The Gospel of Suffering

Wars, earthquakes, cancer, famine, mass shootings. A simple survey of the news will testify to its omnipresence in our lives. Suffering is inescapable.

From birth to death, suffering is part of human existence.  In this world of suffering, there naturally emerges the question: why? Why does suffering exist? It is a question asked by those who endure chronic illness, by those who experience the tragedy of natural disasters, and by those who mourn the loss of a loved one. It is a question that expresses the pain of those who suffer individually as well as those who suffer in communion with others. And it is a question that reveals the inner anguish and torment caused by the presence of evil.

Yet it is also a question that can find special meaning during these final days of Lent, particularly as we contemplate God’s divine love made present on the Cross. On the Cross, we find the fullest source of love and the meaning of suffering. Far from being an abstract or trite response, the answer we find on the Cross is concrete. It is a Person, Jesus Christ. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Through this love, we are not only redeemed, but, according to Saint Pope John Paul II in Salvifici Doloris, “we also find ourselves...faced with a completely new dimension of our theme [of suffering].” This love for mankind, this love which moved the Father to send His only begotten Son to save us, is revealed to us in the these words spoken by Jesus to Nicodemus. It is a love bound to our salvation. It is salvific love.

This salvific love expresses to us a new dimension—the dimension of redemption—to the world of suffering. Sent to us by the Father, Jesus willingly embraced His messianic mission and took on the entirety of human suffering upon His shoulders. As portrayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, He freely went towards His own suffering, His own “cup” that He was to drink in the Passion of the Cross, aware of its saving power (cite?). In His Passion, Christ transformed suffering. On the Cross, He used it to “strike at the roots of evil” and to save us (SD 16). He redeemed suffering, and made it the means of something good.

As evidenced by our daily experiences, however, Christ’s victory on the Cross did not eradicate temporal suffering. Rather, it gave us a certain “gospel of suffering.” According to Saint Pope John Paul II, it is a gospel that not only recognizes the presence of suffering, but maintains it as one of the themes of good news. Through His life, death, and resurrection, Christ invites us to share in His agonies, offering us new strength and hope to endure life’s trials. In light of the Resurrection, we know the victorious power of suffering. We know that know that evil does not have the final say. Assured by this, St. Paul speaks of such hope in his letter to the Romans, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us” (Romans 8:18).

What does all this mean for us? The gospel of suffering reveals that the cross is not to be feared. Christ did not attempt to address the reasons for suffering in the abstract, but rather said to us, “follow Me.” As Christ told His followers, “If any man would come after me...let him take up his cross daily,” for it is this cross that leads to our redemption (Luke 9:23). More than simply calling us to follow Him, He also invites us to share in His suffering. In this accompaniment on the “hard and narrow” path, we are comforted and strengthened by the knowledge that we neither suffer alone nor in vain. Christ and the hope of the resurrection are always with us. Moreover, the transformative power of suffering draws us closer to Christ, conforms us to Him, and makes us sharers in our redemption.

The experience of suffering is real, complex, and personal. Ultimately, human suffering is a mystery, but its meaning can be found in Jesus, particularly within the context of the Paschal Mystery. As we conclude these forty days of Lent and the Easter Triduum, let us reflect on what these events reveal to us. Christ’s Passion and Resurrection show us that suffering can be transformed. It shows us that even in the midst of illness, tragedy, and death, there is hope. A hope rooted in faith and found in God’s salvific love for us. “Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy” (John 16:20).

Who am I to Judge?

A century ago, “societal progress” meant advancements in medicine and math, breakthroughs in technology, and improvements in peoples’ quality of life. Now progress is measured by the number of minority groups our politicians belong to. We live in a society that is hyper-focused on accepting all people—so much so that ideal societal advancement is centered around creating safe spaces, using proper pronouns, and teaching people to not “assume” their baby’s gender. We see tolerance as the key to creating a better world. 

At the outset, a disclaimer: we live in a country where people once owned other people because of the color of their skin. We need to work towards a society that respects the dignity of all people. I get that. I am not arguing that our society is perfect, or that things like racism or sexism aren’t real issues. There will always be challenges to overcome, and we should be striving to build a better world. The problem is that we’re doing it wrong. Pure tolerance has never solved a societal crisis, and it won’t solve the ones that America faces now. 

Tolerance has become the battle-cry of many in the “progressive movement.” Campus progressives teach us to “tolerate” everything in order to create a more accepting, affirming society. And yet the result is that people are afraid to speak out against something they consider morally wrong because they are scared they’ll be called intolerant or bigoted. Quickly, tolerance morphs into moral relativism: moral truth does not exist, and don’t you dare tell me otherwise. Morality becomes a purely personal sphere, regulated by a truism wrenched from its context and used as the basis of an entirely new system of ethics: “Who am I to judge?” 

