This past week I had to opportunity to participate in two interesting events. The first was to be a member of the Holy See’s delegation to the Council of Europe. The topic for discussion on this occasion was religious liberty (and its contribution to moral values) in a multicultural society. While the issue was straightforward, the discussions in Strasbourg seemed disjointed. It was maintained by many speakers that there is a European culture and civilization. Those statements were fine. But then it became apparent that there was either no authentic understanding of the heart of this culture or a denial of it. Of course, the heart of the European culture is Christianity. Yet, this vital center is undergoing an effortless abnegation because many Europeans see their common heritage of Christianity as only one of the many voices of identity that must be treated “equally” with all others. In the meantime, the speakers from Turkey had very different things to say, and I do not believe that their message was being registered by the Western Europeans.
The other event was a visit of Pope Benedict to the Pontifical Gregorian University where I spend most of my time these days. The Pope’s insightful words delivered during his visit made up for the disappointments I experienced in Strasbourg. From my perspective, Benedict’s words of this Friday past contain a lot to reflect upon not just for Europe and its academic institutions but for the United States and its institutions of higher education, especially those that use the moniker “Catholic.” Indeed, the Pope’s address may well have something to offer to Catholic Legal Theory insofar as it has a bearing on higher education and religious liberty.
One of the striking points made by the Pope was his relating intelligence to faith, hope, and charity. He did this by presenting two standards: the secular-relativist culture so profoundly in existence in the West today and the religious culture founded on Christ and His Church. In his view, the former ultimately forces upon society and the civilization it claims with a confused sense of conscience and human destiny. The latter points the way to a truth, the Truth, about conscience and destiny that the former tends to deny.
Of course, those who labor to develop moral standards and values (and this was the purpose of the meeting at the Council of Europe) must consider who they are; thus, examining from where they came and to where they are going might be a good place to start. I trust that my inadequate translation of the Pope’s address delivered in Italian still offers some insight into what he said: “The hope of Christ is that the human person does not enclose himself in a paralyzing and sterile nihilism, but is open to engaging society in a generous fashion with the view of contributing to and improving it. It is the task that God has given man in creating him in His image and likeness—a task that everyone endowed with human dignity has, but to which God has attached immense responsibility.” In short, the Pope spoke of firmness of conviction and the unwavering response to the call to discipleship from the one who came to save us all—in spite of the threats, the pressures, the cajoling, or whatever else directs otherwise.
I also realize that many, but not all, of Pope Benedict’s remarks were directed to the members of my religious order, the Society of Jesus, and to the institutions with which it is affiliated. However, it was also clear that the Holy Father was addressing a much wider audience as well. This became evident when he said: “The [Catholic] academic institution is engaged to be in the Church and to be with the Church. For that is what love, the love of Christ, is about.” The Pope said many other things, but here I shall stop only to add some further insight garnered from my reading of some of the homilies of August Cardinal von Galen that treat similar issues about pressure on the Church, the culture that it founded and sustains, and its members. Von Galen served the Church in a place and time in which it experienced the pressure of a ferocious totalitarian regime—a regime which hammered the Church, its members, and their beliefs. But von Galen would not capitulate to the threats to the religious liberty of the Church and the denial of Christian culture. In one of his sermons delivered in 1941, he had this to say to the faithful:
Steel yourselves and hold fast! At this moment we are not the hammer, but the anvil. Others, chiefly intruders and apostates, hammer at us; they are striving violently to wrench us, our nation, and our youth from our belief in God. But, we are the anvil, I say, and not the hammer, but what happens in the forge? Go and ask the blacksmith and see what he has to say. Whatever is beaten out on the anvil receives its shape from the anvil as well as the hammer. The anvil cannot and need not strike back. It need only be hard and firm. If it is tough enough, it inevitably outlives the hammer. No matter how vehemently the hammer falls, the anvil remains standing in quiet strength and, for a long time, will play its part in helping to shape what is being molded.
Today the Church, its liberty, and its members are being hammered at by a variety of human forces. Some are from outside, but others closer to home but who have become fugitives from the traditions in which they were reared. While the future of the Church and its intellectual tradition may appear gloomy to some, the counsel of Benedict and the exhortation of von Galen come at an appropriate time to remind the faithful who they are, where they are going, what they face, and what they must exhibit—fidelity—in order to prevail against the hammers of our day. RJA sj
