The Caliph's Catch-22: Protestant Arguments Against the “Apocrypha”

There's a story (probably legendary) about the destruction of the great Library of Alexandria:

John the Grammarian, a Coptic priest living in Alexandria at the time of the Arab conquest in 641 AD, came to know ‘Amr, the Muslim general who conquered the city. The men were each other’s intellectual peers, and John became the Emir’s trusted adviser. Soon, John grew bold enough to ask ‘Amr what might be done with the ‘books of wisdom’ held in the ‘royal treasuries’, going on to tell him of the great collections amassed by Ptolemy Philadelphus and his successors. ‘Amr replied that he could not decide the fate of the books without consulting the Caliph, Omar. The Caliph’s answer, quoted here from Alfred Butler’s Arab Conquest of Egypt (1902), is infamous: ‘Touching the books you mention, if what is written in them agrees with the Book of God, they are not required; if it disagrees, they are not desired. Destroy them therefore.’

Whether or not the story is true, I think that it certainly illustrates how many Protestants approach the Deuterocanon (which they call “the Apocrypha”).

The argument, in a nutshell, is that if the Deuterocanon either contains doctrines not otherwise found in Scripture, or it doesn't. If it does, it's heretical and erroneous. If it doesn't, it's irrelevant: redundant, merely edifying at best. Sometimes, this catch-22 is presented subtly. So, for example, from Edward C. Unmack's influential 1929 essay, Why We Reject The Apocrypha, he argues that on the one hand that:

A further survey of the Books of the Apocrypha makes evident the fact that they are really supplementary in character to the Books of the Old Testament. [....] They really belong to a class of Jewish literature called the Haggada, in which historical, biblical, and allegorical types were employed to illustrate the text of the Canonical Scriptures.

So we can reject “the Apocrypha” because they merely illustrate the truths already found in the “Canonical Scriptures.” As the Caliph would say, if what is written in them agrees with the Book of God, they are not required.

But then Unmack criticizes “the Apocrypha” for teaching truths not found in the other Scriptures:

Moreover, in the Apocrypha there occur unscriptural fables, fictions and doctrinal errors. Compare Tobit vi. 1-8; Judith ix. 10; 2 Macc. ii; Bel and Dragon, etc. Alms are represented as having power to earn merit. Compare prayers for the dead in 2 Macc. xii.

As the Caliph would say, if what is written in them disagrees with the Book of God, they are not desired. Destroy them therefore.

This is a simple, if stupid, game. Certainly, plenty of critical scholars have played this game with the New Testament: rejecting the authenticity of the Gospel of John because any new details must be concocted, while any old details must have been stolen from the Synoptics or Paul.

Of course, what Unmack, the Caliph, and the critical scholar overlook is a third option: that these other Books, be they the Deuterocanon or the Gospel of John, contain additional information that doesn't contradict other truths. Assume that you know that Tom lives in Kansas. If I then tell you, “Mary lives in Kansas,” I'm saying something that is neither redundant nor contradictory to what you already know.

So this whole line of argumentation against the Deuterocanon only works for Protestants if they start with the assumptions that (1) they have the full and complete canon of Scripture, and that (2) no theological truths may be found outside of these books. But those assumptions - about the truth of the 66-Book canons and sola Scriptura - are precisely what's in dispute.

Explore Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”) With Me

Pope Francis's new Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”) was released today. I haven't had a chance to read it all yet, but I thought I'd try something a little different today. Let's explore the document together: I'll begin by posting a few of the passages that jump out at me. You do the same in the comments - as you read through what Francis has written us, share what's striking you.

For starters, this resonated with me as a seminarian:

107. Many places are experiencing a dearth of vocations to the priesthood and consecrated life. This is often due to a lack of contagious apostolic fervour in communities which results in a cooling of enthusiasm and attractiveness. Wherever there is life, fervour and a desire to bring Christ to others, genuine vocations will arise. Even in parishes where priests are not particularly committed or joyful, the fraternal life and fervour of the community can awaken in the young a desire to consecrate themselves completely to God and to the preaching of the Gospel. This is particularly true if such a living community prays insistently for vocations and courageously proposes to its young people the path of special consecration. On the other hand, despite the scarcity of vocations, today we are increasingly aware of the need for a better process of selecting candidates to the priesthood. Seminaries cannot accept candidates on the basis of any motivation whatsoever, especially if those motivations have to do with affective insecurity or the pursuit of power, human glory or economic well-being.

That's a great point: you and I have a responsibility for cultivating vocations (Through our life, our fervor and our prayer) even if - perhaps especially if - our parish priest doesn't seem particularly zealous.

Brandon Vogt pointed out this passage, which captures a very serious risk in the Church: that we'll continue on our routines as if everything is fine, while we grow cold spiritually:

83. And so the biggest threat of all gradually takes shape: “the gray pragmatism of the daily life of the Church, in which all appears to proceed normally, while in reality faith is wearing down and degenerating into small-mindedness”.[63] A tomb psychology thus develops and slowly transforms Christians into mummies in a museum. Disillusioned with reality, with the Church and with themselves, they experience a constant temptation to cling to a faint melancholy, lacking in hope, which seizes the heart like “the most precious of the devil’s potions”.[64] Called to radiate light and communicate life, in the end they are caught up in things that generate only darkness and inner weariness, and slowly consume all zeal for the apostolate. For all this, I repeat: Let us not allow ourselves to be robbed of the joy of evangelization!

The man he is quoting, by the way, is one Joseph Ratzinger.

In the section on “person to person” evangelization, Francis reminding us that we Gospel message need not “always be communicated by fixed formulations learned by heart or by specific words which express an absolutely invariable content.” Nevertheless, he gives us this helpful guide for how to preach Christ to those around us.

128. In this preaching, which is always respectful and gentle, the first step is personal dialogue, when the other person speaks and shares his or her joys, hopes and concerns for loved ones, or so many other heartfelt needs. Only afterwards is it possible to bring up God’s word, perhaps by reading a Bible verse or relating a story, but always keeping in mind the fundamental message: the personal love of God who became man, who gave himself up for us, who is living and who offers us his salvation and his friendship. This message has to be shared humbly as a testimony on the part of one who is always willing to learn, in the awareness that the message is so rich and so deep that it always exceeds our grasp. At times the message can be presented directly, at times by way of a personal witness or gesture, or in a way which the Holy Spirit may suggest in that particular situation. If it seems prudent and if the circumstances are right, this fraternal and missionary encounter could end with a brief prayer related to the concerns which the person may have expressed. In this way they will have an experience of being listened to and understood; they will know that their particular situation has been placed before God, and that God’s word really speaks to their lives.

I may be wrong, but I think Pope Francis had in mind the challenge posed by Pentecostal and Evangelical movements in Latin America when he said:

63. The Catholic faith of many peoples is nowadays being challenged by the proliferation of new religious movements, some of which tend to fundamentalism while others seem to propose a spirituality without God. This is, on the one hand, a human reaction to a materialistic, consumerist and individualistic society, but it is also a means of exploiting the weaknesses of people living in poverty and on the fringes of society, people who make ends meet amid great human suffering and are looking for immediate solutions to their needs. These religious movements, not without a certain shrewdness, come to fill, within a predominantly individualistic culture, a vacuum left by secularist rationalism. We must recognize that if part of our baptized people lack a sense of belonging to the Church, this is also due to certain structures and the occasionally unwelcoming atmosphere of some of our parishes and communities, or to a bureaucratic way of dealing with problems, be they simple or complex, in the lives of our people. In many places an administrative approach prevails over a pastoral approach, as does a concentration on administering the sacraments apart from other forms of evangelization.

