U.S. Catholic bishops are defending their direct involvement in congressional deliberations over healthcare reform, saying that church leaders have a duty to raise moral concerns on any issue, including abortion rights and health care for the poor. Do you agree? What role should religious leaders have—or not have—in government policymaking?
During the Reagan administration, the Christian right urged Americans to become politically active on issues they felt important. The Moral Majority influenced policy issues in Reagan’s first term—particularly around school prayer and abortion—but in his campaign for re-election, strong involvement of the religious right had a negative effect. It was clear that the American public did not want one specific religious group having an active say in politics.
But we’ve come a long way since the 80s. President Obama’s Office of Faith-Based Initiatives expands previous administrations’ faith-based programs in several ways. In addition to funding social programs of faith-based initiatives, this office offers policy guidance as well. And instead of the strong evangelical orientation of the Bush administration’s office, this one includes a panel of faith leaders from Judaism, Islam, mainline Protestant, and Catholic traditions, as well as representatives of secular organizations. The goal is not to favor one religious group over another, but to allow many faith leaders to have an equal voice in helping to make change in our communities and in helping to shape policy.
The U.S. Catholic bishops’ claim that church leaders have a duty to raise moral concerns on any issue is a flawed argument, though. The government is not in the business of legislating morality; instead its charge is to create an ethical code of conduct that affects society as a whole—and to come to a consensus about ethical guidelines through consultation with many faith leaders, not any one tradition. The issues the government—and its partner faith organizations—should be addressing are general questions related to fairness, justice, rights, obligations, and benefits to society—not questions about personal, individual morality.
Religious leaders of any faith tradition should care deeply about government policy. The U.S. Catholic bishops are confusing responsibility for the well being of the community with personal morality. Their role—any religious leader’s role—in policymaking should be limited to helping our leaders discern what is ethical, just, and fair—What is right and what is wrong?—for the nation as a whole. The question of What is right and wrong according to God? goes beyond the expectations of culture and society and should be left to religious leaders and believers to discern within their own faith traditions.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
My Brother's Keeper
The Fort Hood shootings have raised questions again about how the military should handle the personal religious beliefs of its solders, whether they are evangelical Christians, Muslims, Wiccans, and so on. What is the proper role of religion—and personal religious belief—in the U.S. Armed Forces? Should a particular religious affiliation disqualify someone from active military service? How far should the military go to accommodate personal religious beliefs and practices?
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” In the story of Cain and Abel that appears in the sacred scriptures of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Cain responds to God with these words when asked about the brother he’s just killed. When he murders Abel, Cain justifies his actions by severing the relationship with his brother—saying, in effect, “Who is he to me?”
Last week’s shooting at Fort Hood is a reflection of the Cain/Abel story. Brothers and sisters, linked together through common values and purpose, are supposed to protect one another. Military training, in fact, seeks to create a unified whole, so individual soldiers become part of a cohesive unit. We don’t know yet what motivated the killings, but Major Hasan, like Cain, severed the brotherly bond with his fellow soldiers through violence and bloodshed.
The Cain/Abel story and the shooting at Fort Hood remind us that in setting ourselves apart from our fellow humans—when we separate “us” from “them”—great evil is possible. Almost all human interaction bears traces of this. Everywhere we look, we see acts of exclusion, fear of difference, “othering”—starting with bias and prejudice and, in the most extreme cases, escalating to persecution and racism, exile and expulsion, murder and genocide.
The public response to the shooting also reveals this human tendency to separate “us” from “them.” Major Hasan’s faith clearly marks him as “other” for many Americans and maybe for some of the soldiers who witnessed or were involved in the tragedy. Ironically, war itself has been motivated by this same dynamic throughout history. The enemy is always other. But as the U.S. becomes more diverse, the lines between “us” and “them” become increasingly difficult to distinguish. Major Hasan is one of “us,” but he also is one of “them.”
Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God; we are brothers and sisters in faiths originating from the same source. Believers in these three faiths hold that all are created in the image of God, all belong to the web of creation, and all are heirs to God’s love and promise. And yet, in our daily lives—and especially in conflicts between nations—we forget our common humanity.
If we ask whether Muslims should serve in the U.S. military, we also should ask whether Jews and Christians should. It is not religious affiliation that makes an individual fit or unfit to serve in the military—just as it isn’t race, class, gender, or sexual orientation. It’s the willingness to join with fellow soldiers in a common purpose, the capacity to put aside personal prejudice and fear of difference, and the ability to see both the necessity and the insanity of war, in all its complexity.
Religious affiliation should not disqualify someone from active military service. If the U.S. discriminates against those who wish to serve on the basis of faith, it would reinforce an attitude toward difference that inevitably leads to violence and bloodshed. Cain killing Abel, brother killing brother—on any scale—this is a distortion of God’s hope for humankind.
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” In the story of Cain and Abel that appears in the sacred scriptures of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Cain responds to God with these words when asked about the brother he’s just killed. When he murders Abel, Cain justifies his actions by severing the relationship with his brother—saying, in effect, “Who is he to me?”
Last week’s shooting at Fort Hood is a reflection of the Cain/Abel story. Brothers and sisters, linked together through common values and purpose, are supposed to protect one another. Military training, in fact, seeks to create a unified whole, so individual soldiers become part of a cohesive unit. We don’t know yet what motivated the killings, but Major Hasan, like Cain, severed the brotherly bond with his fellow soldiers through violence and bloodshed.
