Edmund Burke spoke a great and noble truth when he observed that the kind of society and government a nation has is an accurate reflection of the character and intellect of the people who inhabit it. A corrupt, careless, sluggish people will have a government to match their ill nature.
During the summer of 1980, I met weekly for breakfast, prayer, and study with a minister friend of mine. A warm-hearted, intelligent man, Bob Hager kept challenging me to broaden my interest from the biblical studies, theology, and apologetics that were my great loves to include social concerns. One week, he told me of a book he’d read recently – Ronald J. Sider’s Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger. “Cal,” Bob said, “you’ve simply got to read this book. It’ll change your life.“
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.
The culture these days seems distinctly unfriendly to both freedom and virtue. For all of the rhetoric about the end of big government, the GOP Congress has made peace with Leviathan. At the same time, evidence of moral decline, from family disintegration to artistic obscenity, lies all around us. Superficially, at least, enhancing state power in order to make society more virtuous seems to be a losing strategy.
Environmental thought is being used increasingly, not to preserve nature’s beauty, but to restrict economic prosperity. As a priest, I am concerned about this movement, not only because I believe that economic development is good for the human family but also because, under the guise of environmentalism, certain heresies are making inroads into our houses of worship. Of late, we have witnessed the rise of what some have called a “green spirituality,” said to blend nicely with traditional faith.
The modern environmental movement originated during the 1970s in response to serious environmental conditions–polluted rivers, blighted landscapes, and noxious air. We owe great tribute to those who worked tirelessly to remind us of our obligation to be good stewards of the earth. In a relatively short time, we responded to the environmental calls to action, and the results are noteworthy.
A Christian living in the late-twentieth century United States faces several tensions, not the least of which is how to be salt and light in an increasingly secular environment. In such a world, both institutions and culture may differ dramatically from God’s principles for organizing our lives and relating to our fellow human beings. Given this tension, it is instructive for Christians to reflect upon particular policy issues and bring scriptural insights to bear on them.
Like other religious leaders, I was courted by the makers of Prince of Egypt to review the project and offer my perspective. I was prepared to resist these overtures for fear of being politically manipulated. I viewed parts of the film in earlier stages and made suggestions, which were taken seriously, as were those made by others from a variety of religious traditions. In the end, again like the others, I, too, am won over.
During his 1831 visit to the United States, French nobleman Alexis de Tocqueville was surprised to see the positive role played by active religious faith in nurturing liberty. The dogma of the Enlightenment’s secularizing philosophes predicted the waning of religious enthusiasm as enlightenment and freedom spread, but Tocqueville’s American experience contradicted this dogma.
We laymen expect ministers to lead us to the threshold of mystery. Our work is terribly rationalistic, and rationalism is always in opposition to the profound nature of man. Consequently, ministers should not try too hard to base their reflections on economic or financial facts, but, starting from the nature of the human person illumined by revelation, on the heart of human mystery. Truly, the Original Sin was an attitude that rejected mystery, an attempt to find a rationalism that has led us to disaster.
The meltdown of Asian markets, combined with a high- profile hedge fund failure at home, has revived the familiar charge that capitalist greed and pervasive market failure are the sources of economic crisis. What happened to Asian economies and one hedge fund has become a metaphor for the systemic moral failings of capitalism itself.
Christians face many temptations. Sensual pleasure and wealth pose obvious dangers. So does power. The latter is particularly insidious because so many people, including Christians, claim to desire it for selfless reasons.