Finally, some smart words on the question of women's ordination:

104. Demands that the legitimate rights of women be respected, based on the firm conviction that men and women are equal in dignity, present the Church with profound and challenging questions which cannot be lightly evaded. The reservation of the priesthood to males, as a sign of Christ the Spouse who gives himself in the Eucharist, is not a question open to discussion, but it can prove especially divisive if sacramental power is too closely identified with power in general. It must be remembered that when we speak of sacramental power “we are in the realm of function, not that of dignity or holiness”.[73] The ministerial priesthood is one means employed by Jesus for the service of his people, yet our great dignity derives from baptism, which is accessible to all. The configuration of the priest to Christ the head – namely, as the principal source of grace – does not imply an exaltation which would set him above others. In the Church, functions “do not favour the superiority of some vis-à-vis the others”.[74] Indeed, a woman, Mary, is more important than the bishops. Even when the function of ministerial priesthood is considered “hierarchical”, it must be remembered that “it is totally ordered to the holiness of Christ’s members”.[75] Its key and axis is not power understood as domination, but the power to administer the sacrament of the Eucharist; this is the origin of its authority, which is always a service to God’s people. This presents a great challenge for pastors and theologians, who are in a position to recognize more fully what this entails with regard to the possible role of women in decision-making in different areas of the Church’s life.

Okay, that's (some of) what jumps out at me. What strikes you? What are your reactions?

Why We Should Take John 6 Literally About Transubstantation

One of our deacons, John Staley, recently reminded me of something I'd written about the Eucharist four years ago. Since Eucharist means “Thanksgiving,” this seems like a perfect time to share it.

I was prompted to writing by C. Michael Patton, a Reformed blogger. He'd written a post entitled, “Why I Don’t Buy the Roman Catholic Interpretation of John 6 in Defense of Transubstantiation,” in which he argues that John 6 was never meant to be taken literally. He offered two primary reasons for this claim.

What follows are Patton's arguments, and my responses:

I. Jesus Was Always Misunderstood

First, that Christ is “always” being misunderstood, so it would be “irresponsible” to take Him literally:

1. Jesus is always being misunderstood. John rarely records Jesus’ correcting the misunderstanding of people. 

"Loaves and Fishes" Relief, Church of Our Lady of Ravensburg (1897)

The people in John 6 were looking for Christ to provide for them like Moses did and they were not interested in His talk about belief and eating his flesh. Some naturally thought that he was being literal about his statements. It is true, Christ did not correct them. But this is a common theme in the ministry of Christ. As Peter demonstrates, it is only those who stay with him that get the answers for eternal life (John 6:68). Often Christ would speak in parables and not tell any but those who were His true followers (Luke 8:10). The rest He let go in their ignorance since he knew all men and he was not committing himself to them. 

John presents this side of Jesus more than any other of the Gospels when he says: John 2:24-25 “But Jesus, on His part, was not entrusting Himself to them, for He knew all men, and because He did not need anyone to testify concerning man, for He Himself knew what was in man.” He did not entrust himself to his listeners. Why? I suppose some wanted a king who would provide literal food for them like Moses did in the wilderness and they left when it became clear that He was not going to do the same. Some thought that He was speaking about actually eating his flesh and blood, I violation of the Mosaic Law, and they left. But why didn’t He simply correct their misunderstanding in this case? For the same reason He does not throughout the book of John. He often says things that are open to misinterpretation and then leaves His listeners in their confusion. Notice these examples 

a. John 2:18-21 “The Jews then said to Him, ‘What sign do You show us as your authority for doing these things?’ Jesus answered them, ‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’ The Jews then said, ‘It took forty-six years to build this temple, and will You raise it up in three days?’ But He was speaking of the temple of His body.” 

Notice, Christ was not being literal here yet He did not correct the misunderstanding. This misunderstanding eventually leads to His conviction and death. 

b. John 3:3-4 “Jesus answered and said to him, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ Nicodemus said to Him, ‘How can a man be born when he is old? He cannot enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born, can he?”

Notice again, Jesus does not correct Nicodemus’ misunderstanding (although, like in John 6, it is obvious to the reader that this is not to be taken literally). 

c. The disciples want Jesus to eat: “Rabbi, eat” (John 4:31). Jesus answers: “I have food to eat that you do not know about” (4:32). “So the disciples were saying to one another, ‘No one brought him anything to eat, did he?’” (John 4:33). 

This time Jesus does correct his disciples, but in frustration because they cannot see the symbolism behind it. In other words, they should know enough by now to interpret His words symbolically since this is the way He always spoke. 

Now we come to John 6. John’s readers should know by now that Christ speaks symbolically in such statements as these. We should understand by now that Christ is always being misunderstood by “outsiders.” They also know that sometimes Christ corrects the misunderstanding (especially with true followers) and sometimes he does not. Therefore, it would be irresponsible for the reader to take Christ literally in John 6.

It's true that Jesus often uses figurative language, which is a hyper-literal reading of the Bible (of the kind favored by some Fundamentalists and atheists) fails to grasp what is being taught. But it's an exaggeration to say “Jesus is always being misunderstood” or that the Apostles “should know enough by now to interpret His words symbolically since this is the way He always spoke.” Imagine if we were to wave away our need to forgive our enemies, or the reality of Heaven and Hell, or Christ's Resurrection, claiming that these were mere symbols, since Christ “always” spoke symbolically, and it would be “irresponsible” for us to take Him literally.

In any case, here's what I said in response:

Luca Signorelli, Communion of the Apostles (1512)

I really liked the way you approached this issue, and wanted to respond. I agree with you that not every time Jesus spoke, He was understood by the crowd, and I agree that an attempt to over-literalize Jesus has gotten a lot of people into trouble. I’ve actually used the same example from John 2:18-21 to show that people who brag about how “literally” they take the Bible are making an oft-repeated mistake. Take the Bible seriously, but not always literally – in other words, take it as it was meant to be taken. 

That said, I think there are some pretty easy Catholic responses. 

The answer to your first point is Mark 4:34: “He did not tell them anything without using a parable, though he explained EVERYTHING to his disciples in private.” So Jesus allowed the crowd to be confused, and then would explain things to the Disciples. The reasons are pretty clear — the crowds weren’t ready for the full Truth yet, and so He revealed it slowly, and according to His own timetable. The Disciples were given more information, and still didn’t really get it at first. So looking at your examples: 

1 (a) is the crowd misunderstanding, with a note from John explaining what Jesus meant. How does he know? Because Jesus explained parables to His disciples, and John was a disciple. 

1 (b) is the exact same thing, only it’s Nicodemus (and not a whole crowd) misunderstanding. Once again, John is “in the know,” so to speak, so he clues in his readers. 

