Chaos, Anarchy, and the contemporary world

It occurs to me that the term "Anarchy" has become synonymous with "wrongful disorder." It is seen not as simple disorder, the result of which can be something grand such as the American Revolution (certainly disorder) or struggles for civil rights. Rather, "Anarchy" is viewed as being inherently pernicious--it has been given an ontological polemical attribute. Other words that have such distinction are "defamation," "murder," and "robbery"--words which, as part of their definition, imply that they are wrong.
It is my contention, however, that 1) anarchy is not inherently wrong 2) what we often mean by "Anarchy" is "chaos," 3) this polemical label is, in large part, a product of our modern age and 4) finally, I would like to explain why anarchy might not be too bad.
What I would like to clarify first is what "Anarchy" means. A common definition is "lack of government" or rather "lack of order." This latter definition is certainly false. It is easy to understand "Anarchy" as lack of order since the prefix "a" in Greek often means "no" (such as Atheist, and Apathy) and "arch" often means "government" (monARCH, oligARCH). I would like to note, however that "arch" does not mean "crat" (theoCRAT, demoCRAT, aristoCRAT), which rightly means "ruling." Anarchy does not imply no ruling feature or sensibility, rather it means no central body determining what one does. In its purest form, anarchy means what democracy tries to mean, that is the people decide. In its most adulterated form, it means something like chaos.
Before I get to that part, however, let me first explain the position of a right-minded anarchist. The pure anarchist is not a deviant bent on the destruction of all society and culture. Early anarchists were often affiliated with Marxism, though not all have been. Essentially, the anarchist feels that the government is more interested in self-preservation and self-furthering than it is with the people. It follows the mantra "power corrupts" and the pure anarchist understands why Communism failed in the Soviet Union--because the party forgot the people it had originally promised to save. In this way, the anarchist is often more of a realist. He knows that campaign promises are idle talk and that as much as politicians discuss how to help the poor, they deliberate twice as much about increasing their own salaries and spend countless hours on the road fund-raising in order to maintain their position of prominence. In this way, many Americans today would agree with the original position of the anarchist, however, they disagree where the anarchist decides that having no government to lord over the people is better. This will be addressed more later on.
We often think of anarchy as "chaos" because we understand government as bringing about order. When we think "Anarchy" we think of a number of scenarios 1) the lawlessness of the French Revolution (or even the Soviet Revolution), 2) primeval tribal warfare and 3) post-apocalyptic social Darwinism. If we look at these three examples, we'll see why what we mean is chaos and not really anarchy. In example one, we need to realize that though, technically, revolution is a state of anarchy (because there is, quite literally, no one governing), it is only a transitional state. In the example of the French Revolution, the most gruesome and ghastliest part of the Revolution was the Reign of Terror, which was not anarchy in the least, but rather tyranny. In the second example, we ought to realize that establishing one's society is not really anarchy, and that tribal warfare has not really gone away. Rather, instead of killing a few men with bows and arrows, our advanced government has given us the ability to kill hundreds of thousands at an instant, which leads us to the third case. This, once again, is the crow magnon sense of anarchy. People inevitably in science-fiction, resort to forming tribes once again and the struggle to survive is only a primordial drive (that we still have today). In the first situation, what we fear is that the wrong people will seize power, so we wish to hold on to a government which we have a sort of control over (however Democracy should not be considered to be infallible, as the National Socialist Party was popularly elected in Germany). In the last two examples, what we are afraid of is a lack of resources necessary for survival. In a very real way, this is what a lot of human drama is still about today and people are shot on the streets of Boston, New York and Los Angeles everyday for resources. What we are really afraid of is the utter chaos of the Reign of Terror and the utter chaos of instability of resources.
