An Interview with Dr. Anthony Fauci ‘62: Perspectives, Policy… and the Pardon

During his recent residency at Holy Cross, representatives from the Fenwick Review and the Spire had the opportunity to sit with Dr. Anthony Fauci ‘62 for an on-the-record conversation. We asked Dr. Fauci about the value of the humanities, the impact of COVID-19 policy on education, the role of “experts” and federalism in policy making, and his preemptive pardon from former President Biden.

Liam Murphy: A lot of students today who plan to go into medicine would find having a classics or humanities background inconceivable or unnecessary, because of academic specialization. Do you think something is lost there with that sort of disregard for a holistic, humanities education?

Dr. Anthony Fauci: I think it is… When I went to medical school (I went to Cornell Medical School in New York City), and we had a lot of kids in our class, who took pre-med courses that were purely scientific, I mean, there was nothing in the humanities about that at all. [Those students] were great. They were good guys and ladies. You know, they did well, so I don't think it's a sine qua non, that if you don't do that, you're not going to succeed. But I think for individuals depending upon, you know, your own personality, that there's a lot of value added to that, and I think for some people there would be a loss in that. I know it was extremely helpful to me to go into medicine and have a broader look at things… My interest was always curiosity about people, not formulas in physics, or in chemistry, or in biology… The person who was second or third [in my class at Cornell] was a very good friend of mine, who was here with me at the Cross, who did the same AB Classics, Greek pre-med. So out of the top four people there, two of them were from Holy Cross.

LM: On the topic of education, particularly as it concerns COVID policy: Given the effects of COVID-19 lockdowns and policies on education, such as the backward slide in literacy and mathematics skills, do you think that the extent of those measures was entirely justified? With this in mind, would you recommend the same approach if a similar pandemic were to break out in the future?

AF: Okay. I brought this up last night but I’ll repeat it for you for the record. I think anyone who is thinking fairly and not in that blame-game situation would agree universally, that it was absolutely essential to flatten the curve and, quote, “shut down.” I say “shut down,” not “lock down,” because we did not do what other countries did, where essentially, you couldn't even leave your house, you couldn't go to work. I mean, we did GPS monitoring of where people were going. We were not locked down. Schools were closed, so to do that in March, April, and May, when thousands of people per day were dying, when freezer trucks were lining up in front of hospitals because there were too many dead people, you couldn't fit in the ward. Something had to be done. So I think that's incontrovertibly correct. 

What we need to reexamine as we look forward to lessons learned, is how long you kept things shut down, how long you kept the schools closed, how long you stopped work at different places. People don't remember, and there's a lot of slings and arrows thrown at me, but if you go back, and I ask people to do that and they say, “You closed the schools! And you did that!” Go back and go to YouTube and look at what I was saying in the fall of 2020, what I was saying a thousand times: “Open the schools as quickly and as safely as possible. Open the schools, close the bars…” So, when we go back, and I would hope people do that instead of pointing fingers at the teachers union, or pointing fingers at certain local people who kept schools, and factories, and other things closed, examine what the risk-benefit ratio of that is. And what people do [is] lump it all into one. They say we shouldn't have closed anything. The Great Barrington Declaration, which, conceptually and practically, everybody agrees is incorrect. There would have been thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of more deaths. So you shouldn't lump them together, like shut down and how long you shut down. You should say, we should have paused in the spring, when thousands of people were dying, but we need to examine that risk-benefit of how long you kept things shut down.

LM: What do you think about the policy making role of specialized experts, such as scientists, who are not themselves policy makers nor necessarily experts on policy making? And do you think that this role may have been inordinately expanded during COVID, since there might have been factors relevant to policy making which were not part of their areas of expertise?

AF: What a great question. I’m glad you asked that, because that is the subject of a great deal of misunderstanding. The public health officials and the scientists, myself included, we did not make policy. There was the perception that we made policy. We gave the facts and the information, if you [look at] the Trump administration and then the same thing for the Biden administration (I'm not, you know, saying one versus the other)... there was a coronavirus task force that was headed by Debbie Birx, my colleague (I was on the task force), that had on it the Surgeon General and the director of the CDC. We examined the scientific and public health data and said, “This would happen if you flatten the curve, this would happen if you wore a mask.” That was communicated to the Vice President, Pence, who communicated it to the president, who made the decision about what the policy was. 

Now, since I was a communicator, that goes back 38 years to HIV, I was a trusted communicator in public health. I did it with HIV, I did it with Ebola, I did it with anthrax, I did it with Zika. So I would get up in front of the television and say, here are the kinds of things you should do, you should wear a mask, you should do this. People misinterpreted that I made the policy, and they would ask the same question, Liam, that you're asking: “Should a scientist and a public health person make the policy?” No. The scientific person, the public health person, gathers the data, presents it to the policy maker, and the policy maker makes the policy. It is a major misunderstanding that you have a couple of docs and public health people in a room, deciding, “Okay, we're gonna close your factory.” There isn't a factory in the United States that I closed. There isn't a school in the United States that I closed, and yet there's this prevalent perception that the public health people closed the schools, closed the factories, ruined the economy. That decision was made at a much higher level.

Juan Cortes: Do you believe that federalism, which allows for differences in policy between the states, aided or inhibited the response to the COVID-19 pandemic? For example, states such as New York were more shut down, while Florida was more open. As the pandemic continued, it gave us an observation of how policy variations influence outcome.

AF: Yeah, a very sad observation. Federalism, which, as you know, dates back to the birth of our country, reflects the diversity throughout, regionally, culturally, ethnically. We have an enormous country that you're all aware of. You know, there are a lot of differences depending upon where you live, what the resources are in a particular region of the country. New York City versus Mississippi and San Francisco versus Florida. So federalism or the “states’ rights,” as it were, has an important contribution to being sensitive to diversity. However, when you're dealing with a pandemic that equally kills somebody in Maine as it does in Texas, then, unfortunately, the idea of individual decisions about how you're gonna do things as opposed to taking something that would [be standard, like:] people should get vaccinated. We know vaccinations have saved (this isn't me making it up), clearly saved three to five million people in the United States and 15 to 20 million people worldwide. That's not TikTok. That's not social media. That's a fact, okay? Yet, because of the differences… between a red state and a blue state, it is tragic that… the political association is that if you are Republican, it's much less likely you will wear a mask or get vaccinated than if you are a Democrat. That's not conjecture, that's a fact. Another fact is that if you live in a red state versus a blue state, you will have a greater chance of getting hospitalized or dying from COVID. So here's where you have a situation where what should be a sensitivity to diversity leads to people dying. So when people die because of that difference, then you've got a question that maybe this is a point where the strict adherence to, “Okay, if you're in Wyoming and you don't want to wear a mask, but you're in New York City and you want to wear a mask” [is worse than] saying, “We're going through a pandemic together as a nation, let's do the most scientifically correct and scientifically sound thing.” That did not happen. And that, I think, is one of the contributions to what I mentioned last night, that it is tragic and astounding that the richest country in the world had 1.2 million deaths, and on a per capita basis, we were one of the worst two or three countries in the world in deaths. What is wrong with that picture, you know? But it is the truth.

JC: What precedent do you think your preemptive pardon from President Biden sets? Do you think measures like this are necessary to protect experts from political backlash?

AF: The pardon is a very sensitive issue… Preemptive pardons, there's a potential negative aspect to that. President Biden did a preemptive pardon because there was something that was happening that was unprecedented. And what was unprecedented was a presidential candidate who said publicly, “I am your vengeance, I am your retribution. I am going to punish people who disagreed with me.” He didn't hint that, he said it. So that triggered the idea of a preemptive pardon. 

