Mass readings in Scots: Tenth Sunday of the Year (Year B)

First reading
Genesis 3: 9-15

An the vyce o the Laird God come tae the man, sayin, "Whaur ar ye?" An he said, "Hearin yer vyce in the gairden A wis sair fleggit, acause A wis nakit: an A held masel frae yer een." An he said, "Wha gien ye the knawledge that ye war nakit? Hae ye taen o the fruit o the tree that A said ye warna tae tak?" An the man said, "The wumman that ye gien tae bi wi me, she gien me the fruit o the tree, an A taen't." An the Laird God said tae the wumman, "Whit hae ye duin?" An the wumman said, "A wis swickit by the deceivery o the serpent, an A taen't."

An the Laird God said tae the serpent, "Acause ye hae duin this,

"ye are bannit mair nor aw the kye,
an ilka beast o the field;
ye will gang flet on the yird, an stour will be yer meat
aw the days o yer life:
An the'll be war
atween yersel an the wumman
an atween yer strynd an her strynd:
by him yer heid will be brouselt
an by ye his fit will be woundit."

[From The Old Testament in Scots, vol. 1, The Pentateuch, [Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Nummers, Deuteronomy] trans. Gavin Falconer and Ross G. Arthur (2014) (translation into Plain Scots under the auspices of the Ullans Academy) ISBN 978-1-78324-005-0. Amazon US here. Amazon UK here.]

Responsorial Psalm
Psalm 129

Oot the deep A hae cried on ye, O Laird.
Laird, lat ma vyce come afore ye:
lat yer lugs wauken
tae the vyce o ma prayer.

O Jah, gin ye taen tent tae ilka sin,
wha wad gang free?
But the'r forgieness wi ye,
sae that ye ar feart.

A wait on the Laird, ma saul waits on him,
an ma howp is in his wird.
Ma saul wauks for the Laird mair nor thaim that wauks for the forenuin;
ay, mair nor the waukers for the forenuin.

O Israel, howp in the Laird;
for wi the Laird is mercy
an fou salvation.
An he will set Israel free frae aw his sins.


[From Psalm 130 in The Old Testament in Scots, vol. 3, The Books of Wisdom, [Job, Psaums, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Sang o Sangs] trans. Gavin Falconer and Ross G. Arthur (2014) (translation into Plain Scots under the auspices of the Ullans Academy) ISBN 978-1-78324-006-7. Amazon US here. Amazon UK here.]




Second reading
2 Corinthians 4: 13-5:1

Hoobeit, we hae the same spirit o’ faith, conform to what is putten-doon, “I had faith, thar-for spak I;” sae we hae faith, and thar-for spak: lippenin that he wha raised up the Lord Jesus, wull also wi’
Jesus raise us, and wull present us wi’ you. For a' things are for yere sakes, sae that, wi’ grace aboundin throwe the mony, it may mak the praise to abound the mair, to the glorie o’ God.

Thar-for we are-na faint-heartit; but e'en tho’ oor ootward man dwines awa, yet oor inward man is ilka day renewin. For the wee bit passin sorrow that we hae, is workin oot for us, aye mair and mair, a mair excellent and eternal wecht o’ glorie; sae lang as we look-na for things seen, but for things unseen: for the seen things are but for a time, but the things no seen are for aye.

For we ken, that gin aiblins oor yirdly sheilin be taen doon, we hae a biggin o’ God, a dwallin no made wi’ hauns, eternal i’ the Heevens.

[From The New Testament in Braid Scots William Wye Smith (1904) here]

Gospel
Mark 3: 20-35

Sae Jesus went bak ïntae tha hoose whar he wus stappin ower, an thair wus that monie fowk croodin roon aboot thaim, that the' cud get nae peace tae hae oniethin tae ait. Becas o whut wus happenin, Jesus' freens tried tae tak tha houl o hïm, fer the' thocht he wus oot o hïs mine.

An some maistèrs o tha Laa cum frae Jerusalem saed, "Beelzebul haes taen hïm ower. It's tha heidyin o tha demons that's giein hïm tha pooer tae cast oot ither demons!" An Jesus caad thaim ower tae hïm an raisoned wi thaim, sayin, "Hoo can Satan cast hissel oot? If a kïngdom ïs divïd agin ïtsel, ït maun faa sinnerie. An ïf a femlie ïs divïd agin ïtsel, ït cannae stan. Sae ïf  Satan rises up agin hissel, an ïs divïd, then he cannae stan, an that's tha enn o hïm! Shair naebodie can brek ïntae a strang man's hoose an ramseck ït, afore he haes tyed up that strang man. Eftèr that, he can plunner awa!

