Chapter Sixteen: Vow of Obedience
Before the term stem cells left the university and became part of the American lexicon, Stephen Gould of The New York Times reported on the nascent science, but from an interesting angle. A Catholic priest from Cal Tech published a paper on the possibility of curing certain maladies using cells from human embryos. Gould, recognizing the anomaly of a priest’s support of the use of human embryos for any purpose, interviewed him at his office at St. John’s University in Queens, and his article appeared in the Tuesday science section.
Within the year Pope John Paul cautioned against the destruction of human embryos regardless of the value that might accrue, and the stem cell debate had been launched. The scientific community was almost unanimous in its support of the research while the religionists likened it to abortion. Argo, squarely in the middle, drew a moral distinction between a mass of embryonic stem cells in a laboratory with no hope of becoming human and a viable embryo in the womb. He would continue his research and teaching until directed otherwise.
Both National Public Radio and PBS television in New York invited the college professor to discuss the issue. The first half of radio interview on the Diane Rehm Show was largely devoted to the science and the hope it created. Argo had asked not to be questioned about the morality of the research, but before the phones were opened, Rehm asked if the Church opposed his research. Argo’s curt answer was that it had not.
It was on a segment of the Lehrer Report on PBS that the moral question became central. Along with Argo on the panel was John Young, executive director of the Center for Vision & Values of Grove City College. The twelve-minute segment was moderated by Bertram Kiley who asked Young, a balding 60-year-old with a gray goatee, to explain his opposition to the research of Father Malle.
“No one opposes research on adult stem cells or stem cells acquired through umbilical-cord blood or placenta or bone marrow,” the spokesman for the conservative group began a bit nervously. “The debate is over stem cells acquired through the killing of an embryo. All human life is a ‘precious gift’ granted by a loving God, a creation, not a commodity, and therefore should be protected at all stages of development.
“We all began our lives as a small collection of cells,” he continued in a thin but assertive voice. “We must never abandon our fundamental moral principles in our zeal for new treatments and cures. Advances in biomedical technology must never come at the expense of human conscience. Even the most noble ends do not justify any means.” He paused a moment. “We cannot pursue medical research without an ethical compass into a world we could live to regret.”
“And, Father Malle,” asked Young, a seasoned interviewer in a soporific monotone, “what is your response?”
“I agree with Mr. Young that research needs an ethical compass; however, to suggest that those who disagree with his ethical view lack a compass seems itself a bit unethical. Rhetoric tends to obfuscate rather than elucidate, and I would prefer we strive for the latter.” Argo, looking past the camera and into the monitor, saw his face fill the screen. “I agree also with Mr. Young that all life is precious, and that killing one life to aid another is unethical as it is immoral. The question is, however, whether it is possible to kill that which has no possibility of life. That is, there is, in my view, an essential difference between an embryo with no potential for life and one that has a potential for life. While I believe that aborting a fetus is immoral, I do believe there is a qualitative … an essential difference between an embryo in a womb and an embryo in a lab beaker with no possibility to come to fruition. The essential difference is in potentiality.”
“Mr. Young, your response?”
“Yes, I don’t see how Father Malle can draw that distinction after the encyclical Humanae Vitae which holds all life sacred.”
Argo answered crisply. “Of course, Vitae does not address the issue of stem cells in a laboratory. One must interpret that encyclical … extend it to include embryos with no possibility of coming to term … inert embryos in saline solutions. I see a real difference not only physically but spiritually.”
“Well, I am appalled at the prospect of embryo farms or parts farms,” Young indignantly cut in. “It’s the start of a slippery slope into a brave new world where certain human beings may be raised merely for their parts; parts exploited by those lucky enough to have been born and not harvested for their parts.”
“Father Malle, how do you respond to that?”
“The problem when arguments are reduced to “slippery slopes” is that they fail to address the issue per se. Rather than focus on the matter, the slippery slope argument focuses on possibilities and unnecessary consequences. To hold that something is unethical because it can lead to something unethical is tautological at best … another rhetorical device designed to win an argument rather than investigate an issue with impartiality. The issue here, once again, is whether or not there is an essential difference between a mass of cells with the potential to achieve life is the same as a mass of cells with no potential. And I see a difference.”
“Well Father Malle’s parsing of the word potential seems a convenient way of turning the clearly unethical on its head. An undeveloped human life is a life no less.”
“An unsupported assertion,” interrupted Argo. “If you would like to focus on that issue...”
Young continued over Argo, ignoring him in order to continue his well-rehearsed speech. “The encyclical Evangelium Vitae, written by Pope John Paul II, appealed to the “two wings” of faith and reason in his pro-life thinking. The embarrassingly misinformed notion — by people who pride themselves for their self-perceived intellectual superiority — that faith and reason are incompatible violates some 800 years of Church teaching dating back to St. Thomas Aquinas.”
“Father Malle?” intoned the moderator.
“I am pleased that Mr. Young chose to invoke the name of a medieval Italian monk, rare in discussions of stem cells, but it is a propos. While it is certainly true that St. Thomas was the great intellectualizer of faith, it is equally true that he parsed language. Such parsing … of which I have been accused … is necessary for precision of thought. Mr. Young, no doubt sincere in his beliefs, has demonstrated all the subtlety of a blunderbuss. In his zeal to accuse those with whom he disagrees of being morally bankrupt, he has been unable to address the critical issue. Perhaps now that he has completed his talking points, a meaningful discussion will be possible.”
