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The critical spirit: theology at the crossroads of faith and culture

30 November, 1999

Andrew Pierce and Geraldine Smyth OP edit this tribute to Gabriel Daly OSA. It is a collection of essays on faith and culture by such authors as Enda McDonagh, David Tracy and Johann Baptist Metz.

247 pp, Columba Press, 2003. To purchase this book online, go to www.columba.ie .


1. An essay in the theology of creation (Gabriel Carroll)
2. Faith and ideology in the Old Testament (A.D.H. Mayes)
3. Returning to origins and initiating dialogue (Séan V Freyne)
4. Celtic culture and Christianity (Terence P McCaughey)
5. Internalising the primal other (John D’Arcy May)
6. Endangered identity and ecumenical risk (Geraldine Smyth OP)
7. Faith and the cure of poetry (Enda McDonagh)
8. Ecumenism, Vatican II and Christology (Dermot A. Lane)
9. Christian ethics and culture (Maureen Junker-Kenny)
10. In memory of the other’s suffering (John Baptist Metz)
11. Faith and the Culture of experience (Andrew Pierce)
12. Retrieving imagination in theology (Michael Paul Gallagher SJ)
13. Simone Weil and the impossible (David Tracy)
14. Can we love God? (Werner Jeanrond)
Afterword (Desmond Foley OSA)


This volume of essays celebrates the seventy-fifth birthday of leading Irish theologian Gabriel Daly. An Augustinian priest for over fifty years, Gabriel Daly lectured at the Milltown Institute of Theology and Philosophy, before moving in the 1980s to teach at the newly-founded School of Hebrew, Biblical and Theological Studies in Trinity College, Dublin. He was actively involved in the foundation of the Irish School of Ecumenics (now an Academic Institute of Trinity College Dublin), where he remains a member of the teaching faculty. An internationally-acknowledged expert on Roman Catholic Modernism, his recent contributions to theology have been in the area of creation and ecological ethics, most notably his 1988 work, Creation and Redemption.

The relationship between Christian faith and its cultural expression has been a key interest of Gabriel Daly’s throughout his career. These essays engage with this theological theme at a number of levels – in scripture, history and philosophy – making it an important resource for the continuing debate on how faith’s relationship to culture is to be understood.

CHAPTER 1: An essay in the theology of creation: Gabriel Daly and the challenges of modernity

Religious people have found it easy to bemoan secularisation. Was this simply an excuse for their failure creatively to rethink their tradition in the light of new knowledge? I believe both that there was such a failure and that the unease of religious people about secularisation has deeper causes. (l) Brendan Lovett

Creation and criticism
Even until recently, creation theology seemed a poor relation within the theological family. Certainly, it was included among the other members. Yet it was rarely mentioned and infrequently consulted. At a pinch, it was a collation of philosophical definitions unconnected to more important questions like Christology, trinity or grace. Worthy as were the efforts to explain creatio ex nihilo, they conveyed a somewhat diminished view of God, humankind and creation generally. They conveyed little of the vitality which Christianity affirms about our relationship with the living God. An architectonic model of creation presented God as the great artificer and the world as an inert theatre of human operation. Nor did these views reflect the historical dimensions in the Christian story of creation-redemption. On ethical questions posed by modernity, such an ontological concentration had little to offer. It is no exaggeration to say that ‘creation theology’ dragged out an anaemic existence on the theological periphery. As a vibrant provider of spiritual sustenance its potential lay fallow and unharvested.

Fortunately, there were exceptions to the shortcoming. Great systematicians from Aquinas to Barth saw creation/ eschatology as an essential part of Judaeo-Christian insight. Valuably, M. J. Scheeben, Michael Schmaus and Leo Scheffczyk reminded us that creation was inseparable from redemption. They placed creation/ eschatology within an intelligible framework comprising scriptural theology and spirituality. Nevertheless, catechisms, official documents, even those which emanated from the Second Vatican Council, seem impoverished when it comes to the question of creation.