"A tell ye thïs, men can be forgien blesphemies an aa ither kines o wrangdaeins. Thair'll be nae forgiein fer hïm that spakes blesphemies agin tha Halie Spïrit, but! Fer that sïn, an tha guilt o ït, bides fer iver an aye." Noo Jesus saed aa thïs, becas tha fowk cum frae Jerusalem wur chairgin hïm we haein an ïll spïrit.

An tha mither an brithers o Jesus cum lukkin hïm at tha hoose whar he wus stappin, an the' caad fer hïm tae cum oot. Summodie ïn tha crood sïttin lïstenin tae hïm toul hïm, "Yer mither an yer brithers [an sïstèrs] ir ootbye. The' ir wantin ye!" An Jesus cum bak wi, "Wha's ma mither, an wha's ma brithers?" An he lukt at tha crood sïttin aa roon hïm an saed, "These yins here ir ma mither an brithers! Fer thaim at daes tha wull o God, them's ma brither, ma sïstèr, an ma mither."

[From Tha Fower Gospels  (2016) (Ulster-Scots), Ullans Press, ISBN: 978-1-905281-25-1, Amazon UK here, Amazon US here.) ]

Men and the Irish Abortion referendum

Not Irish. Not a woman. Two good reasons to keep out of this debate.

But then: Irvine Welsh. Not Irish. Not a woman. (And countless other non-Irish men of that ilk.)


Hoping for a huge YES vote in the Irish abortion referendum. Time to consign all those flat earth medieval clowns and their antiquated patriarchal pish to history’s garbage can.

— Irvine Welsh (@IrvineWelsh) 18 May 2018

So let's talk about men and to men...

1) My first memorable brush with the issue of abortion was as a student on a training day for a counselling service. I was pretty left wing in a slushy, undergraduate sort of way, but certainly would have signed up to all the usual shibboleths including abortion on demand. The presenter was a (male) GP who began by bad mouthing one of his partners (a female GP) who apparently had religious objections to contraception, abortion etc. He then enthusiastically went on about how easy it was to do an abortion secretely, describing how they had managed to get a girl into an abortion facility without her mother (female, cleaner at the hospital) ever knowing. It was all very gung-ho. Even at the time I thought it was utterly repulsive. And typically male.

2) Me. (Male.) Can't remember which of my wife's pregnancies it was but one of the 'routine' tests flagged up a heightened risk of one of those conditions which all sensible people abort. (I think it was Downs.) The next stage would have involved an amniocentisis with a risk of miscarriage. I confess I was slightly tempted: I was scared of having a child with a disability. Didn't even cross my wife's mind to accept the further test with the possibility of an abortion down the line. Not the first time I was reminded of  the mother-child bond, nor the first time I was reminded of male inadequacy. (And neither of us were Catholics at that point.)

3) Welsh. (Writer not people. Male.) Would it be fair to describe him as patriarchal? He's a bit bullish anyway, hardly presents as quiche eating. Likes boxing apparently. Creates imaginary, druggy Lebenswelt which is striking rather than flourishing. Seems very certain of his own rightness on any number of issues including pish and abortion. Wants to leave it up to women by telling them how to vote.

4) The guy (that guy) who screams abuse at pro-life rallies or at pro-life women on Twitter. (Male.)


Men like Welsh are heavily involved in promoting abortion: the debate just wouldn't be the same, certainly in tone let alone substance if it were left to women. Moreover it's hard to think of a more patriarchal othering of women than reducing the multiplicity of views and feelings and even morality among real women on this subject to the simplistic 'Women think...', 'Trust women' etc etc. Reasoning regarding the status of an unborn child, bodily autonomy and the interaction of law and morality don't just disappear 'coz lady brain or summat'. I'd be perfectly happy to leave the debate to women because there are plenty of women who defend the pro-life position and, frankly, do so with more authority because they have more skin in the game than most men. But let me say this as a man to men: don't delude yourself that the creation of a culture in which 1 in 5 children are killed, where men encourage women to see abortion as a morally neutral issue, and where you push some ultra dumb narrative about bringing Ireland out of a world of 'flat earth medieval clowns and their antiquated patriarchal pish' into a glorious shiny future just like Britain's isn't more poisoned by patriarchy and indeed neo-colonialism than anything you'll see from the pro-Life side.

