In Umbris Sancti Petri

We'll see how this goes over: a brief essay that I wrote last year on the existence of God as seen by St. Anselm (minus the extensive footnotes). I think it's a pretty interesting topic...

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One of the greatest proponents of a philosophical proof for God’s existence was Saint Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109 A.D.). Anselm argued that the existence of God could be posited based on the principles of ontology alone; he considered the being of God – in existential reality – as directly correspondent to the ability of one to envisage the concept of God in one’s mind. For many, his line of reasoning was seen as pure genius, and regardless of its actual truth-value, it must still be admitted to have been one of the most profound insights in the history of Catholic natural theology. The purpose here will be to take a critical approach to Anselm’s argument from a resolutely logical viewpoint; we will examine the nature of his syllogism and come to better understand the validity, and more importantly the soundness of his famous “ontological argument.” Furthermore, we will explore the possibility that Anselm was not intending his argument to be syllogistic at all, and that his real objective in arguing for the existence of God in such a way was simply an attempt to better show the necessity of reason to be firmly reinforced by faith; Anselm may not have been trying to prove God’s existence, but rather show the mysterious nature of His existence by pushing the principles of logic to the extreme limit of their functionality.

Initially, in order to understand Anselm fully, it is important to lay out his syllogistic argument in graphical format. Below is an approximation, composed of exact textual citations, of what such an argument might look like if it were to be drawn:

Premise 1: Credimus te esse aliquid, quo nihil majus cogitari possit. ("We believe that you are something than which nothing greater can be thought.")
Premise 2: Convincitur ergo etiam insipiens esse vel in intellectu aliquid, quo nihil majus cogitari potest… Et certe id, quo majus cogitari nequit, non potest esse in intellectu solo. ("Even the fool must admit that something than which nothing greater can be thought exists at least in his understanding… And surely that than which a greater cannot be though cannot exist only in the understanding.")
Conclusion: Existit ergo procul dubio aliquid, quo majus cogitari non valet, et in intellectu, et in re. ("Therefore, there is no doubt that something than which a greater cannot be thought exists both in the understanding and in reality.")

A longer version of the argument can be assembled, with more premises and a more complicated structure, but the version stated here will suffice for this essay. Proceeding chronologically through the argument, we will best be able to examine the strengths and shortcomings of Anselm’s logical processes. To begin, let us examine Premise 1 in some depth.

In Premise 1, Anselm defines God as being “aliquid, quo nihil majus cogitari possit.” Given the nature of the claim one should be able to see, even from the very outset, the obvious deficiency that such a characterization entails: God is defined purely in terms of the negative (the lone exception being the fact that, to be included in the argument, whatever reality is designated by aliquid ["something"] must positively exist); all relation concerning God and the rest of possible reality is constructed negatively. Certainly, one cannot be too critical of Anselm for this approach alone, since the great Aquinas (1225-1274) himself later utilized the apophatic method of theology quite extensively in dealing with the nature of the divine attributes. When speaking of God per se, constructing His reality based on the negation of empirically perceptible reality is not a problem. The difficulty of the apophatic approach begins to manifest itself when one desires to show, through logical proof, the existence of such a negatively defined substance. With such a proof, it seems that one attempts to show the positive existence of a reality able to be defined only in terms of the negative. In other words, we return to the impasse of aliquid, quo nihil majus cogitari possit: aliquid must be understood to be real, while all we can say of it is that nihil majus cogitari possit.

If one looks at Anselm’s argument, as laid out in its totality, for its overall value – a value based on the totality of the above-mentioned premises being true and leading to the stated conclusion – it must be admitted to be valid. Even though we have not yet examined the rest of the argument, it is clear from a brief glance that Anselm at the very least establishes a powerful testimony for the existence of God, assuming that his premises are in fact true. However, the mere, unsubstantiated assumption that premises are true would not be enough to provide for soundness. After our examination of Premise 1, it seems that more attention should be paid to this premise alone, since the overall soundness of an entire argument can be totally subverted by one premise, whose truth-value is dubious.

The problem is this: how can we know, beyond a doubt, that aliquid exists in reality since the only thing we can say about it is what it is not? In other words, how can we be sure that something, of which we can say nothing positive, exists? Existence is always a positive concept, since to say existence is negative would be a contradiction in terms and a violation of the principle of non-contradiction. To posit this aliquid, having a nature of indescribability, as the first premise in an argument for the existence of the aliquid itself seems absolutely absurd. No one would attempt to construct a logical argument for the existence of something that they have already decided exists, much less a being they themselves have only assumed to exist based on faith alone.

Perhaps the answer to this problem is not what one would initially suppose. Perhaps there is really no problem at all. A “problem” (etymologically derived from Greek: «pro» meaning “before” and «ballein» meaning “to throw”) is some external thing that is propelled toward the intellect, so to speak, in order that it might be solved. It would be hard for any Christian thinker to say that the existence of God can be treated in the same respect as the mathematical problem of 2 + 2, but this is just what happens when one looks at Anselm’s ontological argument as altogether problematic; it is reduced to an equation in need of solution. It seems, however, that this is not what the great thinker had in mind since he clearly set out his conclusion as a constituent element of Premise 1.

The resolution seems to be this: Anselm did not desire to show the existence of God in terms of a solution to a logical problem, but rather by means of exposing an argument for God’s existence, which requires the reader to contemplate, in his own mind, the vast metaphysical implications that such an argument entails. Anselm looks at God not as a problem but as a mystery (from the Greek «musterion,» deriving from «muein»: “to shut”). He constructs an argument that, although it fulfills the requirements for logical validity as seen above, is not intended to be logically sound. Aliquid quo nihil majus cogitari possit is not provable, but it is certainly the object of immeasurable contemplation.