However, no such discussion occurred. Mr. Young had become unsettled and resorted to repeating in other words what he had stated earlier. “The destruction of human embryos to harvest stem cells is not only devoid of the light of God but is also devoid of humanity,” insisted Young. “It is difficult to fathom how anyone cannot see the inherent unfairness in destroying human embryos for our own selfish needs. What is it about the embryo that denies it the most fundamental right of life: its size, its lack of consciousness? To the contrary, such vulnerabilities — such defenselessness — mean that an innocent embryo merits our special protection. But supporters of embryonic research have concluded that our personal health needs justify this denial of life to other members of the human family. That is not right — regardless of your faith.”
Argo’s half closed eyes at Young’s continued screed was clearly captured by the camera, and his boredom along with Kiley’s trance-like demeanor firmly consigned this PBS segment to its index of least memorable. In Rome, however, the segment did not go ignored.
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When levees crack under stress, quick and decisive action must be taken lest the fissures widen and the structures give way, and so it is with men of the cloth. Left unchecked, a flood of repercussions awaits faltering Church leaders who by certain circumstances become overwhelmed.
Under the watchful eye of Pope Benedict’s Curia, it was noticed that a leader of the Legion of Christ and popular American media figure was in need of reconstruction of sorts. Father Argo Malle, LC, PhD., the Church’s foremost researcher in the field of stem cells had made public his disagreement with the Church’s position on the issue, and Cardinal Michel Abruzzi, director of the Legion, took action. Left untended, the apparent fissure in Father Malle’s constitution could create significant damage to the priest, his order, and ultimately his church.
“We note with no small sense of pride,” said Michel in remarkably good English from the settee on the veranda overlooking the garden of the Palace of the Curia, “that your work has been at the forefront of a science that has potential to develop cures for many illness, illnesses which only a decade ago seemed hopeless.” They were seated in large rattan chairs, a marble table between them on which sat a blue and white Ming Dynasty tea service. Argo was unsure whether the “we” referred to the Legion, the Church, or the Cardinal himself. “Had it not been for your efforts, the Church could not claim, as it has been able to do, its understanding not only of the morality of the science but also of its physics. The Legion is particularly proud that one of its own is responsible for this circumstance.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence. The Legion was responsible for giving me the opportunity.”
“And we thank you for your success.” Michel gazed at the panorama before him, three acres of walkways, trees, and shrubs laid out with absolute precision in the Georgian style. Gardeners were at work, their wheelbarrows by their sides in the hot summer sun. “It is beautiful, no?”
“It is, Your Eminence.”
“Look at the gardeners,” said Michel. “Together they work as one to create such beauty. It is not easy work, hours in the hot sun. Yet through their efforts, all of us are enriched.”
Argo, certain of the reason for his having been summoned, was now equally certain what tack the director would take.
“I have asked to speak personally with you because I want you to have the opportunity to discuss with me, honestly and without reservation, your feelings on the matter. The Legion, indeed the Holy Mother Church herself, is concerned about all of its children, their spiritual health. I pray that together we can settle the grave situation before us, of which you are no doubt aware.”
“I am, Your Eminence, and I thank you for this opportunity.”
“Good. So where must we begin? I have read your papers, which I must say are quite a bit above me, and I seen the recording of your television interview. Perhaps you should comment on that.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” began Argo, already prepared for this examination. “I am firmly convinced that embryonic stem cells will one day be used to stop the progress of certain crippling diseases which have little prospect of finding cures by other means. That is not to say that there cannot be other ways of curing Parkinson’s, for example, or even ALS, only in the next generation or two that the prospects are dim. I am also aware, of course, that the Church does not condone the harvesting of stem cells from embryos. It is my belief, however, that embryos which lie dormant in laboratories with no prospect of coming to term are not at the same level of existence as those which are carried in a living womb.”
“But you know that is not the Church’s position.” Michel saw much of himself in Argo, a bright, independent mind completely dedicated to betterment of the Church. The young scientist was no doubt saddled with a doubting conscience, and it would be Michel’s task to free him of his burden.
“Yes, Your Eminence. However, as there is no encyclical with the force of Humanae Vitae governing the Church position, I see the possibility that Church may come to see that zygotes in test tubes with no chance of existing as human beings are by their essence distinct from those in the womb. It is the potential for life which forms the foundation of the encyclical. Where there is no potential for life, Vitae does not obtain.”
“You are aware that our scholars of the encyclical do not draw such a distinction.”
“I am, but they have been known to change their views, and popes have not always accepted the opinions of Congregation of the Faith.”
Argo’s thinking, as impressive as it was, was simply in error. Why that was so was the question. Michel exhaled deeply and with a slight nod spoke kindly and with compassion. “Perhaps your view is colored by your research. As a scientist, the distinction between embryos in a laboratory and those in the womb becomes, how shall I say, magnified. Perhaps as a scientist you desire so much to see your work with the body come to fruition that it obscures your vision of the soul.” Michel, now focusing tightly on Argo, waited for a response.
“Perhaps so, Your Eminence.”
“Perhaps so,” he echoed. “However, my son, you must know that we cannot move in different directions. Imagine our gardeners doing so!”