Now, it must be understood that anarchy has been feared for literally thousands of years. One only needs to read the Book of Judges in the Bible, which most scholars date to pre-exilic Israel (around 800 BC), wherein the lack of a governing body ultimately resorts to the lawlessness of a community gang raping a man's wife, and the resulting near-genocide of the tribe of Benjamin (Judges 19-21). However, though society has had this polemic against lack of governance, it must also be remembered that the rest of the Old Testament (TeNaK) warns against the abuse of power of kings.
The modern polemic against anarchy, as near as I can tell, begins with the writings of Hobbes, realistically. Thomas Hobbes wrote that people were inherently evil and needed government to protect them from themselves. This thought has been very influential in political science. Even his contemporary, John Locke, who took a much more moderate and optimistic approach, stated that though people were probably good, government was meant to serve the people. What is often forgotten, however, is that he also advocated revolution when the government fails (a very influential position for the Founding Fathers). Since Hobbes and Locke, governments have attained enough power to incur the nationalism that created the First World War, per Hobbes, and have been subject to many coups and revolutions, per Locke. In America, however, the note has been Nationalism since early on. Even when many states sought to reassert their own power in the War of Northern Aggression, the Union was reunited with the result of even greater governmental authority as well as the beneficial result of the end of chattel slavery. During the World Wars and the Cold War Era, patriotism was of utmost importance, and loyalty to the government we have was absolutely demanded. Even as the situation became more acceptable to be critical of the government, we had the events of September 11, 2001, which brought back the need for a strong national ethos. So it has been that ever since the late 1860s dissent has not been an acceptable option in this country.
Part of this has been the very propaganda spread by our own government, and much of this has been reinforced by national emergencies. Worrying about the invasion of the Japanese, the Russians or the Terrorists brings with it a certain amount of need for security, found in our government. Here Hobbes and Locke are proven right, and their position of anti-anarchy is only more strengthened. Being "unAmerican" has at times (possibly even today) been tantamount to being a cannibal or a Satanist.
Furthermore, the image of anarchists has been tainted by the counter-culturalists. The Sex Pistols' song "Anarchy in the U.K." became, for years, the anthem by which "punks" and other subversive, non-conformists rallied under. The chant "Anarchy" has been lifted high in punk concerts and other events which the more established and sophisticated of the populace see as pernicious and uncouth. Thus, since the 1970s, the very notion of anarchy has been taken up by those who incur a negative reaction from much of the population while at the same time being demonized by Cold War Era nationalism.
Finally, I would like to make my claim for the virtues (if I might be so bold) to be found in anarchy. Some of my favorite anarchists include Dorothy Day, Ammon Hennacy, and Daniel Berrigan. All of these people have been involved in the Catholic Worker Movement, a movement which seeks to eliminate poverty, sees the inherent worth of people, and stands against violence. None of these people ought to be considered the antichrist. I would argue the contrary. Dorothy Day was one of the founders of the movement and many have called for her canonization since she died in 1985. Ammon Hennacy, though he left the Church, picketed with the migrant workers in the 60s, often worked manual labor, put his two daughters through college, and took care of many of the poor in Salt Lake City for ten years. Daniel Berrigan, though most controversial, was a priest, and worked hard to fight war (often at the cost of damaging property) as well as set up his fair share of Houses of Hospitality. All of these people were for order, all of them were for discipline, but none of them were for the abuses that they saw the government bringing.
