This is the last of my posts on magisterial social teaching. In this post, I want to look a bit more closely at FLW’s call for universal, government-funded health care as an illustration of the way good intentions can lead to the Church offering support to a morally problematic policy. My concern here is not to argue for or against universal health care (or any specific policy). Rather I want to highlight the dangers to the Church’s evangelical witness—and so the credibility of her social teaching—when the Church advocates for specific public policies.
Policy is Never Enough
Good public policy requires more than good theology; it needs technical expertise. FLW (40), for example, calls for the State to “provide universal healthcare” using “whatever powers and resources” it “has at its disposal” and that this be done not only as a matter of “public policy” but “at the public expense” and that this is “the absolute minimum that the Church should expect of countries with developed economies.”
Certainly, physical healings were a central element of Christ’s earthly ministry as well as the later work of the Church. But it is a leap from this to the broad and ill-defined policies imperative of universal healthcare at public expense. Moreover, it is not clear what the authors mean (and maybe more importantly, DO NOT mean) by “healthcare.”
For example, does the State have a moral obligation to provide abortions? What about reconstructive surgery? Is cosmetic dentistry at public expense required?1
The first moral concern is this. Even assuming some clarity of what is meant by healthcare, any such decision authorizes the State to consume—and so make unavailable—resources that benefit some at the expense of others.
Second, given the regulatory burden imposed on them, to suggest that our current healthcare system is broken because “insurance agencies … exact huge premiums while supplying meager benefits” is simplistic at best and uncharitable at worse.
Healthcare costs, as well as the availability of services, are the result of numerous factors many of which are simply not under the control of insurance companies. The supply of healthcare professionals is dependent on the number of medical schools and healthcare training programs set by professional associations and/or state regulators. Health insurance rates, as well as coverage, are set by a combination of state and federal regulations. The ability of a healthcare professional to provide services is determined by state licensing laws as well as local, state, and federal regulations regarding the establishment of hospitals and free-standing clinics.
Add to all of this access to healthcare services is determined not only by the number and distribution of healthcare professionals but also by the ability of the individual consumer to pay for services. Even assuming individuals have the money to pay for the care they may still lack access. Access might be denied because of a lack of healthcare providers. Basically, the supply of providers in their local area might be insufficient to meet demand. Alternatively—or possibly as a compounding factor—is the inability of individuals to get the time off work needed to visit a healthcare provider.
But even assuming a sufficient number of providers, money to pay for care, and the time to receive treatment, not everyone sees healthcare as worth the cost in time, money, or commitment to a therapeutic regime.
So to reduce access to healthcare to a single (or even a select few) is to simply misunderstand the problem. Indeed, may even be to see a problem where, for some at least, it doesn’t even exist.
Breaking Orthodox Dependence on the State
Both FLW and Basis, or so it seems to me, have failed to take seriously the cost of the Church asking the State to enact policies that support the Gospel.
By all means, as both documents affirm, let Orthodox Christian politicians seek to craft laws that are in harmony with the Gospel and pursue ends in keeping with the Church’s moral tradition. But this is, or at least should be, the personal vocation of the laity not something done in the institutional name of the Church. Both documents affirm a similar point when they point out the Church has lived and ministered under a variety of political regimes.
But where both documents take pains to defend the internal life of the Church from the State, neither I think takes seriously the American experience. I have in mind here the idea that while the Public Square should not be “naked” they seem to underestimate the dangers of a close policy alliance of the Church with the State. Whatever the short-term gain, such an analysis will usually be to the advantage of the State at the expense of the Church.
Though I focused here on a specific problem in FLW, the Basis likewise seems eager to enlist the aid of the State in furthering some aspect of the Church’s mission. Whether this is because, as in the case of the Basis, of a nostalgic sympathy of symphonia (co-operation of Church and State) or, as in the case of FLW, a sympathy for European progressive social policies, this is problematic for any number of reasons.
There is rarely ‘one” Christian policy position
First, there is rarely one, singular morally acceptable policy. And even in the case when we are discussing a matter about which the Church has spoken definitively for centuries (for example, the immorality of abortion), there can be multiple responses that fall with the Tradition. There are in principle any number of legislative paths that Orthodox Christians might take to bring about the end of legal abortion. As for preventing abortion altogether, that would likely require a whole other set of actions on the part of the Church in cooperation with others committed to a pro-life/anti-abortion agenda.
Second, supporting one policy at the expense of other, equally morally acceptable policies, can put the Church’s witness at risk. Let explain.