“I certainly understand, Your Eminence.”
“I am sure you do,” said Michel, a paternal smile growing across his face. He removed his glasses as if they were a barrier between father and son. “Sometimes we want so much for a particular good we lose sight of larger ones. That is why the Church insists on strict obedience … to keep us all from straying. Before my appointment as director, John Paul cautioned me in the most serious fashion about a proclivity of mine, a weakness, which to this day I work to control.” He put his glasses back on and focused on the handsome young priest. “There can be no deviation from the orders of those above us. As a leader in our Legion, you among the rest must appreciate this notion.”
“I do, Your Eminence. I understand fully and will obey, of course.”
“As I knew you would, my son,” said Michel, getting up from his chair to signal that the meeting had ended.
Argo knew what was expected of a Legionary as much as he knew he was right on this issue and that Michel was wrong. However, he believed Thomas Aquinas correct: the best organization was that run by a benevolent despot. It was a top down model that had grown unpopular in the modern world, but it was the model on which the Church was based. There could be no room for anything other than absolute obedience. Argo had felt free to express publicly his views on fetal tissue based upon his knowledge of both science and morality, especially as there had been no encyclical addressing that particular issue. However, he had now been directed to reverse course, and that is what he would do. Public disobedience was a scandal; private disobedience was different.
In Argo’s next publication entitled “A Lay Guide to the Stem Cell Debate,” which had already been prepared, Argo made changes. In a few places he iterated the Church’s proscription against the destruction of embryonic cells and stressed the possibility that an individual’s own stem cells might be a successful alternative and indicated the direction such research might take. Not long after the publication, Argo received a letter from Michel.
Thank you for making this subject understandable even for me. Your knowledge of the field, your facility with language, and your good judgment are a credit to the Legion and will not go unrewarded.
Within the year, Argo had been relieved of his duty at St. John’s and made dean of science at the new Legion of Christ University. Stationed at the seminary in Cheshire, Argo would help design and staff what had promised to be a jewel in the crown of Catholic higher education.
Argo was now sharing quarters with the faculty that had sent him to Rome. It had been almost seven years since he sat in their classrooms that at times seemed like fiefdoms; however, the prodigal son had returned their superior. Argo reported directly to Director Abruzzi, and not even the Father Catalanado, the Cheshire Cat had risen as high on the Legion’s organization chart.
Argo exhibited no hint of superiority because he had learned well how to mask what others would view as arrogance. From his earliest classes, as the priests assessed Argo, Argo assessed them. He was naturally impressed with their knowledge, especially Father Friel’s knowledge of cannon law; however, he was less impressed with their insight, creative thinking, and ultimately their wisdom. The men, well-schooled in their subject matter and dedicated to teaching, were limited. There’s was first to understand doctrine, at which they were expert, and instruct their charges in that doctrine, which they did with varying degrees of success. What they were unable to do was to accept even the slightest questioning of dogma. Students who did not readily accept the truth as it had been written were thought to need added study and prayer. It seemed that the faculty believed an attack leveled at the structure would undermine it. For Argo, fear of independent thought was indicative of weak-mindedness, and he saw his teachers as sheep rather than shepherds. Secretly he doubted whether any of them was capable of generating an original idea. Academics, especially those in teaching orders were, with very few exceptions, those for whom the real world presented difficulties. Often children shunned by their peers, future academics tended to withdraw into their books, furthering their inabilities to compete in anything other than the artificial world of the classroom. For Argo there was sad truth in the adage that those who cannot do, teach. The fact that so often the best and brightest teachers leave the classroom seemed to confirm his belief.
Argo, of course, shared none of these ideas and treated the faculty with the deference that a student was expected to show his teachers. His modesty earned him even greater respect than his teachers originally had for their star pupil, and even Father Friel confided to the others than his misgivings had been unwarranted.
Argo’s first order of business was to meet with the architects of Cornell and Diehl who had already been granted the contract to design $180 million dollar campus by Cardinal Abruzzi and Prefect Diaz of the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. Marcus Bannock, LC, Dean of Arts and Sciences and Bradford Millar, LC, President of the University, were the two other principals in charge of finalizing the plans. Bannock had been the Chair of History at Catholic University in Washington, D.C.; Millar had been President of St. Francis College in New York; and both were founding members of the Legion in the United States. Argo was seen as the wunderkind from Rome and liaison to Director Abruzzi. Together the three worked with the architects for months before construction began, and when it did, Argo could be found daily at the site, plans in hand and wearing a white hard hat.
“The Cardinal has done a wise thing in selecting them to decide the final plans,” said Father Catalanado of the three deans. He was chairing a faculty meeting from his usual place at the head of the table in the cafetorium. The discussion focused on the new university where it was thought a number of the faculty at Cheshire might be asked to serve. Teaching at the university level would be a promotion of sorts and would provide for the fortunate appointees a new challenge in a new facility in what promised to be the centerpiece of the Legion. “Each of them has the practical day to day experience at a university. That may prevent some wide-eyed architect doesn’t put a philosophy classroom next to the drum and bugle corps practice room.”
“Yes,” agreed Friel. “In Michel Abruzzi, the Legion has found a good administrator. I feel, with the Maciel business out of the way, we have turned a corner.”