Additionally, looking at a few things government has done for us is in part helpful. With the exception of World War II, none of the major wars we have been involved in over the last 100 years have been necessary. We lost Vietnam, we're still in Afghanistan, we defended Saddam Hussein then ten years later deposed him and were involved in a war only about national pride (World War I). Additionally, even though health care has recently been re-evaluated, there is still no "public option." Roads are in disrepair and families are starving while congress men and women have multiple homes. People who are normally friends get in heated, and sometimes friendship damaging, arguments about why one thinks the president is doing a good job but the other disagrees. Politicians spend time that could be used to combat real issues campaigning. Congress itself votes along party lines, not on conscience lines, effectively creating a veritable deadlock. Since the development of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles, and especially both our and the Soviet Union's stockpiling of them, we now have to face the very real threat that we could all very well die at a moment's notice. Tax cuts to the rich ensure that they get richer while the Middle Class and the poor have to bear the brunt of that burden.
Now try to imagine a world of anarchy. Without inserting the notion of chaos let me define: You will live according to your conscience, and you will do what's in your best interest. We often think that government dictates our morality, but the truth is that it does not. The rules that we agree with, we follow. If speed limits were an issue of morality (which they are, in reality), we would be a lot more hesitant to speed. The real place we get our morality is from those we most closely associate with--our parents, church leaders, other relatives and friends. If we break the law, it is likely because "we hang out with the wrong friends." If we are polite drivers, it is likely because our parents or teachers taught us to be polite. If we take care of the poor, it might be because a sermon had a great influence on us.
Government, in reality, does two things: 1) it enforces a certain brand of morality through the law and 2) it trivializes morality by making it an issue of punishment. Without government, we would not have these. In the first place, our idea of morality would be different. We wouldn't think that allowing people from a certain region come move near us because of opportunity constituted a grave injustice, nor would we think that taking care of the poor and elderly is solved by our paying taxes. We would have to come to grips with a new, more pure, brand of morality--one that transcends the legalism of politics. Secondly, we would have to follow morality for new reasons. We would not shoplift, not because we are afraid of being caught and being arrested but because we feel inherently it is wrong, or that we would not like that to happen to us, or that God would not like it. The speed we would drive would not be determined by our sense of whether we could avoid being pulled over, but rather by what we thought was safe. In short, we would live morally because we found some greater reason in doing it (whether it is religious, deontological, happiness or fairness).
For a more practical example, let us examine murder. It is easy to say that without government, everyone would go about killing other people. To begin with, this happens already. Furthermore, one of the excuses for using the death penalty is that it has deterrent force. Were this the case, after the first or second, or even third person was killed for murder, there would be no more executions. Unfortunately, the truth is that we still do execute people, that people still do commit murder. Death Penalty is no more of a deterrent than is life in prison. On top of this, people don't kill others for the same reason they don't violate all sorts of other moral codes. Either they think life itself is sacred, or they are afraid that someone will take vengeance, or they fear the judgment of God, or they just think that it's wrong. Government does not determine right or wrong, it simply determines legal and illegal.
To conclude, in a world of legalism and government, right is determined by numbers. We win a war if we lose fewer people than we need to. We adjust laws if a certain amount of people die. Our lives are merely a number that has no real significance by itself. In an anarchistic society, persons can truly be appreciated for who they are. We follow the Golden Rule. We adhere to Natural Law. We take care of people for who they are AND we don't have to worry about the threat of nuclear devastation or of paying the salaries of people whose concerns are not our own.