The Cain/Abel story and the shooting at Fort Hood remind us that in setting ourselves apart from our fellow humans—when we separate “us” from “them”—great evil is possible. Almost all human interaction bears traces of this. Everywhere we look, we see acts of exclusion, fear of difference, “othering”—starting with bias and prejudice and, in the most extreme cases, escalating to persecution and racism, exile and expulsion, murder and genocide.
The public response to the shooting also reveals this human tendency to separate “us” from “them.” Major Hasan’s faith clearly marks him as “other” for many Americans and maybe for some of the soldiers who witnessed or were involved in the tragedy. Ironically, war itself has been motivated by this same dynamic throughout history. The enemy is always other. But as the U.S. becomes more diverse, the lines between “us” and “them” become increasingly difficult to distinguish. Major Hasan is one of “us,” but he also is one of “them.”
Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God; we are brothers and sisters in faiths originating from the same source. Believers in these three faiths hold that all are created in the image of God, all belong to the web of creation, and all are heirs to God’s love and promise. And yet, in our daily lives—and especially in conflicts between nations—we forget our common humanity.
If we ask whether Muslims should serve in the U.S. military, we also should ask whether Jews and Christians should. It is not religious affiliation that makes an individual fit or unfit to serve in the military—just as it isn’t race, class, gender, or sexual orientation. It’s the willingness to join with fellow soldiers in a common purpose, the capacity to put aside personal prejudice and fear of difference, and the ability to see both the necessity and the insanity of war, in all its complexity.
Religious affiliation should not disqualify someone from active military service. If the U.S. discriminates against those who wish to serve on the basis of faith, it would reinforce an attitude toward difference that inevitably leads to violence and bloodshed. Cain killing Abel, brother killing brother—on any scale—this is a distortion of God’s hope for humankind.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Whose Life Is It Anyway?
Proposed health-care reform legislation includes a provision that allows Medicare to pay for "end-of-life" counseling for seniors and their families who request it. The provision—which Sarah Palin erroneously described as "death panels" for seniors—nearly derailed President Obama's health-care initiative. Some Republicans still argue that the provision would ration health care for the elderly. Does end-of-life care prolong life or does it prolong suffering? Should it be a part of health-care reform?
How do we define life? Is it merely brain waves and motor activity? Or is life defined by living in a broader sense? And who decides when life is over? An individual, family members, care providers—or some government entity?
The argument against the end-of-life provision is that—as Sarah Palin and other Republicans assert—the government and healthcare providers would determine an arbitrary age when life is considered over. They claim that the government is eliminating choice, when in fact the provision would expand choice by allowing the elderly to make informed decisions about how they want their lives to end.
My 92-year-old mother has outlived all her siblings and peers; she can’t see or hear very well, but her heart is strong and she’s healthy in every way. Yet she delights in her children and grandchildren and knows her life still matters. She recently wrote a living will refusing life support if needed. When the time comes, we’ll do everything we can to eliminate pain or suffering, and we will honor her life by honoring her choice.
Life is a series of choices. Most of us have the freedom to make decisions that shape the quality of our lives. As we reach old age, though, often the power to choose is abdicated to someone else. The ability to choose for ourselves ultimately determines our engagement in life, and when we can no longer choose, we’ve lost something precious. If choice is what determines full participation in life, the new end-of-life counseling for seniors is empowering and life-giving.
In 2008, nearly 40 percent of deaths in the U.S. were under hospice or palliative care. In its current form, palliative care does prolong life—perhaps beyond what individuals themselves want. But the new provision does not prolong life nor does it prolong suffering; instead it empowers the elderly to decide for themselves—while they are still able—how they want their lives to be lived out.
How do we define life? Is it merely brain waves and motor activity? Or is life defined by living in a broader sense? And who decides when life is over? An individual, family members, care providers—or some government entity?
The argument against the end-of-life provision is that—as Sarah Palin and other Republicans assert—the government and healthcare providers would determine an arbitrary age when life is considered over. They claim that the government is eliminating choice, when in fact the provision would expand choice by allowing the elderly to make informed decisions about how they want their lives to end.
My 92-year-old mother has outlived all her siblings and peers; she can’t see or hear very well, but her heart is strong and she’s healthy in every way. Yet she delights in her children and grandchildren and knows her life still matters. She recently wrote a living will refusing life support if needed. When the time comes, we’ll do everything we can to eliminate pain or suffering, and we will honor her life by honoring her choice.
Life is a series of choices. Most of us have the freedom to make decisions that shape the quality of our lives. As we reach old age, though, often the power to choose is abdicated to someone else. The ability to choose for ourselves ultimately determines our engagement in life, and when we can no longer choose, we’ve lost something precious. If choice is what determines full participation in life, the new end-of-life counseling for seniors is empowering and life-giving.
In 2008, nearly 40 percent of deaths in the U.S. were under hospice or palliative care. In its current form, palliative care does prolong life—perhaps beyond what individuals themselves want. But the new provision does not prolong life nor does it prolong suffering; instead it empowers the elderly to decide for themselves—while they are still able—how they want their lives to be lived out.
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