“No question,” agreed the Cheshire Cat. “But the university is most important. They’ve sunk a lot of money in it, probably all they have and could borrow.
“Actually, there won’t be a drum and bugle corps,” said Friel.
“Right,” said the Cat with his characteristic grin. “I forgot; it’s a no frills school.” There would be no athletic programs, teams, or fraternities and sororities. “All the money is going into the sciences, technology. State of the art.”
“Under Dr. Malle, it couldn’t be any other way,” chuckled Amos Didion.
“His big job is to recruit the best people.”
“Better him than me,” said Robert Tilley. “I don’t see how he can do it. I mean, how many top people will want to leave their nests, and I doubt their presidents will invite him to recruit their top men, and women.”
“Well, the facilities will be state of the art, and Connecticut is a good location. There are excellent schools and neighborhoods, and you’re only an hour from New York.”
“But there’s a high cost of living. If you don’t make a hundred thousand you’re poor.”
“How much do you think they’ll pay … for a full professor?”
“Half of what they can get at other places; I’m sure of that.”
“It’s going to be next to impossible for anyone, even Argo Malle. Who’s going to take a fifty per cent cut in pay to come here? Certainly not the top scholars. I remember when the City University of New York was paying more than the Ivy League. It was under Mayor Lindsay, I believe. I had a class with Arnold Billings, the foremost Milton scholar in the country. He left Princeton to make more money on Staten Island.”
“Well, it will be up to Argo to find those who will make a move,” said the Cat. “Maybe he’ll have to settle for one of us.” His rubbery grin spread across his face as if being pulled by his ears.
In truth, Argo and the other founders were faced with a significant problem in staffing their departments, but money was not at issue. The president and both deans advertised the new positions in the appropriate outlets, and resumes began to pour in both by mail and by computer. They had developed committees comprised of volunteer professors from local colleges to help in the selection; however the process was stopped before it began.
Argo had been called back to Rome to meet with Michel and Prefect Diaz on the issue of staffing, and once again he was at odds with his superiors. Argo had intended to staff the science and technology departments with the best instructors he could get, regardless of their religious backgrounds. He had hoped to lure his own professor from Rutgers, Mrs. Dillon, and perhaps even one or two top researchers from Cal Tech. However, the Curia had unexpectedly decided that a certain criterion be added to the requirement of teaching at The Legion of Christ University. All faculty had to be practicing Catholics.
“That will mean, we will not offer the best faculty to our students,” Argo said at the meeting in the office of Prefect Cardinal Diaz.
Michel, sitting next to Argo in front of Diaz who maintained his position behind his desk, responded in the avuncular fashion he reserved for Argo, “The best is a term worth considering.”
“The Director is quite right,” added Diaz, a swarthy Bolivian with leathery skin. He had lost most of his hair, and what remained was white and long and curled over his ears. “Pope Benedict agreed with Director Abruzzi and me that The Legion of Christ University must be special. It must distinguish itself from all others in the world by being a center of learning of Catholics by Catholics.”
Michel added, “In the selection of students, the rule will not be so stringent, but first consideration must be given to Catholics, students who demonstrate not only academic talent but who can also demonstrate their dedication to the Church.”
“What is meant, Your Eminence, by practicing Catholic?”
“It is laid out here, in the contract,” said Diaz handing Argo a copy.
Argo scanned the document to find the term. Practicing Catholic was defined as one who attends mass weakly, receives communion at least once a year, and lives a Catholic life. Catholic life was undefined.
“You seem unhappy, Argo. What bothers you?” asked Michel.
“I’m not bothered,” Argo lied. “I am surprised. I had not expected to be limited in the selection of staff.”
“You are hardly limited,” said Diaz sternly. “You have an extraordinary universe from which to choose, most accomplished, and most supportive of our cause.”
“Yes,” said Argo, “the university one day will be a fine one.”
How long that might take Argo did not say, but he was confident that it would not be during the tenure of Cardinal Diaz. As long as the faculty was reserved to Catholics only, regardless of the excellence of their research and teaching, and regardless of the quality of the students, The Legion of Christ University would be at best a second tier school. It was reputation, after all, that ranked a university, not productivity. St. John’s Law School every year for a generation had the highest number of students passing the bar examination on their first try in the state of New York, and many years it had the highest rate in the country. Their percentage perennially tops that of Harvard and Yale, yet in a survey of the nation’s lawyers, Princeton Law School was rated third behind Harvard and Yale in the nation with St. John’s not even on the list. This was a striking revelation as Princeton does not have a law school.
Argo left Rome dejected. He had been told that he would be given carte blanch to staff the university with the highest caliber professors in order to create a world-class university. The best scientists from universities and corporations across the globe would be open to him, and they still were, except now a great many of the best would be off limits. Most prospects of standing who would consider accepting a position might after reading the contract have misgivings. Parochialism was not catholic, after all, and how many excellent people would turn down an offer because their non-Catholic colleagues could not join them remained to be seen.
The challenge, which Argo had seen as daunting from the outset, had become even greater. Perhaps he could use the staffing limitation to his advantage, he thought, as his plane circled for a landing at Kennedy. Certainly the exclusivity that first attracted him to the Legion that day at Seton Hall might attract others. Much would depend on his presentation, his ability to take what first appeared a constriction and make it a lubricant. In any event, Argo’s obedience had been tested once again.