On the surface, this approach of “who am I to judge?” seems to make us more loving, accepting, Christlike people. But the logic doesn’t hold water. We don’t tolerate homicide. If a mother killed her toddler, the woman would go to jail because she committed murder, and murder is wrong. This is literally how society functions. It’s the only way human beings restrain the evil that we’re capable of. Perhaps we shouldn’t judge too readily, but we can’t default to casual relativism either. That’s contrary to everything we believe about justice, right and wrong, good and evil. 

Christians have always preached a different kind of acceptance: love. We can best follow Christ and create a better world through loving people instead of just tolerating them. Our cultural tradition defines love as “willing the good of the other independent of your own.” That means putting another person’s long-term wellbeing—not just temporary satisfaction—ahead of your own wants, desires and fears. We don’t love people best by letting them hurt themselves or others, or violate the societal bonds between us and them. Love does not turn a blind eye to suffering. Tolerance does. That’s why it will never be authentic love. 

We are called to love the sinner and hate the sin. Yet in modern society, we think loving the sinner necessitates supporting the sin, so that no one feels ashamed or guilty. It’s one thing to love and accept human beings, but it’s another thing entirely to tolerate evil. We, as a society, do need to work to create a more peaceful, loving community. But we need to model that community after Christ. Jesus made the distinction between human beings and their behavior. His friends were prostitutes and tax collectors, but they gave up their sinful past to follow Him. His call is not just one of discipleship, but one of conversion. 

Love means encouraging and affirming a struggling mother in a crisis pregnancy so she can make the difficult decision to choose life. It means helping the sex worker to recognize her own dignity, so she can leave an industry that destroys rather than empowers. It means standing by the addicts and, instead of enabling them, challenging them to keep fighting. Sometimes true love means a demanding love. 

When we say “you do you” or “who am I to judge?” we really mean, “I like you, but I don’t care about you enough to fight for what’s best for you.” Sometimes the very act of standing up for what is true, good and beautiful frightens us. It might endanger a friendship, or anger people we love. But we can’t just blindly tolerate evil. Moral relativism guarantees a worse world—after all, Benito Mussolini once said, “there is nothing more relativistic” than fascism. Instead of cowardly tolerance, we must lovingly and courageously call people to authentic conversion, whether those people are abortionists or KKK members, violent socialists or hucksters of the alt-right. 

Many confuse this message with hatred. Most progressives—which is, most college students—imagine that conservative policies, and the people who support them, are filled with hatred for anyone who’s different. They aren’t. Quite the opposite, in fact; most of us are genuinely concerned for the common good. The myth that people who aren’t progressive are all angry, bitter bigots only serves to hamper authentic political and social dialogue. While there are bigots, they can be found on both sides of the aisle. In reality, most people who stand for things like the pro-life cause, traditional religious values, or conservative economic policies are loving people who want to make the world a better place. Just like most progressives. All we’re intolerant of is evil. 

The Four Last Things

“Gentlemen, you have a choice,” barked Fr. Larry Richards, his right hand resting absently on the forgotten podium next to him. He stood stiffly, gazing out at over two hundred attentive faces with an intense glare. “You can either become a saint, or you can go to Hell. Which will you have?” Immediately, we roared back “Sainthood, Father!” “All right, let’s get started,” he said, cracking a boyish grin and relaxing into a more leisurely pose. 

This was how Fr. Larry began his talk on sainthood at a conference that I attended this past break. He was hinting at something central to the Catholic faith, something that most people are afraid to think about, let alone talk about. He was hinting at the four last things—death, judgment, heaven and hell. Put more officially, he was referring to eschatology, the doctrines of the final destiny of humanity. 

Thinking about these four things might make you feel uncomfortable or even scared. If they do, good; that is exactly how we should feel. These are not easy topics to discuss, but it does us no good to run or hide from the reality of our situation. We are each faced with these four unalterable truths: we are all going to die, we are all going to be judged for how we lived, and we are all going to end up in either heaven or hell. 

Death 

You are going to die. Please stop reading for a moment and ponder that. There will come a time when you will not wake up, when you will be put in a coffin, and when you will be lowered into a rectangular pit and covered with six feet of dirt. For some, that time is a long way off. For others, it is just around the corner, maybe even minutes away. I don’t say this to be morbid; I say it to be candid. Whenever another of his fellow Jesuits would say that he would do something one or two weeks in the future, St. Ignatius was in the habit of saying, “What’s that? Do you think you will live that long?” Ignatius reminded his brothers, and reminds us, that death is utterly unpredictable. Since it will come “like a thief in the night,” we should live vigilantly, because we “know neither the day nor the hour” when we will die. 

