new world
CHARITY AND LAW

Our Laws and
the “Law of Life”
Those of the legal world who face the heavy challenge of providing definitive answers for so many–in a competitive, bottom-line oriented profession–are ranked among America’s “unhappiest professionals.” Anna Knier, an LSAT instructor, brings us into a forum of “truth seekers” exploring the real meaning of charity, defying stereotypes and speaking to the need for personal fulfillment in all of life.

by Anna Knier

The portrait of a first-year law student which has been immortalized in books and movies is a bundle of raw nerves that have been frayed by the competitive atmosphere, the unforgiving scrutiny of the Socratic method, and too many cups of coffee. In his first year of study at the University of St. Thomas in Minnesota, Joey Orrino may knowingly laugh at the caricature but, at the same time, he is asking some courageous questions. He and his classmates are investing significant amounts of time, effort, and finances into the law school experience. At the same time, it is no secret that the legal profession has a reputation for being brutal on young lawyers. Languishing under less than glamorous workloads, many lawyers turn to pro bono work both for a reprieve and for fulfillment.
Working through Msgr. Giussani’s book on charity (Is It Possible to Live This Way?: Charity, an Unusual Approach to Christian Existence) led Joey and friends to wonder: Does a lawyer have to engage in pro bono work to be fulfilled? Does true charity offer the possibility of redemption in every aspect of a lawyer’s for-profit work? Can a practitioner of the law look at the last billable six minutes and say, “My activity was gratuitous; it was for another”? Can the law of charity raise a lawyer’s work to the level of pro bono, not because it is performed free of charge but because it is performed for (pro) the good (bono) of another?
Such questions were the subject of an evening discussion held at the University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis, in April, which hosted 80 people. Three distinguished professors of the law sat on the panel. Elizabeth Schlitz came to the St. Thomas faculty after four years teaching at Notre Dame Law School and nine years in private practice in Washington, DC. Mitchell Gordon served as an Assistant Attorney General under Minnesota Attorney General Mike Hatch, and is the Director of Lawyering Skills at St. Thomas. Stephen Cribari is on the faculty at the University of Minnesota School of Law and also teaches at St. Thomas. He has a degree in Canon Law and is a former public defender.
Each professor read the book on charity in preparation for the panel. The difficulty of what was, for some, a first encounter with Giussani was acknowledged during the evening. “Ironic,” one panelist quipped, “that [the difficult text] was assigned to me by first-year law students.” Yet each brought intelligent insight to the evening’s theme question, “What does the ‘law of life’ have to do with the laws we write for ourselves?”

Saving the world. The first to speak, Professor Elizabeth Schlitz, directed attention to Giussani’s point that “man exists to affirm another.” Schlitz remarked, “I think there’s a tension between the laws of life and the laws we write for our life.” The latter are shaped by standards of success rather than a true view of human fulfillment. Sacrifice does not need to be–in fact, ought not to be–something that draws us away from our fulfillment. On the contrary, Schlitz stated, “That gift that we make of ourselves at the cost of more interesting work… does contribute to our human flourishing.”
When does sacrifice contribute to your human flourishing? It is reasonable when it is part of God’s plan for your life. Schlitz reminded us, “You have something to do with saving the world.” Near the end of the pontiff’s life, someone approached Pope John Paul II and told him he was trying to do too much. His response struck Schlitz: “Sometimes it is necessary to do some of what is too much.”
John Paul II did empty himself, doing “some of what is too much,” and the decision to do one good thing, of course, comes at the expense of doing some other good thing. Schlitz acknowledged this tension between what she called private vocation and public vocation. For example, family obligations can, at times, limit career advancement. Both the public and the private spheres place “calls” on each person; there is a “vocation” to be met. If we are able to view our work as ongoing participation in God’s own work, priorities come into focus. Schlitz advises pausing to ask, “Is this still what God wants me to be doing?” Is the cost, the sacrifice, justified by the vision God has for our lives? For John Paul II, the answer was yes.
Schlitz has built a noteworthy career for herself, but I sensed that her insights on the tension between career and family were born of experience, and that she had chosen not to maximize her career’s potential. It was striking to think that this accomplished lawyer and professor could have achieved more, but that the potential cost was not something she could justify in the vision God has for her life. Something she had said earlier resonated: “Christianity makes heavy demands of its followers.”