Before the term stem cells left the university and became part of the American lexicon, Stephen Gould of The New York Times reported on the nascent science, but from an interesting angle. A Catholic priest from Cal Tech published a paper on the possibility of curing certain maladies using cells from human embryos. Gould, recognizing the anomaly of a priest’s support of the use of human embryos for any purpose, interviewed him at his office at St. John’s University in Queens, and his article appeared in the Tuesday science section.
Within the year Pope John Paul cautioned against the destruction of human embryos regardless of the value that might accrue, and the stem cell debate had been launched. The scientific community was almost unanimous in its support of the research while the religionists likened it to abortion. Argo, squarely in the middle, drew a moral distinction between a mass of embryonic stem cells in a laboratory with no hope of becoming human and a viable embryo in the womb. He would continue his research and teaching until directed otherwise.
Both National Public Radio and PBS television in New York invited the college professor to discuss the issue. The first half of radio interview on the Diane Rehm Show was largely devoted to the science and the hope it created. Argo had asked not to be questioned about the morality of the research, but before the phones were opened, Rehm asked if the Church opposed his research. Argo’s curt answer was that it had not.
It was on a segment of the Lehrer Report on PBS that the moral question became central. Along with Argo on the panel was John Young, executive director of the Center for Vision & Values of Grove City College. The twelve-minute segment was moderated by Bertram Kiley who asked Young, a balding 60-year-old with a gray goatee, to explain his opposition to the research of Father Malle.
“No one opposes research on adult stem cells or stem cells acquired through umbilical-cord blood or placenta or bone marrow,” the spokesman for the conservative group began a bit nervously. “The debate is over stem cells acquired through the killing of an embryo. All human life is a ‘precious gift’ granted by a loving God, a creation, not a commodity, and therefore should be protected at all stages of development.
“We all began our lives as a small collection of cells,” he continued in a thin but assertive voice. “We must never abandon our fundamental moral principles in our zeal for new treatments and cures. Advances in biomedical technology must never come at the expense of human conscience. Even the most noble ends do not justify any means.” He paused a moment. “We cannot pursue medical research without an ethical compass into a world we could live to regret.”
“And, Father Malle,” asked Young, a seasoned interviewer in a soporific monotone, “what is your response?”
“I agree with Mr. Young that research needs an ethical compass; however, to suggest that those who disagree with his ethical view lack a compass seems itself a bit unethical. Rhetoric tends to obfuscate rather than elucidate, and I would prefer we strive for the latter.” Argo, looking past the camera and into the monitor, saw his face fill the screen. “I agree also with Mr. Young that all life is precious, and that killing one life to aid another is unethical as it is immoral. The question is, however, whether it is possible to kill that which has no possibility of life. That is, there is, in my view, an essential difference between an embryo with no potential for life and one that has a potential for life. While I believe that aborting a fetus is immoral, I do believe there is a qualitative … an essential difference between an embryo in a womb and an embryo in a lab beaker with no possibility to come to fruition. The essential difference is in potentiality.”
“Mr. Young, your response?”
“Yes, I don’t see how Father Malle can draw that distinction after the encyclical Humanae Vitae which holds all life sacred.”
Argo answered crisply. “Of course, Vitae does not address the issue of stem cells in a laboratory. One must interpret that encyclical … extend it to include embryos with no possibility of coming to term … inert embryos in saline solutions. I see a real difference not only physically but spiritually.”
“Well, I am appalled at the prospect of embryo farms or parts farms,” Young indignantly cut in. “It’s the start of a slippery slope into a brave new world where certain human beings may be raised merely for their parts; parts exploited by those lucky enough to have been born and not harvested for their parts.”
“Father Malle, how do you respond to that?”
“The problem when arguments are reduced to “slippery slopes” is that they fail to address the issue per se. Rather than focus on the matter, the slippery slope argument focuses on possibilities and unnecessary consequences. To hold that something is unethical because it can lead to something unethical is tautological at best … another rhetorical device designed to win an argument rather than investigate an issue with impartiality. The issue here, once again, is whether or not there is an essential difference between a mass of cells with the potential to achieve life is the same as a mass of cells with no potential. And I see a difference.”
“Well Father Malle’s parsing of the word potential seems a convenient way of turning the clearly unethical on its head. An undeveloped human life is a life no less.”
“An unsupported assertion,” interrupted Argo. “If you would like to focus on that issue...”
Young continued over Argo, ignoring him in order to continue his well-rehearsed speech. “The encyclical Evangelium Vitae, written by Pope John Paul II, appealed to the “two wings” of faith and reason in his pro-life thinking. The embarrassingly misinformed notion — by people who pride themselves for their self-perceived intellectual superiority — that faith and reason are incompatible violates some 800 years of Church teaching dating back to St. Thomas Aquinas.”
“Father Malle?” intoned the moderator.
“I am pleased that Mr. Young chose to invoke the name of a medieval Italian monk, rare in discussions of stem cells, but it is a propos. While it is certainly true that St. Thomas was the great intellectualizer of faith, it is equally true that he parsed language. Such parsing … of which I have been accused … is necessary for precision of thought. Mr. Young, no doubt sincere in his beliefs, has demonstrated all the subtlety of a blunderbuss. In his zeal to accuse those with whom he disagrees of being morally bankrupt, he has been unable to address the critical issue. Perhaps now that he has completed his talking points, a meaningful discussion will be possible.”
