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Commendations and comments (1) How excited I was to receive the first issue of the University Concourse! I have several comments: The Editorial Board, Editorial Assistants and Board of Advisers are all respectable and even admirable individuals. The layout and design are excellent. I agree with Dr. Crosby. During my four years as a nursing major at FUS, it was evident that many of my peers (not all of them) lacked knowledge of fundamental truths. Their ideas and opinions seemed often (not always) based on emotion or on what they had been "told," rather than on their own understanding of truth. On ecumenism: Are we tending toward Christian worldwide unity or Catholic worldwide unity? I wonder: Did Jesus Christ come to draw us more closely to Him through any Christian denomination we choose out of love God? Why did He celebrate the Last Supper and walk the Way of the Cross and die for our sins, if we may have faith and love Him under any denomination? Did the Church change its doctrine to say that there is eternal salvation outside the Catholic Church? Have Catholics been relieved of their responsibilities to bring those outside the Church to the fullness of Truth, Faith and Grace? If one is horrified by a lack of Catholic purpose during the "Preach Out" does this imply one is prejudiced toward Christian brothers and sisters? Ecumenism demands caution. Let us be sure that when we act to embrace our "separated bretheren," we act out of correct Catholic consciences and not out of false and undiscriminating enthusiasm. Let us pray for the love and courage to always declare the truth of the Catholic Faith.
Christine Boyle, Class of '94
St. Thomas and freedom: a reply to Richard Gordon In my article appearing in the February 27 issue of the Concourse I sought to make two points: that there is a Christian Philosophy and that the Church prefers St. Thomas. Then I invited Franciscan University to prefer what the Church prefers. I had hoped my closing statement about a "preference which is not exclusivism" and my references to popes saying basically the same, should have laid any fears to rest. So, while substantially agreeing with Mr. Gordon as regards the freedom of philosophical schools in the Church, I should like to make some observations on the issues he raised in his response (March 12 issue) to my article. To begin, I do not think it is inappropriate to refer to Church statements about philosophy. Mr. Gordon sought to prove what he called the unhelpfulness of my survey by conducting one of his own--not in an area of great unanimity as I did, but in the very difficult area of religious freedom. This is perplexing, because from the fact that some surveys pose difficulties it does not follow that surveys as such are unhelpful, and because a superficial treatment of a sensitive area (which careful consideration would show to be less problematic than appears at first sight) does nothing but relativize the Magisterium. To my mind, if the Church deemed it "inappropriate" or "unhelpful" for one to consider her constant mind on a matter, She would simply remain silent on that matter. At any rate, my premise in surveying the Church's constant mind on St. Thomas was that her trustworthiness extends to philosophical matters. Regarding Newman, I think it is a bit much to say that he "felt no real need to study Thomas." The brilliant Cardinal seems to have known Thomas well enough to assert that "all good Catholics must feel it a first necessity that (their) intellectual exercises ... should be grafted on the Catholic Tradition of philosophy, and should not start from a novel and simply original tradition, but should be substantially one with the teachings of St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, St. Anselm and St. Thomas..."(1) Elsewhere he went so far as to write (a compliment both to Thomas and himself): "I have no suspicion and do not anticipate, that I shall be found in substance to disagree with St. Thomas."(2) Many passages could be cited where he refers to Thomas in terms of highest praise or where he uses Thomas to expound a point, but space constraints make this impossible. A similar study could be done in the case of Blessed Edith Stein. As regards the Franciscan rule: I think it would be going too far to say that if a Franciscan saw in St. Thomas what the Church sees in him, he could not prefer him as She does. Nevertheless, in our concrete situation we are not talking about displacing Franciscan Philosophy from the primacy it has at FUS, unless you want to call Husserl, Scheler and Von Hildebrand Franciscan philosophers. At FUS it is not that we have a Franciscan philosophy and thus cannot give primacy to St. Thomas. We have a philosophy, rather, that sees it as axiomatic that it ought not give preference to any tradition. Mr. Gordon raised several other points. I am unable to deal with them adequately due to space constraints. But a concern Phenomenologists raise remains. They hold that it is dangerous to treat anyone as a master (meaning, I presume, treating anyone's work as a closed system), for this would pose the danger of giving a system primacy over reality. But in seeking to avoid