However, there is an issue, that that could backfire, because then… in subsequent situations people might assume that I can do anything I want in a public position, as long as somebody's gonna preemptively pardon me. So, on the one hand, it's a positive thing because it protects people from unjust attacks on them when they clearly have done nothing wrong. On the other hand, it has the potential to shield people who intend to do things wrong. So it's a double-edged sword. I'm not at all one-hundred-percent comfortable with the idea of pardon. I mean, I didn't ask for a pardon. That's very clear because I said, that could hint to some people that I did something wrong. But the attorneys in the White House said, “In the weight of all things balancing, do it,” and they were very, very adamant about that. It wasn't like two guys said “yes,” and one lady said “no,” it was one-hundred-percent, “do it.” But I didn't ask for it.

Cover image by Christopher Michel, Wikimedia, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anthony_Fauci_in_2023_02_(cropped).jpg.

My Interview with Fr. Nguyen

n.b. This interview was held in the Fall 2024 semester.

Last semester, I had the honor of interviewing Fr. Nguyen, S.J., the newest edition to the Jesuit community. Fr. Nguyen was born in Saigon, Vietnam, and grew up in Chicago. He holds a Ph.D. in Theology from the University of St. Michael’s College and an S.T.D from Regis College, both at the University of Toronto, and entered the Jesuits in 1997. Academically, his focus is on the intersection of twentieth-century Christian martyrdom and totalitarianism. He is an expert on the German Jesuit Alfred Delp and the German-Jewish philosopher and Carmelite nun Edith Stein, two martyrs of the Second World War. Fr. Nguyen was on the Holy Cross Board of Trustees from 2017 to 2022, and was a professor at Creighton University before teaching at the College. Spiritually, Fr. Nguyen enjoys giving Ignatian retreats and ministering to students. A fun fact about Fr. Nguyen is that he has a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and in the past he has dabbled in judo, wrestling, and boxing. He feels that his training in martial arts has greatly strengthened his discipline and resilience.

For the first part of the interview, I asked Fr. Nguyen about the classes he is teaching. We decided to focus on one class in particular, an intro-level course called “Theology of Christian Martyrdom. In the first half of the semester, he told me that his purpose was to lay out “the spiritual and logical foundations for Christian martyrdom, which is grounded in Scripture and the early Church martyrs such as Sts. Perpetua, Felicity, and Ignatius of Antioch.” To provide his class with a Scriptural foundation for martyrdom, he used the example of the Beatitudes and showed that the early Church martyrs “embody the Scriptural injunctions to take up one’s cross.”

For the second half of the semester, Fr. Nguyen led students in discussions about the role of martyrdom in contemporary society, with a particular focus on totalitarian regimes. He showed his class that martyrdom becomes “more important and more difficult” in totalitarian regimes because they “take away your capacity to do [what is] good and right, by taking away the capacity to think on your own.” Fr. Nguyen also discussed the essential role of prayer in the lives of martyrs. He hoped to show his class that through frequent prayer,“you have an interior life from which you can draw resources from when times are challenging.” He remarked that if one has an “inner sanctuary,” no one, not even a totalitarian regime, can violate it, thus its importance for those who desire to take up the cross of martyrdom.

Fr. Nguyen’s class also touched on the martyrs of Nazism. The first figure he presented to his class was Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whom he described as “the most salient example of someone who resisted the fascist regime.” Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor who openly opposed Nazism, started an underground seminary for Lutheran men who hoped to become authentic ministers of God’s Word, unaffected by Nazi censorship. He also taught his class about Edith Stein, a Catholic who was executed by the Nazis due to her Jewish ancestry. Furthermore, he familiarized his class with the White Rose movement, a non-violent, student-led intellectual resistance group in Nazi Germany which originated at the University of Munich. Often, the movement would meet within the basements of professors’ home to read and discuss banned books, an act which Fr. Nguyen compared to contemplative prayer: “You withdraw from the world, not because you want to escape from the world but because you want to keep yourself pure for the sake of the world.” Just as contemplatives pray for the world and bring hope during hard times by holding fast to their faiths, the figures in the White Rose movement helped the world by protecting themselves from Nazi corruption and maintaining their integrity as intellectuals and thinkers unperverted by Nazi censorship.

When Fr. Nguyen and I had finished chatting about his class, we turned to discussing his experiences with students so far. Fr. Nguyen said that during his time on the Board of Trustees, he had some sense of the student body, but that his “understanding of the types of student [at Holy Cross] has grown since this time.” He remarked that he feels “very privileged to be here because [he is] surrounded by students who appear to be motivated by discussing and debating ideas.” He said that he views the class atmosphere at Holy Cross as “formative and not simply transactional.”

However, Fr. Nguyen remarked that he has witnessed some attitudes from students that express quite the reverse: to some, class is only necessary as a means to obtaining a degree.  In his view, this attitude misses the point of a liberal arts education, which ought to be formative rather than solely practical. College ought to be a formative time in one’s life, yet in some cases the formation of the classroom has become secondary to the practical benefits of the college degree. However, overall, his sense of the students at Holy Cross is that they enjoy “soaking up, reflecting, and criticizing ideas,” a refreshing reality.

Fr. Nguyen mentioned that he sees himself as “a scholar, teacher, and priest.” He commented that these three dimensions have created a “fun tension” in his life, but that his identity as a priest is the most important of them all and helps to anchor the others. Fr. Nguyen described his work as labor in the vineyard of academia, ultimately in service to the Church. He said that his different roles intersect in the “formation of students and [in] helping them unfold into the person they are meant to be.” 

I then asked Fr. Nguyen about his process of adjustment to his new Jesuit community at Holy Cross. He revealed that his community of Jesuits is  “very easy-going,” and fondly referred to his brothers as “lovely men.” To him, Fr. Bill Reiser is a figure who emulates wisdom, and Fr. John Gavin has helped him to “enculturate into all things Holy Cross.” As far as Jesuit dynamics go, Fr. Nguyen also offered a glance into his nighttime routine. Being a night owl himself, Fr. Nguyen shared that he enjoys partaking in “second desserts” with Fr. Reiser and Fr. Bill Clark, late night snacks consisting of milk and cookies (and sometimes cake). Another important relationship is the one he shares with Fr. Brent Otto because he is also new to living in the community and teaching at Holy Cross, although Fr. Otto also has past experience with the College, having graduated in 2001. Fr. Nguyen joked that teaching and living in a new Jesuit community here on the Hill is his and Fr. Otto's “first time in the trenches.”  

Furthermore, Fr. Nguyen described the Jesuit community at Holy Cross as being very monastic, since study and research are major parts of the Ignatian contemplative tradition. Concerning the relationship between study and prayer, he remarked, “there's an asceticism where there’s a love for scholarship.” By this, he meant that the life of a scholar-priest is not without sacrifice, and the Jesuits must sometimes forgo enjoyment in order to prioritize their duties. His brother Jesuits focus on transforming their work into prayer, which he believes is essential to the spiritual and intellectual lives of the College. According to Fr. Nguyen, the Jesuits are “scholars, teachers, and priests,” priesthood providing the foundation for the other roles to thrive. 

