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Atheism and the Purely "Human" Ethic
| Fr. James V. Schall, S.J. | June 5, 2006
"Some have reached the point of theorizing on the absolute sovereignty
of reason and freedom in the context of moral norms: they presume that
these norms constitute the context of a purely human ethic,
in other words, the expression of a law that man makes for himself by
himself. The advocates of this secular morality say that man
as a rational being not only can but must decide freely on the value of
his behavior." Benedict XVI, Address
to Biblical Commission, April 27, 2006
S. Lewis wrote in Surprised By Joy that "a young man who
wishes to remain a sound Atheist cannot be too careful of his reading" (and,
later, that "a young Atheist cannot guard his faith too carefully.")
It is a great and amusing statement. We are accustomed
to being warned about reading enticing materials that, it is said, might
corrupt our minds or our morals. It seldom occurs to us that the person
who is, as it were, already "corrupted" in either sphere has
the same reading problem if he wants to continue on his merry way with
a clear conscience. While evil and disorder may be quite alluring, we
sometimes forget that what is good is more so so much so that it
often surprises and shocks us into reality, into seeing what is.
The fact that we can read at all, in whatever language, we need to be
reminded, itself opens us not only to what is disoriented and corrupting,
but also to what is noble and elevating. The fact that the world was made
in the Word and this same Word became flesh, whether we like it or not,
impinges on every sentence we read or speak, on every being we encounter
in our daily lives.
Our minds are made to recognize the truth, even if we choose to live in
error and make every effort, as we do, to claim that our chosen error
is, paradoxically, the truth. Few there are who do not seek to defend
in thought and words how they choose to live. This defense is, I suppose,
but another way of saying that we have to attempt to justify our lives,
no matter how we choose to live them. And once we have presented our presumably
reasonable justification for the way we live, we find that this very explication
is open to inspection to whoever else has mind and wants to examine what
we claim is true. Our word about ourselves is not the final word, even
when it is our final word.
It is little consolation to us, I suspect, that no one else in the world
can imagine why anyone in his right mind would hold what we do hold. The
only and last-ditch defense of our ways, as it turns out, is a kind of
multiculturalism in which we agree never to inquire anything of another
or let them inquire anything of us. We become, not "social"
beings, but "enclosed" beings because we cannot bear to hear
how we live as critiqued by someone else. Silently, no doubt, we suspect
contradictions in ourselves when we try not to see them because we do
not want to change how we live.
Philosophical literature is filled with the notion of "humanism,"
a word that goes back at least to Cicero. At its best, humanism means
mans intellectual effort to state to himself what he is.
We are the beings who not only exist but who must state to themselves
why they exist as they do as men, not toads or angels. We are not
complete with our existence alone. We need the effort to illuminate what
this existence is as it appears in us. Obviously, this endeavor is self-reflective,
but not for that reason necessarily "subjective" in the pejorative
sense. That is, as Etienne Gilson once said of "Augustinian metaphysics,"
it is possible, though not always easy, to be objective even about oneself.
This objectivity indicates our inner awareness that we did not make ourselves
to be what we are. We have the raw material and capacity for making this
judgment in our very selves. In this sense, we have a "laboratory"
within our being that can be illuminated by our own minds as they seek
to know what is not themselves alone. Indeed, the first task of the "mind"
is to decide in particular whether what we are is already given to us.
Only when we make this reflective judgment can we proceed to decide how
we ought to act, then how we will act in this light. We are aware, as
St. Paul also told us, that we do not always "will" to do what
we ought, even while knowing what we "should" do. Paul graphically
spoke of two "laws" in our members to illustrate this awareness
of what each of us experiences.
We are all faced with common perplexities. How can we be "free"
if we must "obey" the "law?" Are there not different
kinds of law? In our age, this apparent opposition between law and liberty
is particularly confusing. Since Rousseau, many have tried to solve it
by defining law in such a way that law only means what we want it to mean.
In other words, no such thing as a natural or universal law binds us or
is even known to us. This negative approach, of course, eliminates any
conflict except on the basis of confrontation with other absolutely free
wills defining differently what they choose.
Rousseau solved his problem by proposing a blind spiritual obedience to
the majority will. He wanted no conflict between our outer and inner selves.