Last Day in Il Inferno.

Today will be the last full day I will spend in Vernal. It's already half over. In the forefront of my mind I'm thinking constant thoughts of "Il hamdu l'illah!" (I'm on my parents' computer otherwise that would be in Arabic).
Honestly, though, living in Vernal gives me a lot of perspective. I know that many students coming back to Notre Dame this fall will complain about South Bend's lack of size, while I have only positive things to say about it. People from New York, Chicago and Los Angeles will all find the lack of diversity frustrating, while I will find the difference between the Vernal and South Bend to be refreshing.
I have also been wondering if my time living here will serve some greater purpose. Will the interaction with a people who are intellectually stunted and politically reactionary enable me to better interact with people who would normally be detestable to me? Will living in a town where the climate ranges from nearly a hundred in the summer to negative twenty in the winter make me grateful for any slightly more temperate region? Will being from a town that subsists by sucking the oil from the land as a tick sucks blood make me more aware of environmental problems?
I have also thought that perhaps this town is good for my soul. Living in unpleasant circumstances seems to purify and refine souls. Dorothy Day lived with the poor. Mother Theresa lived with the outcast. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was imprisoned. Simone Weil lived with the laborers and refugees. Monastics live in inconvenient settings. Hermits isolate themselves and Priests sometimes live alone in rectories. All these things help to cleanse the soul.
So I am also reminded of a silent retreat I went on over a year ago. It was conducted not in the Buddhist fashion, but rather in the Ignatian style. The silence could be overwhelming at times, and with no school work, or trips to do things, one had to learn how to be more comfortable with himself. I grew a lot spiritually over those five days.
I think Vernal has been similar for me. I have been confronted with what is uncomfortable for me. I have been a stranger in a strange land. Due to this, I feel that I have had to be more assured of my own thoughts and beliefs than ever before. I have felt isolated and alone, but I have emerged from it triumphant.
But lest I sound too proud, I must also admit that I have learned much from the people here. And one of the most important things I have learned has been to see people as people.
So I leave this town and move onto other things. What has happened here this summer will be a guiding influence for much of my life. What I have learned both academically and experientially will help me in life. And perhaps I will be a better person for what I have experienced.
I remember in high school a quote we had to memorize about attitude. The final thought of it was that life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it. While the whole percentage thing might not be true, what I can say from personal observation is that while we have little control of individual events in our lives, we do control our reactions to them and whether or not we will be affected by them.
On a more humorous note, I have also been hoping that my time here in Vernal will allow me to get out of a few hundred years of purgatory.

Mercy

"Master, when did we see you hungry and give you food, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you naked and clothe you, imprisoned and did visit you, sick and did administer to you? And in that day the master shall say, 'Inasmuch as you did it to the least among you, you did it to me." (Matt 25:38-40)
The Corporal Works of Mercy are these: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the sick, shelter the homeless, visit the imprisoned and bury the dead. As Christians we should work to carry these seven things out.
The ironic thing about our faith is this: we place more emphasis on the ten commandments than anything else that we should. The ten can be found within the two great commandments: Love God above all and love our neighbor as ourselves. In following these, things such as "Thou shalt not kill" become obvious. So instead of the emphasis on what we must not do, perhaps the seven Corporal Works should tell us what we should do.
We have a great many figures in our history to tell us how to live a merciful life. St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Therese of Lesieux. The Dominicans and the Franciscans were Mendicants who took on the life of the poor. In the twentieth century, Dorothy Day and Mother Theresa administered to the poor and wretched of the earth for all to see. And above all, we have Jesus himself whose entire life was a great act of mercy for the entire earth to see.
Even with the great works of those who came before, we have work to do still. There are still those who are poor and wretched. There are still the sick and diseased. There are those whose lives were miserable and their deaths are more so.
Perhaps we, who are generally speaking better off than we need to be, should impart our substance. The young man, whom Bonhoeffer likens to us, who was asked to give all of his stuff up to follow Jesus wasn't asked to destroy it, but to give it to the poor. We live in such a wealthy place, and most of us are priveleged to have enough.
However, when working with the poor, it is important to note, as Dorothy Day states, that it is not the most rewarding or the most enjoyable work. It is demeaning, disgusting and difficult. Yes, it is a job that will be rewarded in heaven, but it is not a job for the fainthearted.
But perhaps there are others in the world who deserve our attention as well. What of those who are persecuted simply because they were born differently? Do we act indifferent as we see on the news struggles for simple human rights? Do we walk by with our noses in the air, or worse, do we shun those who are standing for human dignity? Do we politely take the leaflets they hand us and trash them as soon as we find a garbage can?
Mercy. This is a fundamental Christian attribute, and a fundamental Christian challenge. We are to live merciful lives. We are to forgive, to give aid, to bless and to lift our brother up to where we are. We cannot afford to live lives of anger, hatred, or malice. And we cannot afford to declare justice and chance as the ruler of the universe.
I believe it was Aquinas who pointed out that if every man demanded what he thought was fair recompense, there would be no fair recompense. For every man is afforded injustices by those who don't know that they're committing injustice. There is not enough in the world to all be given "what's ours." Thus, we need to be forgiving and giving. We need to take as much or less than what we need. We need to give more than we think is necessary. And we must be ready to "suffer all things for [Christ's] name sake."
It is a hard thing to ask people to be selfless. It is hard because we know ourselves how difficult it is to do. But mercy should be our mantra. Mercy is often the action expressed by our love. If love is our life, then mercy is our duty. So let us be merciful. Let us do to others what we do for ourselves. Let us show our Christianity by our action and our mercy.