Let's leave the final word to a woman:

This immediately makes essentially relevant not only all the facts about human reproduction I mentioned above, but a whole range of facts about our emotions in relation to them as well. I mean such facts as that human parents, both male and female, tend to care passionately about their offspring, and that family relationships are among the deepest and strongest in our lives -and significantly, among the longest lasting.

These facts make it obvious that pregnancy is not just one among many other physical conditions; and hence anyone who genuinely believes that an abortion is comparable to a haircut or an appendectomy is mistaken. The fact that the premature termination of a pregnancy is, in some sense, the cutting off of a new human life, and thereby, like the procreation of a new human life, connects with all our thoughts about human life and death, parenthood and family relationships, must make it a serious matter. To disregard this fact about it, to think of abortion as nothing but the killing of something that does not matter, or as nothing but the exercise of some right or rights one has, or as the incidental means to some desirable state of affairs, is to do something callous and light-minded, the sort of thing that no virtuous and wise person would do. It is to have the wrong attitude not only to foetuses, but more generally to human life and death, parenthood, and family relationships.

Rosalind Hursthouse (1997) 'Virtue theory and abortion', in Daniel Statman (ed.) Virtue Ethics: a Critical Reader, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, p.236.

The legitimacy of rebellion

This is going to be one of those blogposts where the primary aim is for me to summarise some incomplete thoughts/research rather than to attempt a complete solution. (If I've misrepresented anyone else's views at any stage, my apologies, and do correct me in the combox. I find Twitter particularly frustrating for bringing out detail and nuances and I've quite likely misunderstood a lot of these.)

As a result of Ttony's post on the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Government (here for the text of the proclamation) I got into a discussion with Cathy Barry (on @IrishPhilosophy -follow!!) on the understanding of rebellion in the proclamation and, more widely, in just war/Thomist theory. To start at the end, I suggested the following eirenical formula:

Need longer treatment to deal with all this! But might we agree that mediaeval political theory at least reluctant to concede right of rebellion/revolution to groups/individuals without legitimate authority? And that brings us back to 1916 and rhetorical/real search for such authority

Now Cathy wasn't prepared to concede this -on the grounds that 'they didn't say that' (I'll return to this) - coupled with a reasonableness test from the following scenario:

 Imagine North Koreans with plan to revolt likely to succeed. How could they get authority?

Just to dispose of the latter point quickly, North Koreans (admittedly with a mediaeval Christian outlook on these things!) might seek authority from the papacy (as a universal authority) or from the bodies with authority within the land (eg barons). This is very much the scenario of the Declaration of Arbroath where, having emphasised the independent rights of the Scottish King (as against the English claim of his holding this kingship from the English monarchy) it then goes on to emphasise the rights of the Barones et Liberetenenetes ac tota Communitas Regni Scocie [barons and freemen and the whole commuity of the kingdom of Scotland] to depose a king who acts against their  leges et Consuetudines [laws and customs]. This is a communitas with internal sources of authority from within the state appealing to a source of authority above the state. Unsurprisingly, the Declaration is very mediaeval in this way: it does not simply appeal to the better condition of the Scottish people if they are ruled from Scotland, but to questions of legitimate authority to wage war and govern. It envisages not the modern emphasis on just the state and the invididual, but envisages other corporate sources of power and authority. [If I were developing this point, I'd say something here about a general point of mediaeval hermeneutics: both on grounds of commonsense ideas of (feudal) hierarchy in the mediaeval world and on the grounds of the neo-Platonic influence in (eg) Aquinas, I'd expect such a concern with establishing authority from above -not with the idea that the individual has a right to act himself, but with the idea that authority is bestowed from above and only in certain circumstances where that (state) authority has broken down is it legitimate to look elsewhere.]

Now of course fast forwarding to 1916, we are no longer operating in an entirely mediaeval picture (even for Catholics). But modern Catholic teaching, however far it has moved from the mediaeval world, still maintains a concern for the natural authority of bodies other than the state. Moreover, it maintains a concern for civic peace and preservation of th established order that goes beyond the simple question of effectiveness (would (eg) people be happier under a new regime?) [I leave this paragraph as an assertion, but it is one that I think is easily evidenced from (eg) the Compendium of Social Doctrine.] So I would expect, however changed from the Declaration of Arbroath, a concern in a heavily Catholic influenced document with the legitimate authority for their actions. And I would argue that this is pretty self evident from the text:

In the name of God and of the dead generations from which she receives her old tradition of nationhood, Ireland, through us, summons her children to her flag and strikes for her freedom.