this danger, the Phenomenological approach has fallen into the opposite danger of historical isolation (apparent in the short and exclusive bibliographies characteristic of Phenomenological works) for which it has rightly been criticized. Is it possible to strike a balance? I think John Paul II has struck it, adopting Thomas' own open, realistic historical approach. As John Paul II sees it, giving preference to St. Thomas (which entails a thorough knowledge of that master) in no way undermines but actually strengthens his power to be open to reality, revealed and natural. Thomas does not sacrifice experience for the historical nor the historical for experience, because reality is too great to be captured by either. The growing knowledge of reality is a common enterprise of mankind, not an isolated experience. And if one should say that a freedom unhindered by any tradition is necessary for one to make a contribution, I would simply observe that one need not be hindered but can actually see further standing on the shoulders of giants (consider what would be the development of any discipline that systematically refused to do this). One should not value the unhindered preservation of his own rivulet above being part of that great river of the common intellectual enterprise of humanity. John Paul II does not fear to ride this great torrent where philosophically St. Thomas has the primacy. He shows this continually, bringing this patrimony to bear on the crucial issues of our time (as he masterfully applies it, for example, to morality in Veritatis Splendor). The key is in seeing St. Thomas not as embodying a closed system, but a "realistic and historic method, fundamentally 'optimistic and open."(3) In promoting "the master of philosophical and theological universalism"(4) the Church is evidently not promoting a closed system. The balance of the experiential and historical which he embodies, while more challenging than an a mostly experiential approach, is in the end better for both philosophy and theology. Building solidly on this patrimony actually preserves us from a much greater danger that could be termed the "occupational hazard" of philosophers: to absolutize one's experience at the cost not just of historical isolation, but of isolation from the Catholic Faith. Such was the unfortunate case of Max Scheler, the Phenomenologist most admired by the Pope, who converted to Catholicism but later abandoned the Faith, adopting a kind of pantheism. The notion that we need not fear falling--and falling quite low--is overly optimistic. On the other hand, when the Church declares someone the "Common doctor" it is sign that he is not to be feared. Rather, I would say, those who would spread fear about him should be feared. And if one still feels the temptation to relativize: let us recall that from among all the approaches the Church could have made primary (not exclusive) in her dialogue with the world, She has freely chosen--and chooses--Thomas' because, presumably, it is the best. I think on this basis and not on that of any partisan spirit the Church prefers St. Thomas. And so I renew my invitation to Franciscan University to make her own the preference the Church has made her own.
Edy Morel de la Prada, MA Theology program
Rock music and Catholic culture Hey, man! ( Thump--thum-m-m-h-h!) a, you know, like, (Thump--thum-m-m-h-h!) totally, like, awesome (Thump--thum-m-m-h-h!) first issues of (Thump-thum-m-m-h-h!) Concourse! Whoops--had to turn off the rock-n-roll! It's really hard to write--let alone speak or think clearly with that idiot noise going on! But the banality of rock music is what most of those born after 1940 were raised--even force-fed--on, to the exclusion of good music. We have, therefore, a generation which has mostly lost the ability to appreciate the gentle, the soft and the beautiful. Instead we have an increasingly mind-numbed, deafened and blinded populace; blind to what they've lost in beauty and freedom; blind to decency; blind to their own faults and their own sinful path to destruction. Perhaps the most distressing aspect of the continuing discussion of rock vs. real music is the fact that we are seriously discussing the artistic value of different forms of rock music among the most brilliant minds at Franciscan University. It is analogous to wine connoisseurs comparing the ambiance of Mogn David 20-20 with Richard's Wild Irish Rose; or artists comparing the puerile dabblings of the insane Picasso to the works of Jackson Pollock. Even the best of modern music is, like modern art, simplistic, often mind-numbing and often immoral. Somebody the other day actually said that Elton John would go down in history as another Mozart. Hah! While we're at it, let's compare the Beatles to Bach! The complexity of even Thirties and Forties big band music required a discipline that few today could master. The best that can be said of rock is that some rock is not as twisted as other rock--it can hardly be compared with the music of the past. The dumbing down to depravity of America is definitely the devil's doing--and rock music must take its share of the blame for the reduced ability to appreciate (or even think about) the finer things. Don't get me