbinary.

But if the distinction between male and female, which goes back—depending on point of view—to the first days of Eden or the pre-Cambrian seas, lacks objective reality, then all human distinctions lack objective reality. And that seems to be the way people look at things in a bureaucratic and industrial society that treats everything—including human beings—as neutral resources to be managed, classified, and used in accordance with technical criteria and the specific purpose at hand.

With that in mind, it’s not surprising that anti-identitarian views have infiltrated the Church. There they play a destructive role. They are dissolving the sacraments, for example, into customs serving particular goals, so that marriage becomes an arrangement to promote goods such as mutual aid. As such, it becomes nonbinding when other ways of advancing those goods seem better, or goods that are more wanted become available.

That view is still excluded as doctrine, but increasingly accepted as a “pastoral” matter. People moralize in its favor: man was not meant for the sacraments but the sacraments for man, so we should go with whatever works for those involved. Any other view would be pharisaical.

But such views go nowhere, if only because treating sacraments as useful fictions destroys their usefulness. A basic function of marriage is reliable mutual assistance. But if it’s a fiction—a way of talking about living together until something else seems better—how can people rely on it?

Other implications of rejecting settled identity are even more alarming. It tells us that—depending on what we want and how we look at things—a man can be a man, an annoyance, or a mass of carbon compounds and water. Within living memory that line of thought has led civilized nations literally to treat human beings as trash or vermin to be disposed of.

After all, if you don’t believe in essential human nature, why believe human beings are something special? Why not make the way you treat them, like everything else, a matter of power and expediency?

Rejection of settled identities that trump considerations of usefulness may seem sensible to moderns but it’s not. Sometimes, as with identification of someone with his social position, it can make sense to be skeptical. But on more fundamental points, like sex and marriage, it’s destructive. And on the most fundamental points, like what is human, it can be altogether catastrophic.

The basic issue is that rationality requires settled categories, so rejecting them means madness. Crazy people can’t run their own lives, so it also means that someone else has to tell us what to do. So we should never follow someone who tells us that two plus two can equal five. He’s either very confused, or he’s trying to destroy our ability to tell truth from falsity and good from evil. Either way, he’s not promoting our good.


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About James Kalb  110 Articles
James Kalb is a lawyer, independent scholar, and Catholic convert who lives in Brooklyn, New York. He is the author of The Tyranny of Liberalism(ISI Books, 2008) and, most recently, Against Inclusiveness: How the Diversity Regime is Flattening America and the West and What to Do About It (Angelico Press, 2013).

“You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.” A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, December 3, 2020, the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord January 2, 2021 Carl E. Olson The Dispatch

 

The Dispatch: More from CWR...

“You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.”

A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, December 3, 2020, the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord

Detail from "Adoration of the Magi" (Adorazione dei Magi" (c. 1304-06) by Giotto [WikiArt.org]

Readings:
• Is 60:1-6
• Ps 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-11, 12-13
• Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6
• Mt 2:1-12

“You have revealed Yourself to the world today, and your light, O Lord, has shined upon us,” declares one of the Byzantine kontakions, or hymns, for the Feast of the Epiphany (called the Feast of the Theophany in the Eastern churches). “You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.”

As is common in many of the Eastern hymns and prayers, there is joyous reveling in the great mystery and paradox of the Incarnation. God is inaccessible, yet has made himself accessible in the most surprising way: by being born in a cave to a Jewish virgin. “Behold,” states the Christmas Vespers, “the image of the Father and his immutable Eternity has taken the form of a servant!” The Creator has become creature; the Eternal has become man; the Divine has taken on flesh.

Today’s feast celebrates the epiphaneia—that is, the appearance and manifestation—of God in the form of a man, Jesus of Nazareth. Down through time, between the East and the West, the feast has focused to varying degrees on three key events: the visitation of the Magi, the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan, and the turning of water into wine at the wedding feast of Cana. Each of these events manifests and reveals the truth of the Incarnation and spills forth the glory of God.

