CORRESPONDENCE.

Theology of nature

John Garvey ["God and the Big Bang," March 10] rightly contends that theology should not make itself dependent upon any particular set of scientific ideas. However, it is helpful to distinguish between the way natural theology (arguing from features of nature to God's existence) depends on science from the way in which a theology of nature relates to science.

Natural theology has always been a precarious venture, even more so since the rise of science. To base one's religious faith upon particular scientific ideas is never prudent. On the other hand, a theology of nature, such as, a theology of evolution, does not similarly place at risk the fundamental teaching of a religious tradition. Instead, it speculates on what the latter might mean in the context of new scientific ideas.

In the case of evolution, for example, the theologian is not putting fundamental religious beliefs in jeopardy by searching for a possible consonance between Darwinian evolution and Christian images of God. At a time when many evolutionary biologists consider religion and science completely incompatible it seems irresponsible not to attempt to show how they can be fit together coherently. If a theology of nature fails to do this well, then it can start all over. Nothing central to one's faith is lost in the attempt. But not to try at all is to commit the modern anthropocentric theological mistake of removing the natural world from the horizon of faith altogether.

john f. haught

Washington, D.C.

The writer is professor of theology at Georgetown University.

Why things exist

As a final (whom am I kidding?) comment on the recent spate of articles and letters on evolution "by chance" or "by intelligent design," let me point out two things. One, so called "blind chance" has its own laws and regularities (and therefore predictabilities); witness probability theory, statistics, etc. And two, much of the time we use terms describing our human ways of knowing and thinking as if they could be predicated of God univocally, instead of only analogously. While we humans are constrained to choose one or the other of opposites, in God contraries (though not contradictories, which are something else again) can coexist; for example, infinite mercy with infinite justice, or chance with intelligent design, for that matter. So, while we may have difficulty reconciling these seemingly exclusive ideas, in reality they could coexist.

The bottom line is we created intellects come to know things because they exist. But with God it is the other way around: God does not know things because they exist; rather, things exist because God knows- correction: actively thinks-them as existing.

edmund f. kal

Fresno, Calif.

Twains meet

Joan of Arc, as Mary Gordon's "Desperately Seeking Joan" [March 10] points out, has and will continue to astound and inspire those not yet banalized and drugged by our reductive culture. Indeed, she should. As Louis Kossuth observed, "Joan of Arc is the only person of either sex who has ever held supreme command of the military forces of a nation at the age of seventeen."

But more important, none other than the great American writer Mark Twain loved Joan. According to Andrew Tadie, Twain loved his Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc more than any of his other books. Moreover, Twain dedicated the book to his wife Olivia (the only book he ever dedicated to her) on the occasion of their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. For Twain, the rugged Yankee skeptic, Joan was the sole exception in humanity that challenged his pessimistic, deterministic view of history (only his fictional characters of Huck and Jim embodied her spirit of nobility, truth, and goodness). She lived freedom in its truest sense. We would call it grace, not part of Twain's vocabulary, but nonetheless he saw it lived in her. Thus, whether he liked it or not he wasn't an absolute pessimist!

It is worth noting two other facts concerning Joan. The transcripts of her trial and of her rehabilitation a quarter of a century later (ordered by Pope Calixtus III) are the first extant complete court records in history. Also, the late Cardinal John Wright, who had a lifelong scholarly interest in Joan, bequeathed his over five-thousand- book library on Joan to the Boston Public Library, where, as a young boy, he worked as a page and learned to love books.

Rumor has it that Ken Burns is working on a PBS documentary on Joan of Arc. I hope he has read Twain.

geoffrey b. gneuhs

New York, N.Y.

Hillenbrand

The articles on Reynold Hillenbrand [March 10] brought back two clear memories of my experiences with the man. In the mid- and late-1960s, I was a graduate student in Chicago and had daily contact with two "Hillenbrand men," Monsignor John Egan and Father Bill Clark (my pastor). I admired both men and wanted to meet the famous "Hillenbrand" who influenced them so deeply.

I contacted Hillenbrand and asked to interview him for a graduate paper on "social active priests" in Chicago. He agreed and I spent two hours with him. One of his remarks still stands out clearly: In the early 1930s, he was writing his doctoral dissertation on the concept of the Mystical Body in Saint Thomas Aquinas and living in a backroom of Holy Name Cathedral. Out the window he could see unemployed men going through garbage cans to search for food. That image disturbed and challenged him to relate his research on the Mystical Body to suffering humanity. The key question was: How does the gospel relate to the social order? This was ten years before Pope Pius XII issued his encyclical on the Mystical Body (1943).

