Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Arthur Miller: In Appreciation

For decades, theater critics have been saying that Arthur Miller’s influence as a playwright waned early in his career. You wouldn’t know it from the notices given to his recent death. I never believed those critics much anyway. And neither did anybody else within whom his literary work still gets very, very deep.

Miller first got to me three years after his Tony Award-winning play, The Crucible, opened on Broadway. 50 of us, half in college and the other half in high school, were in New York City for a six-weeks summer citizenship seminar. One of the things we did during our time together was work in smaller groups on projects to share with everyone our final week. My group chose to attempt a sincerely felt, even if not-right-for-prime-time production of that particular play.

Our decision to do The Crucible was somewhat risky for its time. You have to remember that the McCarthyites were in full bloom wackiness, that Miller was already suggesting in not very subtle ways where the House Un-American Activities Committee might transport themselves, and that the Attorney General’s people were salivating over adding more and more names to their infamous list of “suspect” Americans. Certainly, it was timely for us to offer the play for discussion. The problem was that in putting it on, we became “suspect” ourselves in certain circles. Frankly, I was kind of hoping to get on The List myself, but I didn’t quite make it. If I had, I would have been in pretty impressive company; even a Methodist bishop got on it!

Our group had neither the time, the talent, nor the production resources to stage anything but a series of excerpts from Miller’s play, tied together by an “Our Town” type stage manager (me) who wandered in and out between the scenes to smooth out transitions and offer comments about witch trials both in Salem and on the House floor. I was doing a pretty good job of being “objective” about the whole thing until near the end, when by our group’s design I entered the play itself, to take my place on the jury and scream out condemnation of the innocent protagonist. For the first time in my life, I knew what it must have been like to be on the side of Barabbas and his deluded followers.

The Crucible taught me in a way I have never forgotten what it is like to get caught up in ideologies and with mobs inflicting their ideologies on everyone else, repudiating in one swoop any regard for truth, any respect for others’ opinions, and any love for one’s fellow creatures of God. Remembering what it felt like on stage those few terrifying minutes was enough to cure me (I continue to hope and pray) of wanting to throw away rationality and empathy in the service of even the most genuinely righteous causes. As we like to say nowadays, don’t go there.

It was frightening to drive by the crowds several years ago --- around a local hospital and on a major thoroughfare’s sidewalks --- whose fanatical members were shouting obscenities at doctors and patients for whom abortion was still a Constitutionally-affirmed right. And it is irritating beyond measure being around bunches of folks in worship services, judicatory meetings, and on the streets, listening to condemnations of gays and lesbians as cancerous growths on societies world-wide and as eternally excluded from the kingdom to come. Or getting called the Great Satan by deluded followers of an Islam that The Prophet himself would not have recognized.

Karen Armstrong, a much cherished writer on world religions today, has an interesting way of putting the issue with which The Crucible forces us to deal. In a recent essay, she wrote, “The history of each faith tradition represents a ceaseless struggle between our inherent tendency to aggression and the mitigating virtue of compassion …We live in one world, and we have to learn to reach out in sympathy to people who have different opinions, at home and abroad. We need the compassionate ethic more desperately than ever before.”

In 1991, Arthur Miller was in Dallas to accept the Meadows Award for Excellence in the Arts from SMU. During a brief chat, I had an opportunity to share gratefully with him just a little of what I learned from The Crucible all those years ago. He waited patiently while I stammered it out, paused for a moment, and then said, “I can see it in your eyes.” I have called to mind many times what he said to me that night. A lot of what Arthur Miller wrote about across his anything but waned career he saw clearly in other peoples’ eyes, too.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Stem Cell Research

Are there any distinctively Christian standards that would allow us to determine, on ethical and not merely pragmatic grounds, whether we should support stem cell research? A lot of Christians seem to think so, and they have no uncertainty whatever about their answers to this question. The problem is that their answers differ, drastically.

Many Christians hold that stem cell research is about as moral as abortion is: not at all, under any conditions whatever, period. Others argue just as vehemently that the good that will come from stem cell research wholly outweighs any considerations that might lead us to restrict or prohibit it. Is there any way through this morass of conflicting opinion?

The “science” of the issue is, roughly speaking, this: stem cells form other cells by means of which very different parts of our bodies (e.g., organs, muscles, blood cells) develop and can be renewed. The most versatile of stem cells are to be found in early stage embryos; these are the ones --- harvested from frozen embryos left over from in vitro fertilizations ---  that hold the most promise for treating crippling diseases and injuries, and for slowing the aging process. Harvesting them, however, destroys the embryos that house them, and therein lies the ethical dilemma.

It is not just the Judaeo-Christian tradition that issues stern warnings against the deliberate taking of life; if it were, then the current debate about stem cell research would be much simpler: the First Amendment does not permit us to make policy for all Americans based on advancing the cause of a particular religious tradition. However, prohibitions against killing are not merely part of a religious ideology; they are built into the very fabric of the American way of life, anchored by our common understanding of life as an “unalienable” right. And for a very large number of people in our society, human embryos are to be honored as we should honor all living human beings, as possessing a sacred right to survive and thrive.

One line of argument in almost every serious dispute about embryonic stem cell research is especially unhelpful, and perhaps even pernicious. It is that prohibitions against killing always have an exception clause, to the effect that the taking of life may be justifiable, if it serves some overwhelmingly larger good. There is at least some truth in the notion that killing can in some cases be justified, but not on the grounds of securing others’ health or longevity. The exception clause is strictly limited to saving peoples’ lives. In order to protect the lives of some, we may have to take the life of another. But in no other circumstances can the taking of that life be justified.

Another line of argument is more promising: many now believe that a fertilized ovum does not constitute human life until it is fully differentiated (into one embryo or more) and implanted in the the uterus as such, through a process that takes several days following conception. If this understanding meets an acceptable definition of when and how distinctively human beings emerge in the scheme of things, then harvesting stem cells before the embryos containing them are individuated would not involve the taking of human life.

This view seems congruent with the general thinking of the Christian tradition that God is involved in the creation of each human soul. But until we can speak meaningfully of “each” in this phrase, there is no good reason to speak of a soul’s having yet come into being. When, then, does human life begin, if not at the moment of conception? The most defensible cautious answer now seems to be: at the moment of differentiation.

Even more promising, from the standpoint of Christian ethics, is the insistence of many participants in the current debate that the only source of stem cells for research should be the excess embryos from in vitro fertilization procedures. Since these (frozen) embryos will never be permitted to develop into fully developed human beings anyway, and in fact will be discarded altogether, no human life need be lost by harvesting stem cells from them.

Utilizing other sources of stem cells, of course, would be far more problematic. For instance, private laboratories regularly promote the idea of creating embryos via in vitro fertilization for the sole purpose of harvesting their stem cells. Even more macabre, ethically, is the futuristic idea of cloning human embryos for a similar purpose. Neither of these procedures reflects sufficient respect for the transcendent value of human life, whether one believes that God is the author of all life or not.

So where might we come out, as Christians, on all this? Hopefully, somewhere close to a viable middle way between the two equally irrational extremes of condemning stem cell research altogether, and of supporting all kinds of it indiscriminately, with no internal controls whatever.