Letter to the Editors: November 2017

To the Editors of The Fenwick Review, 

Here are a few thoughts on Father Mulledy, the mascot change, and Catholicism at the College. 

I would think that the Lord’s advice still applies: He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.” Father Mulledy was a good man, true to his Faith, untiring worker in the field of Catholic education and, by all accounts, successful in what he tried. Look at the many priestly vocations he helped inspire among graduates. Look at the institution he helped found. Was he sinless? Did he make the right decisions in all cases? No. He was a man of his times as today’s Jesuits are men of their times. Slavery was accepted in the environment in which he worked, accepted by many of his contemporary bishops, priests and parishioners and an evil over which he certainly had no control. He was mistaken but he did what he thought he had to do at the time. 

As for retaining the “Crusader” name and mascot, perhaps today’s Holy Cross College should drop both. It certainly would be consistent with the recent discussion regarding the elimination of the “cross” symbol from the Holy Cross logo. And, too, it would be consistent with that “mission statement” we are so concerned about; There’s no mention of Christ or His Cross in that either. A “Crusader”, after all, is one concerned about the cross of Christ, concerned to the extent of being willing to fight and die for that cross. The current college is ashamed to show it in print. The whole issue is a dramatic reflection of the state to which the Jesuit administration and the Holy Cross board have brought the college—a politically correct, semi-Catholic institution that frequently weakens the faith of its graduates. New building galore, a rich man’s tuition and plenty of money in the bank but woefully inept at accomplishing the real mission of the college: graduating well educated men and women who are strong in their faith and who are dedicated to promoting the love of Christ and His Church throughout their lives. 

Daniel J. Gorman ‘54

Some Discernment on Spirits

When people from back home (I’m from the Midwest) find out I go to a school named Holy Cross, they assume that here on the Hill, we all like to spend our Friday nights praying the Rosary. They think that since it’s a Catholic school, there isn’t a lot of partying. That’s perpetuated when they hear that (allegedly) 40% of students say they don’t drink. Now I haven’t been on campus that long, but I know that number is either false or the other 60% drink enough to make up for the abstainers. So yes, here at Holy Cross, contrary to what many Midwesterners assume, we enjoy our drink. But this line of thought exposes a very real misconception: that there’s a contradiction between Church teaching and drinking alcohol. There isn’t. 

Take the word of G.K. Chesterton, apologist, poet, and Catholic literary giant, who once said, “In Catholicism, the pint, the pipe, and the Cross can all fit together.” He compared the Catholic Church to a thick steak, a cigar, and a glass of red wine. Then there’s St. Thomas Aquinas, a Doctor of the Church, who not only supported drinking, but believed alcohol should be used to “cheer men’s souls” and that we should “drink to the point of hilarity.” The Catechism of the Catholic Church has no opposition to the use of alcohol, tobacco, or gambling in moderation. Jesus’s first miracle was turning water into wine -- and he didn’t use grape juice at the Last Supper. And last but not least, the Trappist monks make the best beer in the world -- or so I’m told. 

But before you grab the keg, it’s also important to note that Aquinas--the one who recommended drinking to cope with sadness--also said that being drunk is a mortal sin. As a Catholic College, where we embrace the cross and the pint, it’s critical to discuss the intersection of morality and mischief that comes with drinking. At first glance, Aquinas’s classification of drunkenness as a mortal sin may seem a little extreme. But then Aquinas, in all his wisdom, points out that when we drink, we occasionally do stupid things. And to think - Thomas Aquinas figured that out even though he had no idea what a darty was. 

But it’s true. So many people say that alcohol can get rid of your inhibitions, but is that honestly a good thing?

If my inhibitions keep me from doing something stupid - like streaking, for example - then I think society should be all the more grateful that I’m inhibited. To top it off, we also live in a society where people post random and inappropriate things online while sober. Spend five minutes on Tumblr and you’ll agree that inhibition is not society’s greatest threat. But even then, Aquinas says, drunkenness may be a reason for sin, but it’s not an excuse. Coming back to the streaking example, the real issue isn’t me being drunk, it’s that I’m running naked across the Hoval. 

So if we just don’t do anything stupid while drunk… we should be good, right? No. The real danger, according to Aquinas, is the “drinking to get drunk” mentality that permeates American college campuses. He says it’s a mortal sin if a man drinks with the conviction that “he would rather be drunk than abstain from drink.” Now -- Aquinas isn’t arguing that wanting to be drunk is a sin. If that were the case, everyone who’d ever sat through Freshman Convocation should go to confession. Drunkenness gets sinful when we knowingly and happily choose inebriation over sobriety. There are a couple good reasons for this. For one, it’s gluttony. If you sit down and eat three pizzas, you may have a problem. If you sit down and drink a fifth of Svedka, same goes. On top of that, you destroy your body. But it gets seriously problematic when is when we drink to get sloppy drunk, because in doing so, we knowingly give up human reason, and in turn, reject our God-given human dignity. 

It loops back to the inhibition thing, but in a deeper way. When we drink so much we can’t make a rational decision or walk in a straight line, we’ve essentially become toddlers or very, very large squirrels. Human reason is a gift from God. It’s part of the mystery of salvation history -- that we can use reason as a way to discover and choose the things that lead us closer to -- or further away from -- God. When we drink to get drunk, we essentially decide to “turn off” the rational brains that God gave us. We are no longer in a position to love, reverence and serve God. It’s not just about avoiding stupidity, it’s about safeguarding and reverencing our God-given dignity. 