Finally, I asked Fr. Nguyen about his favorite theologians and saints. We began by discussing his favorite theologians: Hans Urs von Balthasar, Judith Wolfe, and Edith Stein. Hans Urs von Balthasar (1905-1988) was a Swiss theologian and priest whose systematic theology influenced the Church in the post-Vatican II era. Fr. Nguyen appreciates von Balthasar’s emphasis on “beauty as a transcendental,” and the idea that beauty is a revelation of God’s divine essence. He admires Judith Wolfe (b. 1979-), a professor in the School of Divinity at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, for her work on the importance of imagination in theological discourse. Professor Wolfe’s research focuses are eschatology, the imagination, and how theology, philosophy, art, literature, and psychology interact. Her most recent publication is The Theological Imagination, a book which posits that Christian theology offers a powerful way of imagining the world around us.

Fr. Nguyen’s favorite theologian and favorite saint is Edith Stein because of her challenge to twentieth-century German academia as a woman and a Jew , as well as her emphasis on “the need for an empathetic encounter in the classroom.” Edith Stein, also known as St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (1891-1942), was a German philosopher, nun, and martyr. Stein was raised Jewish, became an atheist as a young adult, and converted to Catholicism in 1922 after reading the writings of St. Teresa of Avila, a sixteenth-century Doctor of the Church and mystic. Stein was one of the first women in Germany to get a PhD in Philosophy, yet she was refused a faculty position in the philosophy department at the University of Münster because she was a woman, and in 1933 was forced to resign from the faculty of pedagogy at the University by the Nazis because she was Jewish.  

In the same year, Stein entered the Carmelites and became a Discalced Carmelite nun. Although her decision to join the Carmelites was not inspired by her German-Jewish identity, the Carmelites’ coat of arms features the Star of David, and the Carmelite Order is heavily inspired by the prophet Eliah, a major figure from the Hebrew Bible. Fr. Nguyen emphasized that Stein “never stopped pursuing truth.” He compared her to Socrates, who was not afraid to die for the sake of truth. Although Stein had many chances to escape her suffering and death at the hands of the Nazi regime, she bravely faced her death because “she was wedded to the Cross.” Fr. Nguyen said that although von Balthasar, Wolfe, and Stein are different, they "all intertwine; beauty, imagination, and empathetic encounter” are meant to help young people perceive the world with values.

Peter Kreeft on "The Great Divorce"

At the end of the 2024 Fall semester, our book club welcomed Professor Peter Kreeft to speak on C.S. Lewis. Professor Kreeft teaches philosophy at Boston College and has authored over eighty books covering topics ranging from Zen Buddhism to Martin Heidegger, as well as philosophical dialogues featuring Marx, Socrates, and John F. Kennedy. When he arrived at Holy Cross donning a suit and purple tie, I asked him if he had done so intentionally as a nod to our school colors. He quickly insisted the tie choice was mere coincidence. Although Peter Kreeft is a giant in the Catholic philosophical world, he knew perfectly how to relate to an audience of college students. 

The lecture was attended by twenty philosophically and theologically inclined students, the majority of whom had been attending weekly meetings covering C.S. Lewis’s 1945 classic, The Great Divorce. In the three weeks leading up to Kreeft’s talk, the group met for one hour on Fridays to share food, fellowship, and thoughts provoking discussion on the chapters we had read. The novella follows an unnamed narrator as he makes the journey (via cosmic bus) from a dull and grey Purgatory to the ethereal outskirts of Heaven. The narrator witnesses souls balk at the idea of entering Heaven, preferring to distance themselves from God and return back to Purgatory (or Hell, depending on how you look at it). Up at the podium, Kreeft expounded effortlessly about the book, crystalizing and deepening the insights we had made together during club meetings. He included jokes and anecdotes that kept the audience engaged, and drew connections between the Bible, Dante, and other works by Lewis. Kreeft covered the main themes of the book: free will and God’s judgment of sin. God in his infinite patience and wisdom, Kreeft said, allows his stupid children to make the same mistakes over and over again so that we may come to him and ask for forgiveness. This gets to the heart of C.S. Lewis’s book: the shades in Heaven are given ample opportunity to accept God’s love, only to turn it down in favor of prideful pursuits. 

After the talk, Professor Kreeft stayed for a while to talk to the students, a courtesy we were all grateful for. 
Book club meetings will continue later this month, copies of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment will be provided for any Holy Cross student interested. Feel free to contact me at tgange26@g.holycross.edu.

Encountering “the Lonely and Afflicted” – A Catholic Approach to Mental Health

In June and July, I had the opportunity to take a summer session course with Prof. Peter Fay titled “Christian Ethics and Mental Illness.” It was a revelatory experience – one that enriched my limited understanding of how Catholicism presents itself to stand for and with the afflicted.  

In Genesis 1:27, God created human beings in His image and likeness to be happy, whole, and life-giving. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus gently invites all who labor and are burdened to find rest in Him (Matthew 11:28-30). Similarly, in John’s Gospel, Jesus emphasizes the relationship He seeks with His followers (John 15:4-5). Grounded in God’s Word, Catholics must look to His example to welcome with love and openness all men and women who suffer from mental illness. 

Mental illness is a common and pervasive aspect of human life. Over the last decade – especially since the COVID-19 pandemic – we have seen an alarming increase in depression and suicidal tendencies. In 2023, the CDC estimates that forty-six thousand people died from mental illness. Most were young, most died unnecessarily, and many were among the most gifted that we as a society have. However, despite the ubiquity of mental illness, those who suffer often remain associated with shame and embarrassment, which can prevent people from seeking medical help. 

Indeed, the subject of mental illness tends to bring out a complex humanity. It is an unfortunate fact that public awareness lags behind extensive clinical and scientific progress. Although many respond with kindness and generosity, it too often hits a deep vein of fear and prejudice. The vitriol and irrationality of such people can be disturbing. It also advances the conceptualization of mental illness as a spiritual flaw or shortcoming in character. It is appalling to encounter such attitudes more associated with the Middle Ages than with the progressive twenty-first century. 

As followers of Christ, mental health stigma contradicts the theological foundation of the One True Church. Saint Augustine of Hippo – arguably the greatest genius among the Church Fathers – considers the gift of the human intellect in his book City of God. He writes: “What a wondrous thing it is that we have been given the ability to know our world, ourselves, and even, with the help of grace, our God.” He continues: “[Those with mental illness] say and do many incongruous things, things for the most part alien to their intentions and their characters, certainly contrary to their good intentions and characters; and when we think about their words and actions or see them with our eyes, we can scarcely – or possibly we cannot at all – restrain our tears if we consider their situation as it deserves to be considered” (Volume II, Book XXII). 

St. Augustine’s stance on mental illness – and that of Catholic tradition – is clear. He earnestly urges Christians to empathize with those who struggle with mental illness and recognize that their actions often arise from pain and confusion rather than malice or moral deficiency. All too often, lost years and relationships cannot be recovered. The damage done to oneself and others cannot be put right. A person’s desire and will to live gradually erodes into a loss of meaning. Mental illness is a heavy burden, and adding other burdens of shame and dismay onto it only makes it heavier. Rejecting a person because of prejudice is like rejecting the broken and bloody Jesus hanging on the Cross. Therefore, we are each called to love and advocate for the least among us, in all their pain and fragility – just as Christ took all human suffering on Himself. 

Fifteen hundred years later, Saint John Paul II makes a similar point. At an international conference for healthcare workers in 1996, the Pope expressed: “Whoever suffers from mental illness ‘always’ bears God’s image and likeness in himself, as does every human being.” Nothing – not a criticism, experience, or a person – can diminish a person’s God-given dignity. Mental illness readily conforms that person to Christ and gives him a share in His redeeming passion. 

Catholic and Orthodox Christians can look primarily to the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist – the source and summit of God’s radical love. The Sacrament, just like the Resurrection, can transform mental illness from an end to a beginning. The disarming simplicity of the Host is His promise to be with us “always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). 