As a relatively early Christian thinker, Anselm certainly sought to reconcile the abyss between faith and reason; he sought to show the invaluable conjunction of these two elements in forming the complete picture of Catholic thought. In this sense God is very much a mystery, and He is very much revealed in the world by way of the efficacious sacramental realities entrusted to the Church. If God were absolutely transcendent – and it is meant here even in terms of His ability to be known by His creatures – He would not be intelligible in any sense. Because of this, the principles of faith and reason must both be applied to the question of God’s existence; He must be understood to exist both because of rational evidence and because of an assertion of pure faith. Hence, Anselm’s argument must not be said to have logical soundness in order to have value. Its value is found in the cooperation of faith and reason that he forces his reader to assume in order to make any sense of the argument at all.

Ultimately, Anselm’s ontological argument for the existence of God possesses logical validity, but it does not possess logical soundness. However, it need not be sound (or valid for that matter) if it is not intended to be a logical syllogism in the first place. Despite its being able to be graphically represented as a logical train of thought, it seems much more plausible that Anselm intended to show the mysterious nature of God’s existence in a fashion intended to prompt the full mental and spiritual engagement of the reader.

Like any good seminarian, I found myself day-dreaming before Mass today as I was watching the priest bring out the vessels and put them on the altar. My first thought was, “Wow, I can’t wait till I can do that, preparing the chalice for Mass, knowing that it will soon be filled with the Precious Blood.” Naturally—and given the particulars of the situation—my second thought was, “That’s a really nice chalice!” After I quickly realized how my interior disposition had switched from the content of the chalice to the nicety in itself, it actually caused me to reflect a little on what it truly means to offer the chalice of the Lord, and why it’s something I should even appreciate. Lo and behold, this was a great topic of meditation…

For any new priest, receiving one’s first chalice is an occasion of great joy. To begin with, it usually comes from loved ones (parents, grandparents, etc.) and is a concrete sign of their appreciation of a vocation to the priesthood. More than that, however, it is their contribution to the mystery of the priesthood, which is so closely bound with the Paschal Sacrifice offered on the altar each day. In some sense, the offertory of the Mass is really exemplified in a priest receiving his first chalice from those on whose behalf it will be implemented; a striking reality.

Second, the chalice not only indicates the oblation of the people to God through the pure gift of Jesus Christ to his Father, but it also signifies the depth of the mystery in which both the people and priest participate at each and every Mass: “The cup of salvation I will raise; I will call on the Lord’s name. My vows to the Lord I will fulfill before all his people. O precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful.” (Psalm 116) The offering of the chalice by the priest is not simply some gesture of solidarity with those around him, but rather an elevation of those around him to God the Father, through the sacrifice of the Son. Jesus tells James and John—when they had desired to sit at his right and his left in Paradise—“You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” (Matthew 20) Christ knew that only through the consumption of the chalice could salvation be brought about, and what else are its contents than his very Blood, poured out pro multis as an expiation for their sins. The multis are those willing to partake freely of this sacrifice of Christ with full submission to its mysterious yet necessary truth: that we can only find salvation—the Resurrection—through first suffering and dying.

At the moment of the consecration at Mass all of this occurs. The offering of the people joined to the offering of the priest, who, acting in persona Christi offers the Son to the Father through the love of the Holy Spirit. In reality, the Passion, death and Resurrection of our Lord are made re-present on the altar and in the chalice. That is why I—as a seminarian—ought to value the sacrifice of the Mass and the offering of the chalice to the Lord. That is also why we all need to pray for seminarians and priests around the world, that their hearts might be open to the glorious mysteries God intends to lavish upon his Church.

While walking home today, I decided to stop into the Vatican bookstore. I was just looking around and asked one of the store workers when Bishop Athanasius Schneider's new book, "Dominus Est," is coming out. Dominus est means, "It is the Lord," in Latin and is referring to the Gospel of John when Christ is recognized by John while Peter and John are fishing.

The book interests me, because the Liturgy interests me. It is about the posture and disposition of the one receiving Holy Communion and the practice of receiving Holy Communion on one's knees and on the tongue. This post is not an apologia for either of those practices, which remain the universal norm of the Church while Bishops and National Bishop's conferences are able to create other norms if they deem it pastorally expedient. Personally, I support and prefer the practice defended in this book, but I would like to limit myself to making a few brief comments on the orientation of the liturgy in general.

In the Catholic liturgy, there must always be a common orientation of all the assembly: versus Dominum, toward the Lord. Cardinal Ratzinger speaks of this at length in his book, "The Spirit of the Liturgy." The same Pope Benedict XVI spoke of this in his General Audience on St. Augustine a couple weeks ago, mentioning the practice of the priest in the early Church who proclaimed, "Conversus ad Dominum!" (Turn toward the Lord) after the homily, at which point the congregation would turn toward the East. This is the reason that Pope Benedict celebrated the Baptismal Mass in the Sistene Chapel "ad orientem," or toward the East, Christ our Lord, the rising Son that never sets. The orientation of our hearts toward the Lord is expressed in chant, gestures, movements and postures in Catholic Liturgy because human beings are not angels (pure spirit) or animals (flesh without a rational soul and will). We must express with our body, the movements and orientation of our heart. This is the context in which Archbishop Malcolm Ranjith, the Secretary for the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, puts his argument forward with respect to receiving communion kneeling and on the tongue in his forward to this book.

I plan on buying the book from the Vatican bookstore sometime this week when it comes out, and I will try to put some posts up on the general arguments and themes. Whether we receive Holy Communion standing or kneeling right now (both of which are certainly viable options according to the Church), let us always prostrate our hearts in loving adoration before the God who is love. "This is a real presence which includes every dimension of who Jesus is: body and blood, human soul and divine person. The consecrated Eucharistic species are the Lord and therefore command our adoration. We do not adore ourselves, nor the ordained priest, nor the Bible, even though these are vehicles for Christ's spiritual presence; we do adore the Eucharist, this blessed sacrifice made really present sacramentally." (Francis Cardinal George, Archbishop of Chicago)

Religious orders have always held a particularly important role in the history of the Church. Orders range in their charisms from one end of the spectrum to the other; whether it be caring for the poor, a mission for evangelization, theological prowess or any other valuable contribution you can imagine, religious communities have been helping the Church grow for over 1500 years. The peculiar thing about orders, however, is that these same charisms that enable them to be true representatives of Christ in the world also work as boundaries—in some sense—to help determine the functional capabilities of any given group. To appreciate a charism, one needs to appreciate both its positive and negative implications, and I think that is something worth taking a look at.