Judgement 

Death is not the end. This life is not all there is, and we should not act like what we think, say, and do does not have consequences. St. Ignatius, in the First Principle and Foundation, spells out exactly how we are supposed to live: “Human beings are created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by means of doing this to save their souls. The other things on the face of the earth are created for the human beings, to help them in the pursuit of the end for which they are created.” Put another way, we should constantly live with eternity in mind. We should be constantly asking ourselves, am I showing God, by my way of life, that I love Him most of all, or am I showing God that I love something else more than Him? This is an extremely important question that deserves reflection, because God will give us what we truly want—either Himself, or not Himself. The famous passage from St. Matthew states it clearly: at our judgment Christ will gather all of humanity and separate us “as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, with the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.” To those on His right He will say “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world,” and they will be given this gift because “whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” By their life, they showed Christ that they loved Him. But to those on His left He will say “Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” and they will be given this because “what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me. And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” 

Heaven 

I am not going to try and pretend to know what Heaven is like. I don’t. Nobody does. What I do know is that I love God. I love Him in an imperfect, fallible way, and often I do a poor job of it. But still, I love Him. And I do know that, however imperfect my love for God is here on Earth, it will be made perfect in Heaven. That, I think, is what Heaven must be; it is a perfect relationship of love with Him. We will be set free from our doubt, fear, pain and sin. There, we will finally experience perfect love, and we will be made perfect in our union with God and exist in unending bliss. 

Hell 

If Heaven is our perfect and final loving relationship with God, then Hell is the ultimate and final breaking of it. On Earth, we each have an imperfect relationship with God, but we can deepen that relationship when we choose to respond to God’s love for us. Conversely, we can also damage it when we choose to reject that love by committing venial sin, or even break it when we commit mortal sin. However, even committing mortal sin does not constitute a final break, because God, in His divine mercy, continually offers us forgiveness in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. With Hell though, it is different. There are no more chances, and mercy can no longer be offered, because Hell is a final self-separation from God. It is something we choose when we choose to love things other than God without repentance. What is truly terrifying is that if we commit mortal sin, do not seek God’s forgiveness, and then die, God no longer recognizes us. We become unknown to Him who knows all things. We become like the five virgins waiting outside of the locked door at the wedding feast. We cry out and say, “Lord, Lord, open the door for us!” But He replies, “Amen, I say to you, I do not know you” (Matthew 25:1-13). The door is shut, we cannot get in, and we are alone. It is by our own foolishness that we are cut off from God, and we torment ourselves with that knowledge forever. 

If we want to have a relationship with God, we need to remember the four last things. In meditating upon them in prayer, we are forced to prioritize what is important in life: love for God, and love for neighbor. Apart from these two things and the most basic living necessities, the rest is superfluous or even a hindrance to our spiritual goal. Therefore, as we begin this Lenten season, we ought to reflect closely on the four last things. When we’ve done that, we ought to ask ourselves: Will we become saints? Or will we go to Hell? 

Burial

April 6, 2016. During the monumental construction of Holy Cross’ new Luth Athletic Complex, much-extolled for its heft and grandeur, a time capsule is exhumed. As the Luth absorbs the Hart Center, a steel box is lifted from the latter’s dusty brick rubble. The ideals, memories, and relics of the College’s 1975-1976 students and faculty lie in a worker’s hands. The capsule is opened. Nestled inside is an assortment of memorabilia: copies of the Catholic Free Press, the Worcester Telegram, the Evening Gazette, the Crusader, and Crossroads. An American Revolution bicentennial medal and flag. Mementos from Rev. Francis J. Hart, S.J., and a newspaper article about his dear friend Will Jenks ’54. A letter regarding scheduling intramural basketball. A St. Ignatius Loyola Fundator Society of Jesus token. 

And lastly, a “beaded necklace” with images of Christ and the Virgin Mary. Catholics call it a Rosary. 

We do not know whose words those were. We do not know on whose account the misprint stole onto the pages of the Holy Cross Alumni magazine. What we do know is a much more sobering fact: that here at the College of the Holy Cross, there are individuals so estranged from the College’s Catholic identity and Jesuit charism that they do not know what a rosary is. The College, of course, doesn’t force prayer on its students; not one person must slide beads across his fingers out of some enforced necessity. But the problem is not that we have non-Catholic students. Rather, the real question is one of presence; one would expect that, in a Catholic institution, one of the most powerful prayers in existence would be visibly displayed on campus. If not that, we should at least recognize that the beads are used in prayer—not in fashion. There is no reason our faith needs to lie hidden. 

The misidentification tells us something, like the rest of the objects in the box. Consider the values of faith, history, and patriotism that so many at the College seem to be willing to abandon in the rubble. 

The time capsule also contained a copy of the Catholic Free Press, which, in 1975, must have merited value as an emblem of our faith. It was, after all, buried with the cornerstone of the Hart Center. Yet now, over forty years later, it would be bewildering to see a student know what the Catholic Free Press is, much less actually read it. The newspapers usually stand nearly untouched on the newspaper rack in Smith Hall, every-so-often picked at by students who, like winter fowl searching for nourishment, peck and decide that their worth is barren. The St. Ignatius token would have represented the spiritual legacy of St. Ignatius within the Catholic Church; the two were then inseparable. Now? It stands for a nebulous “Jesuit mission.” 