Kierkegaard's Masochism

I really think the title of this post wins "Best title of a blog post ever" award.
The truth of it is, the topic of suffering is one that I see haunt Christian Theologians of every time period. But why?
Kierkegaard, the father of Existentialism and great Theological writer of the eighteenth century, had quite the maochistic view when it comes to suffering. To Soren Kierkegaard, we are not only to suffer gladly, but we cannot call ourselves Christians unless we absolutely seek out suffering. And not suffering alone, but we cannot count ourselves among Christ's flock unless we have suffered like Christ has suffered. SK, not being a man to give simple lip service, was once engaged to a Miss Regina Olsen, but broke off the engagement, even though he still absolutely loved her. He spent the rest of his life in agony because he never married her, nor would he because he thought that having a partner in suffering was unChristian.
However, many others have had other things to say. Schleiermacher agrees that the way we suffer defines our Christianity, but he does not encourage us to seek out punishment. Augustine defines his own suffering as being necessary for his conversion. Von Balthasar seems to think that Christ's suffering is more to be in solidarity with us, and that we have no need to heap on ourselves more suffering. Dorothy Day and John Paul II both took on the idea of solidarity, or suffering with other people in order to be in communion with them.
Whatever specific theology you follow, what seems to be the case is that the way in which we suffer defines how Christian we are. As Christians we must learn to suffer. Perhaps we don't need to voluntarily seek out suffering, as Kierkegaard tells us to, but we do need to accept it. After all, our Christianity is not defined by how great our life is to ourselves, but to other people.
Perhaps Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of my favorite Theologians and a martyr of World War II can shed some light on the subject. To Bonoeffer, we must be prepared to, as Jesus asks the young rich man, "give up all that we have and follow [Christ]."
Giving up everything is not easy. As Tyler Durden, a character from a cult classic Fight Club states, "Hitting rock bottom isn't a weekend retreat." But, we don't have to give up everything necessarily. We do, however, need to be ready to "suffer all manner of affliction for [Christ's] name sake."
And so I think that we are not defined by how much suffering we voluntarily induce on ourselves. However, we are surely defined by the way we face it. Are we willing to forgive those who do us harm? Are we willing to accept unfair punishments? Will we comfort those who grieve themselves and take on their burden as well?
Kierkegaard may think that voluntarily submitting to pain and suffering is necessary, but as Christians are we not also to lift others spirits? Would Regina Olsen (who did marry later on, by the way) have been happier if they had married? Is not the Christian to suffer but all the while to do the work of God?
If then, we find happiness and joy in our work, how can we murmur against our lack of suffering? If we bring others peace and rest and our satisfied by our actions, I do not think that God will condemn us for having joy. After all, why would God create man if not to be happy? What purpose would our lives serve if there was no true joy to be found in this life?
Yes, the world we live in is full of grief and sorrow. There is much suffering, and we should work to eliminate it. But weeping and wailing in sackcloth and ashes will not build the kingdom.
Here I think Dorothy Day's preaching and example trumps Soren Kierkegaards. Day spent her days serving the poor. She worked among them and took no money for herself. She protested unfair conditions, poverty, war, the death penalty and other things. Truly, she carried about the corporal works of mercy. Did she suffer? Undoubtedly. A mind like hers, so in tune to the cries of humanity cannot but suffer. However, in her suffering, she alleviated the suffering of other men. Her protests brought about change. Her Worker Houses dot the country and provide aid for all those who are underprivileged financially.
And so it is that I say, yes, our suffering will demonstrate our allegiance to our Lord and God. Yes, by how we react to afflictions and trials we show the world the true nature of Christian spirit. And yes, we must not murmur in our toils nor complain about our lot. But at the same time, we should not seek out pain and suffering at the cost of other people's happiness.