When faced, however, with competing policies, policymakers must balance a number of factors in determining which road to take. But even morally good policies bring with them a variety of costs and unintended consequences about which we can—and really, should—disagree. When the Church hitches her wagon to one policy as normative above all the rest, her evangelical and pastoral missions are placed at risk when, as is inevitable, the policy they supported yesterday turns out to be undesirable today. Likewise, when—as inevitable—Orthodox Christians object on practical grounds to the “Church’s” policy position, they risk being branded as unfaithful.
So what should we do? Let me end with some very provisional thoughts on how we might foster a self-emptying public witness.
Self-emptying character of Orthodox social witness
Policy, to repeat what I said earlier, matters. However, it is always, only secondary. After all, the Church has preached the Gospel, called sinners to repentance, cared for the poor, and raised up saints in all manner of political and economic situations.
And, again, this isn’t to assume all regimes or economic models are morally equal. They are not. But what they all are is, once again, secondary.
What is primary is Christ and the Church’s witness to Him.
As difficult as it is to craft, much less pass, morally good and prudent public policy, a credible witness to Christ is harder still. We should pursue the former but only in the context of the latter. The pastoral problem is we are tempted to forsake the latter in our concern for the former.
St Maximus the Confessor is helpful here. Reflecting on the divine economy, Maximus says that God “thirsts to be thirsted for, and longs to be longed for, and loves to be loved.”2 Creation, the Incarnation of the Son, His death and resurrection, the whole of the life of the Church, is God’s self-emptying offering to His creatures in the hope that we will respond to His love with our own.
To speak about the kenotic or self-emptying witness of the Church is simply this: That I not only love my enemy but desire the love of my enemy. Self-emptying after the example of Christ means that I must actively pursue my enemy’s love. I need to speak to those with whom I disagree as those whose love matters to me.
To be free means that I not only give myself over to others in love but that I want to be loved by them. In this context, asceticism is nothing more or less than purifying both my love for you and removing from my heart anything that makes me shy away from your love.
It’s worth noting if only in passing, dentistry is not even included in the discussion of health care found in the Basis.
Ambigua, PG 91: 1260B quoted in Nicholas Loudovikos, “Analogical Esctasis: Maximus the Confessor, Poltinus, Heidegger and Lacan,” (unpublished), 2.
“I need to speak to those with whom I disagree as those whose love matters to me.
To be free means that I not only give myself over to others in love but that I want to be loved by them. In this context, asceticism is nothing more or less than purifying both my love for you and removing from my heart anything that makes me shy away from your love.”
Those last two points went straight to my heart and I think it is something Christians don’t hear enough. Sure we hear the culture wars stuff ad nauseum but we NEVER hear about what it actually takes to love the “enemy” (because that’s what this whole politicized Christianity creates—enemies to fight not people to love). Oh sure we hear that we have to be “nice“ to people or polite or not be physically violent, but the disgust, hate, and dehumanizing remains untouched. The proverbial “enemies” see right through that and they don’t feel loved. It doesn’t matter how surface level civil you are— you can never deeply love or care about someone that you find disgusting or “evil” much less have a fighting chance to win them to your side.
I think this is often particularly true in the issues of sexual identity politics where Christians are so disgusted by a person’s actions that they are repulsed by and avoidant of other human beings and refuse to see any common ground they may have with them as a person. It’s like Christians shouldn’t even be around them lest they be tainted. I’ve been around Christians long enough to know that there’s an instant dehumanization that occurs in the way that we speak about or interact with LGBT people. No one around us will ever start down the path of repentance if we perpetually stand twenty feet away in disgust and treat them as almost inhuman blobs of “evil.” Would we have chosen to follow Christ if people treated us that way? There’s just no way.
And yet in recent days I’ve seen very, very heavy handed articles and statements made by public Orthodox figures and social media clergy on these very issues, including one American bishop I witnessed sharing an article written by a Russian counterpart that essentially claimed Orthodox Christian’s can’t and shouldn’t experience same sex attraction. How demoralizing and dehumanizing for parishioners experiencing such things! Earth to this guy: there are many celibate gay (Side B) Christians out there and you basically told them they shouldn’t even exist. You can totally identify as a gay person and still be a faithful Christian who follows Church teachings.
I guess my question is how do we love people enough to win their love, but not compromise who we are? Because that seems to be something Christians are very fearful of and we need more teaching on that. There seems to be a fear of accepting people as they are in love because it might look like approving of everything they do.