The copy of Crossroads accompanying its peers represents the gradual decay of our history. Among the undergraduate body, it has obtained no legacy here; perhaps graduates know it became the current Holy Cross Alumni magazine. And, over the impending years, the same may be said for the Crusader. Its name has been abandoned, buried by the Spire. One must wonder whether this noteworthy change will leave its predecessor swallowed up by the irrepressible gullet of time. 

The commemorative bicentennial flag and medal of the American Revolution represent another withering ideal: patriotism. In a college so vehemently concerned with social justice, which often takes the form of a double-edged sword - lacerating the faults of some to bolster the worth of others - patriotism shrivels like a dying vine. “He isn’t my President.” “Crooked Hillary.” The claim “I appreciate the United States for the opportunities it has offered me” is rarely made here. Perhaps that respect had roots here forty years ago, but there is little reason to expect a 250-year-anniversary commemoration of the Revolution in 2026. 

That time capsule represented the loyalties of an earlier Holy Cross: an inheritance of Catholicism within a Jesuit charism, history, patriotism. Thus passes the glory of the world. But, within a small scheduling letter, we find something the College has managed to retain: its concern for greater athletic community. We have, at least, accomplished that much. The Luth Athletic Complex will serve over a quarter of the student body with unwavering commitment and presents itself as a source of community pride. We shall, at least, excel in athletics. 

But since the Hart Center was built, how far have we come—or how far have we fallen? Does Catholicism still provide a thorough basis for the College’s decisions on the executive level? How much do our current undergraduates actually know about the history of the College? Is there still an underlying love for our country beneath our breath? Unfortunately, these questions cannot be easily answered with statistics and surveys. They embody a greater crisis in our very nature as an institution. And they must not, like our faith and devotion, lie buried. 

Emblazoned on the side of the Luth Athletic Complex is a massive cross, shamelessly on high for all to see. At night, it glows a radiant purple, shedding light over the campus and letting its presence be known in the city of Worcester. We aren’t afraid to show the religious tradition of Holy Cross; we need to find the courage to live it. 

The Abolition of Manhood

Immediately following the news that the Hawaii missile attack warning was just a false alarm, PornHub traffic from the Aloha State jumped 48% higher than normal levels. Men of older generations might have taken a sigh of relief, hugged family members, and thanked God after such a scare. Our generation, on the other hand? Not so much. 

If this shows anything, it is that men have much different priorities now than in previous generations. Rather than prioritizing family, country, and God, we prioritize ourselves. We put our desires above all else and seek pleasure at all costs. We are hedonistic narcissists. 

This mindset is not new. Self-worship drove King Herod, Hitler, and Stalin. When God is removed from the hierarchy of beings, man rises to the top; man is “the measure of all things;” man is god. And if man is god, he is the arbiter of truth; he is in full control of what is deemed “right” and what is deemed “wrong.” Moral truth becomes subjective, and genocide becomes no more inherently evil than helping Granny cross the street. 

It’s why an increasing amount of people believe that right and wrong are just matters of personal opinion. It’s why we hear so-called “Catholic” politicians say they are “personally opposed” to abortion yet applaud a woman's “right” to kill her unborn child. We hear people sanctimoniously call anyone who doesn’t condone this intolerant bigots. We’re told to be tolerant of everything except those who are intolerant. We live in a world that loves the sin and hates the sinner. 

As Venerable Fulton J. Sheen said, “tolerance applies only to persons, but never to truth.” There is nothing more precious than the truth, and there is nothing more evil than its denial. The toleration of immorality is not a virtue, but a vice. G.K. Chesterton said that “tolerance is the virtue of a man without convictions”. A man without convictions seeks to do anything that he so pleases; and if everyone else tolerates it, he is allowed to do so. As Matt Walsh writes in The Unholy Trinity, “it takes nothing to tolerate and accept,” while it “takes effort and work to not tolerate something.” Tolerance is an easy principle for lazy men. The four cardinal virtues (prudence, fortitude, temperance, justice) and the three theological virtues (faith, hope, charity), however, are not so easy. It is difficult to be courageous or faithful or prudent or charitable, and when you preach to others that they ought to practice these virtues, you are expected to live by those standards as well, or you will be ridiculed as a hypocrite. If you preach tolerance, however, you can live in any way you desire as long as you are tolerant of the sins of others. 

Hollywood loves to lecture Americans about how “intolerant” we are, as if the segment of our population with a near 100% divorce rate should act as our moral authority. And yet, despite the moral charge we’ve laid upon them, the past six months reveal just how badly they’ve failed in that role. Can we really expect anything else? We tell men there is no right and wrong, and then condemn them for acting wrongly. We tell men they don’t need to respect women, and then condemn them for harming women. We tell men to tolerate the actions of others, and then condemn them for their own actions. C.S. Lewis writes in The Abolition of Man, “[w]e make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.” 

