Last year, when I was studying up on the Catholic Church, I reflected that Theology and Moral Philosophy should be more like Physics. That is to say, knowledge should accumulate. A beginning student of hysics isn’t told to go back to first principles, conduct his own experiments, re-derive all of the necessary math, and in general rebuild modern physics from scratch. If this were necessary, nobody would ever learn modern physics. Instead, our student is guided rapidly through the basics of physics, doing proofs and experiments for enrichment, and then on in like manner until the subject is grasped and the student can make use of his new knowledge. If God is objectively true, there should be a similar system of knowledge for theology and moral philosophy that has been built up over the years. Scripture is foundational and essential, but its implications (and the implications of human nature in general) are not always obvious, and yet everyone seemed to start from scripture and build their own superstructure on top it. Not surprisingly, different authorities often disagree.
I found the body of knowledge I was looking for in the Catholic Church and in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC). The moral principles in the CCC are rooted in scripture and in human nature, and represent a treasury of knowledge built up over thousands years that extends back to Aristotle and the ancient Greeks as well as to the ancient Hebrews. It’s massive, all encompassing, and consistent, and I was delighted to discover it.
Great! Theology and Moral Philosophy are like Physics!
In one sense, that is, but not in every sense, as Pope Benedict explains in section 24 of Spe Salvi:
First of all, we must acknowledge that incremental progress is possible only in the material sphere…in the field of ethical awareness and moral decision-making, there is no similar possibility of accumulation for the simple reason that man’s freedom is always new and he must always make his decisions anew. These decisions cannot simply be made for us in advance by others—if that were the case, we would no longer be free.
In other words, physical matter has no free will, and so always follows the rules. We can build machines, in line with the laws of physics and chemistry, and they do what we expect them to do. And we can hand them over to others who don’t understanding a thing about physics and chemistry, and they still work! I live at the apex of a pyramid of technology with my laptop and my cell phone and my video games and air conditioning and refrigeration and central heating and all manner of things, some of which I have a good understanding, some of which I have a marginal understanding, and some to which I’m completely oblivious. But even if I had no understanding, all of these gadgets would still work for me! I can stand on top of this pyramid of knowledge without possessing even the capstone.
Moral knowledge is different. There’s no such thing as a gadget of virtue. I can’t go to Target and buy some Fortitude for my kids, and maybe a little Wisdom on the side. I can’t say to my oldest son, “Hey Dave! Come over here, I need to upgrade your Prudence!” People aren’t machines; you can’t program them to be good. If you want to stand at the apex of the pyramid of moral knowledge, you need to acquire the whole pyramid. And you need to do it yourself; no one can do it for you. And you need to acquire it not with your head, your intellect, but with your heart, your will. Understanding moral teaching intellectually is useful, but if it doesn’t enter your will, you don’t possess it. And if it has entered your will, understanding it intellectually isn’t strictly necessary. Reading about another country isn’t the same as living there; and if you live there, you know what it’s like without reading about it.
Acquiring that pyramid of virtue is difficult, and very few ever stand at the apex (we call them “saints”). And we need help to ascend it, which, fortunately, God is delighted to give us.
All of this has implications for society, to wit: utopia is impossible. We cannot build the Kingdom of Heaven here on Earth. We cannot design the perfect society, with perfect rules, in which everyone will always automatically have everything they need and there will be no want, and everyone will be happy, precisely because people are not machines. Society is not a machine. No matter what rules and institutions you devise, people are free to subvert them, and (without that moral grounding) they will. Or, if your system is designed specifically so that people are not free to subvert it, cannot prevent it from working, then you have taken away their freedom, and your system is not the Kingdom of Heaven, is not truly utopia.
So what are our responsibilities with regard to Society? We must strive, with God’s help, to acquire all virtue. A society is only as good as its members. We must strive to provide just rules and institutions. We can’t build utopia, but there’s no reason to settle for less than the best we can do. And we must strive—as individuals—to serve those in need, because they are in need right now. Ignoring the needs of those around us in favor of trying to build the Perfect Society in which they will no longer be in need is a cop-out. It merely inflates us with pride while failing to accomplish the goal…and meanwhile, those around us are still in need.
The View from the Foothills 