Memorial Day

I know that this post will probably upset more than one person. However, this is a topic that has been on my mind a lot for the last few months.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day. I'd always been taught as a kid that it's a day when we honor all the fallen soldiers. I guess now it's more of a day when we honor everyone who has died. But it's not in the memorial of the dead that I take any kind of offense. It's in the glorification of the warrior.
I'm sure that in Churches all across the country today, in Homilies and Sermons alike, the topic of "the sacrifice of those who fought for our freedom" was discussed. Why is this discussed in Church? Are we not supposed to have some kind of separation between Church and state? As Christians we should realize that many of the wars we have fought have been against fellow Christians. And even aside from this, the others are still children of God, made in His image and likeness as well.
I feel it is a highly overplayed and shameless tactic to call all American soldiers people who "have fought for our freedom." What freedom were we looking for in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq or Afghanistan? What freedoms were we looking for when we ran through Mexico and South America? How can we proclaim to be fighting to defend our liberty when nobody is attacking us?
What also, of those shameless atrocities committed during war? What of massacres like Mai Lai? What of the raping of innocents? What of the trauma inflicted on those caught in the crossfire? What of slaughtering other men who feel just as justified in fighting for their cause? How can we glorify such action? How can we call our cause admirable if we're willing to kill others rather than reconcile with them?
Jesus told us to make peace with our brothers. He told us to turn the other cheek and to meekly accept persecution. He called the sufferers great. He commanded us to be peacemakers. He told us that the greatest commandment is not to kill, but to love.
Rather than saluting those who for one reason or another took the path of the warrior, I'd like to salute those that didn't.I wish to salute the draft dodgers of the Vietnam era. I wish to praise men who "ran like cowards" rather than accepting the mandated call to arms. I wish to glorify the students who died at Kent State for protesting an unjust war.
I think of Dorothy Day, and her words on the end of the Second World War. When the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, killing 300,000 Japanese, President Truman was "jubilant." Dorothy Day was horrified. How can we be jubilant about anything which causes such great death and destruction? How can we laud any kind of weaponry advances? Why do we pray for the men and women in the armed forces rather than praying for an immediate cessation of conflict?
I find myself praying ever more for peace. I pray more and more for heads of state to seek alternative measures to armed conflict. I pray that we Americans will cease to idolize the virtues of Vergil's Aeneid and trade them for Erasmus' Handbook of The Christian Soldier. I pray that we strive more for the martyr's death than the hero's death. I pray that our role models will be men and women of great faith and great acts of charity rather than men and women of great courage and great acts of battle-field valor.

