Category — Philosophy

To the Virgins, to make much of Time Robert Herrick, 1591–1674

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

Sadly, with the flying of time the relevance of this poem has dissipated for all but a graced few. The poetry of today erodes love and leaves people broken and wounded:

Starstrukk 3OH!3, 2009

Nice legs, Daisy dukes,
Makes a man go whoo-whoo
That’s the way they all come through
Like whoo-whoo whoo-whoo
Low-cut, see-through shirts That make you whoo-whoo
That’s the way she come through
Like whoo-whoo whoo-whoo

…

Tight jeans, Double D’s Makin’ me go whoo-whoo
All the people on the street Know [whoo-whoo-whoo-whoo]
Iced-out, lit-up
Make the kids go whoo-whoo
All the people on the street Know whoo-whoo whoo-whoo

…

I think I should know how
To make love to something innocent
Without leaving my fingerprints out now
L-O-V-E’s just another word I’ll never learn to pronounce
How do I say I’m sorry
‘Cause the word is
Never gonna come out no
L-O-V-E’s just another word I never learned to pronounce
Push it baby
Push it baby out of control
I got my guns cocked tight And I’m ready to blow
Push it baby
Push it baby out of control This is the same old dance That you already know (x2)

I think I should know how
To make love to something innocent
Without leaving my fingerprints out no
L-O-V-E’s just another word
I’ll never learn to pronounce

The vast majority of today’s youth and young adults have the same pronunciation issues. The language of Love is not only being destroyed but eradicated:

“Without stimuli, the human being does not reach it’s psychological telos. Children who hear no language before their tenth year will never learn to speak; for disuse, the corelation of no excitation, breeds decay.” - Dale C. Allison Jr., The Luminous Dusk at 34.

—

Lord, help me let life unfold slowly, like the small rosebud whose petals unravel bit by bit, and remind me that in hurrying the bloom along, I destroy the bud and much of the beauty therein. Instead, let me wait for all to unfold in its own time. Each moment and state of growth contains a loveliness. Teach me to slow down enough to appreciate life and all it holds. Amen.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus presents a new commandment to his disciples:

“My children, I will be with you only a little while longer.
I give you a new commandment: love one another.
As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.
This is how all will know that you are my disciples,
if you have love for one another.”

Today’s homilist at St. Theresa’s Parish, Fr. Gabriel Achu, C.Ss.R., asked how this could be presented as a new commandment? Indeed, in Leviticus 19:18 a parallel law is presented:

You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD.

Jesus makes this commandment new by both expanding those to whom it applies and by demonstrating the essence of love.

As the story of the Good Samaritan illustrates, Jewish understanding of how one loves their neighbour was confined by the place of Israel as God’s chosen people. This distinction created a chasm between Israelites and other nations. Members of other nations were simply not considered to be neighbours. Jesus’ extension of love and salvation to the Gentiles therefore scandalized the Pharisees and the Scribes. His commandment was not new in the sense that God did not before require love. It was new in that Jesus requested that we show love to all peoples.

As Father Gabriel touched upon, Jesus also presented a new understanding of the essence of love. As long as acts of love were constrained within the community of Israelites they remained self-serving. Most political philosophers extol the desirability of law and good works based on utility: as no one is permitted to harm another no one will see themselves harmed; if one is expected to provide benefit to their neighbour one may also expect to receive benefit. Sadly, these theories are often applied by most Christians. It’s the Christmas Gift Principle: give to those who give to you… and in equal value.

But Jesus demands a greater love. It must be a free gift and never an exchange. Love is not like a financial relationship which ought to have fulfilling benefits for both parties with a breach nullifying the agreement. True Christian love is always gift and sacrifice. God is Love, love is everything and love, like that given by Jesus on the cross, requires sacrifice…

When I think of Pope Benedict, I don’t think of humorous cracks. But here’s his brief and well thought out analysis of the subject:

I’m not a man who constantly thinks up jokes. But I think it’s very important to be able to see the funny side of life and its joyful dimension and not to take everything too tragically. I’d also say it’s necessary for my ministry. A writer once said that angels can fly because they don’t take themselves too seriously. Maybe we could also fly a bit if we didn’t think we were so important.

And more:

God “has a great sense of humor”.

Humor is in fact an essential element in the mirth of creation. We can see how, in many matters in our lives, God wants to prod us into taking things a bit more lightly.

St. Philip Neri, known as ‘The Humorous Saint’, expressed similar sentiments:

Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and makes us persevere in a good life. Therefore the servant of God ought always to be in good spirits.

A joyful heart is more easily made perfect than a downcast one.