As the Messiah, Jesus Christ restored meaning to people’s lives. He not only served as a profound teacher but also as a healer to those He encountered. His ministry was marked by healing deeds that transcended mere physical ailments – He addressed the deep emotional and spiritual wounds that too often accompany His beloved children. The Gospel of John challenges all disciples – past and present alike – to do the works Jesus did and “greater [works] than these” (John 14:12). As Catholics, we must ask ourselves what deeds we find ourselves engaged in. Do we restore those around us, or do we rob them of the love given to us by the Divine Physician? 

All this is to say that Prof. Fay’s course was a reminder of what the Church can and does do for those with mental illness and that the Church is called to do more. We are all – as Lord Byron put it – differently organized. We each move within the restraints of our mind and live up only partially to its possibilities. However, it must be noted that some face more hardships than others.

That being so, we are each called to extend our arms wider in openness. We must embrace that same sense of love and inclusion found in the Eucharist for those who suffer from mental illness. If we learn to wholeheartedly walk alongside those who suffer, we can then be models of Christ. No longer confining our ministry to the sick toward those with physical ailments uplifts those with invisible – albeit no less important – illnesses. It is not just His work to love. It is ours. 

Bibliography 

Augustine of Hippo. City of God. Translated by Henry Bettenson, Penguin Classics, 2004.

John Paul II. “International Conference for Healthcare Workers: Illnesses of the Mind.” 1996. 

https://www.ncpd.org/resources_and_toolkits/mental-illness-theological-framework 

Pope Francis. “Homily on the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.” 2020.

“Mental Health.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, U.S. Department of Health and 

Human Services, 2024, www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/mental-health.htm.

“Mental Illness Statistics.” National Institute of Mental Health

www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/mental-illness.

In Defense of Israel: A Response to Juan Cortes’s “Reconsidering Israel”

n.b., Prof Emeritus Schaefer sent us this article in November of 2024.

I regret having to observe that Juan Cortes’s essay advocating a cutoff of American support for Israel is sadly misinformed. To begin with, his criticism of Israel’s current war of self-defense against attacks from Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran lacks any historical context.

First, one must understand how the state of Israel came to be born. The nations of Israel and Jordan, along with adjacent territories, grew out of what was originally part of the Ottoman Empire. Following World War I, Britain established a “mandate” over these territories (as did France over what later became Lebanon and Syria). pledging in its 1917 Balfour Declaration to establish a Jewish state in part of the land. The Jews, having had a continuous presence in what came to be called “Palestine” since antiquity, migrated to the territory, coming especially from Europe, acquiring land by purchase from its inhabitants, not by force. Yet the Jews were assaulted in a series of violent pogroms by local Arab groups, led by a Mufti who became an ally of Adolf Hitler during World War II (and was unsuccessfully pursued as a war criminal by the Western allies after the war). The land’s Jewish population nonetheless grew, especially as those who were able to flee the Nazis’ endeavor at extermination found refuge there.

In 1947 the Jews were authorized by the United Nations to establish a state of their own on a very small territory. But rather than accept its existence, the surrounding Arab nations launched an attack to destroy the new state as soon as it was declared in 1948.

While Israel won its war of independence, Arab nations never accepted its legitimacy. During the 1950s, Egypt, under its socialist dictator Gamal Abdul Nasser, repeatedly launched irregular “fedayeen” attacks against the Jewish state. Meanwhile, Jordan, which held the historic Old City of Jerusalem, where Jews’ most sacred sites were located, destroyed them, and used the Jewish New City for target practice, compelling its partial depopulation.

In 1956 the nations of Britain, France, and Israel launched the Suez war in order to liberate the Suez Canal, critical to world commerce, from Nasser’s control. But they were compelled to withdraw by the Eisenhower administration, eager to improve its image in the so-called “Third World.” Then in 1967 Nasser and leaders of four other Arab nations prepared to launch a war of total destruction against Israel. But again, Israel won (with no American aid, I add). It was as a result of that war that Israel gained control of the Old City of Jerusalem, along with the “Palestinian” territories of the West Bank of the Jordan River and Gaza, and Egypt’s Sinai peninsula. Rather than wishing to retain those territories, Israel repeatedly sought to surrender them (except for Jerusalem’s Old City), in return for a guarantee of peace from its neighbors. But none of them would agree to recognize the Jewish state. Instead, in 1973 they launched the Yom Kippur War (on Judaism’s holiest day), in which Israel averted destruction only with American assistance. And finally, during the Carter administration, Egypt’s president, Anwar Sadat, finally agreed to grant peace and recognition to Israel, in return for the return of the Sinai (which had contained the only oil wells in Jewish-controlled territory). (For his pains, Sadat was assassinated by the Muslim Brotherhood, of which Hamas is an offshoot.)

In the Oslo Accords of 1992, arranged through negotiations with U.S. representatives, Yasser Arafat, leader of the terrorist Palestinian Liberation Organization, which governed the West Bank and Gaza (under Israeli supervision), agreed to a “framework” for peace between Israel and the Palestinians. But instead of leading to actual peace, the Accords culminated in two “intifadas” (violent uprisings), in which Palestinian suicide bombers murdered thousands of Israeli civilians. (In the last days of the Clinton administration, in negotiations at the Israeli town of Taba, Israel agreed to grant Arafat control over all the Palestinian lands (including minor “land swaps”) in return for peace, but the PLO leader refused (doubtless fearing the fate of Sadat had he agreed). President Clinton specifically blamed Arafat for the failure of the negotiations.

In 2006, Israel took another step for peace, withdrawing all its settlers and troops from Gaza, hoping that the Gazans would now devote themselves to peaceful economic development. But PLO rule over Gaza was shortly replaced by that of the even more terroristic Hamas, whose leaders (including over 1,000 violent prisoners released from Israeli jails in return for one young captured Israeli soldier) soon set about plotting what became the attacks of October 7, 2023, in which over 1,200 Israeli civilians were murdered – with women raped before being tortured to death; babies decapitated; children murdered in front of their parents, and vice versa; and some 251 civilians (including American and Thai citizens) seized as hostages.

Following the October 7 attacks, Israel has had no choice but to set out to destroy Hamas so as to preserve itself against future attacks – just as the United States or any other nation would have done in a similar situation. It has also sought desperately to rescue the hostages. But it has been hampered in its ability to strike at Hamas by the latter’s devilish strategy – in violation of both international law and elemental morality – of concealing nearly all its military facilities underneath or inside of schools, hospitals, and private houses, giving Israel no choice but to attack those facilities at considerable and deeply regrettable cost in civilian lives (even as it has made every effort to minimize such casualties). All this was by the design of the Hamas leader, ex-Israeli terrorist prisoner Yayah Sinwar, who intended to bring about a massive war of Arab vengeance in which the nation of Israel would finally be obliterated. Hamas is in fact a death cult, whose members taunt Israelis with their slogan, “You want to live, and we want to die.” (Nor is Israel responsible for any shortage of humanitarian assistance in Gaza; instead, much of the arriving goods are confiscated by Hamas before they reach the civilian population.)

But behind Hamas and Hezbollah stands a far more powerful, sworn enemy of Israel, the theocracy of Iran, whose leaders, ever since their 1979 seizure of power, have sworn to destroy the “little Satan” (Israel) before taking on the “big Satan” (the United States) in a final battle for global supremacy. Iran has been the “target” of Israeli strikes, as Mr. Cortes puts it, only because it has funded Hamas and Hezbollah terrorism to the tune of billions, while more recently launching a series of missile attacks directly at Israel (rather than just funding Hezbollah’s rockets). Does Mr. Cortes really expect Israel to remain passive in response to these attacks – any more than the United States would if such attacks were directed at this country? How can he justify Iran’s latest attacks on Israel as “retaliation” – when it is Iran that has been consistently attacking Israel, directly and by proxy, ever since the fanatical mullahs established their rule?