The issue is not that we drink on Friday night. Or Saturday night. Or maybe even Saturday during the day. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday. (As a classic Irish folk song says, “I only drink on the days that end in y.”) The issue is that when we drink, we pee on lawns. We dehumanize ourselves. Drinking to loosen up isn’t problematic- it’s a foreshadow of heaven and it can help us be the person God calls us to be. But when we get drunk, we’re not the best, most loving version of ourselves. Instead of “Men and Women for and With Others,” we become “Men and Women Puking on Others.” We can’t focus on God- we can barely walk straight. And when we choose to get obliterated, hammered, sloshed, schmizzed, totally tuckered or absolutely blitzed, we choose that over God. We say, “Tonight’s about me.” 

So with Aquinas, Augustine (a patron saint of beer), the Trappists, Chesterton, and even Jesus, let’s raise our cups (in moderation) for the love and the glory of God. Hillaire Belloc might have put it best -- “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, there’s always laughter and good red wine. At least, I’ve always found it so -- Benedicamus Domino!”

Is Catholicism a Faith of Compromise?

On October 4, the Rev. Michael C. McFarland, S.J. Center hosted Dr. Julie Hanlon Rubio, professor of Christian Ethics at Saint Louis University, for her lecture entitled “Dare We Hope for Common Ground?” – an hour-long talk aimed at finding a solution to ease the contentious political tensions among Catholics in 2017 America. Rubio acknowledged the intense disunity among those she labels as “orthodox” and “progressive” Catholics – especially since the 2016 election cycle and pertaining to controversial social topics like abortion, same-sex marriage, and transgenderism – and suggested that although it is difficult to compromise on such issues, coming together on “middle” or less controversial matters can eventually pave the way for compromise on the more divisive ones. Rubio’s thesis stems from her suggestion that Catholics need not seek to “recreate the Kingdom of Heaven on earth” or demand that traditional Catholic social teachings ought to be reflected in public policy, but that the political sphere ought to exist independently from the teachings of Christ; thus, Rubio contends, in order to maximize diplomatic efficiency and promote harmony and respect among all Americans, it is both acceptable and encouraged for Catholics to set aside key Church doctrine as it relates to public policy. 

Rubio’s argument is certainly compelling to a certain extent: as she suggests, when two opposing parties come together to find common ground on a mutually agreeable issue, progress can in fact be made on a larger scale. However, these kinds of interactions have their own time and place. Rubio’s suggestion that Catholics and other people of faith must abandon certain truths and dogmas while engaging in political discourse in order to alleviate tension among political sectors ultimately promotes leniency and discourages belief in an absolute or objective truth. If Catholic doctrine asserts that the unborn must always be protected, that marriage is a sacred union between one man and one woman, and that gender is not malleable, et cetera, is it truly reasonable to expect Catholics to surrender these infallible truths for the good of the “middle ground,” and thereby favor the secular over the divine merely for the sake of political compromise? The unchanging truths of the Church are not relative to time, culture, or political tensions, and although conflict and disagreement as they pertain to these issues are inevitable on a societal scale, devotion to Christ’s message should not take a backseat to efforts to reach a partisan consensus. 

Freedom of conscience is absolute and ought not be held hostage by the need to compromise. When it comes to life and death, moral truth or moral falsehood, we have a duty never to compromise. 

Take 2016 Democrat vice presidential candidate Tim Kaine, for instance. Kaine has consistently and unabashedly cited his Catholic faith as what led him to pursue a career in public service. Throughout the 2016 primary election cycle, Kaine touted his Jesuit education and time as a missionary in Honduras as being definitive experiences for him and his career: “My faith is central to everything I do,” he has said repeatedly. Despite his self-proclaimed devout Catholic faith, Kaine has adopted a position on abortion that is not only highly controversial among Catholic voters and directly contrary to Church doctrine, but it is also logically inconsistent and brings to light the very flaws and inextricable tension of Rubio’s argument. "I have a traditional Catholic personal position [on abortion], but I am very strongly supportive that women should make these decisions and government shouldn't intrude […] I'm a strong supporter of Roe v. Wade and women being able to make these decisions. In government, we have enough things to worry about. We don't need to make people's reproductive decisions for them," he said in an interview with CNN last fall. In other words, Kaine has insisted that he is personally pro-life, but publicly pro-choice. Here, he seems to be practicing political compromise and supporting a “middle” position similar to that outlined in Rubio’s lecture. His statement prompts an important question: Why does Kaine oppose abortion in his “private” life? If Kaine truly upholds the “traditional Catholic position” on abortion, as he contends he does, he would believe that all human life is inherently sacred, and all human beings have an intrinsic right to live – regardless of whether or not that human being has been born or other extraneous circumstances. One who advocates for the “traditional Catholic position” on abortion must also acknowledge that abortion is morally equivalent to murder. Murder is reprehensible. Period. If one truly believes that abortion is morally equivalent to murder, how can Rubio expect Catholics (and pro-lifers of all stripes) to compromise on the subject? 