A God who weeps. Professor Mitchell Gordon’s comfort in front of a predominantly Christian audience was apparent. He is Jewish, and both endured and delivered some friendly ribbing regarding, for example, some differences between the Old Testament and “its sequel.” Throughout the dialogue, he secured our esteem with his intelligent and thoughtful remarks and his challenges to our paradigms.
A first challenge came as a revision of Giussani’s image of “a beggar standing at the curbside” (Is It Possible, p. 37). Professor Gordon proposed that a passerby stops, listens to the man’s story, empathizes, cries with him, and finally makes a heartfelt donation of five dollars. Later, another passerby does not have the time or inclination to stop, but his religious beliefs dictate that he ought to give something, so he dutifully whips out a one-hundred dollar bill for the poor man and is quickly on his way. “Who,” Professor Gordon asked, “has done the most good?”
Immediately, the stirrings and responses of the crowd made it clear that most of us found the first gift to be the greater. Professor Gordon pointed out that the Christian will often look to the extent of the gratuitousness–the freedom–of the action. The Jewish measure is to look to the extent to which justice was served, even if motivated by obligation.
“Who has done the most good?” Professor Gordon had asked, and he suggested that if we posited that question to the one who had received the money, the Christians in the room might be surprised by the answer. We laughed in appreciation of his point. One hundred dollars is substantially more than five. Professor Gordon tied the hypothetical to the law, saying, “I think it’s very difficult to legislate matters of the human heart.” We should have humility when we create law, and recognize that we are still searching for truth. That ought not, though, delay our ability to engage with God. Gordon believes we can wrestle with God, attempt to persuade Him (as Abraham did in the Old Testament), and have a relationship. It was reflecting upon this last point that Gordon said, “I prefer to think of a God who weeps as I do.” It was profound to hear him speak of his yearning to engage God, and not just any God, but a God who weeps. For some, in that moment, their Christian awareness was strengthened, knowing that Professor Gordon’s desire is met in Christ: “Jesus wept” (Jn 11:35).

Fear can no longer be an excuse. Professor Stephen Cribari characterized the text: “It’s a book written for people who are looking for a certainty of some kind.” Human beings see the world as a frightening place, a brutal place. Cribari said, “It’s not that you’re not going to be afraid. It’s just that it doesn’t matter.”
He relayed the story of Peter fleeing Rome in the midst of persecutions. Christ met him on the way and asked, “Quo vadis?” “Where are you going?” Cribari said, “One word stopped [Peter] dead in his tracks: ‘Where?’” He returned to Rome, and there he was martyred.
Like Peter, we may be afraid. We may desire certainty before we act. But the certainty offered to the readers of Giussani’s text is the certainty of the Christian event, and that must be enough. If we insist upon certainty of outcome or specific purpose before we act, we will be paralyzed. Instead, Cribari said, “Given the historical fact of Christ, if that’s a fact… then fear can no longer be an excuse for anything.” Encountering Christ should be enough to stop us in our tracks, to hearten us to turn and maybe even be martyred. If Christ endured His Passion (passion, a word which means “to endure”), then who are we to ask to be sure, to be certain? God will ask us to endure a passion. He will ask of us what He asked of His Son.
When it comes to the study and practice of the law, as in all things, we follow Christ. Cribari’s points about uncertainty in this frightening world consoled some of the law students in the audience, along with those of us who engage in other professions. A student asked the panel about any structural changes each member has made in his or her own life to be able to pursue charity. Cribari advised the student to identify that which made him want to go to law school, and follow it. We can trust, even in the throes of uncertainty, for He whom we follow says, “I AM. Do not be afraid.”

Not met with despair. I work for a test preparation company, teaching students how to raise their scores on the Law School Admissions Test. Occasionally, I catch myself pausing in the middle of a logic game or an inference question. Looking out at my bright, articulate students, I wonder, “Why the law? What is drawing these people to this study?”
If and when my students become lawyers, each will undoubtedly be confronted at some point with the question of whether the work is meaningful. In his concluding remarks, Joey Orrino observed that those immersed in the field of law do ask the question, but are “not met with despair of an answer.” We have something to do with saving the world, we have a Lord who weeps as we do, and we must not let fear be the final word. Rather, we follow Him.