1 (c) has the Disciples initially confused, and then Jesus explaining it. 

All of this comports with Mark 4:34. Now look to how Jesus reacts in John 6. The crowd, I think we’d both agree, think that Jesus is speaking literally. They didn’t initially think this: in John 6:42, they think He just means that He’s come down from Heaven (with no hint that they get anything about eating His flesh). After He keeps talking, their initial objection gets replaced with a much bigger one in 6:52, suggesting that NOW they are taking Him literally. 

If this was like 1(a)-(c), we would see either a description of Jesus explaining this to His disciples, or a note from John explaining what Jesus meant. Instead, we see in John 6:67, “Jesus then said to the Twelve, ‘Do you also want to leave?’” 

3rd century depiction of the Eucharist, catacomb of San Callisto

So it isn’t even that John omits to include what Jesus really meant, or the fact that He talked to the Twelve afterwards. It’s that Jesus went to the Twelve, and instead of saying, “here’s what that symbol means” like He did for the other examples (and which Mark 4:34 says He would do), He basically says, “Take it or leave it.” 

This is pretty unique amongst the teachings of Christ. The only other one can be found in Mark 9:9-10, when Jesus warns them not to say what they’ve seen until “the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” Mark 9:10 says, “So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what rising from the dead meant.”

So the two times we see Jesus refusing to explain away the “metaphor” are for the Resurrection and the Eucharist. If Mark 4:34 is accurate, this [is] because the Son of Man literally was to rise from the dead, and because Jesus meant the Eucharistic part literally.

The only thing that I would add to this response is that Patton assumes that “it is obvious to the reader that this is not to be taken literally.” That's because he's reading this through the lens of centuries of Protestant exegesis. As a matter of historical fact, that's not how the early Christians approached this passage. They took it literally, as we see from the writings of the first and second, third, and fourth century Church Fathers.

Writing the first four centuries of Christians off as irresponsible, and incapable of understanding basic metaphors isn't a very compelling argument -- particularly for someone who bases his whole religion off of a belief that the Holy Spirit was working through these exact same men to preserve the Gospel. The burden is on the person rejecting transubstantiation to explain why the early Church believed in it: did the Apostles just forget to correct the idolatry of their followers?

II. John Omits the Institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper

Patton's second argument is that John omits the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper:

2. Another important factor that Keating and other Catholic apologists fail to take into account is that John does not even record the central events of the Last Supper at all. Obviously if we took the Catholic interpretation of John 6 and believed John included this passage to communicate that believers must eat the literal body and blood of Christ in order to have eternal life, you would expect John to have recorded the events that it foreshadows. You would expect John to have a historical record of the Last Supper, the inaugurating meal of the Eucharist. But John does not. What an oversight by John! In fact, John is the only Gospel writer that did not record the Last Supper. Therefore, it is very unlikely that in John’s mind, a literal eating and drinking of Christ body and blood are essential for salvation. Remember John wrote the only book in the NT that explicitly says it is written for the purpose of salvation and he does not even include the Lord’s Supper.

This is a fairly common argument by Protestants who take John 20:30-31 to mean that the Gospel of John was intended to be sufficient for salvation, apart from the Church or the rest of the Bible. I responded:

Fra Angelico, Communion of the Apostles (1451)

As for your second point of opposition, it’s true that John doesn’t include the Last Supper. But Paul does, making it one of the only biographical details which he records. To use the standard that “anything not found in John’s Gospel isn’t important” would take out the Virgin Birth as well as the [Institution of the Eucharist at the] Last Supper. 

Remember that John is writing last, perhaps as last as the 90′s A.D. Notice also that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and Paul use almost identical wording for their description of the Last Supper, and that St. Paul claims to have received this “from the Lord” (1 Corinthians 11:23). This suggests two things: 

(1) This was important enough for Jesus to tell Paul personally;

(2) the Synoptic writers and Paul seem to have this memorized basically verbatim. 

Now notice that the Didache (written before the Gospel of John), was a book intended for new entrants into the Church to explain some of the basics – a sort of “Idiot’s Guide to Christianity.” It includes Eucharist prayers in Chapters 9 and 10, and calls the Eucharist “spiritual food and drink.” Chapter 14 says that you have to confess your sins before you can receive the Eucharist, so that “your sacrifice may be pure,” and says that it’s celebrated on the Lord’s Day.

So given that the people to whom John is delivering this message have already heard of the Last Supper from 4 Apostolic sources, plus the Didache, it’s no wonder that John didn’t feel the need to include that information. Besides that, his Last Supper discourses already run 3 chapters long (as long as the Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus all rolled into one). John’s Gospel is radically different than the other three because his goal is to build off of them. 

Anyways, I like your post. I thought it was thought-provoking, and hopefully, I’ve provided at least some context for why people come out on the other side of those arguments.

The point that I raised in that comment is supported by Eusebius, a fourth century Catholic considered to be the first Church historian. Eusebius, who is one of the sources used in establishing the authorship of the four Gospels, tells us:

For Matthew, who had at first preached to the Hebrews, when he was about to go to other peoples, committed his Gospel to writing in his native tongue, and thus compensated those whom he was obliged to leave for the loss of his presence.

And when Mark and Luke had already published their Gospels, they say that John, who had employed all his time in proclaiming the Gospel orally, finally proceeded to write for the following reason. The three Gospels already mentioned having come into the hands of all and into his own too, they say that he accepted them and bore witness to their truthfulness; but that there was lacking in them an account of the deeds done by Christ at the beginning of his ministry.

This is an important point, because it shows that Patton's whole hermeneutic for understanding the Gospel of John is backwards. Patton suggests that anything John omits is false or unimportant, or "an oversight by John." Eusebius shows that this is false: John intended to build off of the Synoptics, without repeating the same details.

Understood in this light, John is building off of the existing accounts of the institution of the Eucharist (found in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, as well as in the writings of Paul, and the Didache), by adding two important details omitted by the others: (1) Christ's Last Supper Discourses (John 14-17); and (2) the prefigurement of the institution of the Eucharist in John 6. Fittingly, both the institution of the Eucharist and the Bread of Life discourse happen at the time of Passover (John 6:4; Matthew 26:17-19).

The Gospel of John wasn't intended to be divorced from Scripture or the Church, and read in that divorced manner (and through the lens of faulty Protestant exegesis), it's understandable why Patton would wind up misunderstanding of John 6.

The Awesome Power of the Five-Step "Lectio Divina" Method to Scripture

James Tissot, Jesus Teaches in the Synagogues (1886)

In his 2010 encyclical Verbum Domini (“The Word of the Lord”), Pope Benedict XVI advocated a particular approach to Scripture as a key, both to our personal sanctification, and to Christian ecumenism:

Listening together to the word of God, engaging in biblical lectio divina, letting ourselves be struck by the inexhaustible freshness of God’s word which never grows old, overcoming our deafness to those words that do not fit our own opinions or prejudices, listening and studying within the communion of the believers of every age: all these things represent a way of coming to unity in faith as a response to hearing the word of God.

