Papal, and Yalie, infallibility

By Dan Dudis

About one-fifth of the planet is Roman Catholic, and the other non-Catholic billions would probably acknowledge John Paul II's position as a moral force, just as I, a practicing Catholic, acknowledge the importance and impact of what the leaders and prophets of the world's other major religions have to say.

I am not seeking to promote papist propaganda. Far from it. In almost every major issue dividing today's Church, John Paul and I fall on opposite sides of the pew--from abortion to contraception to female and married priests. I endorse where John Paul condemns. Still, I recognize that his words are not so easily dismissed. As leader of a religion that counts some one billion-odd followers, the Pope's beliefs obviously carry a weight far greater than my own.

The same can not be said of Yale's many absolutist zealots. Do the multitude of moral pronouncements that routinely spew out of such varied mouths as the Party of the Right (POR) and the editor of Light & Truth really carry more moral heft than my own personal moral beliefs? Is the leftist Yale Student Environmental Coalition (YSEC) "environmental education" that is shoved down my throat at events such as Spring Fling any more right than my personal feelings about (the lack of) USDA Grade A beef here at Yale?

I think not. Absolutists have always amazed me. It takes incredible chutzpah to believe that you are always right. Period. It would surprise me if ever there was a compass, moral or otherwise, that always pointed true north.

Here again the example of the Vatican is enlightening. Part of Catholic theology is the concept of Papal infallibility, a concept that surely must have been stretched to the breaking point during the Middle Ages and subsequent Renaissance. (For those of you who were never treated to Father Aigner's "Pope of the Week" column in the Holy Name of Jesus/St. Elizabeth parish bulletin, this period of Papal history was characterized by Popes who can best be described as two parts Charlie Sheen and one part Richard Nixon.) Papal infallibility means just what the words imply--that the Pope is never wrong. There is one major qualification: modern Popes almost never invoke the mantra of Papal infallibility. In other words, in almost all matters, the Pope acknowledges that he may very well be wrong. But every so often, a debate comes along that a Pope believes is so important, that he invokes Papal infallibility in arguing his case. This happens very rarely. Believe what you will about papal infallibility, Popes with numerous illegitimate children running large city-states in fifteenth century Italy have left me skeptical of the concept.

Still, the point remains. If the Pope almost always acknowledges his own moral fallibility, what does it say about ordinary individuals who don't? Granted, some issues require a public moral response. If you really believe abortion to be murder, I sure as hell hope that you're out there throwing your body in front of abortion clinics. But the great meat debate doesn't carry nearly the same moral gravity. However, I would like to point out that while strawberries and other fruits and veggies are responsible for the salinization of California's Central Valley, I don't ever recall seeing a YSEC table tent urging the protest of the latest Sharon-Stone-feeds-Michael-Douglas-chocolate-covered-strawberries-in-bed flick.

Organizations such as YSEC and the POR make many of their arguments on purely moral terms. Beef is evil. Doctor-assisted suicide is an abomination. I believe that issues must be left up to the individual. To inject morality into such debates, to say that I'm right because I think I am, and that's all, serves only to reveal the incredible arrogance of these groups and the individuals who make them up.

As has become customary, I'll end with the now famous Sister Brook, Yale's Jonathan Edwards for the nineties. I have never, like the more courageous, stopped to debate the good Sister. In passing, I've heard many snippets of the debates. In every case, it seems like an intrepid Yalie has fallen into Sister Brook's trap: the poor Yalie has chosen to debate her on a single issue. Why is premarital sex wrong? Why can't I go to heaven if I cheated on a math test in fifth grade? The real question to be asked of Sister Brook, and the school she preaches to, remains, "How are you, one lonely human being in a sea of 5.7 billion others, so sure that all the right answers have been given to you?"

Dan Dudis is a junior in Pierson.

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