wrong. It is legitimate to enjoy some modern music along with other simple pursuits; but let's not confuse the merely entertaining with the intrinsically good. Mary McElwee makes a good and similar point in the second issue of the Concourse with her comments on modern architecture. Today's America can no longer produce architectural products with the complexity and craftsmanship which were hallmarks of Western culture until modern times. In the "bad old days," intact Steubenville families could live within walking distance of work and Church, in a house with real oak banisters and trim made of real and wide boards--and go to Mass at St. Peter's. Today we have houses with cardboard walls, plastic siding with shabby facades, which are either devoid of character and warmth or else done up with phony and poorly proportioned "classical" detail. And the shabbiness of today's homes pales in comparison to the desecration of our churches into things that more closely resemble caves or factories than the cruciform cathedrals of old. All around us today we see disappearing in Steubenville architectural detail which common, everyday workmen used to produce for other common, everyday workmen to enjoy in their homes--thousands of them in a city now starting to resemble Mogadishu. This degradation is the outcome of our modern, debased culture of which modern music is one part. All of these things conspire to drive out reverence, appreciation of beauty and the ability to think clearly in a culture that desperately needs reverence, thoughtfulness, and beauty. Von Hildebrand makes the case for the Tridentine Mass as a case for reverence in The Charity of Anathema. It is hard to be reverent with the banal. We have today an irreverent culture of idiots who must be told that it is dangerous to stand on the top step of a ladder--one third of whom can no longer even read that warning label (nor read their useless government-school diplomas.) We have idiots who sit in front of TV and who look for (when they care at all) quick fixes to their problems--problems they blame universally upon others; problems they demand that government-their-god fix. Those of us who still have the capacity to appreciate it must try to recapture the art and music of the past (we are not presently able as a culture to produce any worthy music or art of our own!) and pass it on to our children. All of this makes a core curriculum in our Western culture more important than ever. We are indeed a "light upon a hill" but our mission is daunting. Only prayer that supports us in our sure knowledge that Jesus Christ is King makes all things possible.
Michael H. Smith, (Non-traditional) Freshman, Political Science major.
Core curriculum and anti-intellectualism As a recent graduate, I want to affirm Dr. Crosby's efforts toward establishing a real core curriculum at Franciscan University. The need for a core was not really apparent to me until my final semester. I was in the Honors program, had traveled to Gaming for a semester, and was involved in student life on campus. In addition to my double major in history and theology I took 12 hours of philosophy, a few excellent English courses from Dr. Alexander and Mr. Gaston's superb "Religion and Culture" course. When I left the University I thought I had a wonderful background in liberal arts and in Western culture. I was correct. As I prepare to receive my Master's degree in American History from the University of Alabama this May, I am extremely appreciative of my undergraduate education. But I also realize that I am somewhat of an exception. Most friends from school and classmates of mine have a very poor understanding of Catholic history, tradition and culture--despite having attended the premier orthodox Catholic university in the country. Why? Mostly because they were never pressed to take the more difficult liberal arts classes, and thus lost the opportunity to learn about their Catholic heritage. I argue two things: that a core curriculum of 60 hours in the liberal arts would enhance the mission of the University, and that the anti-intellectualism present on the campus must be eradicated. Why does our University exist? Undoubtedly, to transmit the beautiful heritage of Western civilization and Catholic culture to those caught in the current culture war against Catholic truth. In order to do this, some basic knowledge of Western civilization and Catholicism must be transmitted to the students. Although some might take issue with me for treating the liberal arts in such a pragmatic fashion, I hold fast to my belief that a good liberal arts education has practical effects on our culture. I agree with Kathleen van Schaijik's February 27 editorial, in which she criticized "the idea that education consists primarily in the transmission of a given body of knowledge." I concede her point that the goal of education is to train people to think in reference to the truth. But if we are to restore Catholic culture to a world that hates it, we will need some familiarity with its specific contents. For instance, how could a person begin to understand Catholic culture in the West without first understanding in some degree the history of the West? It is in this learning, in