In particular, Benedict called upon us seminarians to develop this relationship with Scripture, via lectio divina, as preparation for the priesthood:

Those aspiring to the ministerial priesthood are called to a profound personal relationship with God’s word, particularly in lectio divina, so that this relationship will in turn nurture their vocation: it is in the light and strength of God’s word that one’s specific vocation can be discerned and appreciated, loved and followed, and one’s proper mission carried out, by nourishing the heart with thoughts of God, so that faith, as our response to the word, may become a new criterion for judging and evaluating persons and things, events and issues.

So what is lectio divina? Literally, it means “Divine Reading,” and it refers to the way that monks have been ruminating on Scripture for centuries. There are five basic steps, in which we answer four questions, and then resolve to act upon those answers:

Step 1: Lectio (What does the biblical text say in itself?)

It opens with the reading (lectio) of a text, which leads to a desire to understand its true content: what does the biblical text say in itself? Without this, there is always a risk that the text will become a pretext for never moving beyond our own ideas.

Often, we're in such a hurry to get to the second step, determining what the passage means for us (or what it means to us), that we don't take enough time to focus on what the passage actually means in itself.

Herein lies the problem with proof-texting passages: some issue is at the forefront of our minds, and we mine the Scriptures looking for support. This approach risks reducing the word of God to a tool in our arsenal for our personal agendas, elevating us at the expense of Divine revelation.

So first things first: what is the initial meaning of the passage? It's only once we've answered this, that we're ready for the next step:

Step 2: Meditatio (What does the biblical text say to us?)

Next comes meditation (meditatio), which asks: what does the biblical text say to us? Here, each person, individually but also as a member of the community, must let himself or herself be moved and challenged.

Heinrich Hofmann, Christ Among the Teachers (1897)

The word of God isn't a dead letter, some ancient text to be read simply for its historical importance. Rather, it is “living and active” (Heb 4:12), one of the ways that Our Lord continues to reveal Himself to us, and to guide us. When lives are transformed by an encounter with Scripture, it's because people realized that God was speaking speaking to them through the Bible. He is still speaking to you and to me. Are we taking the trouble to listen to what He has to say?

Bear in mind, when God speaks to each of us through Scripture, He doesn't treat us atomistically. The Body of Christ “does not consist of one member but of many” (1 Cor. 12:14), and if “one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Cor 12:26). So God comes to us through His word as members of the Church, the Body of Christ, which Benedict reminds us is “the home of the word.”

This has implications for how we approach the Liturgy. Benedict reminds us that “the liturgy is the privileged setting in which God speaks to us in the midst of our lives; he speaks today to his people, who hear and respond. Every liturgical action is by its very nature steeped in sacred Scripture.” For the Christian, then, “A faith-filled understanding of sacred Scripture must always refer back to the liturgy, in which the word of God is celebrated as a timely and living word: 'In the liturgy the Church faithfully adheres to the way Christ himself read and explained the sacred Scriptures, beginning with his coming forth in the synagogue and urging all to search the Scriptures'.”

Step 3: Oratio (What do we say to the Lord in response to his word?)

Following this comes prayer (oratio), which asks the question: what do we say to the Lord in response to his word? Prayer, as petition, intercession, thanksgiving and praise, is the primary way by which the word transforms us.

The word of God requires a response, and that response begins with prayer. In paragraph 86, Benedict quotes this line from St. Augustine's Exposition on the Psalms: “Your prayer is the word you speak to God. When you read the Bible, God speaks to you; when you pray, you speak to God.”

Step 4: Contemplatio (What conversion of mind, heart and life is the Lord asking of us?)

Finally, lectio divina concludes with contemplation (contemplatio), during which we take up, as a gift from God, his own way of seeing and judging reality, and ask ourselves what conversion of mind, heart and life is the Lord asking of us? In the Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul tells us: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (12:2). Contemplation aims at creating within us a truly wise and discerning vision of reality, as God sees it, and at forming within us “the mind of Christ” (1 Cor 2:16). The word of God appears here as a criterion for discernment: it is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb 4:12).

Alphonse Legros, The Calling of Saint Francis (1861)

Here again, we meet Scripture as alive, but now, we're looking for something more specific. Before, in meditatio, we were made aware that God was speaking to us through His word. But now, we're learning what that means, most concretely.

St. Francis of Assisi was inspired to begin his mendicant lifestyle, and eventually the Franciscan Order, after hearing a homily on Matthew 10:7-19.  Likewise, St. Augustine recounted the radical conversion he underwent after reading Romans 13:13-14, while St. Antony was converted after reading Matthew 19:21.

When St. Antony heard the line “Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me,” he didn't just take it as generally directed towards him. Rather, he grasped it as a specific call, to go live out a monastic life in the desert. Likely, you won't get that prompting in lectio divina (although it's surely possible). But to know what God has in store for you, you should listen to Him carefully, with an ear towards what changes need to be made in your life.

Step 5: Actio (Living out the Lectio Divina)

We do well also to remember that the process of lectio divina is not concluded until it arrives at action (actio), which moves the believer to make his or her life a gift for others in charity.

Once you know what it is that God is calling on you to do, the next step is straightforward: do it.

Conclusion

If all Christians would undertake the prayerful reading of Scripture in this way, the wounds of the Reformation would almost certainly begin to heal. There are a few reasons for this.

• First, disputes over Scripture would be grounded in the original meaning of the text. The first step, lectio, ensures this. Of course, this limits the potential for textual perversion or proof-texting.
  
  
• Second, because Scripture would no longer be viewed as something somehow contrary to the Church or the Liturgy. Scripture assumes the norm that it will be read liturgically (Revelation 1:3). Jesus is the exemplar of approach, exegeting Scripture in a liturgical context in the synagogue (e.g., Luke 4:16-21).
  
  
• Finally, because there would be more Saints. As we draw closer to Christ, we cannot help but draw closer to one another, just as spokes draw closer together as they come nearer to the hub.

Can Objective Morality Exist Without God? (Round 3)

Yesterday marked the conclusion of my debate with Steven Dillion on objective morality and the existence of God. Here's everything, in case you missed any of it:

Monday (11/4) - Joe's opening statement (affirmative)
Tuesday (11/5) - Steven's opening statement (negative)
Wednesday (11/6) - Joe's rebuttal (affirmative)
Thursday (11/7) - Steven's rebuttal (negative)
Friday (11/8) - Questions exchanged (three questions each)
Saturday (11/9) - Answers (Joe and Steven answer each other's questions)
Sunday (11/10) - Joe's closing statement (affirmative)
Monday (11/11) - Steven's closing statement (negative)

From my closing statement:

In affirming the resolution, “Does objective morality depend upon God?” I’ve argued two things: (a) that objective morality can be grounded in God; and (b) that objective morality cannot be grounded in anything other than God. Steven challenged (b), claiming that moral truths like “suffering is inherently bad” are simply and intuitively true, and do not rely upon God.

In my rebuttal, I asked, “what does it mean to call agony ‘intrinsically bad,’ exactly?” If we mean that agony is inherently painful, that’s a tautology, not a moral claim. As Peter Geach explained in Good and Evil:

"[I]f I call a man a good burglar or a good cut-throat I am certainly not commending him myself; one can imagine circumstances in which these descriptions would serve to guide another man's choice (e.g. if a commando leader were choosing burglars and cut-throats for a special job), but such circumstances are rare and cannot give the primary sense of the descriptions. It ought to be clear that calling a thing a good A does not influence choice unless the one who is choosing happens to want an A; and this influence on action is not the logically primary force of the word “good”."