...

We declare the right of the people of Ireland to the ownership of Ireland and to the unfettered control of Irish destinies, to be sovereign and indefeasible. The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people and government has not extinguished the right, nor can it ever be extinguished except by the destruction of the Irish people. In every generation the Irish people have asserted their right to national freedom and sovereignty; six times during the past three hundred years they have asserted it in arms. Standing on that fundamental right and again asserting it in arms in the face of the world, we hereby proclaim the Irish Republic as a Sovereign Independent State, and we pledge our lives and the lives of our comrades in arms to the cause of its freedom, of its welfare, and of its exaltation among the nations.

Now, of course, to assert legtimacy is one thing, to prove it is another. But going back to my eirenic claim above, I would expect Catholics at least to be worried about establishing legitimate authority for rebellion and, mutatis mutandis, I think that concern is evident both in the Declaration of Arbroath and the Proclamation. [There is also the rather interesting attempt (successful?) to achieve support from the papacy for the Easter Rising (Plunkett and Benedict XV here).]

I turn now to consider Cathy's point about texts: 'they didn't say that'. In the context of our discussion, I take that to be a reference to Aquinas's Summa Theologiae, particularly STh IIa IIae qq40 & 42 (on war and on sedition) q40 here q42 here . More specifically, we discussed the legitimacy of applying 'Just War' theory to rebellion. (I think this cropped up as a result of Ttony's focus on this question in his blog and this may have cropped up from the book he was reviewing. In any case, the applicability of Just War theory here is not an unreasonable thought.)

Now I concede immediately that Just War theory, certainly as sketched in q40 is not directly applicable to rebellion. But then neither is the theory of sedition in q42: indeed Aquinas clearly excludes 'perturbatio' of tyranny (and presumably rebellion is a subset of perturbationes of this kind) from sedition.

Consequently there is no sedition in disturbing a government of this kind, unless indeed the tyrant's rule be disturbed so inordinately, that his subjects suffer greater harm from the consequent disturbance than from the tyrant's government.


That just perturbatio is subject to a test of proportionality does not mean that this is the only test: it is a necessary condition of just pertubatio not a sufficient one. (Or at least, there is no indication in the text that this is the only test: Aquinas doesn't say that.) Moreover, although he does say that war is about external strife rather than internal strife ( 'quia bellum proprie est contra extraneos et hostes' (SThIIa IIae q42 a1 resp) note the 'proprie'. Given the usual Aristotelian ideas of focal meaning or paradigms, that somethng may not be said proprie of a case does not mean that this case cannot be illuminated by the case proprie described. Here, I'd expect the case of Just War to illuminate the issue of rebellion, particularly if it is (as was claimed in 1916) a case of perturbatio 'contra extraneos' ('The long usurpation of that right by a foreign people...') Aquinas certainly does seem to say this.

Moreover, there is a danger of reading Aquinas' Summa as a legal code. For example, let's accept for the sake of argument that q40 does not deal with rebellion. And let's also accept that rebellion is covered in q42 where it is subject only to the test of effectiveness. If this were a legal code, one might point to the clear text and exclude any other considerations. (That's debatable, but it is at least arguable.) But the Summa is a theological primer for students: it is no intended to cover every eventuality and nor does it. Now it is pretty obvious that Aquinas has nothing like a developed theory of rebellion: he is not trying for one and he certainly hasn't achieved it here. It is therefore reasonable to look to Aquinas' general approach in related areas to see how they might flesh out ad mentem divi Thomae the little he does say about rebellion. And it is reasonable in such circumstances to look to q40 on Just War.

To summarise. I conclude that a concern for the establishment of a legitimate authority to rebel is present in the 1916 Proclamation. Primarily, that is a matter of the text itself, but the general trend of Catholic teaching on this seems to make this a reasonable interpretation.