By prioritizing political compromise, we as Catholics give up our ability to express our freedom of conscience and ability to believe in something absolutely. While Rubio claims that personal and political spheres must exist independently of one another, it is in dividing the personal and the political that we forfeit our beliefs, the doctrine of the Church, and our call to do God’s will. In a political and social era as polarizing, divisive, and perhaps even uncertain as our own, we must ask ourselves: should our faith be one of compromise or one of dutiful resilience? Should our faith be one of cultural and political relativism or one of passionate faith and a robust belief in God and His message to us? The Church survives and prospers not because of diplomatic compromise but because of the timeless teachings of God and the authentic passion of Her followers. Where compromise prospers, authenticity of faith perishes. As Rubio stated in her lecture, debate is a positive, healthy way to sustain differences of opinion and belief. But rather than giving in to compromise for the sake of compromise, we as Catholics have a duty to spread God’s message and the infallible truths of the Church. The Church both as an institution and as a worldwide community ultimately relies upon our lack of compromise. It is more important now than ever to hold firmly to this truth.

Beyond the Abortion Wars

In "Beyond the Abortion Wars: A Way Forward for a New Generation", author Charles Camosy presents a sweeping vision of an America in which abortion is not an issue. I have never read a book which I wanted to like more. Professor Camosy eliminates much of the rhetoric on both sides of the abortion debate, and makes excellent points about how access to abortion hurts or helps women; why religion should or should not be a factor in one’s views; and the ever-present question of when a fetus becomes a person. Unfortunately, on several points, his book is at best misleading and at worst, dishonest. Camosy is a professor of theological and social ethics at Fordham University (a Catholic institution) and a Catholic himself. As such, he has a responsibility to accurately represent Catholic social teaching. At several points, his book not only fails to do this; it fails to provide any kind of coherent argument for or against abortion. Taken to their logical conclusions, Professor Camosy’s arguments allow for greater disrespect for human life. 

Elsewhere, Professor Camosy identifies himself as a pro-life Democrat, though he avoids applying labels to himself as much as possible within this book. In the first chapter, Camosy argues on the basis of various studies that there is no dramatic divide in American views on abortion, only an artificial political split. He goes on in chapter two to systematically examine the moral status of the human unborn child. Examining and borrowing the arguments of myriad pro-life thinkers, he ultimately concludes that an unborn child is a person. He defines the term “person” as all those with the “natural potential” to know and to love. The term “natural potential” is not defined and its implications are not explored in depth—does this mean that dogs are persons? Chimpanzees?—Readers never find out, which is perhaps just as well for the scope of the book. 

It is in Chapter Three—slightly ominously titled “Aiming at Death or Ceasing to Aid?”—that Professor Camosy runs into some serious moral problems. He describes in detail the nature of one type of surgical abortion: 

In the first trimester…Suction Dilation and Curettage is most often used…the mother’s cervix is dilated and a hoselike instrument called a cannula is inserted into her body. The hose is attached to a powerful vacuum and maneuvered by the physician so it can suck out the fetus, placenta, and amniotic fluid. Sometimes, however, the hose does not get all the body parts of the prenatal child, and a curette is used to scrape the uterus to make sure every last limb and organ has been recovered. 

This type of abortion, Camosy clarifies, is “aiming at death,” and is therefore wrong. But is it always wrong? No. He argues that this procedure, as well as Suction Dilation and Evacuation (in which the child is pulled apart limb by limb using a combination of vacuum tools and metal clamps), and fetal craniotomy (in which the head of the child is crushed to fit through the birth canal) are entirely permissible in cases where the mother’s life is in danger. 

Professor Camosy justifies this “gruesome” (his word) taking of life in the name of self-defense. He acknowledges the words of Pope St. John Paul II in the 1995 papal encyclical "Evangelium Vitae": “The one eliminated is a human being at the very beginning of life. No one more absolutely innocent could be imagined. In no way could this human being ever be considered an aggressor, much less an unjust aggressor!” Camosy argues that if the mother’s life is in danger, the child is not an aggressor, but is nevertheless a material threat to her mother’s life. Therefore, he claims, the unborn child is behaving similarly to a brainwashed, innocent, child soldier who is threatening one’s life. Anyone who disagrees with Professor Camosy’s view on this is allegedly one of those “extremist ‘pro-lifers’” who “want to give prenatal children more legal protection than other human persons” (143). 

I confess, I’m one of those “extremists” who dares to disagree with him. I don’t see how his conclusion logically follows from his premise. His child soldier analogy is fundamentally flawed. For one, a child soldier brandishing a gun at me probably does intend to kill me. That doesn’t mean that the child knows that killing is wrong, or that she is morally culpable for killing me, but such an attack is far from random chance. Furthermore, if I do nothing, I will certainly die. In contrast, there is no possible way an unborn child can try to kill anyone. Any death caused by the child will be a tragic accident. And even when the mother’s health is in danger, death is not guaranteed, as the book insinuates. For instance, Camosy suggests that abortion would be permissible if the mother suffers from pulmonary hypertension, a dangerous and rare condition involving high blood pressure. Pregnancy in women with pulmonary hypertension can be deadly, though it is not a death sentence: a 2011 literature review on the topic reveals mortality rates ranging anywhere from 17% to 56%. The overall mortality rate from 1997-2007 was 25%. Furthermore, though Professor Camosy may not admit it, abortion in the case of pulmonary hypertension remains a dangerous procedure. He also claims that caesarian sections are “ruled out” — a claim so ridiculous that a cursory glance at scientific literature on PubMed proves it false. 

