Michael Harrington's America

My high school in St. Louis had humble beginnings 200 years ago but has produced many remarkable graduates, other than myself!

The "St. Louis Academy for Young Gentlemen" was founded in 1818 and soon became St. Louis College, then in 1832, St. Louis University, the first university west of the Mississippi, with the first medical school and law school in the area.  I spent eight years at the university in various capacities as well as four years at the affiliated Jesuit preparatory school.  What I learned there has been the foundation of my personal and professional life.

I was reminded of the outstanding record of achievement at St. Louis U. High this week in a New Yorker article by David Remnick, "Left Wing of the Possible," a quote from Michael Harrington, class of '44.  Harrington, who became a leading socialist, author, professor and public intellectual, wrote "The Other America."  Remnick shows how this best-selling study of poverty in America caught the attention of President Kennedy in 1963 and led him to begin what would be completed by his successor: the war on poverty, including Medicare, Medicaid, and expanded social security benefits. As a result of this action by the Democratic leadership, poverty declined from 22% in 1959 to 11% in 1973.

Although Harrington, who moved on from St. Louis to the University of Chicago and the Yale Law School, drifted from his Catholic faith, he remained, like many others, a Catholic in spirit.  He was inspired by his Jesuit schooling to be concerned with the common good, with social justice--in marked contrast to the prevailing political climate of recent years, where even most liberal-moderates are indebted to corporations, big money, and self-interest.

Despite his radical allegiances, Harrington was valued by the Kennedys and deserves to be remembered for having had an impact on liberal public policy. I can easily imagine what he might say about today's polarized political arena, which marginalizes the poor and needy, ignores the common good,  and seems determined to undo all of the social progress made prior to January, 2017.

I am proud to be a graduate of the same distinguished school that produced Michael Harrington

Symbolism and Pope Francis

When he appeared on the balcony of St. Peter's, he wore a simple cross. It caught my eye right away. Was it wood? Probably not, but it was not bejeweled and ornate. He avoided the ermine-trimmed cape favored by his predecessor and wore plain black shoes. He bowed to the faithful, asking their blessing in silence before he blessed them. And, of course, he chose the name Francis.

I found all this stunning and unforgettable.

Critics may claim that the new pope from Argentina is not doing enough to reform the church, but his initial gestures, like his humble lifestyle, are themselves signs of reform.  Symbols are significant, especially in an ancient religion.

It seems that Pope Francis will transform the papacy in some ways, making it less regal.  He may not ride the public transit in Rome, as he did in Buenos Aires, but his very name signals in a powerful way solidarity with the poor.  He has, in an old interview, called the clericalism that sets priests apart in their own world, beholden to no one--the issue at the heart of the sex abuse cover-ups--sinful.

Many Catholics have found the Vatican cold, formal, distant--and for good reason. Nuns have been investigated, dissenters excommunicated, and cardinals guilty of civil crimes sheltered in Renaissance palaces. Clergy      who rape children have been protected by clericalism.

It is time for a change at the top, and the Jesuit from Argentina may not change doctrine but is already changing the image of the institution he has inherited.  He is bringing a simple, human style to a Vatican prone to grandiosity, a daily reminder of the Gospel message: "Blessed are the poor in spirit...."

The example of the poor man of Assisi, the original Francis, has been a gentle rebuke to the worldly power and wealth of the institutional church for 800 years.  He was a man, too, who met with the sultan during the Fifth Crusade, providing a model of Christian respect for Islam--another symbolic gesture that is important to remember at this time. Another reminder that symbols are important: they can speak more powerfully than words.