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I’ve been a bit scarce on the blog of late because I’m trapped in the middle of a couple of projects that need to be finished. But I thought for this week I’d throw up a question that bothers me sometimes in my scholarly labors. What am I obliged to do about pious Catholic conventions when writing in an academic context?
There are numerous examples here. Putting “St.” in front of saints’ names. Capitalizing pronouns that refer to God. Referring to Our Lady or the Blessed Sacrament with devotional titles. These are all conventions among Catholic writers, but they are not the convention in academic writing. So, should I use the conventions, or not?
You might cast the question as one of being respectful vs. being ashamed of the faith. Certainly I wouldn’t want people to think that I’m willing to disrespect Our Lord, Our Lady or any of the saints for the sake of winning academic credentials. On the other hand, I genuinely don’t think that shame is the primary issue here. I’m not ashamed of the faith, but I do need people to understand in certain contexts that what they’re reading from me is academic philosophy, not a devotional reflection. This might be appreciated even by a completely sympathetic reader — say, someone who happened to read both my devotional-type blog posts and also my academic work — who just wanted to know which “hat” I was wearing at a particular time. But it especially makes a difference in addressing a more skeptical audience, which might need to be persuaded that what I’m saying is worth taking seriously, and isn’t just a spewing of religious sentiment.
If I were seriously disrespecting Our Lord by not capitalizing his/His pronouns, then of course I would do it. I don’t really think that’s the case. But I do still feel uneasy sometimes about questions like this, precisely because writing in a more academic style does seem to militate against the sort of shaping of sensibilities that these customs presumably take as their aim. At the end of the day, though, I have to ask: are pronouns and titles something we need to take to the mattresses? Wouldn’t it be better to make certain stylistic compromises for the sake of staying in the conversation, realizing that this communicates to our interlocutors that we are willing to play on their field, and are not trying to smuggle certain religious assumptions into the conversation through loaded devotional language?
On the issue of saints, actually, I normally use the full title and name the first time I refer to the person, and thereafter I just use a single name. So, the first time I refer to the Bishop of Hippo in a paper he will be “St. Augustine of Hippo,” but thenceforth merely “Augustine.” But, while we’re on that question, let me add another too, for all you scholarly types out there. What name do you usually use to refer to the Angelic Doctor? The standard convention is “Aquinas.” I hate that. Nobody would have called him that in his own day. It just feels limp and bloodless to me, and the prevalence of the name even leads some people to make ridiculous references to “Aquinian” philosophy. Nonetheless, because I know that this is the convention, I try to remember to do it in my academic writing, but “Thomas” comes so much more naturally to my mind that I sometimes slip and put that in instead. I’d be interested to hear how other medieval-type scholars normally handle this.
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
Ah, this is when it’s good to be in theology rather than philosophy! I have no scruples about capitalizing such things as “Mass,” using “St.,” putting prayer dedications at the top of my page, putting a liturgical date alongside the secular date, and I (as well as my classmates and professors) refer to Thomas Aquinas as “Thomas.”
Heh. Prayer dedications at the top of the page? That really is a different world!
Ok, well I wouldn’t try to submit something for publication with a prayer dedication or liturgical date… but for ordinary class papers no one seems to notice/care.
Your unease is coming from your well-informed conscience. The proper use of our Catholic custom, without exaggeration is a duty we owe to our Faith ,to each other and to our readers. Otherwise, we and our culture will become as “invisible” as clergy who don’t wear clericals. One has to be seen to exist to have a hope of being respected,let alone emulated.
I suppose it depends on the level at which you are writing, but certainly as an undergraduate student of literature I never had any hesitation writing St, He etc the few times that such things came up in the course of my work, nor did any of my lecturers correct me for doing this.
Since you mention “Aquinas” – it’s worth noting that the atheist Bertrand Russel, in his History of Western Philosophy (which I think is mid-1940’s) calls him “St Thomas”. And last night I was reading an article by Christopher Hitchens, no less, in which he used “He” to refer to God.