While the description of pulmonary hypertension in "Beyond the Abortion Wars" is oversimplified, Professor Camosy is correct that in some pregnancies the mother’s life will be in danger. I propose an alternate scenario to consider these cases: Imagine that you are a parent and have a toddler. Unfortunately, through no fault of your own, your small child has found a loaded gun with the safety off and is happily playing with it, pointing it at you and beginning to play with the trigger. You are at enough of a distance from your child that you cannot reach her in time to pull the gun from her hands, but coincidentally, there is another gun in front of you and you’re a trained sniper (I know, bear with me). Would it be morally permissible for you to point-blank shoot and kill your child? If you don’t, after all, there’s a good chance your innocent child will accidentally kill you. Perhaps some, especially those who are not parents or older siblings, will read this scenario and respond that it would still be morally permissible. It is undeniable, however, that parents have certain duties to care for their children. I do not think I am an extremist to take issue with parents dismembering their children. 

Professor Camosy’s stance when it comes to death of the mother is not the book’s only deficiency. He also suggests that it would be morally permissible for the parents of children with rare, usually fatal diseases such as Potter’s Syndrome to induce early labor when there is little to no chance of the fetus’s survival outside the womb. He claims that this is actually very Catholic, because otherwise the baby might have died in utero and been unbaptized. This is beyond ridiculous. Camosy displays a lack of trust in God’s mercy— implying that labor must be induced because otherwise the child’s heathen soul will be condemned—and sets up a false dichotomy between the health of the body and the health of the soul. Following his logic, Catholics ought to induce all pregnancies as early as possible to baptize the child, because otherwise they might die unbaptized. It is a line of argument that sounds like absurd anti-Catholic rhetoric, not from a book by a Catholic professor. 

Professor Camosy then proceeds to the next logical conclusion. He suggests that in the case of pregnancy resulting from rape, abortion would be permissible. Obviously, this is an incredibly difficult situation and one in which there are no easy answers. “While it is true that the prenatal child should not be punished for the horrific behavior of her biological father, it is not clear that a woman who has been raped has the same obligation to aid a fetus as someone who has consensual sex,” Camosy writes. He contends that Plan B and Ella (morning-after pills that can either prevent ovulation or keep an embryo from implanting in the uterine lining) and RU-486 (which ends an early-stage pregnancy by cutting the progesterone levels needed to keep the child alive) are not “direct” abortions, but are rather comparable to detaching someone who is using your kidneys to keep themselves alive without your consent (the well-known “violinist” analogy). 

Bodily autonomy arguments for abortion are nothing new. What is different and disturbing is Prof. Camosy’s claim that this is actually a Catholic line of thought, and his blatant distortion of actual Catholic teaching in order to make this claim. “Euthanasia is wrong because it aims at the death of an innocent person,” he says. 

But refusing or ceasing to aid such a patient, even when one knows that patient will die without such aid, is not necessarily wrong—as long as their death is not intended and there is a proportionately serious reason for choosing not to aid. For example, even at a Catholic hospital, a ‘do not resuscitate’ order can be accepted for a newborn child who is about to die…Catholic hospitals are, of course, permitted to honor requests to refuse or withdraw ventilators, dialysis machines, and chemotherapy – and for many different kinds of reasons. Such aid might be judged too painful, too burdensome, or even an unjust use of resources. In such cases, Catholic teaching allows for aid to be refused or withdrawn, even if the foreseen (but unintended) consequence is going to be death. (82) 

One can easily see where he is going with this. And he has a point: what is the difference between providing aid to a dying person or an unborn child? The answer is that there is no difference. Both should receive care for their basic needs, regardless of any other factor. 

In his 2004 address to the Congress on Life Sustaining Treatments and Vegetative State, Pope St. John Paul II stated “I should like particularly to underline how the administration of water and food, even when provided by artificial means, always represents a natural means of preserving life, not a medical act. Its use, furthermore, should be considered, in principle, ordinary and proportionate, and as such morally obligatory” (emphasis mine). He goes on to clarify that death caused by starving or dehydrating a person is a type of euthanasia. It is not comparable to taking a person off a ventilator or detaching them from your kidneys. Starvation and dehydration may seem an odd way to describe the effects of RU-486, but the “abortion pill” works by removing a human person from their only possible source of nutrition. It was disappointing to read Camosy’s glib overview implying, though not stating, that such a deprivation of nutrients is in line with Catholic teaching, when it has been so clearly condemned by the Church. 

"Beyond the Abortion Wars" has good points throughout, and Professor Camosy’s analysis of the actual views of the American public on abortion is particularly interesting. However, as a Catholic theologian working at a Catholic university, his deceptive statements about Catholic teachings and moral truths are unacceptable. He should clarify the instances in his book where he dissents from Church teaching—or better yet, he should cease teaching theology at a Catholic institution and stop representing himself as Catholic if he so clearly disagrees with the Church. As a Catholic teacher, he ought to recognize that he has a duty to his students’ (and readers’) souls as well as their minds. There is a tradition in Catholic religious communities that when a superior dies, he or she will have to answer at the throne of God for anyone led astray under their care. Professor Camosy would do well to reflect on this idea.