this enculturation--to use Christopher Dawson's term--that vital information is given to students. Without this information the task of the educated Catholic is greatly hampered. The second issue I want to raise concerns the atmosphere of anti-intellectualism at FUS. There is an attitude among students that prayer and learning somehow conflict. Many students I knew were at the University for a four year retreat paid for by Dad. Some told me that their primary purpose in being there was to perfect their Christian living, even at the "expense" of their studies. To illustrate further, allow me to relate an experience I had in the Spring of 1993--one of the most intellectually stimulating semesters I spent at FUS. During that semester a conference on Christian Humanism was held--a wonderful event. It was poorly attended by the student body, despite the presence of renowned scholars and intellects. When I asked someone why he did not attend, he answered with a diatribe against learning, saying that the University was going down the tubes because people were studying more, instead of increasing their prayer lives. At the time, I did not have the heart to quote Aquinas, who said, "In knowing and loving man reaches God Himself." After that semester the intellectual level of the campus seemed to drop significantly. I wondered why. The anti-intellectualism, spawned perhaps by a faulty (dare I say Protestant?) idea of faith, is a danger which students must fight if the University is to be at the cutting edge of informed Catholic orthodoxy and culture in America. Some fear that if the core curriculum is passed the University will become "elitist" and will no longer a home for students with lesser intellects. But why is this a problem? Isn't the whole idea of a university to provide higher (i.e. above the norm) education to students? FUS must fight to be a university in the traditional Western sense of the word. It must fight against both the modern obsession with specialization and the tendency to transform universities into vocational schools. A core curriculum of 60 hours in basic courses in the liberal arts would greatly advance the goal of creating a university more solidly within the Catholic tradition.
Adam L. Tate, Class of '94
Speaking of connaturality, (see "St. Thomas and Catholic connaturality" in this issue) Dr. Waldstein has made an important point apropos of the NFP discussion. Last week he wrote me the following: "When one makes the distinction between actions that are the fruit of careful and prayerful moral reasoning and actions that are mechanical, one should perhaps emphasize a tertium quid: namely, actions that flow from a connaturality with what is good: St. Elizabeth of Hungary gave alms to beggars out of an intense connaturality with Christ and His mercy. Such actions seem similar to those that proceed from careful and prayerful reflection in being truly morally good actions, and yet also similar to mechanical ones in being immediate and spontaneous, without requiring reasoning." He zeros right in on a weakness I had sensed (without being able to articulate it to myself) in my original article. My criticism of "providentialism" left the impression that married couples best live out their vocation when they consciously deliberate over the number of children they should have. Dr. Waldstein reminds me that many live by a more spontaneous conformity with the divine plan for family life--without conscious "discernment" about family size, but nonetheless with a free and responsible openness to and trust in God's perfect providence. It seems to me that NFP can be part of this connatural union with goodness--i.e. when it is practiced by couples who, without delving minutely into the the doctrinal question or worrying about whether their reasons are grave enough, spontaneously recognize its blessing for their family and receive it with gratitude. My thanks for a insight which enriches the discussion and at the same time gently corrects a mis-placed emphasis in my position. Meanwhile, his letter also raised the intriguing question of the role of communities in developing connaturality, which I hope will be taken up with more completeness by him and others in future issues of the Concourse. I am wondering particularly about the relation between the charismatic renewal--with its strong emphasis on discerning God's will--and the break-down of "normal" Catholic culture and parish life. In some ways it seems to me that the conscious awareness of and cooperation with God's plan for our individual lives, which is so characteristic of those in the renewal, represents a definite advance in the lived-faith of Catholics. (This is particularly evident among the numerous youth in the renewal, who not only consider themselves Catholics, but who deeply and ardently desire to lay down their lives for God.) But at the same time, I think it can be seen as a sort of "unusual" gift of grace given (perhaps only for a time) to help the faithful survive the emergency situation of the anti-Christian culture of the day, and all the time intended to lead us to the re-establishment of an unselfconscious, connatural communal life of faith. Would love to read others' thoughts on this.