Meanwhile, the achievements of modernity proceeded apace. For centuries, the role of critical reason had been asserted. A differentiation of morals, art and science enabled further developments in these areas. The dogmatic principles associated with religion came under strain. New modes of argument emphasised freedom of enquiry and research. Personal rights vis-avis the political community were formulated and sometimes vindicated. Genuine advances at the social, political and artistic levels formed an apparently unquestionable heritage. All this was part of the’ first’ Enlightenment commencing with Rene Descartes, Isaac Newton, John Toland and Immanuel Kant. (2)

Unfortunately, the enlightened gait was uneven. Its regard was not always benevolent. That is to say, alongside unquestionable achievement the Enlightenment had troublesome limits. While scientific and technological revolutions brought much good, they also exacted a cost on the environment and on peoples unable to accept ‘modernisation’. Nor did they distribute their favours in consistent proportion to need. Thus, questions ranging from environmental protection to social justice remained (and still remain) unsolved. While science-based technology is essential to solving these problems, the answers will not come from rigid ‘scientism’. The practitioners of science and science-based technology have their own prejudices which can result in an unfair distribution of technology’s benefits. When Langdon Gilkey wrote of the mythic ‘man in the white coat,’ he argued that dimensions of reality elude even the scientist and technologist. Where the mysteriousness of being is reduced to the quantifiable, a certain ‘Flatland’ is installed, a ‘monological gaze’ is made the universal measure. (3) Thus arises the necessity for a ‘second’ Enlightenment which takes account of factors ignored by the earlier progression. It must be emphasised, however, that denigration of hard-won freedoms is both unwise and self-defeating. In social studies, in psychological and hermeneutical sciences, in all branches of physics, undreamt-of advances have been made. Indeed, one of the great fruits of the Enlightenment is such democracy as we now enjoy.

In the main, a grudging suspicion ensured that churches and theological disciplines lagged behind these advances. Since the competencies of religion and science differ, this is hardly surprising. Territorial wars are never pleasant and it is indisputable that exorbitant claims were made both by scientists and theologians. The idea of epistemological pluralism was not born easily. Today, it would be a tragedy if religion were to perpetuate ‘battles long ago’ Gust as it is a problem when proponents of the scientific worldview dismiss any view other than their own). We need to address issues which affect our basic presuppositions on the shape and direction of our world. Unfortunately, defensiveness seems to prevail within Roman Catholicism even on the implications of pluralist democracy. The modernist crisis of the early twentieth century, and an egregiously oppressive reaction to it, marginalised those who viewed modernity as opportunity as well as threat, as something to be engaged rather than ignored. Despite the achievements of the Second Vatican Council, ‘supernaturalism’ has reasserted itself and insists on presenting the church as a redoubt of stability in the midst of secular delusion. Gabriel Daly memorably puts it: ‘In this atmosphere, the medium overshadows the message, clericalism is reinforced, alternative viewpoints … are condemned as unorthodox or disloyal, and fear controls relationships within the institution.’ (4)

Modernity cannot be evaded since it is part of our own mindset. Questions which might have been resolved long ago present themselves again. To an extent, they come from disciplines properly extraneous to the Christian tradition. Yet they form part of our own mental constructs and evoke different reactions within ourselves. Paradoxically, it is a tribute to the extensiveness of the traditio fidei that it is challenged on such a wide front – from social justice to bioethics, from environmentalism to feminism. For some, the easiest solution is rigidly to dissociate faith and critical reflection. The problems attached to this have been frequently rehearsed and require no elaboration here. For others, regression towards a golden age provides a bulwark against uncertainty. Unfortunately, an unseeing move backwards leads only to disaster. Golden ages were never quite so golden as is imagined: in any event, they can never be recreated. For yet others, embattled defensiveness within a strictly regimented institution promises security and order. But this is fatally to underestimate the life-enhancing potential of Christian faith. If the search for truth and authenticity are disqualified, a situation arises where few care what the church says since it is no longer a credible partner in serious discourse. These dangers have been well examined in David Lodge’s Paradise News. (5)

The signal merit of thinkers like Daly is that they remain open to the challenges of modernity – not in a spirit of compromise but in generous appreciation that truth is ultimately indivisible. Like Augustine and Aquinas, Newman and Teilhard de Chardin, they endeavour to appropriate modern insights – in the first place, insofar as these are true and, in the second place, so that theology may breathe and grow. It requires confidence in one’s tradition to maintain commitment to reasoned argument in face of multiple questioning. For Aquinas, the doctrines of faith were signposts to mystery: as verbal formulations they were not ends in themselves. For Teilhard de Chardin, the teaching of faith was not a strait-jacket. Rather, it was a growing tree which, although it changes, remains identical with itself. Thus, new and sometimes threatening data should be met, assimilated, and allowed to challenge our cherished formulations – precisely in order that faith may survive. In a lecture to the Irish Catechetical Association, Gabriel Daly quoted with approval a statement by Henry Sidgwick that ‘philosophy and history alike [teach us] to seek not what is “safe” but what is true.’ (6) Daly’s fine book, Transcendence and Immanence, (7) amply documents the loss of nerve which damaged the church for decades and caused untold pain to sincere men like George Tyrrell.