But academic authorities can be pickier on such matters than magazine editors, I suppose. Does anyone have an example of someone actually being taken to task for using St or writing capital h’s?
It’s not so much a matter of being taken to task. I mean, I suppose that could happen too. But I’m thinking more about what you signal to the reader by observing those kinds of conventions. For a certain type of reader, this communicates “devotional literature.” As an undergrad you can probably get away with it, but at a higher level I think you will immediately be taken less seriously. Ironically, Christopher Hitchens or Bertrand Russell can do things like that if they want to, because their credentials as atheists are so firmly established. (Though it is interesting that they would choose to do so.) Known Catholics don’t get that kind of slack.
Which is what’s wrong with your argument, Vexilla Regis. As I understand it, you’re giving a plea for “flying the colors” — people have to know that you’re a Catholic in order to engage you as one. Thing is, in my line of work, identifying is not in the least problematic. Picking your battles is. I’m not shy about identifying myself as a Catholic in any forum in which it might happen to come up, but more importantly, you can tell what camp I’m in on the basis of the positions that I argue and the thinkers that I defend. Believe me, my peers in graduate school knew. It was pretty relevant to our work as philosophers. And already, in most schools of analytic philosophy, that’s already going to make you a pretty huge outlier.
But isn’t it better to be noteworthy for that — for the positions that you argue — and not for comparative trivialities like flouting standard academic writing conventions? (Because make no mistake — that is what you’re doing when you insist on inserting devotional language into an academic context.) Anyway, I don’t know; I do insert subtle things, like my one-per-paper title on saints. But as I say, you have to pick your battles, because people will only talk to you if you give a good faith sign that you’re genuinely willing to engage them. And speaking their language is one part of that.
Just one of the many little puzzles that you encounter all the time as a Catholic academic…
My vote is pretty simple: follow the conventions if you wish to be taken seriously and, secondarily, because it is disrespectful to the discipline not to follow its rules just as much as it would be for a lawyer not to follow the local rules of court in filing a brief.
On the particular case of Aquinas (a usage that does not trouble me), one could presumably use “Thomas” in an appropriate context.
If you have to remove St from the names because it is a designation given by a religion, would you have to call Pope Benedict XVI Joseph Ratzinger in your class?
Lex faciendi est lex credendi. You act as you believe. We do not capitalize pronouns referring to Our Lord out of pietistic devotion but because we believe He is God. Much more important is it to capitalize those pronouns than the proper names of creatures.
Should we make the sign of the cross and say grace before meals in our home but not in public? Does it really make our religion look fanatical? If our friends don’t take us seriously for doing so, what of it; we are fools for Christ’s sake.
Protestants took Christ off the Crucifix to make the cross more palatable, but Catholic colleges have thrown out the crucifix to level the playing field with atheistic science and culture. Just a little compromise so they can convince their audience that they don’t rely on props to win their case.
As for Saints, it’s more proper to write the title out instead of abbreviating it. “Aquinas” alone is a strange way to talk about Saint Thomas Aquinas. Saint Thomas seems more appropriate, as is Saint Augustine rather than Hippo. For a variation why not sound a little erudite and refer to the one as the Angelic Doctor and the latter as the Doctor of Grace?
I know a business man who became so successful at what he did that he was asked to give lectures around the country on his “system.” At the end of every talk he would end with, “God bless you.” Such “loaded devotional language” was said with conviction and the sincerity that did not care what the audience thought.
“Compromise” is a bad word and no good is ever done by compromising with the world.
It’s interesting that the language conventions you are talking about indicate for you “devotional language.” Again, this is just not the case in theology (from my experience). Moreover, it’s worthwhile thinking about how this has changed over time. It wasn’t really that long ago that Catholic philosophers didn’t even have to think about these issues; the “devotional language” was convention. Then again, I suppose some might say that these philosophers were unable to “engage” non-Catholics, or, as you put it, “to speak their language.”