It seems like it’s been forever and a day since I last posted on my blog. The fact that a few people have commented on my absence has encouraged me to get back at it. I promise that I’ll soon have a post on an article I read in New York’s Archdiocesan paper by George Weigel. Even the men we admire the most sometimes get it wrong. In the meantime, here’s a brilliant editorial by a fellow Newfoundlander who got it right. I’m not sure if he’s Catholic and I’ve never heard him spoken of as a man of either Christian devotion or piety (though he may be). He is unquestionably a man and voice of reason:

Rex Murphy: Bluster masquerading as reason

Posted: March 20, 2010, 8:00 AM by NP Editor

If we are to have an adjudication on the Pontiff’s complicity or innocence in the matter of cover-ups or evasion by the Catholic Church in the sexual-abuse scandals that have rocked it, I’m not sure I’d go to Christopher Hitchens to get it. On this matter, he is, in a manner of speaking, an interested party. The man who “did in” Mother Teresa has made anti-religious rage a great theme of his career. This week’s Hitchens column  — headlined “The Great Catholic Cover-Up” in Thursday’s edition of the National Post — is a case in point.

The author of God is Not Great is one of the most militant, abrasive secularists of our time, perhaps only second in renown to the increasingly tedious and tendentious Richard Dawkins. Militant secularism is a peculiar phenomenon. It prides itself above all on reason, but reason in a very shrunken capacity — a kind of blustering, blistering, angry half-logic that perpetually targets the anachronistic straw-man conception of God as a big, bearded White Guy in the sky.

This is the kind of stuff that gives caricature a bad name. It may be that the very simply devout, in the very simplest of times, held such an obviously incomplete understanding of the concept of the Christian God. But to ascribe so fatuous and infantile an understanding of the Deity to the majority of adult believers is not so much a misrepresentation as a kind of wish fulfillment. It is the kind of puppet-image God that Richard Dawkins imagines crowds the cramped minds of those dolts (as he sees them) who don’t agree with Richard Dawkins.

The mischaracterization is adolescent in tone and substance, something of a Dawkins’ speciality. There is something fatally supercilious and egotistic in the scorn of the professional atheist/agnostic, as in Dawkins’ sneering description of those who order their lives in conformity with belief, faith — Christian or otherwise. “Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. Faith is belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence.” Well, that’s, by Dawkins’ standard, a fair reading of say, Pascal, or Chesterton, Bernard Lonergan, or John Paul II. By his self-satisfied reading they were all cowards, not brave enough for “real” thought, intellectual and moral shirkers. He, of course, is a moral tower, a veritable G.I. Joe of fearless inquiry.

The same dismissive scorn showed up in Hitchens’ piece, particularly in the coda to his loose pseudo-arguments about Pope Benedict’s “responsibility” over the alleged cover-up of sexual abuse in Germany: “Ratzinger himself may be banal, but his whole career has the stench of evil — a clinging and systematic evil that is beyond the power of exorcism to dispel.”

“Stench of evil,” you’ll admit, is a nice touch, even if it violates his long-time confrere Martin Amis’ anathamization of clichés. The phrase is almost as old as the evil it describes. In fact, it is precisely the kind of overstretched and melodramatic phrasing mostly to be found, in early and more primitive times, issuing from the mouths of those very fundamentalist “religionists” Hitchens has made it is his specialty to denigrate.

Pope Benedict may be many things, but banal is hardly one of them. Even the obsessionally anti-Catholic will have noted — if they’ve paid any serious attention at all — that his mind is subtle, exercised, scholarly and profound. Now, what one-word adjective can claim all those qualities I’m not sure of, but I know that “banal” is not it.

As for this “stench of evil,” why does Hitchens choose to tell us it’s beyond “the power of exorcism to dispel”?

I presume the affected belief in exorcism is a display of tormented irony, but I still hold it curious that Hitchens — who would throw exorcism together with the Sacraments, the Mass, and the power of prayer into the bucket of outdated idiocies — calls “exorcism” into service for his rhetoric. It may be that what he strains so mightily and vociferously against has, still, some forbidden and irresistible allure for him.

The major part of “The Great Catholic Cover-Up” is animus persuading itself it is logic, and bile lathered on for the amusement of Catholic or anti-Catholic bystanders. And the piece’s chief function, at least for me, is as yet one more instalment of the remorseless insult-hurling at Catholics in particular and Christians in general that the class of professional agnostics and atheists is so pleased to make its standard fare.