The first and most obvious point is that, once an order is officially founded (and with a particular purpose, as is generally the case), it immediately accepts a certain area of evangelical work as its own; in positive terms, it can and should venture as deeply as possible into this realm (of hospital ministry, grade-school education, mission work, etc.). If this happens, and the order delves deeply into its charism, its chances of fidelity and successful evangelization greatly increase. However, if its members forget what the true charism of the order was intended to encompass, problems begin to arise which can sometimes cause severe complications.

One need not look too far for examples of great religious orders, faithful to their mission and growing so fast they don’t know what to do with themselves (The Sisters of Life / Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist / Sisters of St. Francis of Perpetual Adoration). For the most part, these orders are young—not only in their foundation but also in their membership, which says something important about this subject that cannot be overlooked: there is a passion for truth that is found in youthfulness that we cannot neglect to nurture. This obviously pertains to youthful people—those seeking the truth in their own lives—but also to the youthful spirit of a religious order. Unless an order actively seeks to retain its youthfulness, staleness and out-datedness will ensue and sure enough the order will falter. You needn’t look very far to find examples of this either.

So what happens when the negative does occur, when orders vacillate and lose their identity? It seems they have a choice to make, between a rebirth and renewal or an ultimate demise. As serious as it is, one of the two is inevitable; fortunately, either of the two can be just as good and holy as the other, in certain circumstances and with regard to the Lord’s will for the order. Certainly, rebirth hearkens to the baptismal imagery of entering anew the Paschal Mystery of Christ—recommitting oneself to the mission of evangelization through living, suffering and rising with Christ. On the other hand, realizing the limitation of human structures can also be a holy approach to religious life—not that an order could rightly cede its mission to the whims of the world, but rather to the will of God; death, too, is part of the Paschal Mystery, since it brings about new life if it occurs with submission to the will of the Father. In the end, either ‘solution’ is viable, and either can be good and holy. Both take extreme dedication and trust in the Lord.

To the outside observer (like you or me, most likely), it’s really difficult to determine what is right for a particular order. Without living the charism and praying in the community, we cannot rightly judge what the Lord’s will is for any religious community. With that in mind, what we ought to do when we see a situation that looks potentially perilous is simply pray for the community. No amount of bad-mouthing or speculative suggestions can possibly fix anything, nor can we assume it should. The recent election of the Jesuit superior general [right, with Pope Benedict XVI] comes to mind here; although the recent history of the Society has been plagued with much trouble, the best thing we can do is pray. In some way, this order manifests perfectly the whole idea of this post—an order at the crux of its existence, struggling between mission and identity. Let us pray for them and all religious orders at such a potentially holy and life-giving moment in the history of the Catholic Church.

Two words that are often unintelligible to many Catholics are “Tradition” and “Magisterium.” Each term describes a tenet of the Catholic faith, which is indispensable in its importance on both the doctrinal and spiritual level. However, both terms have also lost much of their effective force by continual misuse and misapprehension. While the current work of the Holy Father on everything from life issues to media communications has been a great example of the implementation of magisterial teaching in accord with Tradition, perhaps what we first need is a look at the actual relationship between the two.

A primary distinction can be made thus: Tradition is concerned with the activity of the Church and its faith through the ages (viz. the depositum fidei we receive from the Apostles and the sensus fidei we see in individual Catholics since that time); Magisterium refers to the body of bishops, in union with the pope, which exercise the teaching authority of the Church (i.e. the office, not the activity). In other words, the Magisterium has as its responsibility the transmission and interpretation of the Church’s living Tradition. To be sure, the two terms cannot be equivocated; rather they must be viewed as in an intimate relationship with one another, but with clear distinctions.

The confusion often ensues when one considers the fact that the Magisterium is actually a product of the Tradition itself. In a similar manner, Sacred Scripture is also a product of apostolic Tradition (since the New Testament was written after the Tradition of Christianity had already begun), but distinguishing Scripture from Tradition does not seem such a nebulous task. To aid us, perhaps the relationship of Magisterium with Tradition can be better understood by the positive analogy of Christ’s mystical union with his Body, the Church: although Jesus Christ is fully alive and fully distinct from the Church—he is able to direct the Church as the head does its body—he nevertheless manifests his life through the same Church. In a similar fashion, while the Magisterium is responsible for guiding and teaching the Church the definitive truths of the faith, it still relies on the Tradition for its own life. A body cannot be separated from its head, nor a head from its body. What’s more, our understanding of the Magisterium has grown considerably since the time of Peter and the Apostles—the first pope and bishops. Whereas in the first apostolic times (e.g. the Last Supper, Calvary, Pentecost, etc.) the Tradition and Magisterium resided in the same locale, namely the Apostles themselves, the two must now be seen quite separately in ontological terms, while still integrated in deep spiritual union.

Nevertheless, despite all the analogy and technical, theological language we can muster, maybe the best way to understand this relationship of Tradition and Magisterium is simply to experience it. Just as I mentioned in my post on ecumenical dialogue, the mysteries of Christ are enough in themselves; if we simply approach them with a prayerful and seeking heart, they will undoubtedly speak volumes to us where all other words fail. By looking to the Holy Father in his role as Successor of Peter—especially now, with all the turmoil between Church and state raging in the Vatican—we can learn to understand first-hand this beautiful reality of the Catholic faith, which we are blessed to participate in and which provides for us a sure path toward the Lord, our true Teacher and Life.