Leave the Mascot Unmolested

"Do you want to aggravate alumni? Because this is how you aggravate alumni." So one of The Fenwick Review’s founders remarked when the College announced it was reconsidering the Crusader mascot. It’s a good point; the tangible benefits of deep-sixing the mascot are negligible. Changing the mascot isn’t going to make "U.S. News and World Report: like us any more. Nor, indeed, was it ever going to attract more qualified students or faculty. Having the discussion at all was bound to divide the student body, cut into donations to the College, and generally make people mad. From the student’s perspective, it doesn’t seem all that significant: why on earth do most students care what our sports teams call themselves? Because it touches to realities that are crucially significant: the Catholic identity of the College, the meaning of our particular traditions, and what Holy Cross calls us to be. In light of those realities, the Board of Trustees ought to make the obvious decision: preserve the mascot unchanged, and then leave the issue buried. 

First, the Crusader is a visible sign of the College’s Catholic identity, one of the last ones remaining. “Crusade,” as many others have noted, derives from the medieval Latin cruciare, meaning “to mark with the Cross.” The mascot reminds us that we are a community distinguished by the Cross of Christ, and so affirms the religious identity of the place. The point holds even for the non-Catholics in the community: as students and instructors at a Catholic, Jesuit College, all of us are indelibly marked by the Cross. It clarifies the purpose of our studies, too. As it says over Dinand Library, “In order that they might know You, the One True God, and Jesus Christ, whom You have sent.” The mascot affirms the beliefs that lay behind this college’s founding. Without flinching, it endorses the faith which built, shaped, and guides this College. The mascot defines who we are, and why we do what we do. If we abandon it, we compromise our mission and identity as a Catholic College. 

Second, the Crusader is part of a long tradition of this College, even separate from its connection to our religious tradition. For nearly a century, the students of this College have called themselves Crusaders. It has grown into the life and image that Holy Cross projects. Speakers have addressed incoming classes and graduating seniors with this epithet. It has shaped the way we understand ourselves as students and graduates of the College of the Holy Cross. It is part of the glue that holds the students body and the alumni community together. It is literally the name we give ourselves. The Crusader gives voice to what we have in common, a symbol of the lives which we have lived on Mount Saint James. It is one of many things which makes Holy Cross a distinct community, not a bland, soul-sucking bastion of secular Academe. 

We have heard it said that the Crusader is not a model to imitate. It summons us to a life of interreligious violence (quoth the detractors, at least). The student body is not dense enough to believe that, and never has been. Our graduates do not take up the swords to reclaim the Holy Land. Instead, they leave here as men and women of principle, determined to combat injustice, raise up the poor, and spread their faith. While the vast majority of those alumni have been Catholics, the argument applies to people of all faiths and none. The mascot calls us to work tirelessly to transform the world, in spite of injustice and persecution. Holy Cross graduates can see in the mascot a call to live our lives for others. There can be few greater models. 

These are strong arguments; surely, the opposition has an equal case? No. Once we bypass the feigned hand-wringing of a short list of students and faculty, we find a single, patronisingly therapeutic argument. It takes two forms. First, current students (particularly Muslim and Jewish students) may be grievously discomforted by the mascot, to the point of being estranged from the community. Second, prospective students will be made to feel unwelcome, and so deny the College its desired diversity quotient. These are, in reality, a single argument: some hypothetical person might somehow be slightly upset, so shatter the icons. 

What utter drivel. First, in my four years here, I have not heard a student complain that the mascot made him or her feel uncomfortable. Nor have I read a single article in any campus publication making such a claim. This is to be expected. Look at two archetypal symbols that actually cause distress, the Nazi flag and the burning cross. First, each of them can be interpreted exactly one way in the modern imaginary; nobody imagines that “Nazi” means anything other than “perpetrator of ethnic cleansing.” Second, each of them symbolizes a horror so recent and dreadful that it towers over our cultural imagination. We don’t need to be told that Auschwitz was terrible; a shiver runs down our neck at the very word. 

Take those criteria and evaluate the Crusader. Can it mean something other than “Christian holy warrior of the Middle Ages” in our modern lexicon? Obviously; thumb through a newspaper on any given day. You’ll read about crusades against drunk driving, crusades against political correctness, and crusades against cancer. You won’t find medieval holy wars outside of the book reviews. Do the Crusades symbol a horror that towers over our cultural imagination? No; they were far too long ago, and far too historically complicated. Furthermore, it is both disgraceful and deceitful to compare the Crusades with Dachau; one was a war, the other a genocide. The Crusades are too far away, too historically contested, and already redefined. More than that, there is not a shred of evidence that the mascot encourages disdain for or violence toward Muslims. There is no reason that the symbol should distress anyone. 

So the problem is not discomfort, nor is it any kind of violence. If we objected to violent or aggressive mascots entirely, hardly any College’s mascot would be safe; they are intended to suggest dominance, aggression, and violence. No, the issue is the Faith. Behind the therapeutic argle-bargle lurks hardboiled academic secularism, which dreams of a day when the Crosses will come down and the chapel be bulldozed for a parking lot. It is a scorn for the faith that built this institution, and for the loyal alumni who still love it. 