In 1968, I was invited to give a mission talk at Sacred Heart Church, Hillenbrand's parish. He told me the Mass schedule was such that I should not speak longer than ten minutes. At one of the Masses, the celebrant arrived twenty minutes late; I adjusted and spoke no more than two minutes. But when I came off the altar, Hillenbrand gave me a tongue lashing for going on so long. I was stunned. Later, after all the Masses, he came to me and humbly apologized. He had found out that the Mass in question was late because of the celebrant, not my long- windedness.

I appreciate Hillenbrand's vision and contributions in theology, liturgy, lay formation, social justice, and the role of the priest. However, it is his spirit of humility that remains with me.

(rev.) robert m. kearns, s.s.j.

Baltimore, Md.

The writer is the superior general of the Josephites.

Serving Hillenbrand

In 1966, I was an altar boy at Sacred Heart Church in Winnetka, Illinois where Reynold Hillenbrand was the pastor. My family moved away the following year, but, in the decades since, I've occasionally stumbled upon a reference to him and his legacy in a book or article- just enough to make me wonder if this was the same person I knew when I was a kid. Reading the accounts of his life by John Hill and Barry Hillenbrand in your March 10 issue was like discovering a couple of missing puzzle pieces in the attic. They confirmed for me that this was a man I was lucky to have known-even as a grade-schooler.

I recall that he wrote out his sermons, and it was clear he put a lot of time into them. He was encouraging enough to guide me into lectoring at crowded Sunday morning Masses, even though I was only twelve.

One not-so-hazy memory, however, stands out from the rest. Once while helping him vest in the sacristy before Mass, as Hillenbrand was facing away, his alb on, hands cupped in the small of his back, waiting for me to hand him the cincture, I hesitated. For whatever reason, I couldn't remember whether the tassels should be on the left or the right. I guess I took a little too long because he suddenly turned around with a steely glare and said, "Give it to me!" and snatched it out of my hands in a flash. I retreated like a wounded puppy dog and went on to serve the Mass.

Afterward, as I was getting ready to leave, he called me over to him in the sacristy, put his arm around my shoulder and simply said, "I was unkind to you before Mass and I apologize for that. I wasn't feeling well."

It was a lesson in honesty and humility that has stayed with me nearly thirty-five years.

bob mccabe

Chesapeake, Va.

A great and saintly man

Thank you to John Hill and to Barry Hillenbrand [March10] for their finely wrought remembrances of the late Reynold Hillenbrand. As the first director (1992E94) of the Reynold Hillenbrand Institute, now at the University of Saint Mary of the Lake in Mundelein, Illinois, I was blessed with the opportunity to know better countless persons touched by this great and saintly man.

John Hill's account of Hillenbrand ended, as a number (McClory, Avella, Frisbie/Egan) have, with the oft-told tale of John J. Egan meeting Hillenbrand prior to his death and gaining from Hillenbrand some degree of validation for Egan's point of view. This final meeting between Egan and Hillenbrand has taken on undue weight and has been used to mark the passing of a tradition to Egan.

There is another school of thought, however, among those few friends of Hillenbrand who, unlike Egan, openly backed Hillenbrand's defense of Humanae vitae in 1968, and who do not view Egan as anything near the full heir of Hillenbrand. Part of my work at the Hillenbrand Institute was to try to bring these two groups together. If there ever is a schism in the Catholic church in America, I fear it will follow this fault line outward from the old Hillenbrand circle.

The year 2004 will mark the centenary of Reynold Hillenbrand's birth. It is time to give serious consideration to the beatification of a man who, as another disciple, the late Daniel Cantwell, eulogized, combined a love of justice, liturgy, learning, Catholic social teaching, beauty, work, and might I add, of life. This communion of loves can not only prevent schism, but can renew both our laity and clergy as we join in love's common pursuit.

albert j. schorsch iii

Chicago, Ill.

Flaming liberals

Having been a Commonweal subscriber for only one year, I have been impressed by the quality of the writing, both in the essays and in the Correspondence section. I have also been struck by some of the flaming liberalism of the content. I choose the word "flaming" for the "causes" and the ready solutions that spring up like flaming balls from a Roman Candle.

Take Carlos Lozada's commentary on debt relief [February 25]. Here is a plea for not just debt relief to the poorest nations, but a request to raise the bar of definition of poverty so that the countries of South America qualify. Lozada cites the skewed income patterns of Latin America as the worst in the world, with the result that average income is too high for debt relief and leaves the poor bearing the results of the debt burden.

Rather than throw debt relief funds at countries, it might be useful to comment as to how this income gap came about and how it might be relieved. Why not look at the differences in the cultures and intellectual thought in Latin America and the United States during the last four hundred years to see if therein lies the birth of today's problems? Such understanding might bring real solutions.

donald lund

Stoughton, Wisc.