So, to turn “agony is intrinsically bad (painful)” into an objective moral claim, you would have to have an objective moral system (e.g., that we should always pursue pleasure and avoid painful or unpleasant things). But the terms don't carry that system within themselves, and there's no objective, non-theistic way to construct this or any other moral system.

On the other hand, if we mean that agony is an intrinsic evil, that’s false. Steven has yet to define his term, but his answer to Question 1 suggests that this is his meaning. I’ll proceed under that assumption.

To say that an act is intrinsically evil is to say that it may never be done. By “evil,” we mean that sort of thing that ought not be done; by “intrinsically,” we mean that it ought not be done of itself, without consideration of any consequences. We ought not rape, murder, etc., regardless of the good or bad consequences of an individual act of rape or murder.

But that’s not what Steven argues at all. He says that suffering can be inflicted if it is the “lesser of two evils.” I asked about the case of a woman intentionally getting pregnant, given the pains of childbirth. He says that “if a woman has to endure the excruciating pain of child-birth so that the child may be born, we should permit the suffering, otherwise a child dies.” That's telling, but not my question: if a woman chooses to get pregnant, the alternative isn’t that a child dies. It’s that a child is never conceived. So the “lesser of two evils” principle doesn’t apply. By Steven’s initial analysis, it would seem that every instance of intentional conception is evil. But now, it seems that he’ll permit agony not only to avoid greater evils, but also to achieve greater goods (like procreation).

If it is okay to inflict agony in some cases, then agony is not intrinsically evil. This refutes the claim that “agony is intrinsically bad (evil).”

At this point, Steven seems to have shifted to utilitarianism, a moral system which I rejected in my opinion statement, in a passage left unrebutted:

"[U]tilitarianism leads to unconscionable results. No action—slavery, rape, genocide, torture, etc.—could ever be described as objectively evil. We’d have to determine how much pleasure the slavemaster, rapist, genocidaire, and torturer derive (along with the pleasure or displeasure of the general public). Only after we’ve weighed all of those factors, could we determine whether the action is right or wrong."

Steven hasn’t, and can’t, show this moral framework to be true, or binding upon anyone.

Stepping back from the particulars of the claim “agony is intrinsically bad,” is the broader problem of moral intuitionism, which I raised in my rebuttal: namely, that it's not an objective moral code, since intuitions differ from person to person; that it provides no basis for rational decision-making, because there's no mechanism for resolving competing values; and that all true moral intuition relies upon God.

Rockefeller Center

Steven gives an intriguing illustration of the moral system he's defending:

"Think of a tall skyscraper. What grounds it? Well, you might say its foundation. And what grounds its foundation? You could say the land in which it is built in or upon. And what grounds the land? You could continue asking of each proposed grounding structure what grounds it. Assuming this cannot continue on indefinitely, you’ll reach a point where there simply is no deeper grounding structure: you’ve struck rock bottom. I’m saying that moral facts are grounded by other moral facts, and so on until we reach moral facts so foundational there’s just no further to go. This is radically different from saying that there is no rock bottom, and moral facts just sort of...free-float."

I largely agree with this view. In fact, it's virtually identical to the first three of Thomas' Five Ways. But Steven stops too soon in his digging into the foundation: you can't logically conclude that there are several rock bottoms. Even the moral claims he's arguing that are irreducibly fundamental aren't. If they were, he couldn't say that they are permissible in some cases. To say that a certain truth is foundational, if it means anything, means that it's not just true in certain situations.

This is why moral intuitionism provides no capacity for rational moral decision-making: if both equitable distribution of goods and respect for private property are irreducibly foundational moral principles, what do we do when they clash? It's an irresistible force and an unmovable object: a contradiction that exposes the incoherence of the intuitionist worldview. Likewise, in saying that agony is sometimes permissible, Steven shows that it's not a foundational principle that agony is inherently evil.

Still, I agree with his impulse, to dig further and further into the metaphysical foundations. And the solution is to dig deeper, to the First Cause. There must be a single First Cause, or you can't get this moral system off the ground. This First Cause can't be anyone other than God (as we've seen, all other alternatives fail to create an objective moral system). That's what I meant in the rebuttal about all forms of intuitionism relying upon God.

Steven objects that it doesn't make sense to claim that objective morality depends upon God because we don't have anything literal to say about God. Here, I must raise an objection: Steven complains that God isn't reducible to the unaided human intellect. But a being that could be comprehended by the unaided human intellect would be, in some way, smaller than the intellect, and therefore, not God.

Read the whole thing, and Steven's closing statement. Thanks to everyone who's participated in any way in this debate, and your continued prayers for the success of the endeavor are much appreciated.

Of Thick Trees and Morality: An Analogy.

Envision in your mind an enormous tree containing many limbs, which branch off into smaller branches, which branch off into twigs, which sprout leaves. The branches and foliage are so thick that you can't see the  trunk of the tree at all.

Alexandre Calame, Landscape with Oak (1859)

Although you can't see the trunk, you can see the leaves. And you can see that they depend (for their existence and for their sustenance) upon the twigs, and that the twigs depend in turn upon the branches, which depend upon the limbs. From this, it seems to me that there are three basic conclusions you could draw: (a) the limbs are ultimately dependent upon something self-sustaining to sustain them; (b) the limbs are suspended in midair, relying upon nothing else; or (c) the limbs are dependent upon an infinite regress of other limbs, branches, etc., and that there's no bottom to this series.

Of these three, (b) seems to just wave away the phenomena, treating levitating branches as a brute fact, and (c) violates the rules of logic.So it seems to me that the best explanation would be to conclude to the existence of a trunk, or something like it. And this is so even though the trunk isn't directly observed. You can demonstrate its existence from its effects.

This is roughly analogous to the situation with the moral law. We see certain things that are morally true because of other, more fundamental truths; these truths are grounded in yet more fundamental truths, etc. Either this chain terminates in maximal truth (which we call God), or it arbitrarily stops, or it regresses infinitely.

This also works as an analogy to teleology: all moral actions are for the sake of some purpose (and "end"), or our action is pointless. But we can drive down deeper: we pursue this end for the sake of some further purpose, or it's a pointless end to pursue. And this goes on, until we either (a) arrive at a single final end; (b) arbitrarily stop [in which case, the whole chain is pointless], or (c) infinitely regress [which is logically impossible].

If (a) is true, we're grounding morality in a single final end, which we call God. If (b) is true, then morality is ultimately pointless.

Can Objective Morality Exist Without God? (Round 2)

My debate with Steven Dillon on whether objective morality can exist without God  continues on Strange Notions. On Wednesday, they posted my rebuttal to Steven's opening statement, and today, they posted Steven's rebuttal to my opening statement.

From my rebuttal:

Is Agony Intrinsically Evil?