Religiosity

One of my absolute favorite theologians of the twentieth century, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, criticized religiosity in both one of his letters from prison and The Cost of Discipleship. In fact, many spiritual writers, including Jesus Himself, have criticized false piety.
One of my favorite forms of false piety can be found in prayers. Growing up in a Mormon family, around Mormons, I was generally accustomed to hearing prayers that began something like this:
"Oh great, merciful, loving and kind, all-powerful, ever-living, benevolent and virtuous Eternal Father in Heaven from whom all blessings flow..."
They also tend to end, after much flowery and pompous language:
"We, thy servants, humbly ask of these things, with sincere piety and lowliness of heart and of spirit, in the name of thy wonderful Son, the Great Jehovah, even the Lord Jesus Christ, Amen."
I am reminded in this instance of the prayers of the pharisee and the publican in the temple (Luke 18:10-14). How simple was the publicans prayer? How honest was it? What of the pharisee, the man who had so much going for him and still felt the need to lift himself up before God?
The truth is, we are all worms before God. The believer is no better in the eyes of God than the unbeliever. Yes, we act as if the opposite is the case, but Christ himself said, "not everyone who says to me Lord, Lord will be admitted to the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 7:21). We are not somehow greater than all the rest of humanity simply because we think that our faith is right. Vatican II illumined our understanding by teaching us that those who try to do God's will, independent of what faith they may pursue, will be saved (People of God). So what good is our false piety?
I would venture to guess that there is a substantial amount of people who are turned off of religion because of religiosity. How many people are scared away by our "holier-than-thou" attitudes? How many people see us not as "living in the world but not of the world" but instead as not even living in the world?
I think that monasticism has gathered the disfavor in today's world that it has because of false piety. Those who live truly ascetic lives are viewed as trying to escape the real world. There is a feeling of resentment towards those who seek to escape the world and live in a truly Christian community.
I would also go as far as to say this is why there are an abundance of "reality" churches, or other such watered-down faith traditions. When the ceremony and pomp of church are removed, it is easier for a common man to feel at home.
However, I must warn that church is not a place where we should feel "at home" in the way that we feel at our own homes. Church is not a place to kick off our shoes and drink beer while watching the football game. Church is a place of piety, of worship and of prayerful humility. The only problem that really faces us is realizing our true humility. Being humble doesn't mean taking as we think a pious person speaks. Kierkegaard tells us very clearly that the Knight of Faith is unrecognizable because he dons no special cloak, nor embraces any false piety.
I am reminded of Dorothy Day. Here is a woman who spent her days in very humble circumstances. She took on voluntary poverty as did Francis of Assisi. She assisted the poor. She devoted her time to the Corporal Works of Mercy. Even in her radical, anarchistic, socialistic ways she was always a beacon of true piety. Her true humility didn't repulse others, except for those too full of themselves to realize she was right. Her approach to reaching out to those outside of the faith? "In order to reach the man on the street, we must go out to the man on the street."

Katholikos

"We believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church" (Nicene Creed).
What does "catholic" mean? And what does it mean when we say "Catholic Church?"
the Greek word "katholikos" means "universal." (Thus making the term Roman Catholic not only an oxymoron but also a mix of Latin and Greek). The term was first used after the Christian Church got used to being called Christian.
The reality of it is that Christian was meant to be an insult. The Greeks and Jews used it to call the believers "followers of Christ," pointing out that they didn't worship the Greek gods nor did they follow the normal Jewish customs. After awhile, the believers took pride in this term. When the leadership of the Church (viz Paul and Peter in Acts) allowed Gentiles into their ranks, they earned the distinction of being "universal."
Fast forward a few centuries. The Church gets the distinction of Roman after Great Schism. It becomes a matter of Rome versus Constantinople. Hence we end up with Greek Orthodox and Roman Catholic.
Within the last few centuries, the Catholic Church has distinguished itself in as a conservative way as possible. Trent and Vatican I established the Church in a reactionary light. Then, in the twentieth centuries, figures such as Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day step into the picture. Both of them "leftists."
Then, after the reactions of Trent and Vatican I, Vatican II comes along and establishes many liberal policies for the Church. Pope John Paul II then preaches his doctrine of solidarity, and Mother Theresa of Calcutta. Over the course of fifty years, the big figures of the Church become some of the most liberal figures in the world.
Thus, the term "universal" truly becomes applicable. On one hand we have such conservative figures as Cardinal Ratzinger, and on the other hand, we have people like Dorothy Day. In the Catholic Tradition one can be anarchist, republican, democratic, socialist, capitalist, or libertarian.
So here's where it becomes applicable. In the news recently, and in viewpoint articles, Notre Dame has received a lot of flack for allowing President Obama to speak at our commencement. Some proclaim that this is against our Catholic identity. But, truth be told, it seems as though not only is taking a leftist stance within Catholic Tradition, but there are, in fact, great examples for it.