Dissenting Catholics in the public square seem to unite around at least two principles. One is their dogged pursuit of the appearance of ideological consistency. However grave the division between their public and private beliefs, persuading the public of their supposed unity of mind is a priority often pursued with rhetorical acrobatics. Consistency is thus enshrined as the chief virtue of public life, even as such contortions place those with the highest ideals in graver danger of hypocrisy. The second rallying point among dissenting public Catholics is—oddly enough— also common among cohabiting couples: the urgent desire to reap the benefits of affiliation without the commitment of oneself to a cause, whether it be the Catholic Church or the institution of marriage.
We see these principles in action in Catholics from Mario Cuomo to Patrick Kennedy, but, as Archbishop Charles Chaput observed in a speech on Monday, the trend began with John F. Kennedy’s famous “Houston Speech,” delivered to an assembly of Protestant pastors while campaigning for the presidency fifty years ago. Kennedy’s assertions about religion and public life were, as Chaput put it, “sincere, compelling, articulate—and wrong.” Moreover, the archbishop said, Kennedy’s remarks “profoundly undermined the place not just of Catholics, but of all religious believers, in America’s public life and political conversation.”
Speaking to a group of Texas Protestants just as Kennedy did in 1960, Archbishop Chaput identified Kennedy’s errors as political, historical, and religious. Broadly, JFK’s political and historical error was to misidentify the American understanding of public life as one “where the separation of Church and state is absolute” rather than a mere prohibition on state-run religious denominations. While forgoing discussion of how church and state can be mutually nourishing when not tied together, Kennedy’s speech equated religious membership with the corporate imposition of ecclesial law on civil life. As the then-senator put it, “I believe in a president whose religious views are his own private affair, neither imposed by him upon the nation, or imposed by the nation upon him as a condition to holding that office.”
But, as Archbishop Chaput noted, relegating religious acts to the private domain contradicts the principal tenets of Christian religious ideals, and Christians “have a mandate to share [the] Gospel of truth, mercy, justice and love. . . . Real Christian faith is always personal, but it’s never private.” Privatizing religion is, as it were, the imposition of a particular religious doctrine on religion—namely, the doctrine that religion is essentially a private pursuit.
Kennedy’s religious mistake, Chaput went on, was to tone down his Catholicism by advancing secularism. Or, as Jesuit scholar Mark Massa has said, Kennedy “secularize[d] the American presidency in order to win it.” Kennedy’s praise of religious freedom elsewhere in his speech was, of course, nothing but a canard, as the free exercise of religion was not at issue, either for him or for the Protestant ministers to whom he spoke. Kennedy was, it seems, the only voice advocating for a curb on the exercise of religion, by deeming it a private matter. And it seems he was just as unwilling to impose his religious values on himself as he was to impose them on the public.
In the address, Archbishop Chaput drew attention to Kennedy’s surprising claim that, would his presidential duties “ever require me to violate my conscience or violate the national interest, I would resign the office.” Kennedy also promised not to “disavow my views or my church in order to win this election.” But, as the archbishop countered, Kennedy’s Houston speech did just that.
What modern trends in public Catholicism, then, did JFK set into motion? There seem to be at least three. Archbishop Chaput was careful to note in his speech that Christianity is not primarily about politics, nor do theories of political justice and policy play a prominent role in the spiritual life of Christians. By identifying the visible Church primarily as a political phenomenon, Kennedy and his successors refer to a facet of Catholicism that isn’t one. In this vein, Catholic public figures have at times made their reception of communion a highly political (and sometimes defiant) act, despite its wholly apolitical theological meaning to Catholics.
A second trend is an ideological pragmatism that hijacks conscience. It’s fine, politicians tell us, to employ religious reasons on matters of universal agreement, such as the need to end homelessness or violence. But there remains a set of issues off-limits to the Catholic conscience. As Kennedy put it, “whatever issue may come before me as president—on birth control, divorce, censorship, gambling or any other subject—I will make my decision . . . in accordance with what my conscience tells me to be the national interest, and without regard to outside religious pressures or dictates.” The only way to interpret this claim honestly, it seems, is to conclude that we ought to form both a Catholic conscience and a secular one—one for each set of issues. On that distinction, Kennedy cleverly equivocates. Using this strategy, Catholic politicians have retained the allegiance of Catholic voters while all but adopting atheistic consciences in the public square.
Incidentally, support for the modern analogues (abortion and same-sex marriage, among other concerns) of Kennedy’s hot-button issues has become the calling card of dissenting Catholics. Just as Kennedy distanced himself from scrutiny by equivocating on the meaning of conscience, modern-day Catholic politicians may enact their own JFK moments merely by repudiating the Church’s teachings on two or three symbolic culture-war issues.