The Crusader must remain. It testifies without fear to the Catholic faith and tradition that define this school, no less today than one hundred years ago. It has become its own tradition, an ineradicable part of the experience of Mount Saint James. It is remembered fondly by many alumni, who still call themselves Crusaders. It calls us to live for more than just ourselves -- ideally in the sign of the Cross, but in other fashions too. Against these arguments, we find a therapeutic mindset that treats students like glass, whose logic rapidly falls apart. In reality, though, the fight over the mascot is just another battle in a longer war. It is a war to strip the College of the Cross, to throw out its old traditions, and change its very nature. So leave the mascot unmolested, and restore the things that really matter.

Temptation Strengthens the Soul

The problem with evil is that it isn’t alarming. It isn’t, as the media would have us believe, the monster that hides in the closet, or the faceless, gun-wielding man in the alley, or the possessed, satanic child speaking in tongues. The problem with evil is that it is seductive: it is shiny, inviting, and alluring. Evil is a soft caress on the arm, a silky whisper in the ear, a delicate kiss on the cheek. Evil tempts us with fool’s gold; it is all shine and no substance. Evil parades itself before our eyes and slyly asks us to forget ourselves, to forget our dignity and values, and to give in to every base urge for the promise of pleasure and satisfaction. The problem with evil is that it makes us want it, and it tempts us with the promise of having heaven now.

Even though we are continually battered by daily innumerable temptations, it is this very battering that strengthens the soul in its fight for salvation. Saint Pio of Pietrelcina was a priest who was intimately familiar with the ways of the devil, and therefore aware of the multitude of ways in which the devil tries to tempt us. He wrote, in a letter to one of his spiritual children, “Don’t let the countless temptations with which you are continually assailed frighten you, because the Holy Spirit forewarns the devout soul who is trying to advance in the ways of the Lord, to prepare itself for temptations…Therefore, take heart because the sure and infallible sign of the health of a soul is temptation. Let the thought that the lives of the saints were not free from this trial, give us the courage to bear it”. It may sound counter-intuitive, but Saint Pio explains that the more a person is tempted to sin, recognizes that he or she is being tempted to sin, and chooses not to sin, the holier he becomes. Continual temptation is the mark of a healthy soul, the mark of a person who is actively seeking holiness. It is when a person is actively seeking holiness that he or she is hit with temptation more forcefully, because it distresses Satan to know that there are souls who are fighting him, and he employs his cunning to make us fall back into sin. He seeks to have us as his puppets, incapable of recognizing the difference between right and wrong, and habitually falling into sin until we delude ourselves into thinking that the sin itself is a normal and acceptable behavior. Make no mistake, it is hard to resist temptation. All of us feel the daily pull: the desire to just give in, let go, and stop fighting is a near constant feeling in each of us.

But that is what makes the struggle so worthwhile, because the truth is that we are not fighting for anything less than the purity of our souls. It is a difficult path, but ultimately it is a path that leads to joy. Another Catholic, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, attested to the challenging life to which all Catholics are called. He was a young Italian man, born into an aristocratic family in the early 20th Century, who chose to divorce himself from his aristocratic status and give continuously to the poor, to the chagrin of his family. He wrote, in a letter to one of his friends, “You ask me whether I am in good spirits. How could I not be, so long as my trust in God gives me strength. We must always be cheerful. Sadness should be banished from all Christian souls. For suffering is a far different thing from sadness, which is the worst disease of all. It is almost always caused by lack of Faith. But the purpose for which we have been created is
perhaps strewn with many thorns, but not a sad path. Even in the midst of intense suffering it is one of joy.” The life of the Catholic is meant to be a life of joy: it is a life that is painful, yes, and in no way free from suffering, but it is anything but a sad life. As Pier Giorgio makes plain, it is a lack of Faith in the love of the Trinity that causes one’s life to be sad. Lack of Faith breeds sadness, sadness breeds spiritual weakness, and spiritual weakness breeds habitual surrender to sin.
 
As for myself, I will say that I am no saint or blessed. But the point of the life of a Catholic is to strive to be a saint, with every fiber of our being, every day. If we fall into sin, we must get up and go to Confession. We must seek the spiritual medication of the Sacraments. We must attend mass, receive the Eucharist, and allow Christ’s sacrifice to bleed into each one of us. It is a hard and difficult path, and it will, most likely, not bring us the financial or material success that society constantly advertises, but, I promise you, nothing else will bring the lasting and blissful joy that Christ offers. If you take nothing else away from this article, at least remember the last words of the dying thief, who turned to God in his last moments. “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom!” And Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.”

Let the Dogma Live Loudly in Us!

Last week, the social left’s disdain for people of faith rediscovered one of its most eloquent witnesses.  Amy Coney Barrett, a Catholic law Professor at Notre Dame and nominee to the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals, faced sharp questioning over her religious beliefs at her confirmation hearing.  Senator Dick Durbin (D., Illinois) demanded to know whether she considered herself “an orthodox Catholic.” Senator Diane Feinstein (D., California) went further.  Implying that Barrett’s religious faith would prevent her from serving effectively, Feinstein declared, “The dogma lives loudly in you.  And that’s a concern.”  The two senators make an effective example of a process now well underway in this country -- the gradual exclusion of social conservatives and people of faith from the public square.  In pursuit of this goal, the rhetoric of “hatred” and “bigotry” has been one of the social left’s most effective tools.
 