But Hollywood’s moral authority makes another point: the people we view as role models are often the very worst of all. But where else are we to look? While there are plenty of great mothers out there who embody what it means to be a good woman, more and more fathers are absent at home, and boys are left learning how to be a “man” from singers and rappers who promote drugs and degrade women. Young men grow up not with the desire to be courageous and honorable, but with the desire to get laid whenever possible. 

Masculinity isn’t sex appeal; smoking a cigar, sipping on whiskey and hunting a bear don’t make a man a man. The crux of manliness lies in integrity and virtue—in the ability to maintain a belief despite opposition, and to live according to it. The ideal of masculinity is none other than Jesus Christ. Jesus is not the free-loving hippie that many churches portray Him to be. He was not “tolerant” of the merchants in the temple when He overturned their tables and drove them out. Neither was He “tolerant” when He said “if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.” Rather, Jesus possessed real virtue. He stood firm in truth and love in the face of lies and hatred, and He held his ground all the way to the cross. He gave his life so that we may live, and that is the manliest thing one can ever do. 

"To Take the Risks of Love": an Interview with R. R. Reno

Dr. Reno is the editor of First Things, America’s largest journal of Religion and public life. He holds a Doctorate in Religious Ethics from Yale University, and was for 20 years a professor of Theology and Ethics at Creighton University.  This interview was conducted on September 21st, in connection with Dr. Reno’s lecture, “A Christian Interpretation of the Age of Trump.”  It has been edited for length.

Claude Hanley: What would be, in your estimation, the place of the university in American life now, and what should its task be?

R.R. Reno: Well, the purpose of the university is to provide a community of learning, it’s a place for the formation of a secular society that is committed to the life of the mind, and then obviously most students go on to professional work.  Most don’t become professors, but the educational experience serves as a leaven in society at large. I think especially on Josef Pieper’s wonderful short book Leisure, The Basis of Culture.  The American idea of the four-year liberal arts degree is of a time in your life when you’re not actually pursuing professional activities, but leaves you with something that’s closer to contemplative. Pieper argued that is actually necessary to have culture.

Now our view about the role of the university in the public square is shaped by the fact that after World War II, with the GI Bill, there was a big upsurge in college enrollments. And for the men that were coming back from World War II, the university became a kind of place where they looked at questions about what kind of society they were going to have. Consequently, we have this false view that the university is this kind of crucial place where the future of our society is debated and formed and shaped. I think that that’s distorted. It’s obviously true for some of our universities, but we overemphasize that because of the 50’s and 60’s, when we saw this sort of new, emerging middle class, different people from ethnic backgrounds being integrated into America’s leadership. Universities were the focal point for that process.  So universities would ideally be more nourishing, and less political than they are today.

CH: How do the humanities disciplines contribute to that mission?

RRR: Well, I’d put it more broadly, as the liberal arts. I mean, studying astrophysics doesn’t serve any practical purpose. It’s not clear studying evolutionary biology serves a practical purpose either.  Fossil records, all these sorts of things, contribute to our knowledge of the natural world, which we can perhaps use technically at some point.  Mathematicians also, they’re famous for coming up with things that have no relevance whatsoever, and then a hundred years later, people discover practical uses for their mathematical models. But it’s the wonder and joy of knowing that precedes their practical usefulness. And that’s a liberal education; it’s for its own sake, and not for some other end. That strikes me as what is so important about a liberal arts education.  We are made to know, and it is an intrinsic good to know truth.  Not every project can offer that; the liberal arts humanize us, and they make use more fully human.

CH: How does that humanization translate to society and to politics?

RRR: Whether it’s Shakespeare or astrophysics, you go out into the public square, if you’re liberally educated, and you’re less likely to be swept up in a thousand ideologies of the time. It gives you a kind of independence of mind.  I think it’s important, in any society, that you have people who have this independence of mind. John Henry Newman referred to education leads to an enlargement of mind.  You become more capacious…capable of grappling with a full range of experience. I don’t want to privilege the humanities in this regard.  I started out in physics as an undergraduate. My sister’s a physics professor at the University of Iowa. You have to specialize, you can’t know everything. It’s not like you’re swallowing all this food until your gut gets full and distended. It’s not just the amount of facts.  Instead, it’s developing a kind of mental plasticity, and flexibility, and a capacity that prompts you to think about things in such ways.

CH: It’s said that there is a lack of intellectual diversity, of that independence of thought in universities today. The same people are promoting the same kinds of ideas that are getting preeminence. Do you think that’s a valid criticism of the American university?