In my opening statement, I suggested that non-theistic moral systems cannot be the source of objective moral claims. In his opening statement, Steven proposed what he described as an “exceptionally good” candidate for a necessarily true moral proposition: that “agony is intrinsically bad.”

He defines “agony” as “an intense and extreme amount of pain.” But instead of defining what it means to call agony “intrinsically bad,” he simply gives “some paradigmatic examples of bad things.” For example: “It’s bad when parents have to live their lives in worry and stress because of inopportunity and an unfair society.”

So what does it mean to call agony “intrinsically bad,” exactly? Do we mean simply that agony is extremely unpleasant or, in some way, painful? If so, that seems tautological, like saying “extremely painful things are painful.” Besides being uninformative, that’s not even a moral claim. [....]

Let’s consider an alternative interpretation of the proposition “agony is intrinsically bad.” Since Steven tells us that this is a moral proposition, he may mean that agony is a moral evil, never to be intentionally committed. If so, is that true?

At first glance, it certainly seems like good advice. But is it morally evil to intentionally suffer? Put more concretely, do we consider it morally evil for a woman to intentionally get pregnant, given the pain of childbirth? Or what about the surgeon who performs an agonizing (but life-saving) operation? Are high-stress jobs immoral? If so, what makes these things evil? Again, we’re left hunting for some sort of objective and binding moral code or system.

So, understood in either sense, then, “agony is intrinsically bad” fails as an objective moral claim. It’s either a non-moral tautology, or a false (and non-objective) moral claim.

The Problem of Intuitionism

In the last section, we saw that under either interpretation of the proposition “agony is intrinsically bad,” we were left looking for some sort of moral code or system. Instead, Steven advocates something akin to what the utilitarian R.M. Hare described as “pluralistic intuitionism”: namely, belief in “a plurality of moral principles, each established by intuition, and not related to one another in an ordered structure, but only weighed relatively to each other (also by intuition) when they conflict.” There are several problems with this pluralistic intuitionism.

Dred Scott

First, it’s not an objective moral code. Intuitions differ. Steven takes it as self-evident that “Racism, animal cruelty, human trafficking, all of these things are bad.” For centuries, Europeans and white Americans assumed the opposite, at least about racism. As the Supreme Court noted in the notorious Dred Scott v. Sandford case:

"They [racist colonial laws] show that a perpetual and impassable barrier was intended to be erected between the white race and the one which they had reduced to slavery, and governed as subjects with absolute and despotic power, and which they then looked upon as so far below them in the scale of created beings, that intermarriages between white persons and negroes or mulattoes were regarded as unnatural and immoral, and punished as crimes, not only in the parties, but in the person who joined them in marriage. And no distinction in this respect was made between the free negro or mulatto and the slave, but this stigma, of the deepest degradation, was fixed upon the whole race."

So the ordinary American today views racial equality as self-evident and racism as a morally intuitive evil. The ordinary (white) American of yesteryear viewed racial inequality as self-evident, believing it immoral to treat black and white people as equals. Upon what basis can we say that their moral intuition and judgment was wrong? Our own intuition? Or something more substantive?

Second, pluralistic intuitionism provides no basis for rational moral decision-making. Russ Shafer-Landau, as Steven notes, says, “It seems to me self-evident that, other things equal, it is wrong to take pleasure in another’s pain,” etc. In saying that it “seems to me” self-evident, Shafer-Landau seems to be conceding the subjectivity of intuitionism. But in saying “other things equal,” Shafer-Landau is revealing a second problem: what do we do when we have a clash of values?

Moral reasoning is simple when all other things are equal. What makes it so vexing is that this is rarely the case. Often, moral reasoning involves apparently-competing values, like justice v. mercy, private property v. equitable distribution of goods, etc. If your moral code is a hodgepodge of unsorted feelings, you have no tools other than gut feeling to decide these questions. As Hare said, these values are “only weighed relatively to each other (also by intuition) when they conflict.”

Third, all forms of intuitionism point to (and rely upon) God. Mind you, I don’t doubt that moral intuitions exist. But as we’ve seen, they’re incoherent without reference to God. If these really are objective and binding laws of human behavior, where is the law-giver? Given that these laws exist, why do they exist? Steven quotes Erik Wielenberg, who treats these laws as an effect without a cause:

"Such facts are the foundation of (the rest of) objective morality and rest on no foundation themselves. To ask of such facts, “where do they come from?” or “on what foundation do they rest?” is misguided in much the way that, according to many theists, it is misguided to ask of God, “where does He come from?” or “on what foundation does He rest”? The answer is the same in both cases: They come from nowhere, and nothing external to themselves grounds their existence; rather, they are fundamental features of the universe that ground other truths."

This is not an answer. It’s a shrug of the shoulders and a “Just because.”

That's not the case in the Christian answer that God is uncaused. We argue that God mustexist, since you cannot just have an infinite series of conditional and created beings. For example, St. Thomas Aquinas’ Third Way proves the existence of a Being (who we call God) who must exist necessarily, and who relies only upon Himself for His Being. Without Him, there couldn’t be a universe. We don’t assumethat God must exist: we show that He must.

Further, this conclusion makes sense. After all, God is Subsistent Being (ipsum esse subsistens). Being could no more not-be than non-being could be. Asking who caused the Uncaused Cause is contradictory, and it makes sense to say that a necessarily-existing Being necessarily exists.

That's quite different when we're dealing with moral principles: there's no apparent reason or explanation why we would assume that they're uncaused (other than the alternative requires God).

And asking who or what causes these truths isn't contradictory. On the contrary, it’s a question that anyone who insists on the existence of objective morality should be able to answer. Do these various moral truths exist apart from us? Or did we bring them into existence somehow? It doesn’t make sense to simply assert the existence of myriad uncaused and unrelated moral truths, and claim that these are each necessarily-existing, particularly when no two intuitionist philosophers seem to agree on what these principles are.

Asserting that there are random incommensurable moral rules is no basis for establishing morality as binding. The origin of these laws is “just because.” Why follow these authorless laws? Apparently, just because. Needless to say, that’s hardly a sufficient reason to justify changing one’s lifestyle or moral behavior.

When we describe something as "pointless," we mean that it doesn't have a purpose.It's only in relation to a purpose that we can say whether something succeeds or fails. The most common atheistic cosmology is that the universe is an objectively meaningless accident, and therefore, pointless. But if the entire universe is devoid of inherent meaning, how can we possibly find meaning inherent in our moral behavior (or misbehavior)?

Read on for the whole thing, as well as Steven's rebuttal, in which he argues that objective morality doesn't need to be grounded.

Can Objective Morality Exist Without God? (Round 1)

Can objective morality exist without God? That's the question that Steven Dillon and I are debating over at Strange Notions. The schedule is as follows:

Monday (11/4) - Joe's opening statement (affirmative)

Tuesday (11/5) - Steven's opening statement (negative)

Wednesday (11/6) - Joe's rebuttal (affirmative)

Thursday (11/7) - Steven's rebuttal (negative)

Friday (11/8) - Questions exchanged (three questions each)

Saturday (11/9) - Answers (Joe and Steven answer each other's questions)

Sunday (11/10) - Joe's closing statement (affirmative)

Monday (11/11) - Steven's closing statement (negative)

Here's the first argument from my opening statement:

Argument 1: We Can’t Ground Objective Morality in Anything Other than God.

