Lord Acton, the great historian of freedom, understood that “liberty is the delicate fruit of a mature civilization.” The liberty of which he spoke embraced a broad scope of human freedom, including dimensions political, intellectual, economic, and, especially, religious. The civilization of which he spoke was the West, whose heritage of Greek philosophy, Roman law, and Christian faith indelibly marked it and inexorably pushed it toward the full panoply of liberties we enjoy today and to which the rest of the world looks.
Earlier this summer the White House and Congress agreed on legislation that would permit sales of American food and medicine to Cuba for the first time in twenty-eight years. Some conservatives have opposed this deal because they think it will prop up one of the last remaining communist regimes. In reality, however, this legislation is a moral victory that should help achieve Pope John Paul II’s desire for Cuba to “open itself up to the world, and … the world to open itself up to Cuba.”
The church has always been susceptible to having the waves of secular enthusiasm wash over it. In the 1920s and 1930s we saw the emergence of the Social Gospel; in the 1970s and 1980s we saw the rise of liberation theology, which is essentially Marxism with salsa. On a less political plane, we have seen Christian aerobics programs at the height of the fitness craze and Christian punk-rock bands during the new wave era.
Lord Acton, the great historian of freedom, understood that “liberty is the delicate fruit of a mature civilization.” The liberty of which he spoke embraced a broad scope of human freedom, including dimensions political, intellectual, economic, and, especially, religious. The civilization of which he spoke was the West, whose heritage of Greek philosophy, Roman law, and Christian faith indelibly marked it and inexorably pushed it toward the full panoply of liberties we enjoy today and to which the rest of the world looks.
I studied ethics for years in seminary and represent a tradition that has done some serious thinking on the subject. Even so, what is called “ethics” in many business schools cannot be found in Saint Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica. “Business ethics” as it is usually taught is not ethics in any traditional sense but an ideology committed to “social justice” and other fuzzy abstractions that, to my way of thinking, conflict with the Ten Commandments.
One of the more vigorously contested conflicts between private environmentalism and governmental policy has been occurring for a decade at the international level, where the Earth Charter movement is knocking at the door of the United Nations, begging for admission. It is a project of serious, determined, and sometimes zealous environmentalists.
The starting point for any authentic discussion of environmental stewardship must begin with the witness of the Book of Genesis: “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. And God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth’” (Gen. 1:27–28).
The first issue of Religion & Liberty appeared in January 1991–auspiciously, the same year in which Pope John Paul II promulgated his encyclical letter Centesimus Annus, a meditation of the nature of freedom in its many forms and its role in the modern world. That encyclical prompted a wide-scale debate on the moral foundations of the free society. Since its founding, the Acton Institute has been a part of this vigorous debate, often conducted in the pages of Religion & Liberty .
It is now common to argue that the roots of many of the features of modern culture—secularism, utilitarianism, and materialism, to name a few—are found in the ideas of the Enlightenment, a European-wide, eighteenth-century movement described by Immanuel Kant as “man's release from his self-incurred tutelage.”
The events of September 11 have given rise to religious rhetoric in the public square the likes of which we have not seen in a long time. With Congressmen singing “God Bless America” on the Capitol steps and President Bush appealing to prayer, God, or the Bible in almost every speech, even the American Civil Liberties Union is observing a prolonged moment of silence. But what should Christians make of this political use of religion?
How many times in the past months have we been struck by the expansive scope and seemingly endless depth of evil? In the midst of something so heinous, so diabolical, can the hand of the One whose finger is said to write straight with crooked lines be detected? As the stories of the orphans and their grief are told and retold, whether in our national media or in our kitchens, there is lurking in each telling and retelling the ominous question underneath it all: Why?
Families are bound together in love and solidarity. Every individual family is called to be a rich expression of that love and solidarity and a witness of the same to the world. Furthermore