Perhaps the most cognitively dissonant trend that Kennedy set in motion was his self-styled dualism, a vice of mind now ubiquitous among Catholic politicians. The personal–private gap can hardly be parsed logically without resort to a radical division in the mind. Just as Kennedy claimed to be a neutral instrument of justice while privately a Catholic believer, so do modern Catholic politicians claim to possess multiple consciences to deal with ethically charged issues. Rhetorical acrobatics notwithstanding, this public–private divide simply fails to meet the standards of common sense. When would a Catholic politician claim private opposition to larceny while supporting it as a valid choice for a segment of his constituents?
It is sad to see that, with his desire in 1960 to secularize the American presidency, John F. Kennedy set in motion currents of thought that today have made significant headway toward the secularization of Catholic life in America.
Kevin Staley-Joyce is a junior fellow at First Things
Comments:
The problem with this, as this very good piece points out, is that turning religion into a private hobby, as it were, turns it also, into something trivial and essentially unimportant. Whether or not someone goes bowling with a bowling club is so trivial, no voter would hold it for or against a candidate in an election campaign. Archbishop Caput's point, I think, is that Kennedy turned his religion into the equivalent of membership in a bowling club in order to win nonCatholic votes.
Being serious about one's religion is very problematic, though, in a diverse society. Joe Lieberman has gotten away with being a serious practitioner, and so has Orrin Hatch, but that is partly because people are too polite to ask the difficult questions of these two men that nonCatholics did ask of Kennedy 50 years ago.
There is no easy solution to this dilemma, though.
http://www.firstthings.com/blogs/firstthoughts/2010/03/02/archbishop-chaputs-redress-of-jfks-faith-speech/comment-page-1/#comment-9650
Wallie Criswell, pastor of the 12,000 member Dallas First Baptist Church, was one prominent anti-Kennedy voice. At the time he called Catholicism a "political system that, like an octopus, covers the entire world and threatens our basic freedoms."
Even after Kennedy's speech, Ramsey Pollard, minister of the 9,000 member Bellevue Baptist Church in Memphis and the (then) head of the Southern Baptist Convention, said "No matter what Kennedy might say, he cannot separate himself from his church if he is a true Catholic."
And we should not forget that Mitt Romney faced similar problems. The Pew Research Center published these troubling findings in December of 2007:
...the group of Americans most likely to say they value religiosity in a president - white evangelical Protestants - is also the group most apt to be bothered by his [Romney's] religion. More than one-in-three evangelical Republicans (36%) expressed reservations about voting for a Mormon, a level of opposition much higher than that seen among the electorate overall.
These worries are directly linked to how Americans view Romney. The August Pew poll found that Romney's favorability rating was much lower (54%) among those who say they would be less likely to vote for a Mormon than among those without such reservations (81%).
You can't have it both ways.
If Catholics of the Chaput stripe can suddenly not hold public office without imposing their beliefs on their fellow citizens, they have no place in governance.
JFK said his religious views would remain private: “I believe in a president whose religious views are his own private affair" but you turn his word "view" into your word "acts." You write: "As Archbishop Chaput noted, relegating religious acts to the private domain contradicts the principal tenets of Christian religious ideals." When did JFK do anything of the sort? More than that, when did his Catholicism not shape his policy thinking?
Imagine if Chaput were Muslim and said the things he says. He would be seen as a dangerous theocrat unschooled in the fundamentals of American life. Chaput is preoccupied with politics. His preoccupation is the devil's work, as he might put it, leading him away from his mission to support politicians who have started two ongoing horrible wars, cravenly defended a disgraceful torture regime they created and sustained, vilified immigrants, and over the course of decades sinfully expanded economic inequities in our country. What game is the archbishop playing at? There is much work for him to be doing. Why is he talking about JFK? Why is he not talking about catholic torture propagandist Marc Thiessen? Why does he not write one of his thoughtful political ruminations about the virulent anti-immigrant hatred espoused by Colorado's Tom Tancredo?
Chaput has become a company man, a well-paid executive defending the corporation he works for at every turn, dabbling in worldly things and being used by worldly men who laughingly see him furthering their unCatholic ends. Chaput will not stop abortion in this country by embracing the hawkish bigoted right and promoting its candidates for office. But he could stop an abortion and many abortions tomorrow by supporting sex education programs in his parish. He might save his soul, too.
It should be noted that Archbishop Chaput took a TON of Wrrows up close and personal over immigration reform
He has done major work on State execution that is showing results.
I think it would be hard to call Chaptu a person of the "bigoted" right . It should be noted by the way that Tancredo is no longer a Catholic
Who are these anti immigratn politcos that Archbishop is supporting?
How many have used their teaching authority on this vital subject? I'm sure I can count them all without running out of fingers and toes.