The magi, traveling afar (likely from Persia), paid homage to the newborn King of kings. They represent the first of the Gentiles brought into the family of God through the Christ-child (see Catechism of the Catholic Church, par. 528). St. Paul, in today’s epistle, writes of the “mystery” that “the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body,” the Church. The “catholic” nature of the new covenant would, of course, prove to be a source of consternation and conflict, just as the questions asked by the magi would provoke Herod to jealousy and rage.

We are so familiar with the story of the magi that it is possible to be dulled to the paradox of wealthy, educated rulers from the East bestowing precious gifts upon a Jewish baby in a humble home with a dirt floor. Was the star enough to convince them of the baby’s importance? Pope Benedict XVI, in his 2007 homily for this feast day, said there was something more. “In comparison with King Herod,” he said, “beset with his interests of power and riches, the Magi were directed toward the goal of their quest and when they found it, although they were cultured men, they behaved like the shepherds of Bethlehem: they recognized the sign and adored the Child, offering him the precious and symbolic gifts that they had brought with them.”

What the magi recognized, by God’s grace, was the presence of glory, light, and splendor, cradled in the arms of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Today’s Old Testament reading from the prophet Isaiah describes how darkness and thick clouds “covers the peoples”—the nations of the earth—but that light has come to Jerusalem, “the glory of the Lord shines upon you.” Many of the Jews rejected the light, just as some walked in it, as did Mary, the mother of God. Nations, rulers, men, and women choose to either see the splendor or to retreat into the darkness.

During Advent, we anticipated the parousia—the presence—of the King; the Feast of the Epiphany marks the fulfillment of that anticipation. The glory that slowly lit the Advent sky has now burst forth in the person of the Son. If Christmas is the celebration of God quietly invading the dark lands of humanity, Epiphany is the celebration, in part, of man recognizing the love and light of the invasion.

“The glory of God,” the Catechism teaches, “consists in the realization of this manifestation and communication of his goodness, for which the world was created” (par. 294). Man was made to share in God’s glory, and God’s glory is demonstrated in the salvation of man.

To God alone be glory. Soli Deo Gloria!

(This “Opening the Word” column originally appeared in the January 3, 2010, edition of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)


If you value the news and views Catholic World Report provides, please consider donating to support our efforts. Your contribution will help us continue to make CWR available to all readers worldwide for free, without a subscription. Thank you for your generosity!

Click here for more information on donating to CWR. Click here to sign up for our newsletter.


About Carl E. Olson  1146 Articles
Carl E. Olson is editor of Catholic World Report and Ignatius Insight. He is the author of Did Jesus Really Rise from the Dead?Will Catholics Be "Left Behind"?, co-editor/contributor to Called To Be the Children of God, co-author of The Da Vinci Hoax (Ignatius), and author of the "Catholicism" and "Priest Prophet King" Study Guides for Bishop Robert Barron/Word on Fire. He is also a contributor to "Our Sunday Visitor" newspaper, "The Catholic Answer" magazine, "The Imaginative Conservative", "The Catholic Herald", "National Catholic Register", "Chronicles", and other publications.

“You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.” By Carl E. Olson on Jan 02, 2021 09:00 am A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, December 7, 2017, the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord [...]

 

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On the Limits and Failures of Saints

By Fr. Matthew MacDonald on Jan 02, 2021 10:13 pm
The life and papacy of Saint John Paul II have had an immense impact on the Church after the Second Vatican Council and beyond. One only has to look at his contributions and personal witness [...]
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“I should be glad of another death”: T.S. Eliot’s timeless poem for Epiphany

By Dr. Kelly Scott Franklin on Jan 02, 2021 05:00 pm
With its natural imagery suggesting a spiritual coming-to-life, Eliot’s 1935 poem moves symbolically from the barrenness of winter into the verdant fertility of Christ’s arrival. [...]
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“You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.”

By Carl E. Olson on Jan 02, 2021 09:00 am
A Scriptural Reflection on the Readings for Sunday, December 7, 2017, the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord [...]
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share on Twitter Like “You have come and revealed Yourself, O Inaccessible Light.” on Facebook


 
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