In 1995, Pope John Paul II coined the now prevalent term, "The Culture of Death," with respect to cultures promoting abortion, euthanasia, etc. Since this time, thanks be to God, generous people of good will have begun a sort of revolution against some of the worlds most deadly yet silent assassins: abortion and euthanasia. Abortion has caused deaths on such a horrific scale that - not including the abortions from the so called "contraceptive pill" - we should be trembling at the bloodshed.

At least in the United States, the Pro-Life movement has created a sort of ecumenical spring board for Catholics and many protestants - particularly the evangelicals - upon which to unite. However, one issue of paramount importance has rarely been discussed in the Pro-Life movement: that of contraception. If abortion is the weed destroying much of the garden of humanity - 1/3 of Americans conceived in the last 44 years have been murdered by abortion before child birth - then contraception and it's accompanying mentality are surely its seed. The Catholic Church has never failed to see the intrinsic link between contraception and abortion, but sadly the Pro-Life movement in general, which is predominantly Catholic, has utterly failed to make clear this most important link between contraception and abortion.

It is my belief that the Pro-Life movement will remain only an attempt to heal a serious cultural wound, one truly in need of profound and divine healing, with a bandage; unless we clearly and unambiguously demonstrate this link between contraception and abortion, healing of the true wound will never take place. Without demonstrating the link between contraception and abortion, I don't think the Pro-Life movement can achieve its aim: cultural metanoia, which is the deep conversion of heart and mind causing individuals and societies at large to make a 180-degree turn with respect to our outlook and attitude toward life.

The fundamental problem with contraception is that it is radically closed to life; it is an anti-life. It is a fundamental "no" in response to the first command God gave man: "Be fruitful and multiply." It says no to the most mysterious and powerful part of the human person, the procreative or generative potency.

Over the past 40 years, Catholic Schools in the United States have traveled difficult roads with large and seemingly ubiquitous closings and falling numbers. Most of the schools that remain open struggle year after year to keep enrollment up and pay for the schools costs. The causes are many and varied as are the proposed solutions. Certainly mission statements and fundraisers can have their place but they are ultimately reduced to bandages concealing more serious wounds in need of a more potent medicine.

Many would say that after the Second Vatican Council, Catholic schools experienced the decline that they did precisely because of the same Council. I would like to propose quite the opposite however, namely that we are yet to truly implement the Conciliar document on education and thus to reap its fruit. The Second Vatican Council’s document on education – the only one ever written by an ecumenical Council – begins with the words Gravissimum educationis (“The most grave importance of education...”). This document clearly states the goal and mission of Catholic schools: the encounter with Jesus Christ through catechesis and education in the divine and human sciences so that the one who receives the Catholic education may come to “full stature in Jesus Christ our Lord and God.” (Ephesians 4:13) In this light we find the veracity of the Lord’s saying: “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” (Mt 6:33) We also become aware that many Catholic schools' mission statements have failed seriously in two respects. First, and most importantly, they make no mention of the center and aim of Catholic education: Jesus Christ. Secondly, the goals mentioned in these mission statements normally mention ideas such as “lifelong success” – an idea nowhere to be found in the Gospel or the 2,000 year Tradition of the Church – which seem to be quite the opposite of Blessed Mother Theresa of Calcutta’s great theological axiom: “God does not call us to be successful, He calls us to be faithful.” In this faithfulness toward God and His will (Deut 4:6-9) – the Father Who loves His children and desires to grant them what they ask in His name (Lk 11:11) – lies the answer to the Catholic school crisis we are currently experiencing. We are, in actuality, experiencing a crisis of faith.

In responding to the present crisis by a call to faith, we side step the trap which falsely exposes itself by attempting to remedy problems within the Church in anyway other than the way of the Cross, the way of Jesus. We need deep prayer, deep conversion of heart and repentance: the life of grace, the life of faith in the Son of God. The situation we find ourselves in with respect to Catholic schools in the United States is not unlike the situation the Church in the United States is experiencing with respect to vocations to the priesthood. When the world's Bishops met in 1990 at the Synod on Priestly Formation, one voice rang clear: “At the conclusion of the synod, I said that in the face of a crisis of priestly vocations, the first answer which the Church gives lies in a total act of faith in the Holy Spirit. We are deeply convinced that this trusting abandonment will not disappoint if we remain faithful to the graces we have received." (Pastores Dabo Vobis, 2) These courageous words of Pope John Paul II echoed into the souls of the faithful all over the world and through the insistent and continual prayers of the faithful – especially before our Lord exposed in the Blessed Sacrament – and the generous and heroic holiness of priests in love with Christ and unswervingly faithful to the magisterium, fruit is being born and the Father is blessing us with many good and holy vocations to the Priesthood. The call of John Paul II was not “practical” in the eyes of many, but neither was the Son of God’s entrusting His saving mission into the fragile hands of fallen human beings. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Is 55:9) The fact that we have heard so much about campaign drives, funding and missions should make us pause with deep concern. We would do more than well in Catholic education to model after John Paul II’s response to the vocations crisis: deep trust in God’s promises through prayer and conversion of heart.

We must ask ourselves where our priorities lie when the wood that the students' sneakers squeak on during gym class is more precious then the wood of the Altar of Sacrifice upon which the Son of God offers Himself to the Father in the unbloody Sacrifice of the Mass. These realities speak loudly to the students, whether they are able to articulate them or not. How did it come to be that our sports facilities are endowed with more splendor then the schools chapels where the loving God waits for us in the tabernacle? It is here that we must make an honest appraisal and examine of conscience before the Lord with respect to Catholic identity. Is every teacher absolutely committed to the life of grace through deep prayer, outstanding holiness of life and absolute fidelity to the Bishop, Holy Father and Magisterium? Are the students held to the standards of the Gospel in their speech, behavior, dress and charity toward one another? Is the clear end of all academic disciplines the pursuit, knowledge and love of the Truth, who is Jesus Christ? Are the students frequenting the Sacraments – especially the Holy Eucharist and Penance – and thus advancing in the life of grace? Until we can answer these questions in the affirmative, we will be sailing on rough waters and consequently endangering the greatest treasures of the Catholic school, the souls of our young.