In his essay, Abuse of Language, Abuse of Power, the philosopher Josef Pieper argues that language has two purposes: to express the truth, and to communicate it to someone. The two are fundamentally linked: if a speaker does not tell the truth, he fails to communicate at all.  There is precisely nothing to communicate.  If the content is knowingly false, it is nothing, devoid of meaning. Deceit transforms communication into obfuscation.  But words, even false words, have consequences.  Through a lie, we hoodwink the other person to act in a certain way, to keep silent, or to think as we would have them think.  Lies makes others the unwitting implements of our will. Divorced from truth, language becomes purely a tool of power.  In support of a political agenda -- and it almost always is -this sort of speech is a profound threat to any shared intellectual, religious, or political life.  It is in precisely these terms that we must understand the accusations “hatred” and “-phobia” so favored by the social left.
 
An example will illustrate the point.  We have all heard the term “homophobia” employed in any discussion of sexual morality, most likely lobbed at an observant Catholic or Evangelical Protestant.  Frequently, it accompanies an array of other lovely, communicative, dialogue-friendly terms: “hateful bigot,” “judgmental Pharisee,” “ignorance,” et cetera.  There are different terms for different topics: “Anti-choicer” for the pro-life crowd, “Islamophobe” for anyone who votes Republican, and so on.  Pick a cultural norm, imagine what you’d call a person who transgressed it, and the point is clear.
 
These examples all share a few common properties.  In each case, the accuser pretends to know the heart or mind of the person who holds the offensive view.  I know, for instance, that the “homophobe” actively detests gay people, and would very much like to see them chemically castrated -- even if I only met him five minutes ago, and he has done nothing but make an innocuous moral statement.  He is, by definition, a stranger to me -- and yet, I know him well enough to comment on his motivations and emotions, and to lecture him about the true reason he believes what he believes.  In short, all of these terms are used not in response to the expression of an actual emotion, but in response to a (usually “conservative”) moral or political belief. There is no ground for the accusation to be true or not; it relies instead on an assumption, often self-serving, about a person’s interior life.  Ultimately, the claim these terms make is either unverifiable or manifestly false -but that hardly matters. The accusation is not, however, an inconsequential one.  “Homophobe,” “Islamophobe,” “sexist” and all the rest do not express an idea in terms which allow for discussion and response.  Instead, they act as rhetorical bludgeons, meant to intimidate, discredit, and ultimately silence the other side.  When we call people "homophobes,” whatever they say is immediately discredited.

Their ideas are rooted in an irrational hatred of other people.  Hatred is bad.  Therefore, the ideas are bad.  We can ignore them.  Hatredlanguage imposes a remarkable skew on any discussion -- one person is forced to defend both an idea and his own character, while the other has merely to make accusations.  In this fashion, any argument about a major social or moral issue may be short-circuited before it even begins -- not by superior argument, but by superior sophistry.
 
Branding a social or ethical position “hatred” or “-phobia” discredits the idea before it can be rationally evaluated.  The most terrifying consequences of such a strategy then become clear.  The accusation of bigotry does not rest with the individual; instead, it contaminates the entire system of belief from which the offender speaks.  Hence, a Roman Catholic’s opposition to abortion makes the entire religion “sexist” and “anti-choice.”  And as a result, any Roman Catholic is discredited in the public eye before his or her arguments can even be heard.  No matter whether people of faith argue on biological, philosophical, or constitutional grounds, the political claims will be readily dismissed as “theological,” and the people will be written off as “bigots.”
 
That is not to say, of course, that legitimate examples of racism, homophobia, hatred and all the rest do not exist.  The violence in Charlottesville and the attack on the Pulse nightclub attest to that.  Instead, the problem is that the semantic range of the term “hateful bigot” is progressively expanding.  We may truly describe the staff of the Daily Stormer as hateful bigots: as a matter of principle, they support ethnic cleansing.  To describe
Christians in the same terms because they dissent from cultural orthodoxy on sex, abortion, and other issues does not express any sort of truth. It merely advances a particular social agenda -- the attempt to expel people of faith from the public square.  Feinstein merely attests to the success this movement has enjoyed.

Senator Feinstein does not imagine a world without dogma; she imagines a world without any dogma but hers.   Whoever of us relies on accusations of hatred to win debates -whoever abuses language to silence people of faith -- builds up toward that same world. For all Americans, religious or not, this is troubling. The work of theologian and cultural critic R.R. Reno is insightful.  Faith, he argues, is one of the few elements of human life explicitly directed towards higher things, beyond the control of the state and the world.  It gives us the courage to resist expansion of both the state and the market, and to scorn the demands of a government that thinks itself all powerful. It motivates us also to defy injustice, to raise up the poor and promote solidarity.  In American society, people of faith are perhaps the best defence that freedom and solidarity possess.  Reno writes, “What’s inscribed on our hearts strengthens our spines.”  We live loudly in the world because the dogma lives in us.

Why Holy Cross Needs a Monastery

As a Catholic and Jesuit school, Holy Cross has certain privileges. We are used to having Jesuits at the school say Mass and hear confessions, as well as teach classes, work in various departments, attend events, and generally act as a positive presence on campus. They participate in a legacy dating back to the school’s founding in 1843, and in one stretching far further into the past. Not all Catholic schools are so lucky; many, particularly those without an affiliation to a religious community, can only occasionally bring in visiting priests and lay missionaries.
 