François-Léon Sicard, The Good Samaritan

 The easiest way to prove this claim is to begin with a simple three-prong test. To whatever extent possible, let's reformulate the moral philosophy in question in this format: “If you want to achieve X, you must do Y.” (Obviously, this works in reverse as well: “if you want to avoid X, you must avoid Y,” etc.). Now, ask three questions.

1. Could there exist a person who doesn’t want to achieve X?
2. Could there be some good other than X that an individual values more than X?
3. Is there another means of achieving X besides Y?

If the answer to any of these three questions is yes, your system is neither objective nor binding. This test should serve as a helpful guide, and will quickly show that the non-theistic moral systems fail. (If you’re going to contest this point in the comments, try to provide an objective, binding moral system in this format that doesn’t require God).

For example, consider the following four ways of accounting for morality without recourse to God:

1. Social: An action is moral or immoral based upon whether society approves or disapproves of it.
2. Personal: An action is moral or immoral based upon whether I feel it to be moral or immoral. (Going against conscience is the only sin.)
3. Biological: Morality is “hardwired into our genes as an evolutionary survival mechanism.”
4. Utilitarian: “Actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness.” - John Stuart Mill's Greatest Happiness Principle (GHP).

Why am I bound to obey society, or even my own conscience? Why am I obliged to act upon my genetic predispositions, or to act in such a way that it produces the greatest aggregate happiness? At a minimum, the social, biological, and utilitarian bases fail the first prong: we can easily imagine a person who is a social misfit, and who isn’t particularly concerned with survival of the fittest or the GHP.

All four theories fail the second prong of the test. Martin Luther King gives us an example of someone who valued a good (social justice) over the societal morality laid out by the Jim Crow South. Indeed, the entire notion of social progress is based upon the idea that we’re not bound to blindly accept social mores.

As for personal morality, the only reason that conscience is binding is because we believe that it corresponds to something higher than ourselves. If it’s our own creation, we are its master, not its servant. A guilty conscience would be, at most, one factor to be weighed in decision-making. In deciding to cheat on your wife or rob a bank, you’d weigh the amount of guilt you’ll feel compared to the amount of pleasure. If that’s the case, conscience is no more binding than indigestion is “binding” on my decision to eat eight tacos.

And if morality is merely biological, why not treat it as accidental or vestigial, like the coccyx? After all, couples routinely act directly against the propagation of the species by contracepting, choosing careers over marriage, etc.

Finally, utilitarianism. Why pursue the GHP? After all, this isn't how moral decision-making works. If it were, we would stop taking care of our families, and send that money to the world’s neediest people. In practice, even utilitarians like Peter Singer abandon the GHP when they have to make important decisions. Moreover, utilitarianism leads to unconscionable results. No action—slavery, rape, genocide, torture, etc.—could ever be described as objectively evil. We’d have to determine how much pleasure the slavemaster, rapist, genocidaire, and torturer derive (along with the pleasure or displeasure of the general public). Only after we’ve weighed all of those factors, could we determine whether the action is right or wrong.

Read on for the whole thing, and here is Steven's opening statement, in which he suggests that "agony is inherently bad" is a moral proposition that exists apart from God.

So far, there are over 200 comments on my post, and it's only been a day -- most of these comments have been thoughtful and reasonably civil comments from atheists who aren't familiar with classical theism. Your prayers are most welcome!

The HHS Mandate is "Self-Defeating"? A Federal Court of Appeals Weighs In.

The Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit issued an important ruling about the HHS Mandate today. The ruling makes several important points, and frames the HHS Mandate debate in a productive way. It's certainly an exciting moment for those of us against the mandate, even though it doesn't go nearly as far as the news is suggesting.

First, what you may already know:

What You May Already Know

Francis and Philip Gilardi, co-owners of Freshway Foods and Freshway Logistics, are Catholics who have conscientiously abstained from providing contraceptive and abortificant coverage in their employee health plans. When they HHS Mandate attempted to force them to buy such insurance, they sued, raising both constitutional and statutory claims.

The Ruling Doesn't Say What You May Have Heard

Francis and Philip Gilardi

LifeSiteNews' headline about this ruling reads "Court Rules Obama Admin Can’t Make Catholic Family Business Follow HHS Mandate." Several secular news sites are claiming similar things. But this isn't accurate. This ruling was about a preliminary injunction. The question was whether the HHS could force Catholic business owners

In other words, the question was whether the HHS Mandate should apply to the Gilardis and Freshway while the case is pending. To make that determination, the court has to look at the likelihood of success on the merits (courts don't want you to be able to delay a law's enforcement by raising frivolous lawsuits). But, and this is the important part, the court isn't actually ruling on the merits yet. The case isn't properly before them yet, and the record created in the district court could change the court's view.

In this case, the district court had ruled against giving the Giraldis and Freshway an injunction on a purely legal question. The Court of Appeals found that the district court erred in the case of the Giraldis, and remanded the case "for consideration of the other preliminary-injunction factors." That's a far cry from ruling that the "Obama Admin Can’t Make Catholic Family Business Follow HHS Mandate."

In any case, the case isn't over yet. In fact, it hasn't even made it to the Court of Appeals yet. That's not the only thing people are getting wrong about this decision, either.

This Isn't Necessarily a First Amendment Case

It looks like this case will turn on religious freedom protections under a federal law, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA), rather than under the First Amendment. RFRA was enacted by Congress after a series of Supreme Court religious freedom cases (involving Native American groups' use of banned substances, like peyote, for religious reasons) took a narrow view of First Amendment protections.

RFRA goes beyond the First Amendment (as interpreted by the Supreme Court) in providing beefed-up protections of religious freedom. This means that it's possible (even fairly likely) that the Court of Appeals will ultimately rule that the HHS Mandate is constitutional, but strike it down as a violation of RFRA. Why is this? Because of the question of companies practicing religion....

The Court of Appeals Held Against Secular Organization's Practice of Religion

Based on the Supreme Court's prior decisions, it's not clear if the First Amendment's Free Exercise Clause applies to businesses, or any non-religious organizations or bodies. The Court of Appeals conceeded:

Because the word religion “connotes a community of believers,” the prohibition against the impingement on religious free exercise must be understood to cover the activities of both individuals and religious bodies.

 But this freedom didn't extend beyond religious bodies to include other organizations or institutions. Ultimately, by a 2-1 decision, they decided that:

The free exercise protection—a core bulwark of freedom—should not be expunged by a label. But for now, we have no basis for concluding a secular organization can exercise religion.

