Reading Of Many Things by George M. Anderson, S.J., in the October 10 issue was an uplifting and enjoyable experience. Not only was the human success story of Jos in overcoming his past problems and bad experiences heartwarming; it also offered a good example of peacemaking/humanistic criminology in action. Here we see restorative justice in living form.
I currently teach two undergraduate sections of Probation and Parole: Theory and Practice and will bring this piece to the attention of my students to demonstrate not only the moral philosophical aspect of this component of American corrections, but also the positive and uplifting attitude of Jos’s parole officer, who, when his client stumbled, did not initiate a revocation procedure but reached out to him saying, I’ll work with you.
Truly, with such stories as this, there is hope for our criminal justice system.
James J. Green
As staff theologian for Cardinal Joseph Bernardin from 1985 until his death, I commend the editorial A Culture of Life (9/25) for reminding us once again of Cardinal Bernardin’s efforts with regard to a consistent ethic of life. In particular I applaud the observation that no one image or idea can bear the weight of the whole conversation. No one was more aware of this than the cardinal.
As regards images, for example, the cardinal spoke of his dying as his most important homily. The photos of the frail, dying cardinal anointing the sick, after having been anointed himself, and the stories of his ministry to fellow cancer patients evoked a sense of peace that only God could give and no homily could explain.
As regards ideas, the vocabulary of consistent ethic was complemented by other proposals such as the Common Ground Initiative. A church torn by acrimony could not be a credible witness or effective partner in public discourse about protecting and enhancing human dignity.
What held so much of this together was a hopefulness that was captured, in a small measure, in his pastoral on Catholic health care, A Sign of Hope, a hope sustained by the conviction that because of God’s love for us we can live with confidence in the midst of alienation and chaos. I would suggest that without hopefulness our attempts to explore symbols and stories, as you helpfully propose, will be less than effective. Bernardin’s hopefulness was quite personal: as inviting as his blue eyes and as robust as the operas he loved. But it also reflected his appropriation of the teaching of the Second Vatican Council, in particular the image of the church as leaven. Redemption was possible in a sinful world.
As this conciliar perspective is replaced by a profound pessimism about what some consider to be the moral bankruptcy of the United States and western Europe, Bernardin’s hopefulness is viewed as being outdated, if not dangerous. Without hopefulness, it is understandable that the complexity of a consistent ethic or the labors of Common Ground-type dialogue can seem to be a waste of time.
In a few weeks we will celebrate the ninth anniversary of Cardinal Bernardin’s death. Perhaps it is time for us to ask what does the Christian virtue of hope mean today. Is it nave to trust in that which is unseen, or is this the confidence that is an appropriate platform for God’s grace?
(Rev.) Michael D. Place