The earliest universities were not necessarily Catholic, but there is a long history of affiliations between the Catholic Church and universities. This makes sense; from a practical standpoint during the medieval period when universities first began to appear, the Church had a variety of resources to offer a university, such as the power to grant degrees and legal protection. There is a deeper link, however: the rise of Christianity enabled the growth of science into what we have today. There is a cognitive dissonance in our culture today, where the Church is portrayed by secular entities as the enemy of science and progress. It is remarkable that such critics never question why the Church which is so dedicated to suppressing science has fostered scientific thinkers such as Copernicus, Lemaître, Mendel, Pascal, and Pasteur, as well as running the world-class Vatican Observatory.
 
We enjoy the inheritance of this religious and scientific collaboration today, usually unconsciously. Even at a small school such as Holy Cross, there is great emphasis placed on the natural sciences, mathematics, and the social sciences. Sometimes it seems that there is too much of this. As a senior about to graduate in the spring, I hear a lot about the importance of a liberal arts degree grounded in both the sciences and the humanities (and less than I would like about the Catholic history thereof). It is always implied that my degree will lead to a fulfilling career making money—after all, we’re regularly reminded that Holy Cross graduates are highly employable and have an above-average starting salary ($50,534 for the class of 2016, if you’re wondering). However, the focus on the material benefits of our education comes at a steep cost.
 
What is lost with the emphasis on money and success is any mention of what our most important heritage as a Catholic school is: prayer. I hear more about what companies are recruiting on campus than the fact that the body of Christ is present in our chapels day and night, and I get more reminders about meeting with potential employers than I do about going to Mass. It might sound silly, or archaic, but this is the belief of the Catholic Church and the focal point which enables our school’s rich study of science, mathematics, and humanities (and the post-graduate jobs in these fields). By not emphasizing the Eucharist or prayer enough, our school is missing out on a beautiful Catholic legacy, and on a lot of graces needed to lead souls to Christ (the actual mission of all Catholic schools). The solution can only come through prayer. The Jesuits are amazing, but their way of life is not conducive to constant intercession on behalf of the Church through formal prayer, though undoubtedly their prayer for the school benefits us all. What Holy Cross really needs, in addition to the prayer and witness of the Jesuits, is a cloistered monastery of nuns or monks on or around our campus.
 
The 1999 Church document Verbi Sponsa describes the importance of the contemplative life: “The ancient spiritual tradition of the Church, taken up by the Second Vatican Council, explicitly connects the contemplative life to the prayer of Jesus ‘on the mountain’… the cloister is especially well suited to life wholly directed to contemplation. Its totality signals absolute dedication to God...” Cloistered religious life is uniquely oriented toward prayer. It takes only a walk around Dinand, even this early in the academic year, to sense that there is already abundant stress and desperation, and probably not enough prayer (not that there ever can be enough prayer). Even beyond the schoolwork, a college or university cannot be a peaceful place; it is a battleground for the future of our world, whether we like to think about it in such dramatic terms or not. Here too, a monastery would act as a center of prayer for the campus. Verbi Sponsa states regarding this: “A contemplative monastery is a gift also for the local Church to which it belongs. Representing the prayerful face of the Church, a monastery makes the Church's presence more complete and meaningful in the local community. A monastic community may be compared to Moses who, in prayer, determined the fate of Israel's battles (cf. Ex 17:11), or to the guard who keeps the night watch awaiting the dawn.”
 
As well as praying for our souls and academics, a cloistered monastic community would serve as an inspiration and reminder of what is truly valuable in life, particularly as we grow ever closer to finals/graduation/our departure of this life. “As a reflection and radiation of their contemplative life, nuns offer to the Christian community and to the world of today, more than ever in need of true spiritual values, a silent proclamation of the mystery of God and a humble witness to it, thus keeping prophecy alive in the nuptial heart of the Church” (Verbi Sponsa). Verbi Sponsa speaks of nuns, and there is something to be said particularly for having an increased presence for women religious on campus. The Jesuits serve as spiritual
fathers to many students, faculty, and staff, and having a similar maternal presence could be nothing but beneficial.
 
The logistics, admittedly, could be difficult. The grass lots at the corner of College Street and Southbridge Street have been sitting vacant since the buildings previously there were demolished. Perhaps it is time for them to receive a new lease on life. Or maybe we can install a new cloistered wing off Ciampi. In the worst-case scenario, there are a lot of floors in Hogan that we don’t really need. As for the new community’s finances, I’d be more than happy to donate the part of my tuition that normally goes to the Spring Concert, and I’m sure many other students would be willing to as well. Many monastic communities sell cheese, beer, candy, or other food items so we could also benefit from having good, locally produced food on campus.
 
And since there is no contemplative branch of the Jesuits, we will have to invite a religious community of a different tradition. The Benedictines are probably our best option, as St. Benedict, their founder, is a patron saint of students, and St. Ignatius of Loyola had a beautiful experience of prayer and forgiveness at the Benedictine monastery at Montserrat. Holy Cross needs a monastery so that we can return to our Catholic roots. I do not suggest that we abandon altogether our career searching and grad-school applying, only that each of us re-evaluates our priorities. A monastery on campus or just outside the gates is a way to emphasize the importance of prayer and refocus the mission of the school on bringing souls to heaven and not just to Fulbrights. The spiritual and financial investments would be worth every bit.