He was haunted with the loss of spiritual communion caused by the individualist
presuppositions of previous thinkers since Machavelli and Hobbes. What
Rousseau lost in the process of proposing his own solution was precisely
the individual human person himself with his own order of soul and nobility
that he did not give himself. This latter was what had itself also to
judge civil law and custom, even of the majority. Freedom was not contrasted
with law but with "force." We are to be "forced" to
be free if we cannot accept whatever is willed by the law of the majority
that we give to ourselves.
Freedom, obedience, and law, in much modern thought, are thus seen to
contrast with not to compliment one another. When we do
not properly spell out these relations between freedom, obedience, and
law, especially if we are Christians, we become less free, even slave-like.
If we obey a law, particularly a revealed law, we are said to lose our
liberty, whereas, in the best sense, the opposite is the case. We gain
it. It is still the truth that makes us free. How this increased freedom
stemming from revealed law happens is what we most need to understand.
We find ourselves in something of a dilemma. To really be what we are
involves a component of obedience to a law we did not make. One can either
look upon this situation as a tyranny or a gift. If we look on it as a
tyranny that is, "who is to tell us what we are?" sort
of approach we will spend our time and effort erecting a theory
of our being designed in opposition to the obedience that is based on
a normative givenness of what-it-is-to-be-human. We will find, in short,
that in some odd sense our freely chosen principles turn out to be the
reverse of how we are taught to act in natural law or divine revelation.
This situation should at least strike us as odd.
By contrast, if we look upon our being, its very what it is, as
something given to us as a gift (which is the case) we will suspect that
we are more of what we are more human by accepting the gift.
We make the effort to see what the gift is. We live by its terms. Indeed,
on this latter premise, our intellectual life will be not filled with
the frantic efforts to define and justify other criteria about how to
live, criteria opposite of the law of our being. Rather it will be able
to see that obedience to the given law is itself in every instance the
more reasonable thing about us, the more choice-worthy.
We will begin to discover, in the very use of our
minds, an uncanny relation between what is law and what is reasonable.
We learn that it is not our reason that makes our being. Our reason is
already in the being we have. Our reason discovers what we are more easily
by observing the law of our nature and of revelation addressed to it.
Revelational norms or laws, we begin to suspect, have behind them the
same overarching reason that we find in our given nature, though we must
often use the most subtle intelligence to see this relationship. The young
atheist, in this sense, does need to be very careful about what he reads.
He never quite knows what he will find on carefully examining even his
favorite vice, which, to be sure, he is free to do.
In his recent address to the Biblical Commission, Pope Benedict XVI noted
that the commission was engaged in studying the relation between the "Bible
and morals," no doubt an ancient and abiding enterprise. A long and
well thought out tradition of precisely "Christian humanism"
argued that no necessary opposition exists between humanism and revelation.
This tradition did not deny, however, the existence of what Henri de Lubac,
S.J., called "atheistic humanism," or "secular humanism."
The principled assumptions of these latter two forms of humanism present
a philosophical problem for the Christian mind. Once we understand what
they hold, we can see why the atheist positions proposed. The Christian
intelligence is not impeded from understanding the arguments of atheist
or anyone else, for that matter. As Aristotle remarked, when we
see why an error is made, we are more prepared to see why the truth is
Beginning with the Ten Commandments, the Bible is clearly replete with
moral injunctions, many of which, we are now told, are backward, or out
of date, or dangerous, or silly. Some think that this judgment of modernity
is sufficient for us to reject this morality. We need not be concerned
with anything else and need not worry about whether the rejection of classical
morality is true. And for many, this is true, at least for a while.
One of the reasons for revelation, as St. Thomas told us, was so that
ordinary folks could understand what it was they needed to know or do
to reach the highest good in view of the fact that they were either too
busy, too weak, too sinful, or too slow to see what the more learned might
see. Revelation gave us access to truths that the culture often would
ridicule or not tell us. But revelation was not intended to put a stop
to reason. Quite the opposite, it was intended to provoke it so that it
would see on its own terms what was clearly more "reasonable."
We may, for instance, be against abortion or birth control or lying because
the Bible in some way or another tells us that these are wrong. But the
fact is that careful examination of facts connected with the effects of
abortion, birth control, or lying, or other vices, shows that a very convincing
case can be made for the biblical injunctions on grounds of data and reason.