RRR: I don’t like to use this new term diversity here. We should have diversity of some things and we should have unity of other things. So, I think it’s not a cure-all. But there is a problem, it seems, where there isn’t independence of thought, there’s too much group think. And I don’t think it’s a matter of, as people often say, “Well, it’s because all the professors are liberals.” Now, I went to a small liberal arts college, not unlike Holy Cross.  The professors were ninety percent registered Democrats, they were certainly liberals.  But it didn’t feel like an environment that was closed or limited. To be capacious, to encourage adventure, to have the security as a faculty member to accept the fact that sometimes your students will go in a different direction -- These are qualities that I think that one hopes for in a faculty, but I see less of them today. It could be that the problem is not lack of diversity, but a kind of careerism on the part of faculty.  Or perhaps people want a cheap emotional payoff of feeling that their work has a great moral and political significance.  As a result, there’s a kind of works-righteousness around our salvation, at least our secular salvation by making sure that our  classes teach the right political lessons. I think we need to dig more deeply.  It’s not just a lack of diversity. That’s a symptom, not a cause.

CH: So, to continue this theme, one of the main challenges now is academic freedom and freedom of speech. I think of the events at Middlebury last year, and similar controversies.  What do you think at least some of the underlying issues are that cause this sort of tension?

RRR: Our society is very divided. Grownups don’t tell young people what life is for, and they’ve rebelled.   Everything is open, you choose your own values, et cetera et cetera.  I think it’s quite natural that students want to find some consensus and stability. The radical schools that want to shut down who they perceive to be bad people, I think are misguided.  But that may not be an altogether unhealthy desire, that they need right and wrong. So, I think we’re seeing these perverse dysfunctions in education because we the grownups have created that need.  It’s being filled by some sort of ideological, imposed consensus, rather than a real, genuine consensus.

CH: And this critique reaches back to the same idea, that we’ve lost the ability to pursue the human good?

RRR: Right. If we’re concerned about academic freedom and free speech (and we should be concerned about these things), we need to be clear about what the education at the institution is for, and why shouting people down harms the proper end of education. We’re a community of inquiry.  In a community of inquiry, if people can’t speak, in that sense there’s an imposed consensus, and there’s not a lot of inquiry any more. I’ve talked with young people, and they’ve told me that they find more and more, that it’s just wise not to say what’s on their minds. It’s too dangerous. Well, how can you make progress in the pursuit of truth if you can’t articulate what you think the truth is, and hear what others have to say in response? The problem with shutting down speakers is that it impedes us in achieving the end of education, which is to refine our ideas and make them more in accord with the truth. So I don’t think that academic freedom is an end in itself, it needs to be the means to the end -- having a healthy medium of inquiry. I don’t think that Holy Cross should invite a creationist to give lectures. It just doesn’t help advance the pursuit of truth.  You and I can come up with examples where “no, that’s not going to help.” The problem again is that then the sort of ideological frame of mind comes into play.  It’s a crazy view that the political opinions of half the country are taboo. How could any reasonable person think that? It’s irrational.

CH:  So we have to balance academic freedom with a duty to truth.  What duty to truth does a Catholic university in particular have, and how should it be balanced against academic freedom?

RRR: I think that a Catholic university has an absolute duty to teach what the Catholic Church teaches. A Catholic university that does not teach that which the Church teaches is not betraying its Catholic identity; it’s betraying its identity as a University. The purpose of a university is to encourage people to pursue the truth, and also to transmit the truth. And we believe, as Catholics, that what the Church teaches truths that are indispensable, not just for our salvation but also for our fuller understanding of the human condition. There’s a question of priorities. It’s not the job of the Catholic university to represent all possible views of what it means to be human; It is absolutely the responsibility to propose to students, and to the world, that the Church teaches what it means to be human. That entails defining priorities: hiring priorities, what kind of courses to acquire, etc. It’s not a violation of academic freedom to say that Catholic theology is required, but a Jewish Studies professor’s course is not required. It’s not a violation of academic freedom; that’s the institution establishing its priorities.   Nor is it a violation of academic freedom for the university not to invite speakers who hold positions contrary to what the Church teaches. Now there could be student groups or others who want to invite those people.  Then the university has to make a judgement about whether it harms the mission of the university, which is to transmit and encourage students to pursue the truth. In many cases, Catholic universities have confidence in their own students. If it is doing what it should be, which is to ensure Catholic teaching is clearly taught, it can tolerate dissent quite easily.

CH: How does that concern influence the other disciplines, outside of philosophy and theology?

RRR: It applies across the board. For instance, one problem we have is that in the sciences, there’s often a materialistic metaphysics that’s operating very close to the surface: that our brains are our minds, and we’re just neurons firing. A university should guard against teaching this. It’s scientism, it’s not science. The same goes for economics.  Economics is a powerful and important discipline that teaches us to think in a critical way about markets.  It models the human behavior in terms of maximizing authority, where that’s understood as maximizing one’s material interest. That’s fine for modelling, but it easily can lead to a generalization that humans are nothing more than utility maximizing achievements. That’s not true for the human person either. So in many different disciplines, there needs to be reflection on how we as an institution can present our view of the human person. Pope Benedict’s Regensburg speech dealt with that.

