This is the first piece of writing I have read of Benedict
XVI since he was elected Supreme Pontiff. While I am aware that Zenit has only released part one today, I find myself
amazed and satisfied by the Holy Father’s exaltation, but also explication, of
the philosophical anthropology of the family. Part two will prove to be an equal blessing, I am sure.
Benedict begins with a caveat. Do not think of the family as you would many,
if not most, other things. It’s not a mere
construct, he tell us. As a sociology
student, I often struggled with sociology’s method of looking at everything as ‘social
construct.’ A large segment of sociology—and
by this I mean much of the pervading thought—would have us believe that an
idea, which may appear sacrosanct, natural, innate, or properly basic to those
who accept it, is in reality an artifact of society: a social construct. This line or reasoning produces the
implication that social constructs result from human choice and not something “innate,”
or “natural.” We should see easily how God,
in this equation, plays no role aside from too being a social artifact.
Benedict begins with disestablishing this corrupting presupposition—he later addresses how such a ‘first principle’ corrupts in how it leads to the hyper-individualist sensuality that plagues our modern-day "family." If we begin with questioning “Who am I? And this question, in turn, cannot be separated from the question about God: Does God exist? And, who is God?” we’re led to the answer that “[m]an is created in the image of God, and God himself is love.” It follows from this that God calls us to love.
[I am reminded of a letter the founder of the Legionaries of
Christ and of the apostolic movement Regnum Christi, Father Marciel Maciel, LC,
wrote to members of the Legion and the movement entitled “Called to Love.” Fr. Maciel pursues this question—Who am I?—through
our vocation to love. As profound as
this letter is, I will refrain from giving it more attention that urging you to
read it.]
Our God-given composure and vocation gives our bodies, “so to
speak,” says Benedict, “a theological character.” Thus, we’re not simply the corporeal. Our sexuality, then, is more than a property
of our bodies, it’s responsible, in part, for defining the human person.
Benedict philosophizes that from these two bonds, “man with
God” and body and spirit, arises another: the one that exists between person
and institution. I wish I could explain
this more, but my understanding of this step is thin. [I welcome comments addressed especially to this point.]
When man makes a choice—particularly one of “yes”—because he lives in space and time, “man's "yes" goes beyond the present moment. . . it constitutes the area of fidelity.”
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