Very often we would not pay careful attention to such studies if we were
not prodded to make them or attend to them by the supposed conflict between
revealed law and human law or custom or by the assurances that no one
in their right minds held them.
Benedict XVI is always good at stating the exact dimensions of a position
contrary to reason or revelation. One might reflect on what it might mean
that a pope can do this quite well. Interestingly, Pope Ratzinger remarks
that, in this particular issue, the relation of "Bible and morals,"
we are not concerned exclusively with the "believer," but with
"every person as such." I would take this remark to mean that
knowledge of what is in the Bible, the truth it contains, is not something
for believers alone but, on their own terms, is something addressed to
all human persons as such, be they Bible readers or not. The relation
of the Bible and morals is also, as the Pope has said in other contexts
(reiterating Fides et Ratio), an admonition to Biblical scholars
that they too have to be familiar with philosophy. We must note here that
the Bible, even in its most difficult terms, remains, at bottom, a teaching
addressed to reason on its own terms, something that also involves freedom.
Even those things beyond the power of human reason, such as the Trinity
and Incarnation, are not presented as against reason but as something
Benedict next takes up the very first question of Aristotle in his Ethics,
namely, "mans first impulse is his desire for happiness and
for fulfilment in life." Pope Ratzinger observes that what is different
today, both from Aristotle and the Bible, at least in the West, is the
assumption that this happiness "should be achieved absolutely autonomously,
without any reference to God or to his law." Whether this same happiness
can be reached by observing the Koran or other "laws," the Pope
does not mention, though it is becoming evident that he must soon seriously
address this issue in a more formal manner, especially as Islam moves
Benedicts statement of "a purely human ethic"
proposed as an alternate to classic reason and revelation is precise.
We can only, it is said, obey a "law" that we give ourselves.
"The advocates of this secular morality say that man
as a rational being not only can but must decide freely
on the value of his behavior." No doubt, this position is the going
rationale, taught on most campuses and presupposed by much of the intelligentsia.
It is not Chestertons remark that, while yet an unbeliever, he had,
by reading the heretics inconsistencies, almost invented Christianity
by himself, only to discover happily that it was already invented. Rather
this purely human ethic is a justification of what is held to be against
natural and revealed law as itself what is the real human good. This enterprise
of denying of natural law is itself "missionary," aggressively
But such a view is "erroneous." It is based, Benedict remarks,
on a "presumed conflict between human freedom and every form of law."
Thus, it is the burden of the Pope to suggest why freedom and law are
not in conflict. He begins with a sentence right out of Aquinas: "The
Creator, because we are creatures, has inscribed his natural law,
a reflection of his creative idea, in our hearts, in our very being, as
a compass and inner guide for our life." From this background, the
Pope concludes that "the vocation and complete fulfilment of the
human being are not attained by rejecting Gods law, but by abiding
by the new law that consists in the grace of the Holy Spirit." The
Pope puts down a certain gauntlet here. He does so on the basis of law
and reason, but he does not hesitate to include "the new law"
and "grace," as if the happiness of which Aristotle spoke is
not to be achieved without them.
Everything Benedict writes these days is seen in the light of his Encyclical,
No contradiction exits between Gods law, human freedom, and Gods
love. "Gods law correctly interpreted neither attenuates nor,
even less, eliminates mans freedom." If the reason we are given
freedom in the first place is that we might freely receive the highest
things, that we might choose to love them, then it is absurd to say that
the law of God might itself be designed to eliminate it. The moral law
was found in the Old Testament and no doubt in the philosophers. Its more
complete fulfilment is in Christ in the New Testament. This completion
is a "synthesis of perfect freedom in total obedience to Gods
will." An ethic that listens to revelation "also seeks to be
authentically rational." Reason and revelation are not opposed as
what is rational to what is not rational, but as what is rational to what
is more fully rational.