There’s a touch of uncouth high-schoolism in all this, that callow bravery of the 15-year-old knocking daddy and mommy’s most sensitive beliefs. But while a little coarseness and some impudence is, in a sense, almost proper and certainly unsurprising in 15-year-olds. It’s a little more than tiresome, and certainly a hell of a lot (if that conception may be allowed here) less than brave coming out of the mouths or flowing from the digital pens of the pack of adult reason-worshipping evangelists who make such a good business out of harsh and mean assessments of their differently-believing, more pacific brothers on this good earth.

But by all means, read Mr. Hitchens’ column. And then send a donation for the peace of his soul to Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity.

Read more: http://network.nationalpost.com/NP/blogs/fullcomment/archive/2010/03/20/rex-murphy-bluster-masquerading-as-reason.aspx#ixzz0jRNaUhUY

As we begin Holy Week may each and every one of you enter into the solemnity of the Pascal Mystery. May we hold each other up in our prayers.

I was responding to a post on Facebook today and I saw a comment on my friend Rachel’s page: “I pray that you find the deepest desire of your heart. And I pray that you respect me as I am found by mine.” Seemingly sharp in its context but brilliant in its idiom. The statements reflects the two manners in which we perceive God’s will: when our prayerful pursuit of His will allows us to perceive the path and when God pursues us by intimating His plan. God revealed His will in both of these manners to St. Benedict Joseph Labre. Because this saint received a seemingly bizarre call which required an apparently absurd response, the manner is which God conveyed His will was accordingly pronounced. For this reason the life of Benedict Joseph continues to be of relevance to the modern Christian who seeks to do God’s will as he journeys through life.

The life of Benedict Joseph is certainly peculiar. As a young man he felt what he believed to be a sure call, not only to monastic life but to the austere and rigid community of La Trappe. Despite his sincere attempts to gain admittance, La Trappe never accepted Benedict Joseph and neither was he able to find permanent admittance in any other community. Confused, he accepted his fate and adopted the life of a vagabond beggar. Going without money and shelter, he continuously travelled from one pious site in Europe to another. A perpetual pilgrim, Benedict Joseph eventually died alone outside a small Church in Rome. His path was unique, but there is no indication that Benedict Joseph ever felt that he had failed to follow the divine will. The Church confirmed the holiness of Benedict Joseph Labre by beatifying him in 1860 and then elevating him to sainthood in 1881.

Pursuing the Will of God

As mentioned, what is most intriguing about the life of Benedict Joseph Labre is not only the peculiarity of his vocation but also the manner in which he identified, sought and fulfilled God’s will. Benedict Joseph’s genuinely held the belief that God was calling him to monastic life was and he diligently pursued this path. As Antonio Maria Coltraro relates in “The Life of Venerable Servant of God, Benedict Joseph Labre”:

“he had from a boy the inspiration of God to live a very austere life, as he himself declared to his parents and to his confessors, but he did not know in what manner, in what religious order or solitude. Being grown up, he made two attempts to enter La Trappe, but was obliged to give up the thought of it, understanding from his parents and from the Bishop of Boulogne, that this was not the will of God. He then tried La Chartreuse, but was rejected, for these fathers knew, and said to him clearly, that God did not will him to be one of them. No one remained to him but the very rigid cloister of the Cistercian Fathers at Sept Fontaines. He goes with great eagerness; he enters, satisfied, believing that he has at length ascertained the will of God; but Almighty God begins to afflict him in such a manner with continual illness and interior trials, that these religious men tell him openly, that God wills him in another state and not amongst them, though they knew him to be a youth of great perfection.” (p. 44-45)

It retrospectively assessing the life of Benedict Joseph one might be inclined to speculate that he misperceived his monastic calling. However, there is no evidence of an occasion where he honestly perceived God’s will to differ from own. Further, Benedict Joseph was faithful and prayerful and pursued the deepest longing of his heart. In such circumstances, is it correct to conclude that because he was not permitted to remain in any monastery God had not desired for him to seek admittance?