Secondly, I conclude that mediaeval political theory [is] at least reluctant to concede right of rebellion/revolution to groups/individuals without legitimate authority. In the comparative luxury of a blogpost over the 140 characters of Twitter, I'd concede that 'mediaeval political theory' is too wide, and would have to include (if taken literally) everything from Ango-Saxon theories of kingship to Marsilus of Padua and more. But in the context of the present discussion, if it means 'what formed the germ of Catholic political theory particularly in Aquinas', then I'd stand by the claim. This is for two reasons. First (and this is unevidenced but I take it to be intuitively plausible) there is that general hermeneutical point from above that a concern for levels of authority above the individual is what you'd expect (mostly) to find in the Middle Ages. Secondly, so far as the texts of the Declaration of Arbroath and the Proclamation are themselves evidence of what is thrown up by this tradition, both do in fact display such a concern. Thirdly, insofar as the texts of q40 and q42 in tbe Summa are concerned, nothing is said to contradict such an interpretation and much is said to support it.

[And now to acknowledge the lacunae that I'd like to pursue but don't have the time just now!

1) There a highly relevant paper http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/0191-6599(93)90181-O I don't have immediate access to it (I think it's pre-digital access but in any case none of the archives I can access seem to allow me to see it. Off for a hard copy at some stage!)

2) I haven't taken detailed account of other texts where Aquinas deals with this issue. (They're listed on the first page preview  of the above. I've had a quick look at them insofar as they're available online (all are apparently available at least in Latin) but won't claim to have done much with them. The above paper seems to suggest a development in his views.]

3) Suarez would be an obvious next step (esp Defensio catholicae fidei contra anglicanae sectae errores ). There are some English translations of at least part of this online but again I haven't pursued in any detail.]

The Irish 'Yes' to Gay marriage

Saturday was a terribly sad day for those who had campaigned so well and so bravely against a Yes vote in Ireland. It's would be wrong to single out a few for particular praise although names do spring to mind. I remember how I felt after the Scottish Parliament's vote. You have my prayers and best wishes.

I confess to having slightly more sympathy with Archbishop Martin's remarks on the matter than most orthodox Catholics have shown:

The archbishop told the broadcaster RTE: “We [the church] have to stop and have a reality check, not move into denial of the realities. We won’t begin again [...] with a sense of denial.

“I appreciate how gay and lesbian men and women feel on this day. That they feel this is something that is enriching the way they live. I think it is a social revolution.”

The archbishop personally voted no, arguing that gay rights should be respected “without changing the definition of marriage”. “I ask myself, most of these young people who voted yes are products of our Catholic school system for 12 years. I’m saying there’s a big challenge there to see how we get across the message of the church,” he added.

[Guardian here].

What he says -if taken literally- is absolutely true. (Whether he should have said anything else is another matter.) There is a changed reality about the place of Catholicism in Ireland that has to be faced up to. There is a reality about how people can go through 12 years of Catholic schooling and then vote Yes. He's quite right to see a big challenge.

Where I don't think it's particularly helpful is to focus on the specifically Irish aspects of the Yes vote. When I first began to look seriously at the sociology of religion, Ireland and Poland were both brandished as exceptions to the fact of increased secularization in Europe. (I'm not going into the disputed details here, merely stating what does seem to be a broad fact: that Western Europeans have grown increasingly estranged from the institutional churches.) Both exceptions were normally attributed to 'cultural defence': where nations were threatened culturally by a dominant culture, religion would survive secularization as a means of defence against that dominant force. The implication of this was that, in the case of Ireland, when Britain became less of a cultural threat, the normal process of secularization would continue.

So when people refer to (eg) the child abuse scandal in Ireland or the existence of a particular brand of joyless Jansenism as the reason for the increasing lack of institutional influence by the Church in Ireland, I'm afraid I tend to switch off a little. There is of course a specifically Irish story where there are these events and others like them. But the details don't matter. If it hadn't been this, it would have been that: secularization  was coming. Ireland is simply facing the same pressures towards secularization that the rest of us in Western Europe have already felt.

I don't know what you do about secularization. We don't completely understand the reasons behind it. I've tended to concentrate on the intellectual resources the Church needs to rebuild, but I do so, absolutely sure that's only a part of a much bigger portfolio of solutions, most of which I have no idea of. To see that, let's take a concrete example of a Yes voter. (It's based on a friend although I've changed some details.) He's divorced and remarried. His wife is divorced and remarried. (Both of these in circumstances where, certainly in everyday terms, they weren't 'to blame'.) Brought up in a strong working class Irish Catholic family he drifted away from practising in his early teens. He's got a lot of gay friends. Most of his family are either divorced, living together, or have had children out of wedlock. When he's come back into contact with the Church on 'family occasions' (birth death etc) the priests have either been lack lustre or (in one case) positively destructive. He's intelligent, but simply hasn't the sort of mind that would put up with a three month course on natural law and society or see the referendum as being about the details of constitutional law. For him, it was simply about whether Ireland's attitude to gays had to change (and giving the Church a light kicking as part of that).