To Ellen’s comments, I think your hobby analogy works well; our society seems perfectly comfortable with those who pray in private, avoid conversation of religion in public, and attend Church out of pious regard for family tradition. Our society perceives as far more threatening, however, those who actually believe the stuff, and talk about it persuasively. As I noted above, it is one thing to impose civil boundaries on religion, but quite another to tell religion what it should be. For instance, a small town may legitimately prevent a church from broadcasting loud worship music from loudspeakers, disturbing nearby residents. It may not, however, tell the church that its belief in the value of liturgical music is, say, unchristian or unholy. When JFK ostensibly trivialized Catholicism, as you mentioned, he prompted yet another question to his motives: why, if Catholicism is no more important than a country club membership, would you not renounce it in order to win an election?
To R Hampton, it’s certainly true that Kennedy was under enormous pressure to relieve mid-century paranoia about the Catholic hierarchy’s material resemblance to a political institution. Other than culturally inculcated fears, however, it’s hard to understand the fear that Catholics are more prone to invidious political alliances than Protestants or members of any other religious or interest group. Virtually all religious groups have some form of leadership, and it does not follow that a centralized Church is more vulnerable corruption than a decentralized one. Then again, decentralization is a very American ideal (and it has shaped American Protestantism). And while anti-Catholicism remains the “last acceptable prejudice,” it’s hard to see how Peale’s and others’ conspiracy theories would hold sway, except as instances of mere prejudice.
To Tristian: I can only wish that the circumstance you describe were true. While we can choose carefully the words we use to describe JFK’s Catholicism, his concept of what makes a religious faith private is clear. He indicated that his Christian moral compass—which would inform him that homelessness is bad, abortion and domestic violence are wrong, and that measures to curb corruption are good—was something that applied to his life only when he acted as a private person. While president, he promised to act as a different kind of person—a secular person. To him, this shift could be achieved not merely by providing secular reasons for his political decisions, but by repudiating certain ethical norms simply because they aligned with those of the Christian tradition. When was the last time we accused pro-life atheists of imposing their sectarian theology on the rest of us?
We can all agree that the state should not mandate that Americans fast from meat on the Fridays of Lent or attend Mass on Sundays, but there is nothing unjust about invoking the Christian philosophical tradition to make headway towards understanding the rights and wrongs encountered in public life, just as there is no wrong if a politician invokes atheist thinkers like Bertrand Russell or David Hume. I am in total agreement with you that our Catholic politicians need more schooling in secular moral philosophy. To think that Catholicism is a handicap—and not a boost—to contemplation of ethical issues betrays nothing more than an ignorance of history—a history in which the Christian tradition laid the groundwork for the modern mold of moral thought.
To Bruce: I’m always hesitant to comment on claims that Catholics are “controlled” by the hierarchy, for the same reason I don’t comment on claims about CIA-funded mind control or similar efforts by extraterrestrials. And if the “control” worry is reasonable, we should also be urgently concerned about the possible influences our politicians’ parents and children have on them, on account of their obvious avenue for blackmail and guilt-tripping. It’s hard for me to understand what you mean by “control,” except that you wish religious figures like Archbishop Chaput were more introverted and less persuasive. A bishop’s decision to excommunicate is an intra-Church decision, and deals with politicians’ conduct as human moral agents, not as politicians. A bishop might also excommunicate a public Catholic who provides funds for, say, the Freemasons or the Ku Klux Klan, since such actions are not merely gravely wrong, but cause moral scandal among Catholics, for whom it is a bishop’s task to provide spiritual leadership.
To John T: By “dualism of the mind,” I don’t mean philosophical dualism, but the dis-integration of the personality required of someone who assents to contradictory moral propositions. What would you say of a person who, despite claiming marital faithfulness to his wife, actively advocated for adultery as a politician? Would we chide his wife if she worried about his faithfulness? What is to be said about the charge of hypocrisy? It seems hypocrisy is only possible in the negative—that is, the prohibition of something as a politician and allowance of it as a private person—not vice versa.
To your analogy with Islam, I should refer you to Pope Benedict’s Regensburg Address and John Paul II’s encyclical, Fides et Ratio, for an explanation of how Christianity and Islam differ on their interpretation of how practical (secular) reason and (religious) faith interact.
As to the other accusations, I can only note that Archbishop Chaput has limited time to engage "the issues," and must prioritize his time. The interface of religion and public life is an important issue at the moment, so he chose to focus on it during his visit to Texas. And, if I might add, I know with reasonable certainty that Chaput is neither metaphorically nor actually well-paid. Bishops’ stipends would make a Starbucks barista’s salary seem lavish.