That God does not ultimately grant a prayerfully derived longing of the heart does not mean that its pursuit did not reflect His will. As God directed Abraham to sacrifice Issac in the desert but then prevented the execution, the life of Benedict Joseph is just another illustration that in following God’s will we must distinguish between our actions and the result of our actions. Following Gods will does not guarantee temporal results. The saint passionately pursues the deepest longings of his heart. When our discernment is genuine and our efforts are honest then we do God’s will even though the fruits may be hidden:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. - Thomas Merton, “Thoughts in Solitude”

When God does not fully reveal his plan to us we may stray from His perfect will. Being human and sinful, we undoubtedly will encounter circumstances in which the temptation to pursue a path of our own choosing overpowers our spiritual intentions. Finding ourselves on a different path than God would have preferred for us to be on we may wonder whether we are doing God’s will. In fact, if we stand looking at the shadows of the past we are not doing his will. We can not grasp the shadows of the past but we can hold God in the present:

“The present is very precious; these are the days of salvation; now is the acceptable time. How sad that you do not spend the time in which you might purchase everlasting life in a better way. The time will come when you will want just one day, just one hour in which to make amends, and do you know whether you will obtain it?” Thomas De Kempis, “Imitation of Christ”

…

But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.” – Luke 12:20 NRSV

Understanding and accepting that God’s will always operates in the present is essential to growing in relationship with Jesus and accomplishing His will. Guilt and regret may be an element often found within Catholics, but it ought not to be more than a passing sentiment. Yes, from fault must flow contrition and repentance. However, once we receive forgiveness, we must accept this generous gift and acknowledge that God makes us anew. Similarly, having chosen a path which God did not intend for us to traverse may lead us to recognize our mistake but it is imperative that we firmly resolve to direct each future step according to His desires.

Benedict Joseph Labre undoubtedly understood that God only asked of him that of which he was capable. Benedict Joseph prayed and discerned and then followed the path he perceived. Like Benedict Joseph, God does not ask us to perceive the imperceptible. God asks us to follow Benedict Joseph’s example of prayer, hope and trust and than act upon the fruits of our prayer. If we do this - what God asks of us – we fulfill His will.

God’s pursuit of our hearts

To be continued…

Can a city dweller hear God’s voice clearly or does the constant cacophony dull His diction? If St. John of the Cross is right in asserting that it is “great wisdom to know how to be silent” then is city living sane for the serious seeker of Christ?:

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…we need silence to be able to touch souls.” – Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Yet there have always been holy souls who have preferred human nature to the other kind. The late Fr. Richard Neuhaus regarded New York City as “the prolepsis of the New Jerusalem”, facetiously questioning why someone would deliberately live anywhere else. Even Thomas Merton, who was later to become a renowned contemplative monk, found happiness and contentment at Columbia University. Neither confused the spiritual with the temporal - God’s call is heard in the depths of the heart and only incidentally anywhere else.

Nonetheless, the city does influence its inhabitants. Like the emmet - ant - which loses it’s way in Blake’s “Dream”, some lose Christ among the multitude of paths the city presents.

A few months ago I was at St. Pancras station in London, waiting for a train which would take me to Paris. I ventured down the street in hopes of providentially stumbling upon a Church where I could pray or even attend Mass. I walked for a good ten minutes, but soon became convinced that if there was a spire in the vicinity the looming masonry brick buildings which lined the street probably obscured it from view.

Just as I was committing to abandoning my search, I came across an advertisement for a cellular phone company. The large megacorporation ironically offered a lament of the impersonality associated with communications industry in England. The poster presented two men and a woman, each in an indignant posture and donning a scowl. Below the photograph the caption declared: “I am not a number”.

Not a number…. Looking at the countenance of each I recalled the prototype structures I had passed along the way. Aside from the number outside each door, there had been little to differentiate one from another. I recounted the expressionless glances of commuters on the subway. I recollected the swarms that had passed by on the street without any nod of acknowledgment whatsoever. I recalled the words of Byron: “and was Jerusalem builded here, amongst these dark satanic mills?”

“Not a number”? Not even a number.

The stark reality is that most of us are no ones to most everyone. None of us are likely to ever meet the people in that advertisement and even if we did we’d never know them. Their lives, their personal crises, their hopes and dreams, their disillusionments and tragedies - all of these are unknown to us. Even the most prominent of figures face a similar fate. And even if a person obtains global prominence their legacy will be factual and cold.

Fame

“Who was the most famous person
In the empire of Trebizond?”
Blank complete – no body knew that.
I asked: “does it really matter?”
“Uh no”, they answered quietly.
I said: “I do not know either;”
“nor do I really care so much!”
“Such is fame!” I told my class.

- Wieslaw Nowak, May 9, 1997

St. Francis was most blunt in expressing this reality of our temporal nothingness, a reality made obvious in the city. Having walked atop Mount Subiaso and gazed upon the vastness of Perugia, he memorably exclaimed that we are nothing but worms. Speaking at the turn of the century, he could scarcely have envisaged the literal significance his statement would attain for those that commute to work each morning by subway. Whether the analogy be to emmets or worms, there’s something unsettling about a life in which we find similarity with the subhuman.