Questions to our creation ‘story’
New models of cosmic origination/ development question the inner cohesion of our creation story. As every teacher knows, there is a great difference between the biblical narratives and the postulations of a Stephen Hawking or a Niels Bohr. What are we to make of Jacques Monod’s question about the relation of chance to necessity? Can theology – can anyone – answer what happened before the ‘Big Bang’? (To the latter question, science of every kind, including theology, does well to remain mute.) Other questions have to do with purpose, randomness, value. Those who hold to Judaeo-Christianity may be perturbed by Richard Dawkins’ assertion that nature is neither benevolent nor malevolent – it simply does not care. Dawkins’ repeated dismissal of the religious question is itself questionable and no one has better expressed this question than Gabriel Daly. Without rekindling the old antagonisms between religion and science, Daly maps out their proper methodologies in such a way that both faith and science can, minimally, co-exist and, maximally, learn from each other. There are problems about a creator God which theologians must consider anew. Does God care? Does God accompany God’s creation? Is there a ‘history of salvation’? Can we do more than remain silent in face of mystery? Do we expect theologians to be scientists? Or shall we ask them also to develop Patrick Kavanagh’s assertion that ‘God is in the bits and pieces of everyday’? A good treatment of these questions is given in Daly’s writing, particularly Creation and Redemption where one notes his courteous approach not only to science, but also to the arts. (8)

Biotechnology is an especially pressing example of these new questions. It may well be an advance of human endeavour and, as such, requires critical evaluation. With its potential for hitherto unsuspected innovations, it can alter life as we have known it before now. In regard to people, animals and plants, genetic engineering confronts us with frightening vistas. As well, considerations of financial gain have attracted the attention of trans-national corporations in the pharmaceutical and agribusiness sectors. Hence, the field urgently requires agreed ethical guidelines. Questions arise. Is it not an arrogance, an example of hubris, to claim ownership of life? Which values will guide this endeavour? Which motives will shape its operations? Will the world’s poor suffer as trans-national corporations corner yet another area of ‘intellectual property’? Are there unforeseen results, damaging to people and habitat, in the longer term? In 1993, an extended comment by the Catholic Institute for International Relations argued that, with the driving force behind the bio-revolution being an industry avid for global sales, increased uniformity is likely to be the dominant trend. In any case, biotechnology has the means to destroy biodiversity. Hence the importance of a critical theology of the kind Gabriel Daly has for long practised.

Then there is a prevalent breakdown in the shared meaning of history. Post-modern philosophy casts doubt on aspirations to justice and solidarity with the oppressed. All too frequently, the hope that history and justice can ‘rhyme’ is deemed naïve and ideological. In the search for an appropriate Christian weltanschauung (which means broadening the theological purview on creation/ eschatology), our alternatives cannot be automatic repetition of inherited formulae, or careless disregard of the tradition. A middle way is what Daly calls ‘the often uncomfortable quest for actualité, for a contemporary understanding of what God is saying to the human race.’ (9) Such an understanding would be impossible if theology were forbidden to reappraise its own sources. Thus, from the 1970s, Daly’s application of theological ‘models’ or ‘metaphors’ was immensely helpful. It enabled critical yet loyal reappraisal of church teaching, analogous to new methods of biblical interpretation. Theologians now speak of St Paul’s ‘forensic’ model of soteriology, of Trent’s ‘genetic’ model of original sin. In Creation and Redemption, Daly helpfully envisages creation/redemption in the model of a broken world which needs healing – the earth is a hospital with a promise of full healing on the other side of death. To speak thus of theological models only is not reductive but signally helpful. Theological reflection can go behind the ‘model’ to what the model intends. In a second innocence (Ricoeur), we can move beyond literalised mythology and avoid the problems issuing from a confusion of models.