Despite Pope Francis’s equation of all war with terrorism, as cited by Cortes, the Catholic theological tradition has long maintained a distinction between just and unjust wars. What could be more just than a defensive war aimed at national survival? And whereas just-war theory emphasizes the need to minimize civilian casualties in war – a rule with which Israel has taken extraordinary efforts to comply – Hezbollah, Hamas, and Iran have aimed at the opposite.

Despite Iran’s continued endeavor to develop nuclear weapons capable of striking the U.S. as well as Israel – an enterprise which the Obama and Biden administration’s policies of appeasement did nothing to halt – Cortes is for some reason unable to comprehend why it would be in America’s own interest to fortify Israel’s capacity to mitigate that threat. In fact, when he laments how much “American blood” has been drained in the Middle East in recent decades (referring to the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq), he seems unaware of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on this country that provoked the former, and the suspicions held by leaders of both American political parties that Iraqi despot Saddam Hussein, whose previous nuclear plant in Syria had been destroyed by Israel, was himself engaged in restoring his “unconventional weapons” capacity (including chemical and biological warfare) that led to our overthrow of his bloodthirsty tyranny. Both such attacks were launched for America’s sake, not that of Israel. But it should be noted that in recent decades, America has enjoyed a mutually beneficial economic and military relationship with Israel, in which our own defensive capacities (including missile defense) have been fortified by Israeli technological advancements.

Most distressing to me, as a Jew, is Cortes’s comparison of Israeli’s response to the terrorist attacks against it as “genocide.” We Jews know well – just as other Americans should – what genocide looks like. Its exemplar (and the origin of the term) was Hitler’s slaughter of half the world’s Jewish population, by mass shootings and in gas chambers, for no reason other than sheer hatred. To equate Israel’s endeavor to defend itself with such a crime is, quite simply, obscene.

I urge Mr. Cortes to pursue further education regarding the history of Israel, of the Middle East, and of anti-Semitism before writing further on such topics.

A Hero in Our Midst

Few students know that on the far end of our cemetery, under a grand red, white, and blue wreath, lies a man of incredible distinction, someone who truly lived the Holy Cross ideal of being a  man for others. A man of such a distinct courage that our President and our nation saw him fit to receive the highest award our country can bestow: the Congressional Medal of Honor. His name is known in a few circles on our campus, echoed by those who preserve the names of those worthy of our alma mater, and is certainly resounded by the legions of angels and saints in heaven. To our great pride and glory, the final resting place of Fr. Joseph O’Callahan is on our very own campus. 

Fr. O’Callahan was born on May 14th, 1905. Just after graduating from Boston College High School, he began formation with hopes of being ordained into the Jesuit order. He received a bachelor’s degree in 1925 and a master’s in 1929 from St. Andrew’s College, specializing in mathematics, physics, and philosophy. Fr. O’Callahan was ordained into the Roman Catholic priesthood in 1934.  He went on to teach at Boston College, the Jesuit Seminary of Weston College, and eventually directed Holy Cross’ mathematics department in 1938. Coincidentally, one of his students, John V. Power, would also go on to earn the Medal of Honor.

As the U.S. entered into World War II, Fr. O’Callahan felt a strong patriotic duty to serve his nation and put aside his fruitful academic career. He joined the Naval Reserve Chaplain’s Corps and was soon ordered into active naval service in 1940, assigned to the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida.

O’Callahan possessed a special courage few men ever witness. From his very induction into the Navy, he “sought sea duty and wanted to be aboard a carrier” because “[aircraft carriers] are the queens of the fleet, Fighting Ladies, always in the thick of the fray” (IWCF pg. 3). In April of 1942, he was given orders to report to the USS Ranger, set to soon deploy into the European campaign. While aboard the Ranger, O’Callahan was given the opportunity to cut his teeth by learning naval procedure and participating in Operation Torch and Operation Leader as a valued sailor. Aboard the USS Ranger, O’Callahan witnessed the amphibious conquest of French Morocco and the raids of German Shipping in Norwegian waters, becoming an esteemed sailor and finding a passion for his vessel and the Navy he served.

Shortly after his tour on the USS Ranger, O’Callahan was ordered to report to the USS Franklin to aid in a critical operation for the defeat of the Japanese. In March of 1945, Fr. O’Callahan reported to the USS Franklin in Pearl Harbor, which began the perilous duties of Task Force 58. As part of Task Force 58, the USS Franklin would come closer than any other carrier to the Japanese mainland during the war in an attempt to destroy the remnants of the Japanese fleet.

Before dawn on March 19th, 1945, the USS Franklin launched a fighter sweep against Honshu and the Kure Harbor. All men remained alert to a possible Japanese retaliation, forgoing sleep and opportunities to eat. Despite their close attention to possible threats,  a Japanese dive bomber slipped through the cloud cover and slung two semi-armor piercing bombs onto the deck. Fires, explosions, and calamity ensued. A rising inferno consumed all aircrafts and men on deck. The hangar, likewise, was consumed, leaving only two survivors and eviscerating all remaining aircrafts. However, another danger remained. The initial impact of the bombs set off the armed munitions of the striker aircrafts and further threatened the fuel lines of the carrier. There were still tons of munitions within the ship, and an imminent powder keg threatened the remaining lives. The Franklin was left incapacitated and without communications, broiling in the heat of the roaring flames and suffocating the brave survivors. From the bridge, Captain Gehres quickly moved to save the vessel but found vital contingencies failing. A key concern was the Franklin’s magazines, which were posed to explode and lacked critical water lines to extinguish the flames. Rear Admiral Davison urged Capt. Gehres to abandon the ship, but neither the Captain nor his men were willing as there were still many survivors below deck.

Answering his call in this dire situation, Father O’Callahan quickly moved onto the slanting deck to do whatever was necessary to save the men God had entrusted him with. He quickly organized parties of survivors to disarm gun turrets and armed munitions primed to go off. Moving everywhere, all at once, in the midst of fire, debris, and the cries of the wounded and dying, Fr. O’Callahan managed to direct men to crucial duties while administering rites to the dying and comforting the wounded. Capt. Gehres recalls with evident awe the bravery of Fr. O’Callahan as a five-hundred pound bomb broke loose on the deck and began to roll toward an open hold filled with ammunition. A group of sailors instinctively stopped the bomb’s roll but froze at the prospect of having to defuse it. Captain Gehres saw Fr. O’Callahan appear out of nowhere and calmly stand over the bomb, inspiring and encouraging the men as they successfully defused it. Capt. Gehres later referred to Fr. O’Callahan as “the bravest man I have ever seen” [1]. Another striking anecdote is the effort of Fr. O’Callahan in leading firefighting teams into the bowels of the ship to put out raging fires on the magazines and to lead men out of imperiled cells. This man, armed with nothing but a helmet and a bottle of holy water, fulfilled his duty honorably,risking his life for the sake of others. He possessed  courage  akin to that of the greatest of warriors, leaders, and saints.

Fr. O’Callahan maintained the humility of one who knows his duty to God and man, recognizing that he was only one of many to rebel against his ever-dismal fate; he recognized that hundreds of men answered with courage and strength to the needs of their brethren. In answering the praise of Capt. Gehres and the publicity around his actions, Fr. O’Callahan modestly noted that his part in saving the aircraft carrier was “exaggerated”; “Any priest in like circumstances should do and would do what I did” [2]. On that fateful day, seven-hundred and twenty-four sailors perished, and two-hundred and sixty five were injured.