As bleak as the metaphor may be, St. Francis found in it not despair but hope. Focusing on the transcendental rather than the temporal, he realized that it was only in God that he could find eternal meaning. Unconstrained by temporal limits, God was able to know him to the fullest extent and to the depths of his being. Moreover, He was able to love him both completely and eternally, across time and space. Only by placing his temporal condition juxtapose God’s eternal ambition for his soul was Francis able to obtain the strength and courage - the grace - to renounce this world completely and pursue a relationship with Jesus with such unprecedented vigour.

Although Francis’ eventually chose the green martyrdom of monastic life, it was his vocation rather than the intrinsic nature of cosmopolitan life which led to this decision. He renounced the world in his heart before he ever did so externally. What mattered to Francis was not where he was, but that he was where he was best able to separate the spiritual from the temporal and embrace Christ most fully. The challenge presented to the modern city-dweller is to see Christ within her neighbour and embrace Him fully in her vocation. The temporal reality of his namelessness stands juxtapose one of God’s greatest miracles: that Jesus invites every person into a personal relationship. Each is known, loved and called by name. Always and forever. Even in the city. To God no one is a number.

I’ve found myself in an ongoing dialogue with Dr. Jeff Mirus (see Opinions, Authority and the Truth - I). I’m more than impressed with his patience! In fairness, I feel it fair to make you privy to our continued correspondence. If he responds again I will post that as well, giving him the last word. I will not post any subsequent correspondence after that, as I which not to dedicate my blog solely to this issue! It’s interesting, though.

Theodoric –

Note that I did not say that the Church has “taught” this. I said the Church “knows” – in the sense that the Church “understands” the full truth about man and is capable of articulating those truths against all ideologies or distortions. I refer you again to the writings of the Pontifical Council for Culture. The primary purpose of art is a philosophical issue relating to the nature of things; it is not part of Revelation. See also, for example, the works of Gilson or Maritain on art and beauty.

If someone were to incorrectly cite a Magisterial text, asserting that it means (for example) that the right of private property is absolute, one might well write in response: “This is not what the text says; the author has misused it, as you can see by reading the full text itself. The Church understands that the goods of creation are to be enjoyed by all, and so private property rights are clearly conditional” – then, speaking generally in this way, it should not be necessary to array citations in support of what the Church knows. The main point of the statement is that the text in question has been misinterpreted, as is clear from a careful reading of the text itself. So too in this case.

Of course you are free to argue about the purposes of art. But that the author’s assertion of what the text said did not match the meaning of the actual text was the primary point, and that was enough for my purposes in a brief blog entry. That interpretation would reduce the nature of art to social utility or functionality, which is a grave distortion. It was enough, for my purposes, to point to the problem, as I felt most readers would see the point at once.

However, I confess that I am surprised you do not see the point, so perhaps I was wrong after all in handling the matter so quickly.

– Jeff

My reply:

I didn’t miss your point. I believe you’ve missed mine. I don’t personally care much about what the purpose of ecclesiastical art may or may not be. I do have my opinions on what would constitute “good” ecclesiastical art and what reduces the mystery of the liturgy. I’m certainly not arguing that the other author got it right; I haven’t even read his article. You are probably fully justified in correcting his statements. If that was your point, you should have left it there. You could have said: “This is not what the text says; the author has misused it, as you can see by reading the full text itself.” You chose to continue, asserting that the Church knows full well that art has a specific “primary” purpose and then stated what that purpose is without any supporting references.

You may know which issues fall into categories capable of magisterial authority and those that do not. Many of your readers do not. Further, in matter removed from magisterial authority the Church still has many expressed opinions. They may be subject to revision, removed from the deposit of faith, but they carry extraordinary authority. To purport that the Church knows something, anything when it is merely your view being ascribed to the Church, is irresponsible. This is doubly so when your assertions are placed juxtapose other views which rely on weighty documents.

So perhaps you were wrong after all in handling the matter so quickly, but not for the reasons that you derived from our previous correspondence.

In either case, although my tone is pointed, it’s more a reflection of my style than my disposition. I appreciated your article and your response. I’m sure you’re a busy gentleman with more important things to do than to reply to my musings. You’re more than welcome to write back, but should feel no obligation. I just wanted to draw your attention to what I thought was a statement susceptible to misinterpretation by your audience.

In Christ through Mary,
Theodoric

A major irk of mine is when people accept the word of another as gospel truth, particularly in matters relating to the Church. I am guilty of this myself, but always try to catch myself when this happens. It’s important not just to have an opinion, but to ground that opinion, as much as possible, in fact. The more grounded an opinion is in fact, the more your opinion begins to resemble a statement of truth. The pursuit of truth is essential to pursuing Christ, who is the Way, the Truth and the Life.