Clara,
I agree with Discipulus. I also have to admit that I’m genuinely shocked over your angst. Be Catholic, always, completely, utterly, in everything you do.
What’s next, B.C.E.? Be the king’s good servant, but God’s first.
Sorry, that wasn’t Discipulus above, it was me, Jon.
Let me chime in here…I am a Ph.D. candidate in political science, so I may be coming at this from another angle. However, my feeling on these matters is very simple: do it. Why would one omit the capitalization? Is it out of fear of retribution, lack of publication, denial of tenure, etc.? These sort of things matter.
Just turn the tables a bit. If a Muslim scholar said some thing about Muhammad, they would use the word prophet with a -capital p-. I doubt that they would restrict themselves otherwise. If they afford this level of respect to a man whom even they deny divinity, why shouldn’t we?
I know this is a hard matter to swallow, but I am sure you have had your fill on threats to our faith thus far in your academic career. Just add this issue to the totem pole and ask St. Thomas the Aquinas for his patronal intercession.
Discipulus: “Much more important is it to capitalize those pronouns than the proper names of creatures.”
At the risk of stirring the pot, this seems to be a quite recent innovation. It developed in English in the 18th and (above all) 19th centuries, largely under the influence of Protestant devotional writing. It was unknown before the Reformation and during the Counter-Reformation. It’s not done in the Douai-Rheims Bible, and it’s certainly not done in the authentic Latin liturgical texts of the Church, which one could argue ought to be our ultimate guide in these matters.
(Just checked one of my own old articles – musicology, in a secular journal – and saw I’d done exactly the same as Clara: “St. Augustine of Hippo” the first time, “Augustine” thereafter.)
I like the way that the various contributors have made exactly the right points on each side. Makes me think I should stop writing such lengthy posts all the time, because it’s sort of more interesting to let the main arguments come out in the com boxes.
Jon-as-Discipulus makes what I think is the strongest argument for using what I’m calling “devotional language” even in academic writing. These conventions are intended to shape the sensibilities in order to convey a certain kind of respect. If you don’t use them all the time, this strategy won’t be nearly so effective.
But Susan gives what I think is a pretty strong rejoinder. It’s disrespectful to the discipline if you refuse to adopt their normal conventions. People would be right to take you less seriously for refusing to learn the rules.
If it were actually disrespectful, or much worse, sacrilegious, to follow academic convention (not capitalizing pronouns referring to the divine, leaving off the “St.” in most contexts) then of course I would have to do it whatever the cost. Some people, trust me, are willing to go much, much further in an effort to succeed professionally — for example, some think they can justify actually pretending to adopt beliefs that they recognize to be in conflict with their faith for the sake of getting academic credentials. The usual excuse is that they’ll take it all back someday when they get tenure. Umm, right.
That’s not me. But I don’t really think what I’m talking about here can be disrespectful to God or the saints. Thanks to Andreas for her comment on capitalization of pronouns to refer to the divine. I would add that even among contemporary writers that practice is observed inconsistently at best. Gilson does it but our present and former pontiff, in their academic writings, don’t. MacIntyre doesn’t. A number of Catholic theologians I’ve encountered don’t. Similarly with the “Saint” title, some writers like Gilson and Chesterton are very consistent about putting it before every usage of the person’s name, but I’ve also found plenty of admirable ones who don’t. If the academic convention suggested using disrespectful or blasphemous names, then of course I would refuse. The actual custom just seems more neutral. People who know anything about me will easily figure out what my attitudes are towards God and the saints, and I’m quite certain they will not see themselves as having “won” any kind of a battle if I refer to them in the more neutral way.
Theologian Mom asks why I consider this to be “devotional” language when it is merely conventional in so many environments. I realize of course that these customs are not only observed in specifically devotional texts (I use them here on the blog, for example, regardless of what I’m discussing) but regardless of context, the object is to imply some sort of devotion to God, to the saints, to the Blessed Mother and so forth. Is that not true? In contexts in which all participants share these same loyalties, such conventions can become merely customary regardless of what is being discussed. In conversations where those beliefs are more exceptional, I think it will just feel jarring if the Catholic insists on continuing to use them.