Of course, lots of things you could say here. Certainly, there's a lot of failure on his part to engage with Catholic teaching. Certainly, you might hope that hope and pray that grace will lead him back to the Church. But if you were devising a plan to convince him that the moral teaching of the Church at least deserved a hearing, I'm not sure where you'd start. (Well, certainly, I'm not sure.) And I suspect it's that sort of case -and it would do not just for Ireland but for most of Western Europe- that you're typically facing.

Just to underline this -in case you don't regularly read my blog- the solution will not involve trimming the Church's teaching to suit my friend 'where he is'. (If you did, you might get him back a couple of times a year for Mass, but that would be it.) Obviously, making sure priests didn't behave like idiots would help, but that's unrealistic: there are many good priests now, but I doubt you could ever devise a Church where the majority were more than competent.  (Most people are just competent; we shouldn't be surprised the same goes for priests.) So while there are a lot of specific things we could certainly do better on, I look at the typical case of secularized Western Europe -which Ireland has just joined- and find it incredibly difficult to suggest a quick fix.

On the other hand, the No campaign demonstrated the existence of a significant number of brave, intelligent women and men in the Irish Church. We can at least stand now as part of the Universal Church and work on this common problem together.

The Irish Marriage Referendum

I wasn't going to get involved in the Irish referendum on same sex marriage. I'm not Irish and I've had enough bruising experience of discussions of Irish politics to know it's generally better for an outsider to keep out of it.

But I confess that Twitter has sucked me back in. While it's undoubtedly a good thing that this has gone to a constitutional referendum (a democratic safeguard that we in Scotland didn't have the benefit of) I've seen a combination of foreign interference and smug establishment complacency  coupled with the handful of usual nutjobs attracted by the possibility of a good dust-up. I've also been bombarded by Irish friends on social media with the usual feel good marketing of the Yes campaign, strong on sentiment, weak on argument.

So here's why I'd vote No. Marriage between a woman and a man, supported by social pressure to be sexually exclusive and lifelong, is the best way to rear children. It promotes a stable environment for childrearing which works with the biological genetic attachment of parents to their biological children and the sexual differences of women and men. It's not perfect and sometimes, in particular cases and circumstances, other arrangements might be better. But, on the whole, it works better than other arrangements and is the one that should be generally encouraged if possible. It's also the main reason why the State should have any interest in legislating on relationships: it has an interest in supporting successful childrearing in a way that it doesn't have an interest in supporting simply erotic relationships.

If you strongly disagree with that claim, vote Yes. If you think that bringing up children by two different sex biological parents isn't generally the best environment for children vote Yes and demolish marriage. But if you're voting Yes simply because you're (rightly) sickened by the way gay people have been treated in the past, then find another way of supporting them and supporting other minority groups in society. If you doubt that, watch two gay men, Paddy Manning and Keith Mills talking about this:

This referendum, like all discussions of same sex marriage round the world, is almost entirely about whether natural marriage is the best way to rear children. But in the case of the Irish referendum, that's made even clearer by the wording of the Constitution which, if amended by the introduction of section 4,  would read:

Article 41 1:

(1) The State recognises the Family as the natural primary and fundamental unit group of Society, and as a moral institution possessing inalienable and imprescriptible rights, antecedent and superior to all positive law.

(2) The State, therefore, guarantees to protect the Family in its constitution and authority, as the necessary basis of social order and as indispensable to the welfare of the Nation and the State.

[...]

(*4) Marriage may be contracted in accordance with law by two persons without distinction as to their sex.

Why on earth two men or two women in an erotic relationship should form the 'natural primary and fundamental unit of Society' I have absolutely no idea and I've not seen any argument supporting that view. I suspect most Yes voters find this part of the Constitution an embarrassment because it only makes sense on the essentially natural law view of marriage I sketched above. As the Irish Constitution stands, it simply reflects that idea of natural marriage which is also reflected in Catholic Social Teaching:

214. The priority of the family over society and over the State must be affirmed. The family in fact, at least in its procreative function, is the condition itself for their existence. With regard to other functions that benefit each of its members, it proceeds in importance and value the functions that society and the State are called to perform. The family possesses inviolable rights and finds its legitimization in human nature and not in being recognized by the State. The family, then, does not exist for society or the State, but society and the State exist for the family.