Randomly roaming around the web today I randomly found an article written by Dr. Jeff Mirus and hosted on catholicculture.org. It serves to illustrate how Catholics ought not to think - or rather, how Catholics ought who ought to think can be fed unsubstantiated conclusions if they don’t think:

Recently we added to our library a fine little article from The Adoremus Bulletin by Matthew Peszek on Sacred Art as a Pedagogical Tool . The author uses Caravaggio’s painting of the call of St. Matthew as his case in point.

But when looking at it for the second time, I noticed a problem in the following text:

“The Council of Trent had briefly addressed the role of art during the Twenty-Fifth Session, in December 1563. In the Decree on the Invocation, Veneration, and Relics of the Saints, and on Sacred Images, the Council stated: “Moreover, let the bishops teach that by means of the stories of the mysteries of our redemption portrayed in paintings and other representations the people are instructed and confirmed in the articles of the faith, which ought to be borne in mind and constantly reflected upon.” This statement gave a basic direction and key goal for what sacred art should achieve. The decree stated that the primary goal of sacred art was to educate the viewer and teach Catholic doctrine.”

The problem is that the author erroneously leads the reader to believe that the Council of Trent defined that the primary purpose of sacred art is to teach. I’m sure there are many little things in our library documents—and, indeed, in my own writings—which are slightly misstated, and I’m also sure that I haven’t yet begun to catch them all. But because I had just completed a brief study of the Catholic understanding of art, and had just written a column on Beauty, I did catch this one.

It seemed a shame to drop the article, yet I really hate it when any of our materials mislead anyone about what the Church has officially taught. The best solution seemed to me to insert the following editorial note:

Actually, the Decree does not say that the primary goal of sacred art is to educate and teach. This is erroneously inferred by the author. The decree states that sacred art does, in fact, have this effect of educating and teaching, as opposed to those (particularly Protestants) who wanted to strip churches of art for fear that these images would somehow stand in the way of God. The Church knows well that the primary purpose of all art is to express beauty, and so touch the heart of man, opening him to the absolute; and that sacred art is to do this with subjects and themes which relate to God’s saving love for man. This note is necessary in an otherwise fine article to avoid leading the reader to conclude that the Church has somehow defined that sacred art must be primarily pedagogical and didactic, or that the value of sacred art is to be judged in the first place not by its beauty but by the clarity of its “message”, a criterion which ultimately undermines all art.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m being too picky, but in fact the pedagogical argument leads directly to banners with slogans. It is possible, of course, that Caravaggio bloomed where he was planted, but his painting is much more than a slogan, a maxim, or even a lesson. It invites wonder and contemplation, opening the heart to God. And why? Because, before the teacher even begins to roll out his lecture notes, it was already art.

I sent the following email to the editor:

I’m rather indifferent to the subject matter, having happened upon this article by chance. I thought it interesting that you took issue with the Adoremus Bulletin author’s (in your opinion, erroneous) implication that the Church views teaching as the primary purpose of art and then stated - it seems as authoritative teaching - that “the Church knows well that the primary purpose of all art is to express beauty.” You may well be correct. Perhaps the Church does hold this view. Maybe you’re wrong. All I know is that you have told me that this is the Church’s view and then provided nothing to substantiate your statement. In the future, please provide a supporting quote.

If the good Dr. writes me back I’ll update this post. I’m sure you’re all anxious to know the truth!

UPDATE

“Theodoric –

Thanks for your note.

You don’t need an authoritative teaching to discern that the purpose of art is beauty; that’s simply the nature of art. For an enlightening discussion, see the Via Pulchritudinis document by the Pontifical Council of Culture. More to the point, the text of the citation the author used to establish his point does not say what he said it says. But apart from this over-simplification, it was an excellent article on the teaching power of sacred art.

– Jeff

The purposes of art are many - to create beauty, provoke thought, make a political statement, teach, evoke prayer and many of these through the others. I need an authoritative teaching to discern that the primary purpose of art - as stated in the editorial note - is beauty. You can’t simply personally discern something and then ascribe this view to the Church, sorry.

I thank the good Professor for his reply.