The Holy Father met yesterday with the plenary session of the Congregation for Catholic Education, the Vatican office that deals with seminaries and other institutes of Catholic education. It’s no surprise that the focus of Benedict’s talk was on the bolstering of the Catholic identity in education, which he called one of the “primary works of love” that the Church is called to perform [N.B. the translations are my own, from the Italian original]:

"The area of education has always been particularly dear to the Church, which is called to make its own the concerns of Christ, who—as the evangelist says—seeing his flock ‘is moved…because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things (Mk 6:34).’ The Greek word that is used to express this attitude of ‘commotion’ evokes the depths (le viscere) of mercy and refers to a profound love that the heavenly Father directs toward man. The Tradition [of the Church] has seen in this teaching—and, more generally, in education—a concrete manifestation of spiritual mercy, which constitutes one of the primary works of love that the Church offers to humanity as part of her mission."

One of the major ideas the pope hit on was the recent reform of the philosophy curriculum in seminaries, and the overall importance of philosophy and theology as a basis for higher studies in a world were new intellectual challenges regularly arise:

"The ecclesiastical disciplines, above all theology, are now subject to new questions…from rationalism, which follows a falsely unbounded rationality and is freed from every religious reference, and on the other extreme, fundamentalisms, which falsify the true essence of religion with their incitement of violence and fanaticism."

According to Benedict, Catholic education should also be properly focused on education beyond the realm of theology—in forming a proper understanding of the human person and human reations from a sociological and anthropological viewpoint as well:

"The Catholic school, which has as its primary mission the formation of students according to an integrally anthropological vision—indeed one being open to all people and respecting the identity of each individual person—must present one unified perspective of education that is both human and Christian. A new challenge is presented, which globalization and growing pluralism are rendering more and more acute: namely, the encounter of religions and cultures in a common search for truth. The reception of this cultural plurality among students and their parents is necessary and is itself confronted with two further demands: on one hand, the non-exclusion of persons in the name of cultural or religious affiliation; on the other hand, an insurance that the appreciation of this cultural and religious diversity not be stopped at its simple realization."

Although the Holy Father’s insights are very simple, they are truly profound; they are filled not only with the spiritual sense proper to him as pastor of the universal Church, but also with the insights of a man well-versed in scholarly pursuits. They speak volumes about the challenges that the Church faces in the modern world, but more specifically about what we can do to confront them. For our part—and the part of Catholic universities around the world—all we have to do is listen, pray and carry out the task.

Although some of you might be getting sick of it by now—not to mention that you’ve already read reports far more insightful than this one—I’m obligated to say a few words on the election of the new Jesuit superior general; after all, I am a faithful student of Jesuit education and will be one for… well… who knows how long?

Certainly the election of a new general for the Society of Jesus marks the beginning of a new era. Even though Fr. Adolfo Nicolás is 71-years-old, his appointment to the head of the order will no doubt instill a new sense of youth and zeal into its ranks. The freshly elected Nicolás was formerly a missionary in Japan, and although his time as ‘black pope’ will be spent in Rome, his days of fieldwork will serve him well. Perhaps one of his greatest areas of expertise—at least I hope so, personally—will be in further developing and solidifying the Jesuit approach to missionary work (even in developed countries and on the university level), and in correctly and faithfully approaching the issue of inculturation, which has proved a divisive topic in recent years.

Maybe the most reassuring thing about the election of Fr. Nicolás as superior, especially for those of us non-Jesuits, is the fact that his election occurred only with the approval of Pope Benedict XVI. Obviously a firm defender of the faith, the Holy Father’s stamp of approval should reassure us all of the choice made by the electors last Saturday. One of the primary concerns raised in the opening days of the General Congregation by the papal legate, Cardinal Franc Rode, was a “sadness and anxiety” caused by the Jesuits’ “growing distancing from the hierarchy.” The Cardinal went on to say that the “Ignatian spirituality of apostolic service ‘under the Roman Pontiff’ does not allow for this separation.” Indeed, the thoughts expressed in this address were surely those of the Holy Father as well, which again leads me to believe that his approval of Nicolás was not uneducated or hasty. He knows what is necessary for the Society to flourish.

One of the main focuses at most Jesuit institutions—and something they do quite passionately—is the battle for social justice. Father Adolfo knows this work well, especially due to his missionary background, and there is no era more in need of this endeavor than our current age. Not only does our society struggle with offering justice to all, but perhaps more dangerously, it struggles with offering justice in a manner that is truly Christian and ultimately acceptable; only an authentic, meaningful justice is one worth having, and there is no better day to reflect on that than today, the anniversary of the Roe vs. Wade decision in the U.S. Supreme Court. Father Nicolás’ work will be cut out for him in this area, and we ought to pray that his example will set a trend of faithful adherence to the magisterial teachings of the Holy Catholic Church, which alone promote the true end of injustice in the saving acknowledgment of Jesus Christ as the one Savior of all mankind.

Hopefully the final post on this thread, here's a little bit about the culmination of all this Benedetto vs. Sapienza stuff here in the City. I had the chance to attend the Sunday Angelus in St. Peter's Square today, along with many of the other seminarians, and the primary topic just happened to be this whole controversy. In fact, Cardinal Ruini (the acting administrator of the Diocese of Rome) encouraged all Catholics and supporters of the pope to make an appearance at the audience, showing their personal commitment to stand by him during all of this.

Naturally, the Holy Father's response to this show-of-force was not unimpressive. To be quite honest, it was pretty amazing. Benedict XVI is clearly an academic and scholar, and sometimes appears as though he'd rather be reading or writing than shaking hands and greeting people... not that I think that's bad, just his personality. However today, as another seminarian pointed out to me, he was visibly relishing the experience of having so many solid Catholic supporters rallied around him, all there to pray together and show the world that the Church and her faith are strong. After the Angelus prayer itself, the first group to be addressed were the students in attendance, whose "solidarity" was highly lauded by the Holy Father. Likewise, he thanked the others who came to support him, as well as his brother bishops in the audience, and then the subsequent language groups, per usual.