Eventually, the carrier was saved and towed back to the United States for repairs. Due to public outcry, President Truman awarded, Fr. O’Callahan the Medal of Honor and he continued to serve until November 1946. Fr. O’Callahan returned to Holy Cross as a professor in the Philosophy department until he passed away in 1964. In his honor, the U.S. commissioned the USS O’Callahan in 1968. He is now laid to rest in our cemetery and his Medal of Honor, which can be found in the Dinand Archives, testifies to his virtue.

Fr. O’Callahan’s Medal of Honor Citation reads:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as chaplain on board the U.S.S. Franklin when that vessel was fiercely attacked by enemy Japanese aircraft during offensive operations near Kobe, Japan, on 19 March 1945. A valiant and forceful leader, calmly braving the perilous barriers of flame and twisted metal to aid his men and his ship, Lt. Comdr. O'Callahan groped his way through smoke-filled corridors to the open flight deck and into the midst of violently exploding bombs, shells, rockets, and other armament. With the ship rocked by incessant explosions, with debris and fragments raining down and fires raging in ever-increasing fury, he ministered to the wounded and dying, comforting and encouraging men of all faiths; he organized and led firefighting crews into the blazing inferno on the flight deck; he directed the jettisoning of live ammunition and the flooding of the magazine; he manned a hose to cool hot, armed bombs rolling dangerously on the listing deck, continuing his efforts, despite searing, suffocating smoke which forced men to fall back gasping and imperiled others who replaced them. Serving with courage, fortitude, and deep spiritual strength, Lt. Comdr. O'Callahan inspired the gallant officers and men of the Franklin to fight heroically and with profound faith in the face of almost certain death and to return their stricken ship to port. [3] 

As members of the Holy Cross community, we live, succeed, and strive in memory of those who have come before us, never forgetting that we are all living members in the Kingdom of God, established on the throne of our hearts. Let us rejoice that many great men, like Father O’Callahan, have been and are with us as we pursue our vocations in life. And let us draw courage and inspiration from them, ad maiorem Dei gloriam.

In honor of the memory of Fr. O’Callahan, Holy Cross maintains the O’Callahan Society which “encourages and cultivates the traditions associated with the Jesuit, liberal arts education of military and naval officers” [4]. For further information, there is a page on the Holy Cross website (https://www.holycross.edu/alumni/crusaders-connect/affinity-groups/ocallahan-society).


Endnotes: 

[1] David Davidson and Leslie Gehres, “BEFORE THE COLORS FADE: Leslie Gehres: Captain of the "Ship that Wouldn't Die””, American Heritage, April, 1969, https://www.americanheritage.com/leslie-gehres-captain-ship-wouldnt-die\

[2] Joseph O’Callahan, I Was Chaplain on the Franklin

[3] “JOSEPH TIMOTHY O’CALLAHAN”, Medal of Honor Society, https://www.cmohs.org/recipients/joseph-t-ocallahan

[4] “O’Callahan Society,” College of the Holy Cross, https://www.holycross.edu/alumni/crusaders-connect/affinity-groups/ocallahan-society

Further Sources Consulted: 

Naval History and Heritage Command. “Modern Biographies: Joseph Timothy O’Callahan.” https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/research-guides/modern-biographical-files-ndl/modern-bios-o/ocallahan-joseph-timothy.html

Satterfield, John R. Saving Big Ben: The USS Franklin and Father Joseph T. O’Callahan. Naval Institute Press, 2011. 
The Ancient Order of Hibernians, “A Shepherd in the Flames: The Medal of Honor Story of Fr. Joseph O’Callahan”, March 11, 2024,https://aoh.com/2024/03/11/a-shepherd-in-the-flames-the-medal-of-honor-story-of-fr-joseph-ocallahan/.

Autumn's Beginnings: My Wonderful Holy Cross Years

The Fenwick Review would like to thank Peter Fay , formerly of the Holy Cross Religious Studies Department, for asking us to be one of the media groups on campus to publish this letter :

I have always lived for summer.  Growing up, I couldn’t wait for the end of June to arrive, for with it came liberation from the exacting schedule of the school year.  The rituals of freedom awaited me: warmer weather, days spent at the pool, trips to the beach, endless baseball games, dinner outside, later bedtimes, and, of course, the joy that comes with crafting and consuming the perfect smore.  Autumn was the enemy: the return of structure and colder weather, the end of uninhibited fun, the grimaced awareness that life would soon sink back into greater restriction.  

As I’ve gotten older, my love for summer has remained, but something else has changed.  I no longer conceive of autumn as the enemy.  In fact, I’ve grown to love autumn.  I find the cooler weather a welcome relief from the heat; I love the fall foliage; and if I drank coffee, I’d like to think that I would thoroughly enjoy a pumpkin spice latte as much as anyone else does.  

But the greatest reason I’ve grown to love autumn has nothing to do with these typical cultural markers.  Instead, it has everything to do with the fact that, for those of us who work in higher education, autumn means the start of something new.  

College campuses are relatively quiet during the summer, but once the calendar flips to August, students slowly begin to trickle back onto campus.  First-year students wonder what this new adventure will entail.  Sophomores can’t wait to be reunited with friends who were total strangers a mere twelve months ago.  Juniors excitedly plan for internships and semesters abroad.  Seniors vow to savor every bit of their last ride.  Whether they realize it or not, all students are wondering: whom and what will this new year bring?  The class that changes my life?  The mentor who sees in me promise that I don’t yet fully see in myself?  The friends who will become my people?  A new love?  In August the campus brims with so much potential, teems with so much energy.  If you don’t believe me, go for a walk around campus the week before classes start.  Watch the sunset as the marching band’s drummers practice.  The rest of the world might associate autumn with endings, but, on the contrary, the start of the new academic year is an invigorating rush of energy, of possibility, of new life.  

I’ve been thinking about this paradox a lot the past few months, as this autumn in particular brings to my life even more newness than the fall usually does.  For the first time in several years, I am not at the College of the Holy Cross.  I have begun a new position in the Ethics Program at Villanova University.  This change is incredibly bittersweet for me.  It is sweet because it represents an exciting opportunity and the next step in my career, and I am happy to report that I am settling in very well at Villanova; it is bitter because I loved being at Holy Cross.  For five of the past six years, I had the unbelievable privilege, honor, duty, and blessing to be able to teach what I love – Christian ethics – at Holy Cross.  I offer this reflection to convey my gratitude and to offer some words of encouragement as the new academic year begins. 

Mindful of St. Ignatius’s belief that ingratitude is the greatest sin, I start with an expression of my gratitude.  I quickly realized during my first semester on campus that all of the love that the College engenders in its students and alumni is entirely well-deserved and more.  Holy Cross is an incredibly special place.  Especially deserving of my recognition are my colleagues in the Department of Religious Studies, who always welcomed me as one of their own; the Department Chairs under whom I worked (i.e. Drs. William Reiser, S.J., Mary M. Doyle Roche, and Caroline Johnson Hodge), who entrusted me with covering the Department’s existing Ethics offerings and with designing my own seminars; Presidents Rev. Philip L. Boroughs, S.J. and Vincent D. Rougeau, who have led the College with excellence, especially during these challenging years in higher education, our nation, our Church, and our world; Provosts Margaret Freije, Ann Marie Leshkowich, and Elliott Visconsi, who have ensured that Holy Cross is and remains a world-class institution for undergraduate education; countless other administrators and staff, without whom Holy Cross would grind to a halt; and Kathy Barrett, who, as Academic Administrative Coordinator for the Department of Religious Studies, saved my bacon time and again.

