Why God Did Not Care That Scalia Was a Supreme Court Justice: Celebrating a Life of Public Faith

“‘Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, for you do not regard a person’s status’” (Matthew 22:16). Of course, this passage would be difficult to fathom in the midst of an absence of the understanding of its setting: it is the message conveyed by a delegation of Pharisees and Herodians who posit this inquiry to Jesus in order to attempt to confound him (which is never a good idea, lest anyone ever be tempted to imitate such a prospect), after having “[plotted] how they might entrap him in speech” (Matthew 22:15). Yet, is the attestation of the Pharisees and Herodians not ironically perhaps as accurate as possible? Did they know how precise they turned out to be in their estimation of Jesus’ interest?

Before we advance any further, it is worth asserting that the title of this article should not be construed, in the least, as placing into question the merits of Scalia’s role within public service vis-à-vis the scope of his veritable destiny, celestial or otherwise. In fact, the intent is quite the opposite, because it was alongside this exceptionally prominent role that Scalia was able to live the characteristically public faith that tended to be in tandem with his civic engagement. The point that is worth consideration is that, no matter what our official position (or lack thereof) within society, we are called to an open witness of faith in the interest of the “universal call to holiness in the Church” that is delineated most concretely within the fifth chapter of Blessed Pope Paul VI’s Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium (1964), famously produced during the Second Vatican Council.

On Saturday, February 13, 2016, the world lost an American legend, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, at the age of seventy-nine. Scalia had served during the administrations of five consecutive American presidents: in order, Ronald Reagan (who had nominated him), George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. Following Scalia’s sudden and untimely passing from this life, he went on to face the same judgment that each of us will face eventually. When we depart from this life and the sum of our earthly existence is thereafter laid bare before the Lord, we will be unable to present any sort of résumé, list of professional references, letters of recommendation, awards, accolades, diplomas, or other such qualification. Rather, how did we use the brief time that we were given, within whatever roles we played, official or not? As merely a few exemplary considerations among various: Did we labor for civil rights, hardly the least of which secures the guarantee of the legal protection of unborn life? For the significance of marriage and the family? For the reasonably substantial exercise of religious liberty? Did we otherwise endeavor to allow justice to be infused with charity as rationally as possible? Did we do our best to bring our faith into our public life, while remaining within the bounds of specific professional obligations and expectations, all the while striving to strike that delicate equilibrium between fidelity to tenets of faith and ensuring that such faith still respects the interests of a broad populace?

Of course, it would be clumsily insincere to pretend that every action by every public official is entirely defensible within consideration of the vast breadth of every intersection and intricate facet of civil participation. Nor would it be sincere to pretend that any of us has excelled at the spiritual life in every circumstance, beyond any semblance of reproach, for “all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). On that note, how appropriate that Saint Paul, the great [first-century] expert himself in the balance between faith, ethical principles, and society-driven legal precedent (which actually do occasionally overlap, even in the twenty-first century), opened that passage with such a fitting scope: “But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, though testified to by the law and the prophets, the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction…” (Romans 3:21-22).

At the proverbial end of the day, when the true Judge examines our time comprising a maximum of decades, he will hold true to his affirmation in Matthew 25:31-46, opportunely designated as “the Judgment of Nations,” within which we encounter the heart of the matter: “And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me’” (Matthew 25:40). The extent of the Catholic faith that Antonin Scalia practiced is undeniable, whether as regarded by his detractors or by those who have opposed at least a considerable degree of his legal-philosophical legacy. To conclude, two points are worth evaluating, both of which will perhaps come off as surprising: 1) Antonin Scalia knew his faith quite well, perhaps even more than those who have worked in a less theologically sterile ambiance than a temporally-imbued judicial framework, as exemplified in a Patheos blog post from 2013 by Fr. Michael Duffy, titled Antonin Scalia, Catholic (which includes a link to the full extent of the interview referenced therein), and 2) [perhaps the more surprising of the two points] Scalia did not regard his Catholic faith as having overwhelmingly determined his legal rhetoric, as described in a First Things article from 2007 by Professor Robert Miller of the Villanova University School of Law, succinctly titled Antonin Scalia: Not a Catholic (Judge). In terms of the second point, this factor should justifiably allay any outstanding preoccupations that Scalia’s faith had interloped into his official public efforts beyond that which can be deemed legitimate (in the truest sense of the term) – of course, without assuming that the connection between such remarkable stances is inherently incongruent or innately undue.

Antonin Scalia, a man who lived his Catholic faith heroically, will more than likely be remembered in history textbooks as a Supreme Court Justice, not as an adherent to the Catholic faith. In fact, the first opportunity that I had to analyze his impact on society was when I began learning about him in earnest within the wider context of the American judiciary while studying criminology and criminal justice, along with Spanish language and literature, as an undergraduate at the University of Maryland – College Park from 2000 to 2004.

However, we come to God as we are, hopefully after having lived our lives in accordance with his commands and his demands. Indeed, no matter our earthly circumstances, our duty is to serve God particularly and humanity by extension, typically to a simultaneous extent. Thus, if it be God’s will, how welcomed must be those words that our souls long to hear, based on how we used our time, and no matter what quantity of power or influence we were allotted while earthbound, devoid of the trajectory of any secular adulation, let alone would-be pretension, returning to the context of the Lord’s long-awaited determination: “‘Well done, my good and faithful servant’” (Matthew 25:21). And, whether we are an official serving in the upper echelons of government or someone functioning within some other societal realm, if we are doing our part to embrace our universal call to holiness, God will never dissent to our yearning to assent to his divine will.