More than ever, creation theology is challenged to due humility and retention of nerve. Due humility: theology is neither surrogate science nor’ queen of the sciences’. If it is to communicate, its language has to be more open to mystery and less arrogant, more experiential and less ideological, more genuinely searching and less dogmatic where dogmatism only alienates and discourages. In addition, science itself recognises the ultimate and perhaps intractable mystery of the cosmos. On the other hand, retention pf nerve is required, especially if we believe that our creation story has a worthwhile purpose, namely to communicate’ a fully human and humanising Christian Weltanschauung‘ (Teilhard de Chardin). Gabriel Daly has developed this observation with elegant imagination. Clearly, he shares Teilhard’s optimism although he transcends the latter’s anthropological concentration. For example, with Teilhard he refuses to see humankind’ as a whipped cur brought to heel by an avenging history’. He rejects the suggestion ‘that history [should] play the sadist to man’s masochism.’ (l0) And, ever more urgently, he enjoins recognition that our co-inhabitants of creation must be respected for themselves rather than their use-value. Yet Daly is Augustinian on ‘the scandalising phenomena of historical existence’. He re-echoes Paul in asserting that: ‘homo in seipso divisus is a fact of social and historical observation and individual introspection.’ (11)

Again, one notes how frequently he alludes to Pascal’s view of humankind as the’ glory and scandal of the universe’. This combination of optimism and realism strengthens Daly’s reminder that

[w]e are a species that builds hospitals and concentration camps. We are a species that can make the desert bloom. By the same token we are a species that also reduces blooms to deserts. (12)

Again, in a more recent article he asserts that Christian revelation is centred on divine acceptance / forgiveness, despite the worst that we can do. (13)

Justice, power and creation
Despite its achievements, the’ first’ Enlightenment has run into some trouble. Its insistence on critical reason has more than once led to hard-nosed individualism. Critical reason is rarely consistent in self-criticism. It has been remarked that the hardest thing is to turn one’s demythologising impulse upon the assumptions which enable it. (14) Hence, many groups, classes and countries remained outside the benefits of the Enlightenment. To adapt the phrase of Karl Marx, the Aufklarung concentrated on critique of knowledge rather than on transformation of society. In recent decades, excluded groups have demanded the overhaul of unjust structures. Their critique, mainly from a liberationist perspective, has been a marked feature of the last four decades. Theologically, the liberation perspective has moved on from answering the objections of religion’s’ cultured despisers’. Latin American theologians heavily criticise European and north American ideologies and speak of collusion by soi-disant liberals.

Thus, the’ second’ Enlightenment is, indeed, based on critical reason but even more on commitment to justice, on solidarity with the poor, the excluded and the victims of an unjust world order. Splendid publications (and splendid acts of heroism) marked the practice of’ contextual theology’. In all this, the great symbols of creation, redemption and eschatology were re-examined so that creation theology became more an element of ‘praxis’ than purely theoretic endeavour. To their surprise, European theologians (even those sympathetic to liberation movements) found their own critical presuppositions strenuously questioned. They were accused of viewing reality from the professorial rostrum and of favouring the questions of ‘educated European man’. On the surface at least, it was a clash between the ‘first’ and the’ second’ Enlightenment in the sense mentioned above.

The call from theologians of liberation practically to apply creation theology is indeed urgent. With their several – now converging – emphases, these theologians explicate the imperative of economic, sexual and environmental justice. Gutierrez, Sobrino and many others emphasise the scandal of grinding poverty. They effected a revolution in their ‘theology from the underside of history’ and their insistence that theology is inseparable from action. Feminist theology stressed that man and woman are created equal. Hence, age-old oppression based on gender is intrinsically wrong. In a further extension of feminist analysis, theologians such as Sallie McFague and Rosemary Radford Ruether undertake a ‘revision’ of traditional concepts of God. They criticise even progressive theologians as supporters of patriarchy. Again, environmental theology applied neglected strands of Christian tradition to the issue of the earth’s survival. Here one notices the work of the Irish theologian/ anthropologist, Sean McDonagh, whose studies have been pioneering contributions to a theology of the environment. These voices, even in their diversity, raise a challenge every whit as pressing as the scientific/ technological revolution of other days.