Irish law as it stands recognizes natural marriage. If the amendment is passed, it will go on talking about natural marriage, but apply that concept to a set of relationships that in no conceivable way can be described as 'the natural primary and fundamental unit group of Society, and as a moral institution possessing inalienable and imprescriptible rights, antecedent and superior to all positive law'. The Constitution's privileging of marriage as natural then becomes incoherent.

Ireland has a chance to demonstrate that it is possible to respect and support gay people without destroying the central institution of the natural family that protects the welfare of children. I hope you take it by voting No.

Crisis, what crisis?

Much talk of crises in the Church. I wonder why?

In a Church of over a billion people, where events that scarcely cause a blink in other institutions are trumpeted loudly across front pages, it's easy to feel dispirited (if you're a Catholic) or cheered (if you're a New Atheist). As I've noted before, this sort of emotional reaction, particularly where attachment to a leader is involved, is natural. But when it comes to making decisions about what action to take, we need to steady our nerves and think hard before doing anything.

The interest -particularly of the Scottish media- in Cardinal O'Brien is perfectly natural. You can't be a major -the major- religious leader in a small country and expect to pass unnoticed when accused of sexual impropriety. Indeed, the attention generally paid to the Church in the media is a tribute (even if often a backhanded one) to its remaining influence. Couple this widespread publicity with the Pope's retirement, various rumours about Vatican corruption, and ongoing issues such as the declining numbers of priests, and its easy to feel that there's a crisis and something must be done.

So what is the crisis? Cardinal O'Brien's case, though distressing for all involved, is a side issue. All institutions, particularly educational ones, suffer from the possibility of an illicit combination of sexual importuning and abuse of power. It won't go away although there may be minor structural changes that would help such as a clear method outside the normal hierarchical structure for reporting concerns. The resignation of the Pope, though unusual, is part of the normal rhythm of life and departure: Popes come and go. The Church goes on.

Stripping away the noise, it can be soon be seen that some of the nostrums that are being offered in solution are, in principle, flawed. Firstly, they are flawed because they are nostrums: quick fix solutions for complicated problems. Changing rules on clerical celibacy won't stop the difficulties of reconciling eros and power. It might be a partial solution to falling numbers of priests or to a (putative) culture of homosexuality within seminaries, but it won't be a quick or sure one, and it will undoubtedly bring other problems in its wake. Secondly, and most importantly, they won't solve the main problem -if there is a main problem- which is that of the challenge of secularization.

Secularization theory comes in many shapes and forms, but the central claim is that there is something about modernity which is inimical to traditional forms of religion. This claim (in view of some evidence that religion elsewhere in the world is resistant to secularization in modernity) can be confined to Western Europe: that there is something structural about modern Western European societies that drives out religion. Now it certainly isn't clear that secularization theory is correct or why it is correct (if it is). But the figures on Church attendance and belief in Western Europe do seem to show a steady decline (take your pick from when!).

Is that the crisis? If secularization theory is true, none of the solutions offered in popular discussions will work. Why should clerical celibacy change this trend when it hasn't for the Protestant churches? Why should changing teaching on birth control work either? Moreover, particular stories about declines in church attendance and belief (eg) in Ireland become part, not of a specific reaction to a specific event (child abuse) but a variation upon that common theme of the irresistible decline of religion in Western Europe, a decline only delayed by the peculiar circumstances of Irish society and cultural defence (the linking of culture and religion in a culture under attack from a more dominant culture).

The most plausible candidate for the crisis of modern Catholicism is this conflict between religion and modernity, and the (claimed) inevitable decline of religion. Before Catholics start proposing this or that solution for 'the crisis', they need to come to a decision about whether or not there is some deep incompatibility between traditional Christianity and modernity. If they think there is, then we have two choices: either we accept that Catholicism will have as much difficulty in surviving in modernity as a life of contemplative prayer in a brothel, and concentrate on creating defences for those declining numbers who want to carry on this heroic struggle. (And 'popular' solutions such as changing the Church's teaching on sex will be at best irrelevant, and at worst actually part of that secularization process.) Or we have to adapt Catholicism to survive -and here again, the well known  'popular' solutions won't work either because they've been tried by other religions and have failed.