Judge Randolph, in his concurring opinion, argued that this holding was premature, because the issue is complex. On the one hand, forcing for-profit corporations to act irreligiously creates troubling precedents:

Senior Judge A. Raymond Randolph

If secular for-profit corporations can never exercise religion, what of profitable activities of organized religions? See Hernandez v. Comm’r, 490 U.S. 680, 709 (1989) (O’Connor, J., dissenting). If only religious for-profit organizations have a free-exercise right, how does one distinguish between religious and non-religious organizations? See Hobby Lobby Stores, 723 F.3d at 1136-37 & n.12; id. at 1170-75 (Briscoe, C.J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). Why limit the free-exercise right to religious organizations when many business corporations adhere to religious dogma? See Mark L. Rienzi, God and the Profits: Is There Religious Liberty for Money-Makers?, 21 GEO. MASON L. REV. (manuscript at 11-24) (forthcoming fall 2013). If non-religious organizations do not have free-exercise rights, why do non-religious natural persons (atheists, for example) possess them? Torcaso v. Watkins, 367 U.S. 488, 495-96 & n.11 (1961).  

On the other hand, he noted that recognizing a corporation's right to practice religion raises potential problems, as well:

If a corporate free-exercise right is recognized, in any form, there are equally challenging secondary questions. How should the beliefs of a religious corporation be determined? Can publicly traded corporations be religious? If so, do they take on the religions of their shareholders as a matter of course? If a religious corporation is sold, does it retain its religious identity? These questions, challenging in themselves, would confront us in different permutations across the diverse entity forms and organizational structures of the American business landscape. 

At the heart of this is an important question that the Court of Appeals doesn't address head-on: can a "for-profit" company pursue a goal other than selfish profit? That is, can a for-profit company have as its goal the betterment of the common good, or some other non-financial goal? Or is that only a right that not-for-profits have?

This about it this way: The HHS Mandate treats all businesses as if they must be amoral and fixated only upon the bottom line:. It obliterates the role of a corporate conscience, simply because it doesn't like the way that corporate conscience is working in this regard. For more on the problems of taking this reductionistic view of the purpose of business, see Alasdair MacIntyre's After Virtue, or Tracey Roland's chapter on "The Epistemic Authority of 'Experts' and the Ethos of Modern Institutions" in Culture and the Thomist Tradition.

Whether the Constitution provides companies with free exercise rights is an important question. But they should act morally (even religiously) regardless. 

More to the heart of the case, the Court of Appeals made a brilliant point...

The Contraceptive Coverage is the Problem, Even if It's Never Used

Fans of the HHS Mandate like to focus on the individual employee's decision whether or not to use contraception, once it's covered. At that point, the employer balking at paying looks like a gross intrusion into the employee's privacy. But this is framing the issue in a misleading way. The violation of the employer's religious freedom happens before anyone decides whether or not to use contraception. Writing for the court, Judge Janice Rogers Brown put it in very clear terms:

Judge Janice Rogers Brown

The only dispute touches on the characterization of the burden. The burden is too remote and too attenuated, the government says, as it arises only when an employee purchases a contraceptive or uses contraceptive services. We disagree with the government’s foundational premise. The burden on religious exercise does not occur at the point of contraceptive purchase; instead, it occurs when a company’s owners fill the basket of goods and services that constitute a healthcare plan. In other words, the Gilardis are burdened when they are pressured to choose between violating their religious beliefs in managing their selected plan or paying onerous penalties. See Thomas, 450 U.S. at 717–18; Wisconsin v. Yoder, 406 U.S. 205, 218 (1972) (“The impact of the compulsory-attendance law on respondents’ practice of the Amish religion is not only severe, but inescapable, for the Wisconsin law affirmatively compels them, under threat of criminal sanction, to perform acts undeniably at odds with fundamental tenets of their religious beliefs.”); Kaemmerling, 553 F.3d at 678. 

Contraception coverage is an economic good. After all, insurance is a product (and a mighty profitable one).

So the question isn't about whether or not employees can buy contraception: they remain free to, regardless of the HHS Mandate. The question is about whether or not the federal government can force companies to purchase a product, contraceptive insurance coverage, to which they're morally opposed.

This point gets lost, in part because those arguing this issue can't grasp why a rational person would be against contraception. If there were a law requiring all companies to include, say, "hitman coverage" (providing, at company expense, murder-for-hire for executives), these same people would immediately recognize the coverage itself is grossly immoral. Forcing a company to buy that sort of coverage would be abhorrent, even if no one ever used it.

This framing turns out to be vitally important, because ...

Framed in this Way, the Violation of Religious Freedom is Clear

Requiring the Giraldis to purchase contraceptive insurance coverage or pay a massive fine creates a "Hobson's choice" infringing the free exercise of their religion. The Court of Appeals put it this way:

The contraceptive mandate demands that owners like the Gilardis meaningfully approve and endorse the inclusion of contraceptive coverage in their companies' employer-provided plans, over whatever objections they may have. Such an endorsement—procured exclusively by regulatory ukase—is a “compel[led] affirmation of a repugnant belief.” See id. That, standing alone, is a cognizable burden on free exercise. And the burden becomes substantial because the government commands compliance by giving the Gilardis a Hobson’s choice. They can either abide by the sacred tenets of their faith, pay a penalty of over $14 million, and cripple the companies they have spent a lifetime building, or they become complicit in a grave moral wrong. If that is not “substantial pressure on an adherent to modify his behavior and to violate his beliefs,” we fail to see how the standard could be met. See Thomas, 450 U.S. at 718. 

That certainly seems clear enough.

The HHS Mandate Is Doomed?

The were two other points that the Court of Appeals made that are exciting and promising. First, that the government's asserted interested in a "right to privacy" makes no sense here:

The government’s invocation of a “woman’s compelling interest in autonomy” is even less robust. The wording is telling. It implies autonomy is not the state’s interest to assert. Nevertheless, the government, quoting Eisenstadt v. Baird, 405 U.S. 438 (1972), claims the mandate protects a woman’s ability to decide “whether to bear or beget a child.” See id. at 453. 

 

Our difficulty in accepting the government’s rationale stems from looking at the Eisenstadt quote in its entirety: “If the right of privacy means anything, it is the right of the individual, married or single, to be free from unwarranted governmental intrusion into matter so fundamentally affecting a person as the decision to bear or beget a child.” Id. (emphasis added). Regardless of what this observation means for us today, it is clear the government has failed to demonstrate how such a right—whether described as noninterference, privacy, or autonomy—can extend to the compelled subsidization of a woman’s procreative practices. 

Second, the government has already undermined any claimed compelling interest by carving a number of exceptions:

Moreover, the mandate is self-defeating. When a government regulation “fail[s] to prohibit nonreligious conduct that endangers [its asserted] interests in a similar or greater degree” than the regulated conduct, it is underinclusive by design. See Lukumi, 508 U.S. at 543. And that underinclusiveness can suggest an inability to meet the narrow-tailoring requirement, as it raises serious questions about the efficacy and asserted interests served by the regulation. In this case, small businesses, businesses with grandfathered plans (albeit temporarily), and an array of other employers are exempt either from the mandate itself or from the entire scheme of the Affordable Care Act. Therefore, the mandate is unquestionably underinclusive. 

In other words, the government claims several reasons that are so compelling that they justify trampling upon the conscience rights of businesses and owners. But in the same breath, the government makes countless exemptions, for "small businesses, businesses with grandfathered plans (albeit temporarily), and an array of other employers." This suggests that the pretextual reasons aren't so compelling after all.

That's what the Court of Appeals means when they say that the mandate is self-defeating. Let's just hope other courts (and especially the Supreme Court) see things the same way.