Perhaps the most outstanding thing about the whole address was what happened after the traditional, Buona Domenica a tutti, which usually concludes the day. To the resounding applause that continued to sweep the entire square, Benedict stayed in his window and kept waving (something he never usually does). In fact, he even went off-the-script and urged everyone to go forth into the world to deliver this same message of solidarity and peace in the face of opposition; you could tell, he was speaking from the heart, and what better response to a protest last week than a bolstering of fervency this week? In my mind, this is just another example of how God has brought something quite good out of a situation where divisiveness and ignorance formerly prevailed...

Sia lodato Gesú Cristo!

As it turns out, the pope has sent the text of the speech he was supposed to deliver at Rome's La Sapienza University across town in his own stead. Thankfully, the text has already been translated into English and can be viewed here. Although I haven't read the whole thing (and have only just skimmed it really), I look forward to going over it a little later. From what I've been able to tell, the entire address is a very candid dialogue between Pontiff and Romans; between professor and students. Benedict's idea of the faith-reason relationship resurfaces in a major way, even as he cites his address at Regensburg, which drew much criticism from the fundamental Islamic community but which, I believe, was a primary example of the importance of this very topic.

This particular address is a bit lengthy, but if you are in the mood for a first-class exposition of everything from the role of reason to theology, philosophy, science ethics... the whole deal, then I'd recommend it highly!

Of all the things in the world to protest, I never thought the pope would be one of them. But, alas, a large group of students and professors as Rome’s La Sapienza University has done just that, signing petitions against Benedict’s upcoming visit to the school and thus, forcing the Vatican to cancel the trip citing security concerns. The ‘reason’ for the protest (which I find an ironic choice of words) is in defiance to the pope’s allegedly non-supportive position on science. Although I really cannot fathom what this might mean in the minds of the protestors, I can say what I think it stems from…

Science is a funny thing; nowadays, we look at pretty much everything through the lens of science. What I mean is, we look at everything through the lens of modern science. What’s the difference, you may ask? The difference is everything.

Modern science, unlike “science” in the classical sense, views everything in terms of output; “What has been absolutely proven, beyond doubt, and therefore has become ‘knowable’ to me?” While it does rely on a standard method (i.e. the ‘scientific method’), modern scientific research truly does not seek to expand itself in that manner; in other words, the method is not truly that important, so long as it produces results that are tangible and indubitable. On the other hand, the classical sciences—which certainly include theology, philosophy and other disciplines, which modern people know as ‘liberal arts’—look not so much at finding definitive answers, but rather toward asking the right questions. In contrast to modern science, classical sciences are interested in methodology far more than tangible and indisputable realities. [This is not to say, for those who may be thinking it, that classical sciences lack the teleological significance we can clearly ascribe to modern science, but rather that they internalize and integrate their respective teloi much more effectively than do their modern counterparts.]

What’s all this have to do with the pope? Everything. Precisely this misapprehension of key terms is the beginning of a much greater rift forming between institutes of higher learning and the Church. Particularly, a misunderstanding of the differences between modern and classical sciences—while both have certain and indispensable value—provides nothing but a foundation of sand from which all further arguments must be launched. In the case of La Sapienza, the pope’s seeming ‘opposition to science’—probably an affront to the Church’s consistent stance against contraception, euthanasia, abortion, Communism… who knows—the students and professors have mistaken true scientific progress for the scientific dabblings of an utterly secularized and desensitized modern scientific community.

Thankfully, the president of La Sapienza has criticized the protests as out-of-line; however the fact still remains that this is not an isolated occurrence. It is clear to see that the mission of the Catholic in the modern world (and all the more so for the budding Catholic academic and scholar) must be to consider how better to reconcile this fabricated issue of ‘science vs. Church.’ In my estimation, there is no better place to look than the writings of Pope Benedict, who unfortunately will not be able to present his own ideas when they are so desperately needed.

On the heels of my last (perhaps somewhat unimpressive) post concerning the Jesuits, I felt obligated to put up something a little more positive. To be honest, of all the religious orders out there, I’ve consistently found the Jesuits to be one of the best—certainly there are some less-than-zealous ones, but you’ll have that anywhere. Here at the North American College, I am proud to say, we have a few of the finest members of the Society of Jesus that I’ve met thus far. Again and again I am reminded that what St. Ignatius of Loyola founded almost 500 years ago is an organization not prone to failure, and always one reassessing its place in the Church.

That being said, this month of January 2008 is a particularly important time for the S.J.’s as they gather here in Rome for their 35th General Congregation. The main purpose: elect a new superior general of the order. The secondary purpose: to discuss the direction their order is taking and determine what they can do to augment the recent drop in new vocations happening throughout the world. Needless to say, this month (and this week even, as they are preparing for the election next Sunday) is a pivotal moment in the history of the order.

To be quite blunt, a new superior general could truly change the recognizable face of the Society—for the better or the worse. Thankfully, His Holiness Benedict XVI has his hand pretty far into all of this (as the ultimate shot-caller in the whole process) and we can be sure that the former prefect for the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith will be looking to approve a new general who is strongly committed to leading the order in the direction of both orthodoxy and growth. In other words, something good is most definitely about to happen.

The election of the new superior general—or ‘Black Pope’ as he is sometimes humorously called—is actually quite a unique occurrence this time around. While the Congregation always elects the new leader, the upcoming election will provide the replacement for Fr. Kolvenbach, the current superior who is resigning his post in an unprecedented manner. The expectation has always been that generals would be such for life, but Kolvenbach, who has been in the spot for over twenty years, has realized that his age and vision for the order have reached their limits; because of his affection for the Society of Jesus, he has realized the need to step down and let a younger successor take up the reigns… and a hard fight it will be that lies ahead.