The point of my previous comment was to show that, both half a century (Kennedy) and today (Romney), millions of Conservative Protestants want contradictory things -- the only politicians who ought to be secular are those whose religious traditions make them uncomfortable, like Mormons and Muslims. If truth be told, a good number of Conservative Protestants would never vote for a religious "outsider." That path doesn't simply lead to, but actually is, sectarianism.
You mention abortion as a reason for your thinking, but I wonder if your opinion would reverse given a different policy. For example, a sectarian Catholic politician, would abide by his/her religious morality and abolish divorce and criminalize contraceptives, whereas a secular Catholic politician would not confine our diverse republic to his/her religiously informed morality. Which politician would be acting for the greater good of all under our pluralist republican democracy?
I have no interest in Archbishop Chaput being “introverted.” He and his fellow Catholic bishops have a fundamental right to speak and write as they like, as much as they like. If by doing so the bishops are able to persuade, through reason and argument, Catholic and non-Catholic public officials to exercise their public functions as the bishops desire, that’s fine by me. I’ll go further. If the bishops are able to persuade Catholic public officials, through arguments specifically grounded in Catholic faith and teaching, that they should exercise their public functions in certain ways, that’s also fine by me. I have no problem with a political official or candidate taking a position on a public issue -- abortion, capital punishment, or whatever -- that he has adopted based on the teachings of his faith, whether Catholic or any other. For that official or candidate to persuade me of the correctness of his position, he’s got to offer a secular argument not grounded on hierarchical authority. “It must be so because the bishops say so” won’t work with me. But I’m open to persuasion.
My problem arises when the limits of the bishops’ power of persuasion are reached. They now claim the authority to declare excommunicated Catholic public officials who, having heard the bishops’ argument, are not persuaded to exercise their public functions as the bishops want. Whether or not the bishops are correctly applying Catholic law and doctrine in doing this isn’t for me to say. But I can say they are engaging in a form of coercion. They are threatening Catholic public officials with a detriment -- one that I suppose must be significant to a Catholic -- if they don’t exercise their public functions as the bishops want. I would prefer not to be governed by people subject to this form of coercive influence. That’s why the behavior of certain bishops on this point makes me disinclined, at the margin, to vote for Catholic candidates.
You’re quite right that public officials are exposed to all sorts of potentially coercive influences other than religious ones. All such influences may, in my opinion, be legitimately considered by voters in evaluating candidates. Because we make our choices from what are often flawed alternatives, my disinclination to vote for Catholic candidates is by no means absolute. If confronted with a ballot choice between Sarah Palin and any Catholic of your choice, up to and including Archbishop Chaput himself, I’ll pull the lever for the Catholic without hesitation. But, all else equal, the behavior of the bishops makes me inclined to disfavor Catholic candidates for office. I think that’s the state of affairs that John F. Kennedy’s 1960 speech was intended to avoid.
Philip F. Lawler, "The Faithful Departed: The collapse of Boston's Catholic culture" (New York, Encounter: 2008), 43-66.
Bruce: I hope I can be allowed a measure of irony to further the point that claims of bishops' "control" are unreasonable for the same reason most conspiracy theories are—they lack evidence. To your point: I’m afraid it still sounds as if you wish to censor the words and actions of bishops merely because they represent an establishment of religion. While we seem to agree that mere persuasiveness can never justly be curbed, you say there is a "limit...of the bishops' power of persuasion," and say this limit is reached in acts such as excommunication. You don’t say, however, what should be done about bishops’ breach of this limit, besides changing one’s private voting habits.
On the one hand, it's hard to see how the ecclesiastical penalty of excommunication differs in kind from other penalties, such as formal exclusion from communion or public criticism. We should remember, too, that excommunication is not an active measure taken against someone—rather, it is the official recognition of a pre-existing state. Catholics who repudiate the Church’s teaching on grave matters may bring excommunication upon themselves, as they are morally responsible for their actions both as private and public citizens. If they are "not persuaded" by the bishops, they should either find work that does not require them to betray Christian principles, or cease claiming to be Catholics altogether. While excommunication is exceedingly rare and aimed at spiritual rehabilitation, the penalty is a useful way of recognizing a persistent refusal to own up to inconsistency. The politicians in question just aren't being honest when they claim it is possible to be both a faithful Catholic and a dissenting Catholic. Such inconsistency causes problems for their own spiritual welfare, and as public figures, their choices may cause scandal and confusion among Catholics--a state of affairs that demands episcopal intervention to correct the record.
The mistake of pro-choice Catholics is not to claim that their religious beliefs do not translate into political reasons to outlaw abortion. About that they’re right. Their mistake is to underestimate the power of secular arguments against legal abortion. If they genuinely think abortion is seriously immoral, they have plenty of ways of arguing it should be illegal that won’t invoke Church teaching or the Bible.