Kathleen van Schaijik, Class of '88
St. Thomas and Catholic connaturality The debate being carried on in the Concourse about the role of St. Thomas in a Catholic university is fascinating. Excellent points, it seems to me, are being made on both sides. As the debate goes back and forth about the precise meaning of the Church's teaching on St. Thomas, an immediate practical point should not be overlooked. However one interprets the Church's teaching, one thing is abundantly clear and beyond dispute, namely, that St. Thomas should be read, and read extensively. He ought to be a dear and beloved teacher to whom one turns, and turns frequently. As a graduate of the Phenomenological Ph.D. program guided by Josef Seifert, as a biblical scholar and as a theologian devoted particularly to Hans Urs von Balthasar, I have been formed in many ways that do not directly derive from St. Thomas. Yet it is without any doubt my duty, and a joyful duty (analogous to the duty to be open to life in marriage), to study St. Thomas. St. Thomas may appear on occasion dry and forbidding, but beneath everything he writes there is a deep and living twofold source, namely, the wisdom which is the fruit of extraordinary intelligence and study and the wisdom which is a gift of the Holy Spirit. He himself describes this double fountain of wisdom wonderfully: "...wisdom denotes a certain rightness of judgment in accord with divine principles. Now rightness of judgment is twofold: first, in accord with the complete use of reason, second, on account of a certain connaturality with the matter about which one has to judge. Thus, about matters of chastity, a man after inquiring with his reason forms a right judgment, if he has acquired the knowledge of ethics, while the one who has the virtue of chastity judges of such matter by a kind of connaturality. Accordingly it belongs to the wisdom that is an intellectual virtue to pronounce right judgment about divine things after reason has made its inquiry, but it belongs to wisdom as a gift of the Holy Spirit to judge aright about them on account of connaturality with them. Thus Dionysius says (Div. Nom.ii), 'The man of God is complete in divine things, not only by learning, but also by suffering divine things (patiens divina).' Suffering with God and connaturality with God (compassio et connaturalitas) is the result of charity, which unites us to God, according to 1 Cor.6:17: Anyone united to the Lord becomes one Spirit with him. Consequently wisdom which is a gift, has its cause in the will, which cause is charity, but it has its essence in the intellect, whose act is to judge aright, as stated above." (Summa Theol., II-II, q.45, a.2). To turn to a teacher who is a fount of wisdom of both kinds and who is recommended by the Church for this very reason--who would refuse such an invitation? Who would refuse to embrace such a teacher? What Catholic university would not give him a prominent place in its core curriculum? If being a "Thomist" means loving St. Thomas and embracing him as a teacher, to become connatural with him, then, whether I call myself a Phenomenologist or a Balthasarian, I want to be a Thomist as well. I want to be a Thomist because I want to "suffer with" and "be connatural with" Christ in the Catholic Church. It may be helpful to make available for general scrutiny the following article: Santiago Ramirez, "The Authority of St. Thomas Aquinas," Thomist 15 (1952) 1-109. Ramirez's own conclusions from Papal texts are often debatable, but the article is very useful, because it conveniently assembles many of the relevant Papal texts, including texts not easily available otherwise, e.g., sections of a letter addressed by Leo XIII to the Minister General of the Friars Minor (Ramirez, p.59).
Michael Waldstein, Assistant Professor, Program of Liberal Studies, University of Notre Dame
© The University Concourse, March 26, 1996 |