There has also been a proliferation of stances more loosely based on a theology of creation. These run a wide gamut in which their performance has been varied. Some (for example, various forms of ‘New Ageism’) marry ambiguous understandings of ‘the new physics’ to an arbitrary selection from Christian theology. No matter how sincerely intended or attractively presented, they have drawbacks in regard to the total affirmation of Christian belief. Even more problematic is their tendency to esoteric theory and adherence to new, sometimes dubious, , authorities’. On the necessity for critical reason and on the indispensible relation of creation/ redemption/ eschatology, some of Gabriel Daly’s remarks may sound untypically conservative. Yet they are all the more credible given his own rejection of fundamentalism and his suspicion of doom-laden theological menaces. The task, he says, is ‘to give a statement like “Jesus died for us and for our salvation” reference and resonance within the context of a theology of creation and to show that it need not be given a fundamentalist interpretation.’ (15) An admixture of optimism and realism emerges in the same article: ‘Creation is indeed to be celebrated, but not at the cost of hearing its groanings for liberation from its bondage to decay, including the ecological decay inflicted on it by sinful human beings. Allelluias are all the more resonant for not being premature.’ (16)

Insofar as Daly has expressed such reserves, they apply to manner of argument rather than the demand for justice. Daly’s view that social justice is a Christian imperative emerges from his Creation and Redemption. There he observes that ‘[W]e could feed and house every man, woman and child on our planet, but instead our representatives and rulers speak of free market forces and of the undesirability of interfering with these forces.’ (17) On the ecological question he has already made clear his position. Respect for creation is a spiritual imperative not reducible to ‘ a cunning self-interest of the kind that recognises the diminishing returns … of over-fishing the seas or chemically dependent farming.’ (18) In an interchange with Anna Primavesi he signals his recognition of the justice within the feminist canon. By its critique of patriarchy, feminist theology is a powerful reminder that in proclaiming God’s sovereignty over all nature, we have sometimes gone on to draw the false conclusion that omnipotence and sovereignty necessarily mean control.’ (19) Yet, he utters a caveat: ‘Patriarchy is one element accounting for what has gone wrong with our attitude to the environment. Greed, indolence, stupidity and our desire for a comfortable lifestyle make equally significant contributions to the crisis. Not even ecofeminists are immune from these less engaging features of being human.’ (20)

This is of a piece with Daly’s conviction that theological discourse takes place within an interpretative community. To both conservatives and radicals he insists that such a community is not a club which one must quit if one does not agree with all the rules. In an interpretative community, truth is sought by open-minded communion of free subjects. Even the most urgent truth can be distorted if it is imposed by ‘power-based communication.’ (21) Daly rejects all situations where’ only one version of the true or the good is allowed expression.’ (22) Doubtless, such a perception underlies his remark that’ one instinctively quails before a prophet conscious of possessing… a just cause who advances on one with the light of rectitude in his or her eyes, proclaiming in a loud and peremptory voice “We talk and you listen”.’ (23) Here, too, must be situated his insistence on the necessity to respect freedom of conscience in face of demands from hierarchs and, even, prophets. (In fairness, it can be argued that Daly’s fear lest theologies of liberation place commitment above reflection is addressed by their dialectical notion of praxis as critical interplay of theory / practice.)

Edward Schillebeeckx’s reference to the church as interpretative community and theology as conversation between tradition and modernity remains valuable. Taken seriously, it is a difficult programme when demands for commitment or ‘loyalty’ override the irreplaceable function of critical reflection. Such a conversation between tradition and modernity can be associated with Gabriel Daly’s own style of writing. In a culture subject to bewildering change, his courageous search for a renewed articulation of the Judaeo-Christian Weltanschauung is timely. In what is now called a ‘post-modern’ context, the great symbols of creation, redemption and eschatology, the work for justice and the imperative to respect the environment, are as necessary as ever.

It has to be said that ‘modernity’ and ‘post-modernity’ are fluid, even ambiguous, concepts. Some theologians view post-modernity as not merely the friend of Christian faith, but’ a cultural wavelength’ in which faith can live and be credible today. (24) Yet, even our Sunday newspapers show that the wavelength is also one where self-interest and arrogant consumerism strangle justice and compassion. In such a context it would be a tragedy if the churches lost the critical edge of prophetic discourse. To challenge prevalent social injustice and environmental irresponsibility, Christian faith needs to re-appraise its own foundational symbols and, in particular, its theology of creation. Further, it has to earn its droit de cité by its seriousness of intent and its commitment to the attainment of truth. Here, Daly has contributed valuably. In face of ‘power communication,’ whether from the right or the left, he continues to argue for expansion of theological imagination and an ‘educated conscience.’ His reiterated defence of human rights ‘within’ and ‘without’ the church provides an antidote to institutional arrogance. If we are to ‘keep hope alive,’ our own discourse must reflect the Christian Anschauung on creation, redemption and eschatology, in a way that is at once loyal to the tradition and critically in touch with our own day.

