We are frequently reminded that the topic of feminism remains a fraught terrain for many Catholics. Should the Church support secular feminist values such as empowerment and independence or continue to endorse a more Marian philosophy that underscores submission, self-giving, and hope?
These issues were forcefully thrust into the spotlight by vice-presidential candidate J.D. Vance’s recent comments about “childless cat ladies.” His critique of the “childless left” violates the feminist creed, which discounts the importance of marriage and family. Several months ago, there was a similar uproar when Kansas City Chiefs’ football star Harrison Butker declared in his commencement address at Benedictine College that his wife’s life “truly started when she began living her vocation as wife and mother”.
His remarks did not go unchallenged and quickly liberated fresh speculation about the role of women in society. Even some Catholic women stepped forward to criticize Butker’s speech. Most prominent among them was Maria Shriver, daughter of Sargent and Eunice (Kennedy) Shriver. Her reproach was quite direct: “I think it’s demeaning to women to imply that their choices outside of wife and motherhood pale in comparison to that of a homemaker.”
During this month of August, when we celebrate the feast day of Saint Theresa Benedicta of the Cross, it is instructive to consider what one of the Church’s most brilliant philosophers had to say about these issues. The intrinsic value of her thought is beyond dispute, but so too is its obvious utility, especially for Christians.
The details of Edith Stein’s tragic life are well known to many Catholics. She was born into a devout Jewish family but became an atheist at a young age. After graduating from the Gymnasium and two years at a local university, she departed from her hometown of Breslau to study with the renowned phenomenologist Edmund Husserl. She received her doctorate in philosophy under his mentorship and then worked for several years as his loyal secretary.
Her early steps to the Catholic faith included listening to the inspired talks of fellow philosopher Max Scheler and the witness of several Christian friends. Unable to secure a university professorship because she was a woman (and Jewish), Edith taught at a girls’ secondary school and became known for her openness, brilliance, and compassion as a teacher.
Several years later, she became a Carmelite nun, to the chagrin of her family and most particularly her mother. She embarked on a journey to discover the intricacies of St. Thomas Aquinas’ philosophy, but never left behind the familiar shores of phenomenology. As a result, her mature philosophy is a profound synthesis of phenomenology and Thomistic metaphysics.
As a Jewish convert, her life was always in peril after the Nazis seized power in 1933. That danger intensified as the world lurched closer to World War II. She and her sister Rosa were taken from the Carmel in Echt and executed at Auschwitz on August 9, 1942. She was canonized a saint by the philosopher-pope St. John Paul II, in 1998.
All of Edith’s books are brimming with epochal insights, but Woman (Die Frau) is one of the true gems in her ample treasury of writings. In its pages she explores the nature of womanhood and anticipates many of St. John Paul II’s reflections on the “feminine genius.” How can this book shed light on the current debate about feminism that is crystallized in the polarized views of Mr. Butker and Ms. Shriver?
Edith Stein would certainly object to post-modernity’s awkward claim that the reality of womanhood is merely a social construct that can be reinvented or reimagined. As I explain in Four Catholic Philosophers: Rejoicing in the Truth, Stein’s main objective in this work is to demonstrate the distinctive and essential nature of womanhood that derives not just from the body but also from the soul.
Thanks first to the feminine soul, women are different in kind from men, and this natural difference cannot be reduced to a matter of biology. Edith writes that only a person “blinded by the passion of controversy” could fail to appreciate the dissimilarity between men and women.
To begin with, a woman’s attitude is always more focused on the personal, as she seeks to embrace what is living, personal, and whole. She is directed to the concrete, while abstraction is alien to her feminine nature. In addition, emotions are at the center of her soul, and her cognitive powers are based more on intuition and emotion than on conceptual reasoning, though she is certainly capable of the latter. Those emotions are critical for perceiving and caring for the other as an existential whole.
Men, on the other hand, are more objective and abstract, with a strong tendency to compartmentalize and lose sight of the whole. A father, for example, might foster his daughter’s intellectual development but overlook her other needs and aspirations. Men delight in theorizing about the real, but women seek to personalize the real so it can serve the person. While men are by nature protectors, woman are nurturers who possess more fully the “sensitive faculty” of empathy.