I thought Adam’s example was actually quite instructive in this regard. If a Muslim scholar gave a talk in my department, would it be jarring to me if he used grandiose titles for Muhammud, or referred to holidays like Ramadan with fancier and more exalted terms? Yes, I think it would be. “Prophet Muhammud” for a first reference would get a pass, but repeated and insistent use of honorific titles wouldn’t seem right. By presenting fragments of Islamic thought in that environment, he is indicating that he thinks they should be of interest even to those of us who don’t share his religious commitments. Inserting what I call “devotional” titles into his speech seems to violate that ethos precisely because it is “insider” language. I’m not saying anyone would be fired for doing something like that, but I would think it bad form, and I can only suppose that others would feel the same way about me.
So personally, I think it a nice compromise to insert a few “devotional” terms, enough so it’s clear I’m not hiding anything, but to use a lighter brush. The first-time-only rule for referring to saints makes note of their status without being too heavy-handed. “Blessed Virgin Mary” seems to pass just fine for referring to Our Lady; “Our Lady” would be strange (and anyway, atheists don’t deserve to refer to her with such an intimate title.) You get the idea.
“Compromise” may seem like a dirty word to you, Jon, but it has some impressive credentials too. Didn’t St. Paul speak in rather upbeat terms about being all things to all men?
There’s a double standard to be sure: no professor would bat an eyelash at a Muslim student writing “Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him,..,” or a Jewish student writing “G*d” or “god” in a paper.
The double standard makes sense, however, since we have the Truth, the others don’t, and the University generally is opposed to the Truth.
Actually, Muslims and Jews are also under pressure in academic settings not to make their religious convictions public. Jewish students drop yamulkes within weeks of arrival at grad school and I know of another fellow who has dropped a link on his website that identified him as muslim after having trouble getting an academic post.
Maybe theoretical physicists are the last holdouts for conservatives in Academia..
and, maybe they’re also smart enough to keep our top scientific secrets out of the hands of the Muslims..
Even within academia, such a question and its answer revolve around how you answer yet another question: for whom are you writing, and why? If it is customary within your academic field to write as you describe, and you are a practicing member of that tribe (i.e., actively within the employed scholarly ranks), but somewhat junior in standing, then from a purely political perspective, it would always be better to use those conventions even if they are in fact dismissive and disrespectful of any religious belief whatever (that is, not neutral). Which I believe they are. Also, if you are writing in hopes of obtaining a degree and such language is necessary for jumping over that hurdle, it might be politically expedient.
However, if your intended readers are at all broad-minded, as a scholar you could preface or footnote your pieces with a note about scholarly naming conventions, that you understand them, and are deliberately using other conventions. I often see this kind of note in scholarly pieces. That is probably what I would attempt, after perhaps conferring with a sympathetic colleague to see if such a gesture would take the sting out of your non-adherence to your discipline’s conventions.
On the other hand, if you are disputing with any of the tribe of Existentialists, Structuralists, Post-Structuralists, Deconstructionists, Post-Deconstructionists, the respect you are attempting to show may very well be a waste of time as the “listening” process from those quarters is rather one-way. So that, even showing a due deference for conventions, your philosophical points would be lost anyway.
Even so, you may have to write. My heart tells me to use the forms of religious respect and “damn the torpedoes,” but my head tells me that a certain worldly wisdom ought to inform your activities in this sphere.
However, I think I should not like to be in your shoes, as I very strongly object to conventions of this sort as being binding on scholars. Irrelevant minutiae of a procedural sort like this do not (to my mind) actually advance the cause of scholarship, but serve simply as markers of “our crowd” versus “the great unwashed.” For instance, of late, the use of commas has been very much frowned upon, and all sorts of tedious linguistic acrobatics have been necessitated by this ridiculous prejudice. I could go on, but this response if quite long enough!