However, no such discussion occurred. Mr. Young had become unsettled and resorted to repeating in other words what he had stated earlier. “The destruction of human embryos to harvest stem cells is not only devoid of the light of God but is also devoid of humanity,” insisted Young. “It is difficult to fathom how anyone cannot see the inherent unfairness in destroying human embryos for our own selfish needs. What is it about the embryo that denies it the most fundamental right of life: its size, its lack of consciousness? To the contrary, such vulnerabilities — such defenselessness — mean that an innocent embryo merits our special protection. But supporters of embryonic research have concluded that our personal health needs justify this denial of life to other members of the human family. That is not right — regardless of your faith.”
Argo’s half closed eyes at Young’s continued screed was clearly captured by the camera, and his boredom along with Kiley’s trance-like demeanor firmly consigned this PBS segment to its index of least memorable. In Rome, however, the segment did not go ignored.
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When levees crack under stress, quick and decisive action must be taken lest the fissures widen and the structures give way, and so it is with men of the cloth. Left unchecked, a flood of repercussions awaits faltering Church leaders who by certain circumstances become overwhelmed.
Under the watchful eye of Pope Benedict’s Curia, it was noticed that a leader of the Legion of Christ and popular American media figure was in need of reconstruction of sorts. Father Argo Malle, LC, PhD., the Church’s foremost researcher in the field of stem cells had made public his disagreement with the Church’s position on the issue, and Cardinal Michel Abruzzi, director of the Legion, took action. Left untended, the apparent fissure in Father Malle’s constitution could create significant damage to the priest, his order, and ultimately his church.
“We note with no small sense of pride,” said Michel in remarkably good English from the settee on the veranda overlooking the garden of the Palace of the Curia, “that your work has been at the forefront of a science that has potential to develop cures for many illness, illnesses which only a decade ago seemed hopeless.” They were seated in large rattan chairs, a marble table between them on which sat a blue and white Ming Dynasty tea service. Argo was unsure whether the “we” referred to the Legion, the Church, or the Cardinal himself. “Had it not been for your efforts, the Church could not claim, as it has been able to do, its understanding not only of the morality of the science but also of its physics. The Legion is particularly proud that one of its own is responsible for this circumstance.”
“Thank you, Your Eminence. The Legion was responsible for giving me the opportunity.”
“And we thank you for your success.” Michel gazed at the panorama before him, three acres of walkways, trees, and shrubs laid out with absolute precision in the Georgian style. Gardeners were at work, their wheelbarrows by their sides in the hot summer sun. “It is beautiful, no?”
“It is, Your Eminence.”
“Look at the gardeners,” said Michel. “Together they work as one to create such beauty. It is not easy work, hours in the hot sun. Yet through their efforts, all of us are enriched.”
Argo, certain of the reason for his having been summoned, was now equally certain what tack the director would take.
“I have asked to speak personally with you because I want you to have the opportunity to discuss with me, honestly and without reservation, your feelings on the matter. The Legion, indeed the Holy Mother Church herself, is concerned about all of its children, their spiritual health. I pray that together we can settle the grave situation before us, of which you are no doubt aware.”
“I am, Your Eminence, and I thank you for this opportunity.”
“Good. So where must we begin? I have read your papers, which I must say are quite a bit above me, and I seen the recording of your television interview. Perhaps you should comment on that.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” began Argo, already prepared for this examination. “I am firmly convinced that embryonic stem cells will one day be used to stop the progress of certain crippling diseases which have little prospect of finding cures by other means. That is not to say that there cannot be other ways of curing Parkinson’s, for example, or even ALS, only in the next generation or two that the prospects are dim. I am also aware, of course, that the Church does not condone the harvesting of stem cells from embryos. It is my belief, however, that embryos which lie dormant in laboratories with no prospect of coming to term are not at the same level of existence as those which are carried in a living womb.”
“But you know that is not the Church’s position.” Michel saw much of himself in Argo, a bright, independent mind completely dedicated to betterment of the Church. The young scientist was no doubt saddled with a doubting conscience, and it would be Michel’s task to free him of his burden.
“Yes, Your Eminence. However, as there is no encyclical with the force of Humanae Vitae governing the Church position, I see the possibility that Church may come to see that zygotes in test tubes with no chance of existing as human beings are by their essence distinct from those in the womb. It is the potential for life which forms the foundation of the encyclical. Where there is no potential for life, Vitae does not obtain.”
“You are aware that our scholars of the encyclical do not draw such a distinction.”
“I am, but they have been known to change their views, and popes have not always accepted the opinions of Congregation of the Faith.”
Argo’s thinking, as impressive as it was, was simply in error. Why that was so was the question. Michel exhaled deeply and with a slight nod spoke kindly and with compassion. “Perhaps your view is colored by your research. As a scientist, the distinction between embryos in a laboratory and those in the womb becomes, how shall I say, magnified. Perhaps as a scientist you desire so much to see your work with the body come to fruition that it obscures your vision of the soul.” Michel, now focusing tightly on Argo, waited for a response.
“Perhaps so, Your Eminence.”
“Perhaps so,” he echoed. “However, my son, you must know that we cannot move in different directions. Imagine our gardeners doing so!”