I was poking through the pages of Zenit.org two days ago and came across Pope Benedict’s papal address to the Envoy from New Zealand.  Although the average non-Kiwi would probably find most of the text fairly sterile, the pontiff did include an engaging remark explaining how true common ground can found among diverging interests:

“The Church’s engagement with civil society is anchored in her conviction that authentic human progress — whether as individuals or communities — is dependent upon the recognition of the spiritual dimension proper to every person. It is from God that men and women receive their essential dignity (cf. Gen 1:27) and the capacity to transcend particular interests in order to seek truth and goodness and so find purpose and meaning in their lives. This broad perspective provides a framework within which it is possible to counter any tendency to adopt superficial approaches to social policy which address only the symptoms of negative trends in family life and communities, rather than their roots. Indeed, when humanity’s spiritual heart is brought to light, individuals are drawn beyond themselves to ponder God and the marvels of human life: being, truth, beauty, moral values, and relationships that respect the dignity of others. In this way a sure foundation to unite society and sustain a common vision of hope can be found.”

Let me unpack this for you a little and more clearly draw out how Benedict proposes that we unite society

First, Benedict suggests that a prerequisite for uniting society is (i) recognizing the spiritual dimension proper to every person and (ii) recognizing our inherent essential dignity.

Second, if these prerequisites are present, society can transcend particular interests by seeking (i) truth and (ii) goodness.

If these elements are present (i) individuals will find purpose and meaning in their lives and (ii) we can unite society and sustain a common vision of hope.

These comments are timely, as they seem, at first blush, to fit very nicely with President Obama’s proposal of how to unite society amidst our differences.  During his commencement speech given at Notre Dame University, Obama provided his vision of how society can unite despite its conflicting views on abortion:

“The question, then — the question then is how do we work through these conflicts?  Is it possible for us to join hands in common effort?  …

As I considered the controversy surrounding my visit here, I was reminded of an encounter I had during my Senate campaign, one that I describe in a book I wrote called “The Audacity of Hope.”  A few days after I won the Democratic nomination, I received an e-mail from a doctor who told me that while he voted for me in the Illinois primary, he had a serious concern that might prevent him from voting for me in the general election.  He described himself as a Christian who was strongly pro-life — but that was not what was preventing him potentially from voting for me.

What bothered the doctor was an entry that my campaign staff had posted on my website - an entry that said I would fight “right-wing ideologues who want to take away a woman’s right to choose.”  …  He wrote, “I do not ask at this point that you oppose abortion, only that you speak about this issue in fair-minded words.”  Fair-minded words.

After I read the doctor’s letter … I didn’t change my underlying position, but I did tell my staff to change the words on my website.  And I said a prayer that night that I might extend the same presumption of good faith to others that the doctor had extended to me.  Because when we do that - when we open up our hearts and our minds to those who may not think precisely like we do or believe precisely what we believe - that’s when we discover at least the possibility of common ground.

… I do not suggest that the debate surrounding abortion can or should go away.  Because no matter how much we may want to fudge it - indeed, while we know that the views of most Americans on the subject are complex and even contradictory - the fact is that at some level, the views of the two camps are irreconcilable.  Each side will continue to make its case to the public with passion and conviction.  But surely we can do so without reducing those with differing views to caricature.

Open hearts.  Open minds.  Fair-minded words. …”

On the surface, Benedict’s vision and that of Obama seem very similar. Obama’s words reflect a sense of the spiritual dimension of people.  An opening of minds connotes an openness to truth.  We may presume a desire for goodness.

But will Obama’s plan allow us to “join hands in common effort.” Are there substantive differences between the messages of Benedict and Obama?

Certainly, at some level, we can find common ground.  Like the Christian doctor who voted for Obama despite his views on abortion, many members of society can overlook many issues.  It is unlikely that any politician’s funding approach to policy areas such as the environment or infrastructure will reconcile completely with all member of the electorate.  Some will consider the funding excessive; some will consider it too slight.  Many may consider it acceptable.  How many can claim that they know the perfect balance on such issues, let alone that a particular politician has struck it? There is obviously room for compromise on such matters.

However, Obama rightly concludes that there are some views which are irreconcilable.  During the Bush administration, many viewed the war in Iraq as such an issue.  For some citizens it was essential for American soldiers to invade.  For others the war was intolerable.  While debate could arise after the fact as to the number of soldiers to deploy or which particular exit strategy was most effective, the initial question was simply whether to invade or not to invade.  For those who had a passionate opinion on this question, the decision to invade likely impacted their decision at the ballot box.

Obama recognizes that the legality of abortion raises a number of issues post facto where some consensus may be attained:

“So let us work together to reduce the number of women seeking abortions, let’s reduce unintended pregnancies.  Let’s make adoption more available.  Let’s provide care and support for women who do carry their children to term.  Let’s honor the conscience of those who disagree with abortion, and draft a sensible conscience clause, and make sure that all of our health care policies are grounded not only in sound science, but also in clear ethics [sic], as well as respect for the equality of women.  Those are things we can do.”