CH: Are there any particular reforms you think should be made, or is it more a change in attitude toward the project of the University?

RRR: I think Catholic universities really need to get a grip on the hiring of faculty. We’ve spent too many decades now trying to imitate secular higher education. We need to return to the wisdom of our own tradition, and recognize that the metaphysical poverty of our time is quite acute, and we need to focus on hiring people, not the people who all agree, that’s absurd, you’re never going to find that [laughs], that’s the whole idea. You can’t even find Thomists who agree. It’s not a question of agreement, it’s a question of whether or not there are faculty members who believe that there’s truth, and that truth transcends a particular discipline. In Pope Benedict’s Regensburg speech, he looked back with nostalgia on his years at Regensburg, when faculty members often would gather together and try to talk about the big questions, transcending the specialized knowledge that they had in philosophy or theology or science or literature or history. One has to grope towards these larger theories together, and we have to hire professors who are committed to try to do that together. That’s what it means to be liberal, not having a collection of specialists.  And I think because the Catholic Church opposes a compromise of truth about the human person, both as to our manifold destiny in God, as well as to our natural duties and responsibilities, and because it presents a comprehensive vision of the human person, we in particular have an inheritance that allows us to recognize the poverty of our present age. We should address that poverty by building institutions that pursue a larger vision.

FR: But that would entail first recognizing our inheritance.

RRR: Right.  Catholic universities have a natural excellence of the life of the mind. Most of what goes on at Catholic universities functions in the area of the natural virtues -- intellectual integrity, intellectual honesty and intellectual zeal. This is encouraged and elevated by the supernatural virtue of faith, but these are natural virtues. It’s possible that we can draw upon educational models and experiences at secular universities. It’s not that we only have to hire people with degrees from Catholic universities, etc., etc. But it does require a kind of recognition that higher education in the United States is not in good shape. We see this from this dysfunctional campus environments. And because it’s not in good shape, consequently we should not just be imitating what other, elite, universities are doing.  We should be returning to our sources and asking ourselves, “What is it that the Catholic tradition proposes as a vision of the Truth?”

FR: In conclusion, what piece of advice would you give undergraduates about how to take their four years of undergraduate education?

RRR: Don’t worry about what comes next. Bill Deresiewicz, who wrote a book called Excellent Sheep about today’s college students, said that there are two religions that dominate higher education today. One is a religion of political correctness, and the other is a religion of success. Both of those religions actually feed on each other, because political correctness is a way of baptizing a person to success. So I would say that success is a far more powerful god than political correctness. So beware of that idol. Study the things you love.  One of the great poverties of our age is that it really is a loveless age. People don’t feel that they even have permission to take the risks of love. If you love physics, study physics. If you love theology, study theology. Don’t worry about what you’re going to do for a living right now.  In the United States, we have society set up for people to do well. We don’t have a society set up for people to cultivate the life of the mind. Cultivate it now, and it will carry you through many of life’s difficulties and setbacks, which are inevitable even if you are successful.

Let's Talk About... Jesus

“I’m really fed up with Christians,” my neighbor told me. “The other night I was by the pond when these two guys with beanies and acoustic guitars asked me if I’d found Christ, and then they started playing Jesus music.”

As a Catholic, the thought of two hippies playing Jesus Jams by a pond makes me smile. But I can understand how hipster-fueled evangelization with spontaneous music can be a little off-putting-- especially in a society where religion is akin to going to the bathroom: if you have to do it, fine, but don’t talk about it. This attitude is a serious challenge to evangelization-- it’s hard to make disciples of all nations when the nations are too fed up with you to listen. I understand that any amount of evangelization will alienate some people, but this alienation becomes a problem when it annihilates any receptivity to Catholicism. Given that Jesus told us that we’d be persecuted for spreading the gospel, some evangelists seem to judge their effectiveness by how many people they’ve made mad. That’s not the point; any evangelization that drives people away from God undermines its own purpose, no matter how Christ-like the ensuing stigmatization makes us feel.

That’s not to say there aren’t real barriers to evangelization. A recent New York Times Op-Ed by Nicholas Kristof cited several studies which indicate that in academia, there’s significantly more hiring bias against Conservatives and Christians than against minority groups. Kristof cited a study by a black evangelical sociologist who found that 30% of academics said they’d be less likely to support a candidate for a job if they found out the candidate was a Republican. The numbers jumped to over 50% when the academics were informed the candidate was also an Evangelical Christian. While Catholics and Evangelicals face different social stigmas, they are stigmas nonetheless, and in or out of academia, these stigmas are a real barrier to effectively spreading the Gospel.