The Doctor pointed out to me today some examples of Pope Benedict, even in his writings as the pontiff (for example, in encyclicals), writing without the “devotional” conventions that I mentioned. He doesn’t capitalize the pronouns, and he sometimes refers to saints without the title. I think that puts me on pretty solid ground.
And actually, Clarke Foundation, I don’t know that I agree with your claim that terminology like this is irrelevant. Of course, these kinds of worries could certainly be exaggerated to an unhealthy degree. (I never heard of this anti-comma movement, for example.) But they do mean something; our word choices do sometimes carry certain significance and conventions can be important. I’d even venture that separating “insiders” from laymen is not always inappropriate, though of course it shouldn’t be our main focus in scholarly practice.
I don’t know what Structuralists or Post-Structuralists are, I’m afraid. The other terms I know, but I don’t deal with those sorts of people terribly often; I was more analytically educated. And actually, I’d consider it possible that analytic philosophers (though they certainly have their own faults) might in general be more tolerant of those kinds of differences.
Two professors from different countries once met while on vacation. Immediately they recognized their common bond. “Comrade,” said the one from an Eastern Bloc Country, “How goes the battle in the land of the free?” “Quite well,” says he. “Really? We are having quite a time of it here, wiping out God. Nothing but riots from the students when we tried to take crosses from the walls.”
“Well,” says the prof from the U.S., “You have to be a little more subtle. There are no more crosses in any of the universities here. Right now we are ridding from higher learning the last vestiges of God, even in speech. We are expanding the slogan of ‘Separation of Church and State’ to include separation of religion from reason, science, grammar and syntax. While you find Catholics the biggest obstacle in your country we are finding them the most helpful—especially the women.
“On the opening day, I told my students, ‘You have come into my home, so to speak, and I ask you to observe good manners. I ask you not to be fanatical by bringing God into every topic but if you do feel you have to mention God, please do so only once at the beginning. And in your papers, you must never capitalize His Name. I have nothing against the notion of God, but it has caused more wars than anything I can think of. We have to be neutral on this subject, because in this department we are devoted to reason above all. We have to start from scratch without any preconceived assumptions and loaded language.’ After that, I leave the room for a while and let the students come to their own conclusions.
“One student said, ‘No problem, rules are rules.’ Another says, ‘Sounds reasonable. We all have our strong beliefs but we have no right to disrespect others’ disbeliefs.’ One scholar pointed out that in the Pentateuch Moses never capitalized God and yet God approved all that he had written. Another says, ‘Two hundred years is not enough to constitute tradition.’ Then one of the disciples objected that since all proper names are capitalized, why not God. Another chimes in, ‘Even the Moslems and Jewish students go by the rules.’
“Finally, one Traditionalist woman puts it to rest, ‘Everyone knows where I stand and what my personal views are.’ She points to a four inch cross hanging around her neck on a chain with about two dozen various religious medals also attached. As she speaks everyone knows that she has been to church that morning because of the white doily still pinned to her head. ‘Paul’, she says, ‘Would have been the first one to compromise.’
“One person in the back of the room remained silent. I sensed opposition. On his next paper, he found excuse to bring God in at least a thousand times and capitalized every time. Of course I told him that I had to fail him for making such a big thing over jots and tittles.”
ooch.
I always took St. Paul’s statement on being all things to all people related to how a parish priest has to deal with all the different nutcases in the parish, or how a father has to deal with all the temperaments of his children and wife.
Well, right, because clearly only men in authority have to deal with different types of people.
I think many people have misread my tone in this post. I’m not complaining about religious persecution here. Of course I do agree that religious people often find the secular university to be a hostile environment, but nobody’s ever called me out for using inappropriately devotional language in my writing, and that’s not my primary concern in this post. Obviously it would be terrible to fail undergraduate students for following pious Catholic conventions in the sorts of matters we’ve discussed here. But I’ve never heard of anything like that happening.