Alternatively, we reject secularization theory and regard problems with numbers of Catholics not as a structural incompatibility between modernity and religion, but as a specific outcome of a specific Catholic problem. (So, eg, a response to the 'Spirit of Vatican II' and one to be solved by rejecting that Spirit. Or that we have a problem with our attitude to homosexuality that we need to deal with.) One issue with such diagnoses is that they don't directly account for the decline in other religions. But quite apart from that, again 'popular' solutions don't seem plausible. Why should Catholicism do any better 'listening' to the laity, than the Church of England has?

Focusing on the Scottish situation for the moment, rumours abound. On the internet, in the wake of Cardinal O'Brien's resignation, I have come across claims that the Church in one Scottish city is dominated by a homosexual mafia, and that a senior (named) cleric is a 'friend of Dorothy'. Are these true? Who knows? I certainly don't. But any solution to problems in the Scottish Church depends on a clear diagnosis of what those problems are. (One obvious problem is a reduction in the number of priests in the not too distant future and the consequent need for some re-organization as a result.) Until that happens -and of course, diagnosing problems in a large and complex organization such as the Church is rarely as straightforward and clearcut as diagnosing measles- solutions free float in search of a problem to solve.

Frankly, I don't quite know what conclusion to come to myself. Is there a crisis in the Church as a whole or even within just the Scottish Church? Or are there just lots of little difficulties which need lots of little improvements? (So better administration in the Vatican, better catechesis etc. But none of this done with the expectation that it will solve the big crisis, because there isn't one.) On the other hand, if there is a big crisis in the Church, the only plausible one is that of secularization, and nothing that (say) the Tabletista wing is suggesting could remotely deal with that. For what it's worth, I lean to the 'no crisis, but let's just make things better in a piecemeal way' school of thought. But for those who disagree with me, I'd like to see a clearer diagnosis of what they think the crisis is, why their solution will solve it, and how that solution is related to the overall issue of secularization.

Happy Bloomsday!

There are quite a few things that I'm embarrassed about in my youth, but very few that induce quite the same stomach clenching regret as the memory of walking around Dublin conspicuously reading Ulysses. It is a sign of the fundamentally good nature of the Irish that I survived physically intact and unmocked.

Anyway, I spent a great deal of my teenage years reading Joyce (OK, never quite managing to get through Finnegans Wake but I had a good go). For someone who never really had much contact with Catholicism as a child or youth, he was an insight into a world where religion mattered and where it was a very different sort of religion from the Jesus and rainbows watery Protestantism that you'd get at  school.

He was also an introduction to an intellectual world where the learning of the classical world and Aquinas interpenetrated everyday life. Reading Stephen Daedalus' version of Aquinas' aesthetics piqued my interest in both aesthetics and Aquinas; reading a novel which models everyday city life on the Odyssey gave me a sense of the possibilities of classical learning for the modern world. And I'm not at all sure that my understanding of Mariology doesn't owe more to Molly Bloom and her soliloquy ('yes I said yes I will Yes') than it does to any subsequent reading in Balthasar and so on.

And apart from all that, an introduction to Ireland which became an important part of my history, personal and religious. How many Catholic Scots worship in a Church built by Irish immigrants? How many of us have been ministered to by Irish priests? How many of us have Irish family? The sadness over the passing of Catholic Ireland and its scandals is for most of us more than just a grieving over a neighbour: it is a grieving over something far closer and a grieving that should come from gratitude. Let's hope that the current International Eucharistic Congress marks some sort of rebirth of orthodoxy for Irish Catholicism.

To be honest, I'd forgotten it was Bloomsday on Saturday until the trickle of mentioned celebrations in the media penetrated. It brought back memories of being a teenager and reflections on the buried roots in Joyce of my conversion to Catholicism. He didn't leave me with any immediate desire to be a Catholic, but he undoubtedly did give me a sense of intellectual and religious possibilities. As Samuel Beckett (yes, I had a teenage obsession with him too) said:

My brother and mother got no value from their religion when they died [ie the Anglican Protestantism of the Church of Ireland]. At the moment of crisis it had no more depth than an old school-tie. Irish Catholicism is not attractive, but it is deeper. (Cronin: Samuel Beckett The Last Modernist, p21).

Joyce (and Ireland) began to give me that sense of depth in Catholicism. That's not enough, but it was a start.

So Happy Bloomsday!