In this context, we are not given a tract to follow, but the example of
Christs own life as the embodiment of law, love, faith, obedience,
freedom, and finally happiness. Christ carried out His mission in obedience
to His Fathers will. Christ in doing so reveals the Father as the
origin of all being, including our own. At the same time, Christ reveals
"the norms of upright human action." A "divine-human perfection"
is possible to us, but not as something we concoct for ourselves. Jesus
teaching is not an "externally imposed regulation." We are given
the grace to "participate" in Christs own life and "put
it into practice." The apostles, as we ourselves, are "invited"
to follow Him. The invitation can be and quite often is evidently refused.
"Christ is the Incarnate Logos who enables us to share in his divine
life and sustains us with his grace on the journey toward our fulfilment."
John Paul II used to say that Christ "fully reveals to man to himself."
Imagine telling us philosophers and humanists this outlandish statement,
implying that what we definitely cannot figure out fully by ourselves
is the very truth about us. Of course, every philosopher knows that somehow
no philosopher has yet comprehended this whole truth by himself and about
man and cannot, in his quiet moments, help but wonder why.
Benedict affirms the same thing that John Paul II did: "What man
really is, appears definitively in the Logos made man; faith in Christ
gives us the fulfilment of anthropology." This affirmation remains,
on examination, the most revolutionary philosophic doctrine even in our
time. "Anthropology" is the study of man and what he is, whether
discovered by examining his historic record or by reflecting on his mind.
Indeed, as Benedict told the scripture scholars, the understanding of
man includes what the Bible says of him. The Bible too is addressed to
the truly open mind. "The relationship with Christ defines the loftiest
realization of mans moral action. This human action is directly
based on obedience to Gods law, on union with Christ and on the
indwelling of the Spirit in the believers soul. It is not an action
dictated by merely exterior norms, but stems from the vital relationship
that connects believers to Christ and to God." Obedience, freedom,
happiness, law, faith, grace these are words and realities that
belong together. However much in opposition to each other they seem, it
is we who make them so. In themselves, they all point in one direction.
The famous French philosopher, Simone Weil, wrote in her posthumous Gravity
and Grace, that "by redemptive suffering, God is present in extreme
evil. For the absence of God is the mode of divine presence which corresponds
to evil absence which is felt. He who has not God within himself
cannot feel this absence." The moral law, after all, is also about
"avoiding evil." John Paul II said, in the context of human
freedom, that the limit of evil is the divine mercy. The whole point of
Christianity is that sins can be forgiven. What cannot be forgiven is
what chooses to affirm in thought or in act that nothing needs to be forgiven.
"The absence of God is the mode of divine presence which corresponds
to evil." The absence of God is "felt" even by atheists,
especially the young ones, when they decide freely what their own values
are and, with experience, realize that what they thought was theirs is
not really what they wanted according to some "law" of their
actual being that keeps their hearts unsettled. This evil is the absence
that is felt by all philosophers, young and old, who seek by themselves
alone to explain everything that is. Following this method, the first
thing they end up with is knowing nothing about themselves.
The immediacy of God is the mode of divine presence that corresponds to
what is. This truth is, ultimately, why the young atheist cannot
be too careful in what he reads.
Related IgnatiusInsight.com Links:
page for Joseph Ratziger/Pope Benedict XVI
Are Truth, Faith,
and Tolerance Compatible? | Joseph Ratzinger
Author page for Fr.
James V. Schall, S.J., with listing of all IgnatiusInsight.com articles
Introduction to Atheism | Carl E. Olson
books and resources from Ignatius Press
Case for Christianity | An Interview with Richard Purtill
and Challenge of C. S. Lewis | Mark Brumley
the Conversion of C.S. Lewis | Clotilde Morhan
and Work of C. S. Lewis | Carl E. Olson
Conversion | Fr. Thomas Dubay, S.M.
Evil? Secularism's Pride and Irrational Prejudice | Carl E. Olson
James V. Schall, S.J., is Professor of Political Philosophy at Georgetown
He is the author of numerous books on social issues, spirituality, culture,
and literature including Another
Sort of Learning, Idylls
and Rambles, On the Unseriousness of Human Affairs: Teaching, Writing,
Playing, Believing, Lecturing, Philosophizing, Singing, Dancing,
and A Student's Guide to Liberal Learning.
Read more of his essays on his
the Insight Scoop Blog and read the latest posts and comments by
IgnatiusInsight.com staff and readers about current events, controversies,
and news in the Church!
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