“I certainly understand, Your Eminence.”
“I am sure you do,” said Michel, a paternal smile growing across his face. He removed his glasses as if they were a barrier between father and son. “Sometimes we want so much for a particular good we lose sight of larger ones. That is why the Church insists on strict obedience … to keep us all from straying. Before my appointment as director, John Paul cautioned me in the most serious fashion about a proclivity of mine, a weakness, which to this day I work to control.” He put his glasses back on and focused on the handsome young priest. “There can be no deviation from the orders of those above us. As a leader in our Legion, you among the rest must appreciate this notion.”
“I do, Your Eminence. I understand fully and will obey, of course.”
“As I knew you would, my son,” said Michel, getting up from his chair to signal that the meeting had ended.
Argo knew what was expected of a Legionary as much as he knew he was right on this issue and that Michel was wrong. However, he believed Thomas Aquinas correct: the best organization was that run by a benevolent despot. It was a top down model that had grown unpopular in the modern world, but it was the model on which the Church was based. There could be no room for anything other than absolute obedience. Argo had felt free to express publicly his views on fetal tissue based upon his knowledge of both science and morality, especially as there had been no encyclical addressing that particular issue. However, he had now been directed to reverse course, and that is what he would do. Public disobedience was a scandal; private disobedience was different.
In Argo’s next publication entitled “A Lay Guide to the Stem Cell Debate,” which had already been prepared, Argo made changes. In a few places he iterated the Church’s proscription against the destruction of embryonic cells and stressed the possibility that an individual’s own stem cells might be a successful alternative and indicated the direction such research might take. Not long after the publication, Argo received a letter from Michel.
Thank you for making this subject understandable even for me. Your knowledge of the field, your facility with language, and your good judgment are a credit to the Legion and will not go unrewarded.
Within the year, Argo had been relieved of his duty at St. John’s and made dean of science at the new Legion of Christ University. Stationed at the seminary in Cheshire, Argo would help design and staff what had promised to be a jewel in the crown of Catholic higher education.
Argo was now sharing quarters with the faculty that had sent him to Rome. It had been almost seven years since he sat in their classrooms that at times seemed like fiefdoms; however, the prodigal son had returned their superior. Argo reported directly to Director Abruzzi, and not even the Father Catalanado, the Cheshire Cat had risen as high on the Legion’s organization chart.
Argo exhibited no hint of superiority because he had learned well how to mask what others would view as arrogance. From his earliest classes, as the priests assessed Argo, Argo assessed them. He was naturally impressed with their knowledge, especially Father Friel’s knowledge of cannon law; however, he was less impressed with their insight, creative thinking, and ultimately their wisdom. The men, well-schooled in their subject matter and dedicated to teaching, were limited. There’s was first to understand doctrine, at which they were expert, and instruct their charges in that doctrine, which they did with varying degrees of success. What they were unable to do was to accept even the slightest questioning of dogma. Students who did not readily accept the truth as it had been written were thought to need added study and prayer. It seemed that the faculty believed an attack leveled at the structure would undermine it. For Argo, fear of independent thought was indicative of weak-mindedness, and he saw his teachers as sheep rather than shepherds. Secretly he doubted whether any of them was capable of generating an original idea. Academics, especially those in teaching orders were, with very few exceptions, those for whom the real world presented difficulties. Often children shunned by their peers, future academics tended to withdraw into their books, furthering their inabilities to compete in anything other than the artificial world of the classroom. For Argo there was sad truth in the adage that those who cannot do, teach. The fact that so often the best and brightest teachers leave the classroom seemed to confirm his belief.
Argo, of course, shared none of these ideas and treated the faculty with the deference that a student was expected to show his teachers. His modesty earned him even greater respect than his teachers originally had for their star pupil, and even Father Friel confided to the others than his misgivings had been unwarranted.
Argo’s first order of business was to meet with the architects of Cornell and Diehl who had already been granted the contract to design $180 million dollar campus by Cardinal Abruzzi and Prefect Diaz of the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. Marcus Bannock, LC, Dean of Arts and Sciences and Bradford Millar, LC, President of the University, were the two other principals in charge of finalizing the plans. Bannock had been the Chair of History at Catholic University in Washington, D.C.; Millar had been President of St. Francis College in New York; and both were founding members of the Legion in the United States. Argo was seen as the wunderkind from Rome and liaison to Director Abruzzi. Together the three worked with the architects for months before construction began, and when it did, Argo could be found daily at the site, plans in hand and wearing a white hard hat.
“The Cardinal has done a wise thing in selecting them to decide the final plans,” said Father Catalanado of the three deans. He was chairing a faculty meeting from his usual place at the head of the table in the cafetorium. The discussion focused on the new university where it was thought a number of the faculty at Cheshire might be asked to serve. Teaching at the university level would be a promotion of sorts and would provide for the fortunate appointees a new challenge in a new facility in what promised to be the centerpiece of the Legion. “Each of them has the practical day to day experience at a university. That may prevent some wide-eyed architect doesn’t put a philosophy classroom next to the drum and bugle corps practice room.”
“Yes,” agreed Friel. “In Michel Abruzzi, the Legion has found a good administrator. I feel, with the Maciel business out of the way, we have turned a corner.”