I could write much more on all this, but for now it is simply important to pray that the upcoming election provides a new superior general who has a keen desire to follow the Will of God, both in his own life and for the life of the order. More on the results of the ‘Black Conclave’ as they occur…

In hope we were saved! (Rom 8:24) Pope Benedict XVI's encyclical letter takes us to the very heart of the Christian life: We have hope in a God Who loves us and wants nothing more than our eternal happiness with Him in heaven. Our hope, says the Pope, ultimately lies in God's love, not in human progress or economic prosperity, but in the God Who answers all our longings and questions. The God Who walks with us at every moment of our lives, even at and through death; the great human mystery that stirs us all to the core.

I would like to highlight one theme that is particularly timely for us to meditate upon, especially with the season of Lent at hand: "What does the hope or substance of our life consist in?"

In the tenth chapter to the Hebrews, St. Paul writes to the early Christian community saying: "You had compassion on the prisoners, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one." Although the earthly substance (property and material possessions) had been taken from them, they stood firm and even joyfully accepted this plundering because they had a substance (faith in Jesus Christ) that was not only a better basis and foundation for their life, but one that could never be taken away. It is this basis of faith in Christ that relativizes and puts into perspective the material substance of our lives. It is only in this faith - God first - that we can be truly free.

It is very easy in our culture to mix up the order of material substance and our heavenly substance (faith in Christ). Our society tells us that the "good life" consists in a well paying job and comfortable lifestyle, while our faith tells us that we must live simple lives, take up our cross, and follow Jesus all the way up to Calvary. We know that trusting in the comforts of this life will never satisfy our longings and that although faith is not easy, it ends at the empty tomb of Easter glory; heaven itself and true fulfillment and peace.

Most of us struggle to keep the eyes of our heart on God.  Let's face it, to trust in God with all our heart and all our mind and all our strength is difficult.  But with God's grace we understand Jesus' words: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light." This Lent is a perfect time to kneel at the throne of grace and beg the good God for the strength to love Him and make Him first in our lives. Then, Easter will bring us the glorious freedom of the children of God.

"You have made us for yourselves O Lord and our hearts are restless until they rest in You." St. Augustine, Pray for us.

I suppose even the most basic of things are not free from being misunderstood, and quite profoundly at that. I was reading an article the other day about a TV hostess who professed her own opinion that there are no more saints because of modern medicine. Her view: saints were psychotic people that heard voices and saw things that nowadays we don’t suffer from because of an increase in psychological and medicinal treatments. Ya… it’s kinda’ unorthodox…

But, she does bring up a good point. As much as I’d like to simply say that she’s wrong—which I am—I am also inclined to admit that there are probably many, many people who have the same opinion as her. Even if they don’t say that it’s a psychological disorder gone awry, I’d guess that many people think sanctity is truly something unattainable in today’s world, and completely anachronistic. What’s more, I think that, when faced with actual sanctity—with real holiness—most people wouldn’t know what to make of it. Our minds are wired for words, like “good,” “fair,” “caring,” and (the icing on the cake) “non-judgmental”; we live in a world that lauds the trite and clichéd. After all, we should ask, what is truly admirable about these things if they don’t lead to holiness?

I think that the crux of much of this misunderstanding was also articulated well by the same hostess, when she disavowed even the sanctity of Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta. Her reason: recent revelation that Mother experienced doubts in her faith during the last years of her life ‘prove’ that she really didn’t believe in God and thus, that her ‘sanctity’ was really just something human, something humanitarian, something unconnected to the divine.

This claim points directly to the greatest misunderstanding of all, with regard to holiness: that of faith, and the nature of faith in the Catholic tradition. Faith, by its nature, is believing in Jesus Christ, even though there cannot and will not be any definitive, rational proof to hold onto. If we trusted Christ’s testimony based on reason, we’d be knowing not believing. The one who has faith believes even in the bouts of darkness that inevitably occur throughout our lives. In fact, the one who believes in the face of even the most severe doubts—like the ones faced by Mother Teresa—is the most commendable and most faithful of all. Faith has nothing to do with our feeling of God’s presence, but everything to do with our response to his revealed truth, and the love with which he has first loved us. For this reason sanctity, even in modern times and in the face of the greatest oppression and societal decay, is just as possible as ever. In fact, the saints we see today are perhaps some of the greatest in the history of the world.

I don’t remember if I’ve put something up about this before, but if I haven’t, I should have. This topic never fails to amaze me, and in large part was one of the reasons I ever considered heading to seminary in the first place. Among many other things that led to my vocational discernment, after a few years of Jesuit education at the college level, I was convinced that something was not quite right…

Irony of ironies, I’m currently studying once again under the Jesuits (for the next 4 years!), but this time with a bit more focus and a better idea of what to expect. The poorly formed approach to Catholic education that I encountered during my undergraduate studies does not persist here to such a degree, thankfully. A few years ago, I was convinced that it was simply the Society of Jesus that was the problem, but now—through both my newfound appreciation for the Jesuits here in Rome and my experience of similar problems in other religious orders—I’ve come to realize that there is a bigger problem at hand: namely, a blatant lack of Catholic identity in supposedly Catholic institutions.

Suffice it to say that an institution’s own perception of its Catholic identity can lead it into either prosperity or ruin, depending on the position. To be quite pointed, I think that this very reality is quite underplayed and often overlooked completely. Think of it: how many institutions/groups/etc. that are nominally Catholic are so caught up in meeting secular standards that they all but abandon what they set out to do in the first place? Anything from the theology department of a major university to the Altar Rosary Society at the local parish can fall prey to such a collapse. If we begin thinking that we can function properly without adhering noticeably and explicitly to our Catholic foundation, the next and most certain step will be the absolute loss of all semblance of Catholicism; these institutions will (and do) ultimately sever their relationships with the Tradition of the Church and, in the end, become wholly non-Catholic.

