In the end formation is really the essence of humanity, isn’t it? We can grapple with it in a number of ways but no matter what, it reflects an active engagement of one’s humanity and ultimately responsibilities. I’m not alone in the opinion that formation more closely resembles process than the finality of a conversion experience. Finding its roots in the moral philosophy of the ancient Greeks and promulgated as a theme in every world religion, it is can be applied to individuals, communities – both imagined and real – and also to nations, the most imaginary of all communities. Admittedly with a training in social ethics I tend to view formation from a perspective of normative behavior, as a journey toward a more active consciousness and higher ideals. However theological that may sound I confess that despite a background in theology, I find it problematic in our contemporary context to view “formation” exclusively in religious terms, despite its heavy overtones. [As a caveat, despite my educational background in theology I think that the word “religion” itself is also problematic; to be discussed in later posts, no doubt.]

On the other hand even if you harbor a humanist inclination, I also think it’s important to participate in this debate on the grounds of moral education, even if it has religious moorings. W.E.B. Du Bois argued as much his treatise, The Talented Tenth, “the object of all true education is not to make men carpenters, it is to make carpenters men.” To mediate the divergent perspectives I defer to the understanding of “religion” that was advocated by two 20^th Century European Jews and philosophers, Emmanuel Levinas and his understudy Jacques Derrida, who equated genuine religion to responsibility. From a broader view, religion can be regarded as one’s transformation into a responsible individual through free will. In that sense it encapsulates the vision of a Du Bois and his belief in humanity’s ability to progress continually toward a greater, fuller life.

In that spirit, like any responsible adult I too have tried to find that vocational nexus of my talents and the needs of my communities. The source of responsibility invariably emanates from a sense of identity, and I am no exception. As an American I currently live in the most religiously and culturally diverse polity in history and that also comes with certain civic responsibilities. A young John Rawls perceived this question in his 1942 senior thesis as the central ethical question: how to live well is a product of our sense of community. Through the rest of his career this religio-ethical viewpoint certainly provided the foundation for the seminal work of liberal political philosophy in which he stated we needed to develop multiple conceptions of “how to live” that remain faithful to each tradition. This challenge was laid down for ethicists and religious scholars in the next generation but also for each successive generation, since ethics and “religion” must always meet the demands of every context.

A theology of pluralism becomes vital not only from a religious perspective but is also imperative for humanists and secular advocates. It can also reflect a communitarian commitment and respect for the alterity and welfare of religious minorities. Without question through the forces of modernity our communities and political entities are experiencing a state of flux at a greater rate than any in human history. Just as each age requires a literary or artistic voice to characterize its tenor, its anxieties, its aspirations, there must also be an emphasis on theological renewal. With respect to intellectual tradition and the integrity of faith, evolving social contexts require re-interpretation.

Recognizing the need for religious literacy and comparativists, I have stumbled thankfully upon the study of Islam and Muslim societies. The subject merits attention in its own right as well as the place it holds in the American (and European) public discourse on the question of national identity. However, surprisingly it has informed my understanding of Catholicism as well. Reciprocally the challenges that Catholicism has faced in the evolving secularism of the past two centuries establishes important parallels for Muslims in Western countries. In his foresight Scott Appleby has recognized this parallel and has launched the Contending Modernities initiative at Notre Dame. Furthermore it is regrettably underreported Islam in America holds incredible potential. As the most diverse population of Muslims anywhere in the world there are possibilities to provide new perspective and to renew the Islamic tradition of pluralism that can reflect both intra- and inter-faith dialogue.

While there is a progressive streak to formation, it must also pay homage to the past. Invariably, one must define a journey from the point of disembarkation. For individuals that means we need to recognize the indelible imprint of our childhood and adolescent development onto our identity. As a product of a Jesuit education and my cultural upbringing, I am marked with Catholic characteristics in my education, moral development, identity and heritage. Then, am I Catholic? It depends on whom you ask. If you ask me, “Are you a Catholic?” I would respond, “Depends on what you mean.” Of course, I live in what Catholics are fond of calling “paradox.” The rest of the world calls this phenomenon awkwardness.

Regardless being Catholic is a central aspect of my character and, accordingly, I have a responsibility to the community. It is a precarious position where many Catholics find themselves, particularly those of my generation. Those of us raised in the Catholic tradition are witnessing an institution in a state of decay and are left to question, “At what point is an institution beyond redemption?” It is easy to recognize two well-trodden paths. Socially and politically conservative Catholics affirm that the current trend is positive. As if a clarion call we hear, “a smaller Church is a stronger Church.” Others horrified by the Church’s public stance on abortion, equal marriage, contraception often walk away feeling justified in the morality of their decision. Still, those opinions are simplistic and regard Church as a monolith rather than a living community. Therefore alternative forms of engagement need to be suggested.

Several years ago, a friend and former colleague decided to enter the seminary. While some of his liberal friends thought the priesthood was a compromise of his ideals and values, he simply said it was a part of his vocation: hospice care. The Church as an institution is dying, and in his opinion ought to do so with dignity. Although not suggestive of the norm, it reflects an urge for a third way and that there is something to fight for. Accordingly, everyone who participates informs the tradition. Although the institution may crumble, there will be a legacy and consequences to our choices whether it is participation or neglect.

In college those of us who expressed our Catholic identity through praxis and service found solace in the philosophy of Dorothy Day who advocated a worldview in which it was possible to be liberal in your theology and still conservative in your ecclesiology. That was a genuine response when the Church was evolving and meeting the needs of the age in which it served. It is a position that I believe is now less tenable for any Catholic who aims to fully participate in a pluralistic secular society. However I do feel forever committed to the Catholic tradition and the broader sense of church, and I acknowledge the tedious balance that places on my studies. “Faith may still skew and dull scholarship,” Harvard’s Francis Clooney, S.J. advises, “yet religious scholarship unmoored in deep commitments may remain diffuse, and largely irrelevant to living religious communities.” If we seek to serve the common, inevitably that must also include religious communities. It is a messy business forging multiple conceptions of “how to live well” and yet that is the price of a dynamic pluralist culture.