Equally deserving of my most sincere gratitude are my students.  Teaching is at its core an expression of the type of love that the Christian tradition refers to as agape, the giving of the self to the other.  As teachers we give ourselves to you, our students, and to our content in the hope that you too might discover in it the beauty, depth, and richness that we find in it.  In that giving we encounter not only a more educated student body but, in Christian terms, God’s very self, for “God is love” (1 John 4:8).  

When we love agapically, we take a risk.  We never know if our love will be warmly embraced, received with indifference, or rejected entirely.  Having taught hundreds of Holy Cross students, I can honestly say that everything I gave to you, you returned back to me.  This does not mean that you had to like or agree with everything I said – how boring would your education be if that were the case!  Instead, you considered it, wrestled with it, asked perceptive and challenging questions of it, developed your own insights, and learned and grew tremendously.  In this pattern of giving and receiving in turn, of love offered, accepted, and returned, we again gain not only a more educated student body or better relations between faculty and students.  Rather, we live in a way that is analogous to the pattern of relationships that Christian trinitarian theology claims is at the core of God’s very self.  Indeed, there is a sacredness, a holiness to the work that takes place in the classroom.    

This does not mean that religious conversion is the goal of the work done in the classroom but rather that Christian claims about what is ultimately good, meaningful, and worthwhile provide a basis for the teaching and learning to which the College is rightly committed.  To have a trinitarian relationship in any dimension of one’s life – whether with roommates, friends, parents, a spouse, one’s children – is a tremendous gift.  So don’t let anyone ever tell you that Christian trinitarian theology is irrelevant for your education or for questions regarding how to live life and to live it as well as possible – it just might be the most practical thing of all!  

Now some words of encouragement to you students.  I hope and trust that you fully appreciate how blessed you are to be educated at the premier Jesuit small liberal arts college in the entire world, just as I’ve always felt blessed to be able to contribute to its work too.  With this tremendous blessing comes immense responsibility, which includes especially responsibility to the College’s mission.  How fortunate are you to belong to an institution with such a rich mission statement and such a strong commitment to realizing it.  

If you’ve not already done so, I encourage you to read the College’ mission statement (available at: https://www.holycross.edu/about-us/mission-statement), to think seriously about how it does and ought to shape your education and your life long after you graduate, and to commit yourselves to striving to realize at least one particular dimension of it throughout this academic year.  Our world is desperately in need of people who are formed by the College’s Jesuit liberal arts heritage – that is, people who are educated in both mind and heart; who remain open to learning; who can listen more attentively, read more carefully, think more clearly, write more persuasively, and speak more eloquently; who can frame critical, charitable intellectual challenge as an invitation to growth toward a shared pursuit of greater truth rather than as an attack on one’s own self-worth or as proof that that pursuit is too messy to be worthwhile; who can admit the liabilities in one’s own preferred ways of thinking and living; who can find the assets in the ways of thinking and living that they typically oppose; and who can distinguish effective argumentation from its fallacious counterparts.  

Our world is similarly in desperate need of people who are shaped by the Catholic intellectual tradition that shapes the College’s mission and life.  How fortunate you are to belong to an institution whose heritage has roots that extend back across the millennia and throughout the world.  As any of my students can tell you, my encouragement here is not at all rooted in naivete about the Church’s failings, which an authentic, responsible, life-giving understanding of the tradition rightly indicts.  Moreover, I understand that many students do not enter Holy Cross excited to engage with the Catholic tradition.  

Nevertheless, critical, charitable engagement with the tradition – the core of which is love – is precisely what is needed today as the challenges of the twenty-first century continue to loom.  Whether you are a cradle Catholic who feels at home in the Church, a hardened skeptic, or anywhere in between, and no matter where you are in your own journey, I hope, trust, and expect that you will be pleasantly surprised – and, yes, helpfully challenged too – as you engage with the Catholic intellectual tradition at Holy Cross.  Your doing so is important for yourselves and for the tradition alike.  At its worst, the Church has many failings to answer for.  At its best, it offers so much good to our world.  Do not cede the tradition to those who distort it for their own personal gain.  Reclaim it.  

How might you begin to do that during your undergraduate years?  Start by taking courses in Religious Studies, which will help you to develop a clear, critical, adult, and perhaps even appreciative understanding the Catholic tradition and the other great religious traditions of our world.  You would never turn down the chance to learn about song-writing from Taylor Swift or about playing quarterback from Tom Brady; do not turn down the opportunity to learn from faculty who are similarly among the world’s foremost authorities in their field just because you think religion is disastrous or because you think your high school religion course already taught you everything you need to know about the topic.  

The more you appropriate the College’s mission by habituating yourselves in these virtues of the excellent thinker, the more you will be able to penetrate the beauty, depth, and richness of the content you study, and the better you will be able to harness your gifts in service to our world.  So much for you as persons, for the College, for Worcester, for our nation, for our Church, and for our world hinges upon the formation you undergo during your undergraduate years.  Do not waste them.  We educators have rightly high aspirations for you.  We want you to flourish, to become the people God calls you to become, to grow into your greatest and grandest possibilities for truth, love, and goodness, and to radiate all of these into our world.  Your doing so will enrich your own lives and the lives of countless others who were not able to attend a place like Holy Cross.  May their lives be better because you committed yourselves to the College’s vision for your education. 

To conclude, I’d like to tie together my New York roots with the New England sensibilities that will appeal many in the Holy Cross community.  Long before he led the New England Patriots to unprecedented success and cemented his legacy as one of the greatest head coaches in the history of the National Football League, Bill Belichick was an assistant coach and defensive coordinator of my beloved New York Giants.  2009 was the last year the Giants would play in Giants Stadium – the stadium in which Coach Belichick burst onto the scene as a coaching force to be reckoned with – before it was demolished.  It was also the year that N.F.L. Films put a microphone on then-Patriots Head Coach Belichick for the entire season as part of its A Football Life documentary.  During his last visit to Giants Stadium, N.F.L. Films had Coach Belichick revisit the Giants’ locker room, coaches’ rooms, and offices to reflect upon his professional journey across the decades.  When asked to consider where he began as a lowly assistant coach in relation to where he was as a five-time Super Bowl winner at the time, Coach Belichick said, “I was just trying to establish my coaching career, be a good coach, win some games.  We won a lot of them here.  This is a great organization.  It’s hard not to get choked up about it.  […].  Oh I loved it here, I loved it here.”

I am certainly not Coach Belichick, nor have I risen in my field to the level of success that he has attained in his.  But I would like to think that on some deep level I can understand and appreciate exactly what he meant.  What Giants Stadium means to Bill Belichick, the College of the Holy Cross will always mean to me.  It’s the place that gave me my start.  The first institution of higher education that entrusted me as the instructor of record in one of its courses.  The place where I tried to show that I could do an adequate enough job teaching ethics.  I have had to root against Coach Belichick for longer than I care to remember, but I agree wholeheartedly with him on this point (and, certainly, he stays awake late at night hoping that Fay agrees with him!): it’s impossible to avoid tearing up when reflecting upon those who have launched you, for you never forget your first love.  

Thank you for helping to make my years at Holy Cross so meaningful, beautiful, and amazing, and please rest assured that the College of the Holy Cross will always hold a very special place in my heart.  I have certainly taken and will continue to hold a piece of it and of all of you with me as I begin at Villanova and beyond, and perhaps each of you and the entire Holy Cross family will take a piece of me with you as you continue in your journey at and beyond Mount Saint James.  My Holy Cross email address will be disabled on September 1, 2024.  Please feel free to keep in touch as you see fit – my Villanova email address (peter.fay@villanova.edu) is already active should you wish you to write.  