On top of the social stigma, there’s also the very real and uncomfortable truth that no matter how logical and persuasive you are, you can’t argue someone into faith. So how do we evangelize in a secular culture that ridicules and delegitimizes Christians? How do we lead someone to the Truth if we can’t just… convince them of it?

The answer is sanctity. Look at Mother Teresa. Before she became known around the world as a living saint, a young British journalist named Malcolm Muggeridge was assigned to report on her. At the time, Muggeridge was an atheist. He died a Catholic. This was not because Mother Teresa was a great apologist or philosopher, nor was it her ability to jam out to Matt Maher on the acoustic guitar. Mother Teresa led people to Christ because she reflected Him. After all, it’s hard to look God in the eyes and say He doesn’t exist. Her life was a witness. It showed that people really can live entirely beyond themselves, for selfless motives, and glorify God. Saints are beautiful works of art, and art teaches you something about the artist. When the world saw Mother Teresa- now St. Teresa of Calcutta- they saw the God who shaped her, guided her, and led her to change the world. She, like any Christ-like figure, had her opponents. All evangelists will. Jesus did too. But by being a mirror for Christ, she was able to effectively show people the truth. As Dr. Peter Kreeft once said, “Nobody ever won an argument against Mother Teresa.”

But what does that mean for you and me?

It means that we have to live up to our Baptismal call--we have to be saints. If we claim to be Catholic, but we don’t live it, then we’re not just being annoying evangelists. We’re being hypocrites. Teach with your actions! If they say you’re judgmental, show the mercy of Christ. If they say you’re boring, show them the wild joy of living the Gospel. If they say that God is dead, become a generation of saints. Especially in a culture that thinks religion is the dying tradition of the elderly, young Catholics have a duty to rise up and fight for holiness. If we want to show everyone that this is real, then we have to really live it.

Look around you. People are hungry for love and acceptance. They’re hungry for peace and freedom. They’re hungry for a life that has meaning. They don’t know it, but they’re hungry for Christ. In our sanctity, we can be beacons- drawing people in, and then pointing them to Christ. If we pursue holiness, then our “halos” become like McDonald’s golden arches- a glowing sign offering the promise of fulfillment and an answer to the nihilistic hunger of our generation. We have the Bread of Life, the food that will satisfy. What more could we ever need?

Get Behind Me, Satan

Warning to Catholics: Compromise is not a Christian concept.

If the Truth is good, then any compromise to Truth is evil. On the road to Jerusalem, Jesus addressed the idea of compromise by saying to Peter, the first pope, “get behind me Satan”. Peter had told his master that he would never let him be handed over and killed, a seemingly good thing. However, in the face of Truth, such a proposed compromise to salvation could only come from the evil one.

Allowing abortion in the case of rape is a compromise. It is the duty of every Catholic to reject such a deceptive proposal, for if abortion is wrong in any case, it must be wrong in all cases. “It’s better to be an atheist than a hypocritical Catholic” –Pope Francis, much in the same way, it is much better to be adamantly pro-choice than to be to be a compromising “pro-lifer”. To be a pro-lifer with exceptions is to be a hypocrite. Weeds among grain. To be Catholic, one must be against abortion because by its very nature abortion aims at the destruction of life. 

Which brings me to my next point, no medical procedure intending to save the mother’s life is an abortion, even if the unborn child were to die as a result of such a procedure. Simply put, an abortion is an intended early termination of a pregnancy. Abortion by its very nature is aimed solely at ending a pregnancy. Therefore, any surgery with a different purpose cannot be deemed an abortion. For example, a surgery aimed at removing life threatening cancer from a woman’s uterus can’t be considered an abortion even if it ends the life of a child in utero. In this way, there is no such thing as an “abortion” to protect the mother’s life, for any such procedure would not be an abortion as its aim would not be that of ending pregnancy but rather that of protecting the mother’s life.

Don’t compromise the Truth to make yourself feel better or too avoid controversy. For in doing so it is no longer the Truth that you accept and spread, it is a lie. Being Catholic means that you are against all things that threaten the dignity of innocent life, not just the ones that are easy to condemn as wrong (slavery, death penalty, late term abortion, etc). In our modern democracy, compromise is the name of the game. Without compromise nothing would get done they say. Heed my warning Catholics, for you know as well as I do that apart from Him not only does nothing get done, nothing is. Look to your mothers and fathers in faith, you will see the blood, but you won’t see compromise for many died rather than adulterate the Truth. 

Stand up for the whole Truth or sit down. In matters of life and death there can be no room for indifference, it is either love or hate, to be indifferent is to side with hate. You cannot serve two masters. If you refuse to spread the message of the evil of abortion in all cases, don’t spread any message about the inherent dignity of the human person and the necessity of love shown towards them. To do one and refuse the other is hypocrisy. Choose controversy rather than compromise.

Remember, you don’t need to be Catholic, but if one is to be a Catholic one must be pro-life. Never compromise on truth.