While many of these are things which we can do, the fact remains that they are like the post-war responses, what Pope Benedict would describe as “superficial approaches to social policy which address only the symptoms of negative trends in family life and communities, rather than their roots.”  The Church’s teaching is clear that life begins at conception.  For the orthodox Catholic faithful to the magisterium, abortion is the ultimate attack on the family.  An abortion both physically alters the family and is the ultimate affront to dignity of that unborn child - the very premise necessary to achieve Benedict’s vision of hope.  The adoption of the policies refered to by Obama cannot satisfy the Catholic conscience.

Therefore, Benedict knows that a president who believes that abortion should be legal and permissible is not united with Catholics who believe that the dignity of all life is both inherent and essential, including the dignity of unborn person.  Obama surely realizes this, too.

Where does this leave us? Hoping for a brighter tommorrow. As citizens of a vibrant and varied democracy, we must continue to engage in vigorous debate. As members of the mystical body of Christ we must engage in vigilant prayer, for the inborn, for our nations, for our Presidents and Prime Ministers, for our Pope and for the light of Truth.

Sources:

Papal Address to Envoy from New Zealand

http://www.zenit.org/rssenglish-26052

Obama’s commencment address at Notre Dame:

http://www.whitehouse.gov/blog/In-Praise-of-Fair-Minded-Words-at-Notre-Dame/

According to George MacDonald, the two pillars of ‘political correctness’ are willful ignorance and a steadfast refusal to face the truth.  Interestingly, those who are politically correct often denounce those who are ‘politically incorrect’ as being ignorant and unwilling to face the truth.  The problem with feeling a need to either follow or fight any norm is that it places a damaging emphasis on arriving at a certain conclusion.  It places the cart before the horse and contravenes the scientific method.  Ignorance, or the failure to inform oneself of relevant evidence, will often lead to incorrect assertions of fact or truth.  Whether these conclusions are correct or not has no bearing on whether it is politically correct – political correctness is an independent variable.  What does matter is whether the desire to reach a certain conclusion affects the evidence analyzed and the conclusions drawn.  Thus, end-driven analysis has the potential to subvert truth, placing it at the epitome of ignorance.  This ignorance can befall those bearing both monikers.

Of course, none of us can ever assess all the data or know all the evidence.  Confucius says: “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.”  Even for the most accomplished scientists assessing the most nuanced hypothesis, an over-readiness to derive conclusions of fact from evidence which is merely suggestive will leave them susceptible to error.  For most of us, our vulnerability to deception is greater: we are forced to place a large degree of reliance on the opinions of others.  This doesn’t mean that we ought to be precluded from stating opinions.  What it does suggest is that it is inappropriate to describe the ‘political’ opinion of another as ignorant when this attack is directed at the conclusion they’ve reached and not on the manner in which they reached it.

I felt inspired to write the above paragraphs yesterday, but struggled to find an appropriate conclusion. I wasn’t satisfied with how it all tied together, electing to only post the entry on walkingtheway.ca. It’s interesting how God works, directing us even when we are oblivious to His plans.  This morning, by happenstance, I came across a quote from Barrack Obama’s address to the convoking class at Notre Dame:  

“Is it possible for us to join hands in common effort? As citizens of a vibrant and varied democracy, how do we engage in vigorous debate? How does each of us remain firm in our principles, and fight for what we consider right, without demonizing those with just as strongly held convictions on the other side?

…

Understand — I do not suggest that the debate surrounding abortion can or should go away. No matter how much we may want to fudge it — indeed, while we know that the views of most Americans on the subject are complex and even contradictory — the fact is that at some level, the views of the two camps are irreconcilable. Each side will continue to make its case to the public with passion and conviction. But surely we can do so without reducing those with differing views to caricature.”

To a large extent Obama is correct - the two sides of the abortion debate are irreconcilable.  “Abortion is always wrong” and “aborting a child is always right” are mutually exclusive stances.  Vigorous debate where each camp makes its case on abortion is exactly what western society needs.  This debate needs to occur with passion and respect.  What we do not need is for those involved to remain firm in their convictions.  We need a conviction to discover truth and fact, regardless of whether that points to the conclusion that the person involved in the dialectic originally desired.  If we merely remain committed to our convictions, society will never overcome either the division present or the ignorance.

Let us pray that Obama’s words are a harbinger of true debate and that God will open the hearts of our nations to the truth. 

Sources:

http://www.lifesitenews.com/ldn/2009/may/09052104.html