From the very bottom of my heart, I thank you, I miss you, I love you, I cannot wait to see all of the good that awaits you going forward, and I will be rooting for your continued flourishing from afar as I make my way a little further down the road.  This autumn and beyond, my hope and prayer for you is this: may the season’s new beginnings bring all of us into fuller, deeper life, and may the entire Holy Cross family enter ever more fully into the radiantly sunlit future that awaits it.

 

Yours gratefully,

Peter K. Fay

Department of Religious Studies 2018-2024


Charity, Queen of Dialogue

Last year, Holy Cross began a long-awaited dialogue about dialogue. Through social media spats, abrupt confrontations, and general tension on campus, the student body demonstrated that it was struggling to come together and engage in constructive discussion about its opposing worldviews. This is the sort of problem that does not befit a liberal arts college, a place whose purpose is the exchange of ideas. In order to remind students of this purpose, the administration had to ask itself, how can Holy Cross foster dialogue? And, are there some subjects that do not merit dialogue?

True to its liberal arts tradition, the College proposed a structured medium for students to voice their views on controversial issues. The administration, in conjunction with the newly founded group SPEECH (Students Promoting Empathy, Expression, and Civic Harmony), began a series called “Dialogue Dinners,” two-hour events during which students could come together and discuss current issues over a meal. These dinners offered students a casual, friendly setting to alleviate the tension of disagreement, but also enforced structure and civility through rules and the presence of administrators and student peer educators. 

One of the rules of the Dialogue Dinners comes directly from the Presupposition of St. Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises: “Be more eager to put a good interpretation on a neighbor’s statement than to condemn it. If one cannot interpret it favorably, one should ask how the other means it.” Ignatius’ advice calls for patience and cordiality, two necessary qualities of any decent conversation. They certainly have their place at a Dialogue Dinner.

Though the rest of the advice of the Presupposition was not included in the rules of the Dialogue Dinners, it is equally valuable. Still referring to the statements of one’s neighbor, St. Ignatius continues, “If he cannot save it, let him inquire how he means it; and if he means it badly, let him correct him with charity. If that is not enough, let him seek all the suitable means to bring him to mean it well, and save himself.” Notice the key principle here: charity.

St. Ignatius established these guidelines at the beginning of his Spiritual Exercises as a framework for the relationship between the spiritual director and the retreatant, the former of whom is essential to the growing prayer life and discernment of the retreatant. This quote from the Presupposition shows that spiritual direction is impossible without charity, the queen of virtues which Christians also call “love.” For, as Ignatius points out, love seeks understanding. Charity enables the spiritual director and the retreatant to truly listen to and understand one another. Charity disposes of presumptions and self-righteousness. Only with charity can the two engage in constructive dialogue. St. Paul said, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13, ESV). No matter how learned the spiritual director may be, his advice bears no fruit without love for God and the retreatant. The same can be said for the retreatant’s reception of his advice.

Although the Presupposition was originally intended for this pairing, its content can easily be extended beyond the Spiritual Exercises to the rest of us undergoing daily life. Should we not also desire to nourish each other’s souls, knowing one another as fellow beloveds of God? Is this not what we owe one another as neighbors, or in Holy Cross language, as “men and women for and with others”?

St. Ignatius understood the essential role of charity for fruitful dialogue. This idea from our familiar Ignatian tradition takes its roots all the way back to the moment of creation, and is fulfilled by Christ in the New Covenant.

The Gospel of John paints creation as a dialogue between God and His creatures. The first chapter of John explains how Christ was present at the beginning of time, not yet enfleshed but as the “Word,” through Whom “all things were made” (1:3). Creation was made through the “Word,” which in the Greek also translates to “reason” or “logic.” John shows that God’s creation of the world was an act of reason, and that creation was brought about by the speech of God.

The original Greek makes clear that the act of creation was a dialogue. John 1:3, which begins “All things were made through Him,” tells us that the world was made “dia autou,” with the pronoun autou referring to the Logos, the Word. The preposition dia and the noun Logos form the Greek word “dialogos,” where we get our word for “dialogue.” Through his clever wielding of language, John reveals that creation is a dialogue between itself and its Creator.

Christ further exemplifies His life-giving nature as the Word in the miracles He performs during His ministry. In the three cases where he brings people back to life, He uses the power of speech. He famously brings Lazarus back to life when He commands him, “Lazarus, come out!” (John 11:43). He commands the twelve-year-old daughter of the synagogue leader back to life with the words, “‘Talitha cumi,’ which means, ‘Little girl, I say to you, arise.’” (Mark 5:41). Finally, He revives the son of the Naim widow with the command “Young man, I say to you, arise” (Luke 7:14). In each of these instances, Christ revives His creatures through speech. Through the miracles He performs during His ministry, Christ continues His creative act as Logos, culminating in His death and resurrection, by which human beings are constantly being redeemed and brought into new life.

Christ’s crucifixion fulfills creation, since it is by this act that man is able to do what he was made for; namely, enter into an eternal relationship with God. Man was made and given his purpose at the moment of His creation, when God breathed His own life into him – not only biological life, but life in the Spirit, as indicated in the Greek by the word “zoe” (Genesis 2:7) as opposed to “bios.” Man was uniquely made to be like God and to be one with Him. The Fall ruptured this relationship, but Christ’s willing sacrifice revives it and welcomes us back to life in the Spirit. St. Athanasius, a fourth century Church Father, understood creation and salvation as consistent events: “There is thus no inconsistency between creation and salvation; for the One Father has employed the same Agent for both works, effecting the salvation of the world through the same Word Who made it at the first” [1]. The Logos gave man life in the beginning, and He renews this life through His death and resurrection.

Why did Christ give up His life for humanity? St. John says that it was out of love. “Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 8-10). Love is at the essence of God and therefore the essence of the Logos. It was because of love that God formed man from clay and later sent His Son to die for him.

John continues, relaying a social message about how we ought to love one another: “Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us” (1 John 11-12). As John says, Christians are called to love others in a way that parallels God’s love for man.

This poses a heavy demand. God’s love permits no exceptions. Christ’s sacrifice was for every member of the human race. This is a radical truth which dissolves divisions and calls us to love through difference and in difference. According to St. Paul, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). All people have a shared identity in Christ, in their purpose as human beings. 

Creation was a dialogue, with love at its center. Considering the nature of this first dialogue, what can we say of the dialogue at Holy Cross?

Holy Cross’ mission statement is rooted in dialogue. The following is a short excerpt: “Because the search for meaning and value is at the heart of the intellectual life, critical examination of fundamental religious and philosophical questions is integral to liberal arts education. Dialogue about these questions among people from diverse academic disciplines and religious traditions requires everyone to acknowledge and respect differences.” Though in secular language, this quote somewhat mirrors Paul’s advice to the Galatians. Our calling to be one in Christ demands respect in spite of differences. Since we are called to love one another as God loves His creation, dialogue is incomplete without love.

As the Gospels show, Christ’s speech gives life. In being made like God, destined for relationship with Him, we are given the ability to co-create, materially, spiritually, and intellectually. We participate in the perpetual dia Logos between God and man. Knowing the crucial role God has for us in His creation, we ought to do our best to ensure that our speech is also life-giving.

Endnotes 

[1] Athanasius, On the Incarnation, (St. Vladimir’s Orthodox Theological Seminary, 1982), 26.