“No question,” agreed the Cheshire Cat. “But the university is most important. They’ve sunk a lot of money in it, probably all they have and could borrow.
“Actually, there won’t be a drum and bugle corps,” said Friel.
“Right,” said the Cat with his characteristic grin. “I forgot; it’s a no frills school.” There would be no athletic programs, teams, or fraternities and sororities. “All the money is going into the sciences, technology. State of the art.”
“Under Dr. Malle, it couldn’t be any other way,” chuckled Amos Didion.
“His big job is to recruit the best people.”
“Better him than me,” said Robert Tilley. “I don’t see how he can do it. I mean, how many top people will want to leave their nests, and I doubt their presidents will invite him to recruit their top men, and women.”
“Well, the facilities will be state of the art, and Connecticut is a good location. There are excellent schools and neighborhoods, and you’re only an hour from New York.”
“But there’s a high cost of living. If you don’t make a hundred thousand you’re poor.”
“How much do you think they’ll pay … for a full professor?”
“Half of what they can get at other places; I’m sure of that.”
“It’s going to be next to impossible for anyone, even Argo Malle. Who’s going to take a fifty per cent cut in pay to come here? Certainly not the top scholars. I remember when the City University of New York was paying more than the Ivy League. It was under Mayor Lindsay, I believe. I had a class with Arnold Billings, the foremost Milton scholar in the country. He left Princeton to make more money on Staten Island.”
“Well, it will be up to Argo to find those who will make a move,” said the Cat. “Maybe he’ll have to settle for one of us.” His rubbery grin spread across his face as if being pulled by his ears.
In truth, Argo and the other founders were faced with a significant problem in staffing their departments, but money was not at issue. The president and both deans advertised the new positions in the appropriate outlets, and resumes began to pour in both by mail and by computer. They had developed committees comprised of volunteer professors from local colleges to help in the selection; however the process was stopped before it began.
Argo had been called back to Rome to meet with Michel and Prefect Diaz on the issue of staffing, and once again he was at odds with his superiors. Argo had intended to staff the science and technology departments with the best instructors he could get, regardless of their religious backgrounds. He had hoped to lure his own professor from Rutgers, Mrs. Dillon, and perhaps even one or two top researchers from Cal Tech. However, the Curia had unexpectedly decided that a certain criterion be added to the requirement of teaching at The Legion of Christ University. All faculty had to be practicing Catholics.
“That will mean, we will not offer the best faculty to our students,” Argo said at the meeting in the office of Prefect Cardinal Diaz.
Michel, sitting next to Argo in front of Diaz who maintained his position behind his desk, responded in the avuncular fashion he reserved for Argo, “The best is a term worth considering.”
“The Director is quite right,” added Diaz, a swarthy Bolivian with leathery skin. He had lost most of his hair, and what remained was white and long and curled over his ears. “Pope Benedict agreed with Director Abruzzi and me that The Legion of Christ University must be special. It must distinguish itself from all others in the world by being a center of learning of Catholics by Catholics.”
Michel added, “In the selection of students, the rule will not be so stringent, but first consideration must be given to Catholics, students who demonstrate not only academic talent but who can also demonstrate their dedication to the Church.”
“What is meant, Your Eminence, by practicing Catholic?”
“It is laid out here, in the contract,” said Diaz handing Argo a copy.
Argo scanned the document to find the term. Practicing Catholic was defined as one who attends mass weakly, receives communion at least once a year, and lives a Catholic life. Catholic life was undefined.
“You seem unhappy, Argo. What bothers you?” asked Michel.
“I’m not bothered,” Argo lied. “I am surprised. I had not expected to be limited in the selection of staff.”
“You are hardly limited,” said Diaz sternly. “You have an extraordinary universe from which to choose, most accomplished, and most supportive of our cause.”
“Yes,” said Argo, “the university one day will be a fine one.”
How long that might take Argo did not say, but he was confident that it would not be during the tenure of Cardinal Diaz. As long as the faculty was reserved to Catholics only, regardless of the excellence of their research and teaching, and regardless of the quality of the students, The Legion of Christ University would be at best a second tier school. It was reputation, after all, that ranked a university, not productivity. St. John’s Law School every year for a generation had the highest number of students passing the bar examination on their first try in the state of New York, and many years it had the highest rate in the country. Their percentage perennially tops that of Harvard and Yale, yet in a survey of the nation’s lawyers, Princeton Law School was rated third behind Harvard and Yale in the nation with St. John’s not even on the list. This was a striking revelation as Princeton does not have a law school.
Argo left Rome dejected. He had been told that he would be given carte blanch to staff the university with the highest caliber professors in order to create a world-class university. The best scientists from universities and corporations across the globe would be open to him, and they still were, except now a great many of the best would be off limits. Most prospects of standing who would consider accepting a position might after reading the contract have misgivings. Parochialism was not catholic, after all, and how many excellent people would turn down an offer because their non-Catholic colleagues could not join them remained to be seen.
The challenge, which Argo had seen as daunting from the outset, had become even greater. Perhaps he could use the staffing limitation to his advantage, he thought, as his plane circled for a landing at Kennedy. Certainly the exclusivity that first attracted him to the Legion that day at Seton Hall might attract others. Much would depend on his presentation, his ability to take what first appeared a constriction and make it a lubricant. In any event, Argo’s obedience had been tested once again.
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