These feminine traits make a woman ideally suited for her natural vocation of motherhood and marital companionship. As Genesis reveals to us, a woman’s original destiny is to be a wife and mother, and she is physically and spiritually endowed with gifts to achieve this purpose. According to Stein, “to cherish, guard, . . .nourish, and advance growth is her natural maternal yearning.” A woman’s mission as a mother involves comprehension of the total being in her care so that she can suitably protect her children and promote their growth into maturity. A woman helps her spouse by counteracting the deficiencies of his masculine nature, ensuring that he is a good father and is not totally absorbed in his work. As wives and mothers, women also contribute to the spiritual and moral growth of their families and prime the path to heaven.
Above all, Stein enunciates with supreme clarity that motherhood is a natural phenomenon and not some biological byproduct that is shaped by social conventions that are subject to change. The words “mother” and “father” signify a difference in reality that is lost when we use neutral terms like “parent.”
Despite this differentiation between the two sexes, Stein also insists on their fundamental equality. Men and women are created equal and share the same common human nature, the same basic human attributes. Moreover, both men and women share common creativity and talents, and this implies that a woman’s professional life outside the home does not violate the order of nature and grace. Some women, for various reasons, will never marry or raise a family. Others will find that domestic life is too narrow, and impedes the realization of their full potential. There should be no limits to a woman’s professional activities so long as they do not jeopardize domestic life.
Accordingly, Stein strongly resisted any barriers on occupations available to women, though she recognized that some “masculine” vocations that require physical strength would be quite difficult for women. She also called attention to the more “feminine” vocations, such as the educational and medical professions, where a woman’s special gifts enrich their work. Thanks to those gifts, such as empathy, a woman can endow her vocational calling with a feminine quality. For example, while male doctors are more apt to see their patients as the objects of clinical investigation, like other scientific objects, female doctors, for the most part, will perceive them as persons in need of care.
Thus, a woman’s natural vocation to marital companionship and motherhood does not preclude her work in other professions. At the same time, Stein acknowledges the great nobility and excellence of motherhood and marriage that elevates this vocation among all the secular professions. This original and natural vocation offers the most fulfillment and makes optimal use of the feminine charism.
Stein’s nuanced account, therefore, offers us a unique brand of feminism. She insists that women be allowed to use their creative gifts whenever possible, but she also affirms the limits and intrinsic powers of human nature, along with the antecedent order of the Creator.
All of us can find inspiration in the enlightened wisdom of Edith Stein, including her writings on empathy, the state, community and the individual, and anthropology. But those interested in the volatile issue of feminism should be especially keen on listening to her voice. It is not the voice of an abstract philosopher speaking from her perch in the clouds, but the voice of a thoughtful saint who seeks to liberate from obscurity the mystery of womanhood and whose life bears witness to a Catholic faith that is both enduring and salutary.
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#1. All women are called to be mothers – even nuns. Just as all men are called to be fathers – even those who are celibate. It is essential to what it means to be created “male and female.” You don’t raise your daughter to be a woman but to be a mother. You don’t raise your son to be a man but a father (being a mother or father presupposes that you’re no longer a girl or boy but a woman and man). If, after having arrived at an seasoned age in life, you cannot say that you are a mother or a father in some real sense, then you have not attained adult status.
#2. Carrie Gress has a relatively recent book on feminism which I heartily endorse for readers here.
Deacon Peitler, what are your criteria for evaluating if someone is or is not a father or mother? I’m curious to see if I fit into your mold. I doubt if I do.
It seems to me that intrinsic to the role of mother is nurturance. And to that of the father is protector. I think of the Mary – the ever-virgin – who is very much Mother. I think of Joseph – the one most chaste – as father.
Where does friendship fit in? I am a single woman with no family and not even any subordinates at work. All I have is friends, and unlike a mother or a father, I have no right to impose any support on my friends. All I can do is offer it.
Women care for others in a motherly way. Men do their part in a fatherly way.
Thank you, but what’s the difference?
I find it very amusing that I have been criticized for “thinking like a man” when it was my Mother who taught me to think. My Father died when I was 7. My Mother, who was a painter and a member of the San Francisco Art Association, insisted “You think with your reason or you’re not thinking. Don’t rationalize your emotions. Never burke a fact. You can demolish anyone’s ideas as much as you like as long as you use the facts and never attack the person.”
I consider all that as being quite feminine!
One of the delightful things about St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross’s essays on women is that she does not tend to treat the characteristics of men and women as binary. Sex is binary, personal characteristics tend to fall on overlapping Gaussian distributions.
I strongly suspect this is because she, as a woman, had a tendency to think of these characteristics in terms of the concrete, real, whole person, as opposed to thinking of abstract characteristics in an overly narrow fashion, as in the masculine way of thinking.
This clip from Lila Rose states it very well: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/7T-bN-a7Edk