Daly’s seminal article on ‘Table d’Hôte Catholicism’ effectively sets out the problem. Here, he argues that what is happening in the Catholic Church scandalises many outside its ranks and profoundly discourages loyal Catholics. The scandal, he tells us, is not the Pauline scandal of Christ’s cross, but rather ‘partial, dictatorial and unjust’ exercise of power. (25) One takes the impression that Daly’s indignation is reserved, not for those who emphasise commitment to justice, but for those who have tried to reverse the achievements of Vatican II. The casualties have been open communication and respect for diversity within unity. Gabriel Daly has spoken of the dangers inherent in a managerial attitude to truth. The truth about creation-redemption-eschatology is not subject to ecclesiastical diktat. Rather, it is wilfully truncated by ‘partial, unjust and dictatorial exercise of power’. (26) Nor in the end can the Christian message be fully encapsulated by doctrines or decrees.

One returns to Aquinas’s reminder that doctrines are best understood as signposts to mystery. An implication of this is that truth is sought rather than imposed. Aquinas never shirked the burden of critical reflection; yet he practised, in the last analysis, ‘an agnosticism of reverence’. Without fear of correction, I would suggest that Gabriel Daly’s service to truth has been of this order. In emphasising the role of imagination as part of the educated conscience, he provides a stimulus to growth where a credible voice from the world religions is more than ever needed. When he speaks of reinterpretation within creation theology he does well to insist on the evolutionary concept of nature and the necessity for ethical imagination, if we are to lay the foundation for developments as yet unforeseen.



1. Brendan Lovett, ‘Marginalisation, Secularisation and the Third World,’ in Diagacht: Theology Bulletin of the Western Theology Research Association 1 (1996) 6.
2. See the helpful account of Roy Porter, The Enlightenment: Britain and the Creation of the Modern World, London: Allen Lane, 2000.
3. The terminology is that of Ken Wilber. See his Sex, Ecology, Spirituality: The Spirit of Evolution, London: Shambhala, 1995.
4. Gabriel Daly OSA, ‘Table d’Hôte Catholicism’, The Furrow 42 (1991) 407-414; 409.
5. David Lodge, Paradise News, London: Seeker and Warburg, 1991. See the discussion by Anthony Draper, ‘Watching Our God-Language,’ Doctrine & Life 47 (1997) 204-212; 204. In a seminal address Gabriel Daly highlights the matter, ‘The Problem of Original Sin,’ The Furrow 24 (1973) 13-26; 19,
6. Ibid., 20,
7. Gabriel Daly OSA, Transcendence and Immanence: A Study in Catholic Modernism and Integralism, Oxford; Clarendon Press, 1980.
8. Gabriel Daly, OSA, Creation and Redemption, Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1988.
9. Daly, ‘The Problem of Original Sin,’ 19.
10. Daly, ‘The Problem of Original Sin,’ 25.
11. Daly, ‘An Ecofeminist Contention Examined,’ Irish Theological Quarterly, 60/3, (1994) 216-224; 222.
12. Ibid., 223.
13. Gabriel Daly, ‘Conscience, Guilt and Sin’ in Seán Freyne, ed., Ethics and the Christian, Trinity College Dublin, Studies in Theology, Dublin: Columba, 1989, 58-74,69.
14. Terry Eagleton, unpublished paper, Desmond Greaves Summer School, Dublin 1996.
15. Daly, ‘An Ecofeminist Contention Examined’, 221-2.
16. Ibid., 224.
17. Daly, Creation and Redemption, 208.
18. Ibid., 44. See also Denis Carroll, ‘On Not Jumping on the Green Bandwagon,’ in Freyne, ed., Ethics and the Christian, 127-137; 129-30.
19. Daly,’ An Ecofeminist Contention,’ 224.
20. Ibid., 218.
21. Daly, ‘Table d’Hôte Catholicism’, 414
22. Ibid., 414.
23. Daly, ‘Conscience, Guilt and Sin,’ 68.
24. See, Michael Paul Gallagher, SJ, Clashing Symbols: An Introduction to Faith and Culture, London: DLT, 87-100.
25. Daly, ‘Table d’Hôte Catholicism,’ 410.
26. Ibid., 410.


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