The advice “be as clearly, obviously and visibly Catholic as you can in every possible environment” would not be good. There are appropriate times for being bold and deliberately “flying the colors.” At other times we need to remember the advice about being “wise as serpents and gentle as doves.” A big part of virtue is determining which sort of situation you are in, and what sort of response is appropriate. In which settings should we loudly proclaim our differences with the world, and in which should we be more subtle?
Again, I don’t think the “academic” conventions to which I refer can be fairly construed as anti-Catholic if the pontiffs follow them in their ex cathedra writings. Observing the conventions of one’s professional community is, all else being equal, a good thing, and this seems to be a case in which it is perfectly acceptable to do so.
I always took St. Paul’s statement on being all things to all people related to how a parish priest has to deal with all the different nutcases in the parish, or how a father has to deal with all the temperaments of his children and wife.
(Was my previous comment deleted?)
3rd attempt at posting this comment (is it being blocked for some reason?)
I always took St. Paul’s statement on being all things to all people related to how a parish priest has to deal with all the different nutcases in the parish, or how a father has to deal with all the temperaments of his children and wife.
I’m not blocking you, JSP. And your comments are appearing just fine on my browser (all three of them.) Don’t know what the problem is, sorry.
Cornellius a Lapide:
Ver. 22.—I am made all things to all men. Not by acting deceitfully or sinfully, but through sympathy and compassion, which made me suit myself to the dispositions of all men, so, as far as honesty and God’s law allow, that I might be able to heal the indispositions of all. Cf. S. Augustine (Epp. 9 and 19): “Not by lying, but by sympathy; not by cunning craftiness, but by large-hearted compassion was Paul made all things to all men.”
The Apostle does not sanction what men of the world wish for and do, viz., the accommodating ourselves through right and wrong to all men, feigning to be heretics with heretics, Turks with Turks, pure with the pure, and unclean with those that are unclean. This he condemns (Gal. ii. 11 et seq.). The advice of S. Ephrem (Attende tibi, c. 10) is sound: “Have charity with all and abstain from all;” and again the apophthegm of S. Bernard, which embraces every virtue: “Live so as to be prudent for yourself, useful to others, pleasing to God.” S. Jordan, S. Dominic’s successor in the Generalship of the Order, used to say, as his life related: “If I had devoted myself as closely to any branch of learning as I have to that sentence of S. Paul’s, ‘I am made all things to all men,’ I should be mist learned and eminent in it. Throughout the whole of my life I have studied to accommodate myself to every one: to the soldier I was a soldier, to the nobleman as a nobleman, to the plebeian as a plebeian; and thus I always endeavoured to do them good in this way, while on the watch that I did not lose or hurt my soul while benefitting them.”
I didn’t quite get the “mist learned and eminent in it” line, but otherwise, a very nice quote. But could I not add, “to the academic I was an academic?”
Thanks, Joe. That verse needed Clarification.
Yes, Clara, I have no doubt you are an academic to the Academics. It is said that Saint Catherine of Alexandria faced fifty pagan philosophers and confounded them by her eloquent arguments. They were amazed that someone so young could be so brilliant. But she wasn’t PC, broke the rules, set the terms, spoke her own mind and offended them so much that she was martyred. I think they took her seriously. I know you don’t take me too seriously and hope you got a little chuckle from my story.
Ah, well, St. Catherine had all the luck! In her case, I believe the Emperor ordered the pagan philosophers to spar with her, so she had her quarries captive! I’m afraid you couldn’t pull a stunt quite like that in the Academy; they only listen to people with PhDs there, and St. Catherine would never have gotten one.
In fact I think I do have a bit of the spirit of St. Catherine in me — I may not be brilliant, but at least I have some of that fighting instinct, and from a tender age enjoyed tweaking the noses of such authority figures as seemed unworthy of their office. I succeeded in irritating a goodly number of people, but sadly, none of them ever offered to summon and detain legions of adversaries for me to confront. So I had to learn to be a bit cagier.
But I did enjoy appearing as the doily and four-inch-cross-wearing woman in your little story.