In contrast to this negative tone—which unfortunately reflects the reality of the situation—perhaps the best question is, “What can we do to change this?” The simple answer is, “Never be afraid to be outspoken, even in the face of great opposition.” One particular recommendation that I would put forward is this: Catholic educational institutions are very responsive when it comes to their alumni, particularly in financial scenarios. If you know someone who contributes to an institution with a poor vision, talk to them about it. Most likely they are not giving money out of spite for the Church, but out of ignorance. I’ve seen firsthand what such simple conversations can do, and the results are usually very positive. The true ‘answer’ to all this lies, ultimately, in the mission of the organization. In some cases, it will take years of prayer and candid demonstration until we see much of a change in Catholic identity. Nevertheless, this is precisely what we are called to pursue as faithful Catholics in the modern world.

Sometimes, we just don’t know when to be quiet and let beauty take its course. Today, I’ve realized that twice now—that I’ve tried to express something that ultimately couldn’t truly be expressed in words. The first time was in talking to a friend about a book I’ve been reading, and the brilliance of the story (which cannot be conveyed through a summary, no matter how hard you try); the second was in reading a book by Avery Cardinal Dulles and attempting, even in my head, to consider what he was trying to say about the fullness of revelation in Christ (which I could hardly do without somehow tainting the purity of what he had written in the first place).

Obviously, I was lead to consider: why do we try so hard to express that which is inexpressible in simple terms? Why, as human beings, are we driven almost crazy when we can’t articulate something we find meaningful? Why do we keep trying, even though we constantly fail? What is so special about this deep meaning that prompts our continued and often painstaking efforts at sharing it?

I’m not sure how to ‘answer’ these questions, but at the very least they should spark a little further reflection. First off, the idea that finding ‘meaning’—whether it be in books, our thoughts, human interaction, etc.—can be so vital to our personal fulfillment is something really noteworthy. People are constantly seeking fulfillment, that’s just human nature; we were created like that. But do we always realize that this fulfillment inevitably comes through some sort of ‘meaning?’ Moreover, if we do, is there a sense of what that ‘meaning’ is really has to entail? In my post on “Leisure & Meaning,” I talked a bit about the eradication of meaning from many formerly meaningful activities. In fact, it seems that this reality is far more pervasive than most are willing to admit.

If we’ve become increasingly unaccustomed to ‘meaning,’ in a true sense, in recent decades, and that decay has been the result of our high-paced, instant-information society, what can we learn from it? Primarily, it seems obvious then that ‘meaning’ is not something quickly obtained or easily transferable. Conversely, it comes only through total saturation in an experience (i.e. a complete donation of self to a given activity) and is almost impossible to communicate in its full integrity; both characteristics are absolutely contrary to societal norms. For this reason, the ultimate human meaning, which is found in Jesus Christ as our Savior and Teacher, is almost completely inaccessible for those with a modern mindset; how can we reach a meaningful relationship with Christ if we cannot first attain some smaller level meaningfulness in the rest of reality? The current trend of ‘contemporary religion,’ which seeks meaning in flux, is a direct abomination of the very truth rooted in Christ that we are all called to experience. It is, to be sure, a bold manifestation of modern culture as overtly contrary to the message of the Gospel.

We should use this time after the feast of the Epiphany (“Manifestation”) of the Lord to further consider where we seek meaning in our own lives. The Holy Father, in his homily at yesterday’s Mass for the occasion, gave a beautiful reflection on how the three magi truly represent the incessant quest for God (and therefore his ‘meaning’), which must lovingly guide our rational faculties in order that we might someday be completely and utterly fulfilled by the same Lord in heaven.

Back to existential reality… I figured I’d write my next post concerning the nature of existentialism on one of my favorite authors: Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821-1881). I’m sure his name is not unfamiliar to most of you; he wrote some of the most acclaimed pieces in modern literary history, including Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, Notes from the Underground, and the truly remarkable masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov. Although I could make a whole post on the artistic quality of these books (especially since Crime and Punishment is currently on my desk), I’d rather focus a bit on the existential quality of Dostoevsky’s writing instead.

One of the grounding principles in existential thought is that reason cannot be the only basis for human identity. In other words, what we do as human beings defines what and who we are; it is not determined simply by some formal, rational idea from on high. Certainly, there are pluses and minuses to this approach (and no approach considered as completely autonomous is ever acceptable). All the same, Dostoevsky’s writing, particularly Notes from the Underground, is considered a sort of foundation for all further thought on this strain. His praises were sung even by the most influential philosophers of the 19th and 20th centuries, including Nietzsche and Freud.

The common element for all Dostoevskian writing seems to be a struggle in the main character between that rationalistic, pre-determined fate, and the chance to be a free, self-directing individual, even if that means committing a crime or becoming terribly self-effacing in the process. The tension that the author holds between the freedom to choose one’s future and the possibility of choosing poorly is absolutely brilliant; his characters always behave according to the norms of existential thought outlined in the last post, but typically go one step too far in making their sovereign decisions. As a result, auxiliary characters are employed to help the main character realize what has happened, and ultimately to offer some light of redemption in a typically most obscure or unexpected way. The entire story, in the end, becomes an intricate picture of existential principles, tempered back and forth with worldly experiences and other schools of philosophic thought. To put it concisely, it is nothing short of genius.

If you haven’t read any of his work, I would highly recommend Dostoevsky as a good introduction to modern philosophy. His stories are pretty easy to read, but still mine the depths of speculative thought and show its impact on real-life situations. Although many contemporary minds would not see the beauty in this author’s work right away—especially living in our Harry Potter / Da Vinci Code society—I am thoroughly convinced that anyone who takes the time to read his work will be completely fascinated. If you are looking for a particular book to read, there is no better place to start than Crime and Punishment.

To switch briefly from philosophy to other things, there has been much happening in the Vatican in recent days that is worthy of note. Principally (at least in terms of visible notice), the latest trends in papal liturgies have begun to cause quite the stir within Catholic blogs and seminary dinner-table discussions. In case you haven’t noticed—which is probably the case, since I’m sure that most of you don’t have the time to justifiably watch for such things—the Holy Father has been associating himself more and more with the strong liturgical traditions of the Church, particularly during his recent Christmas and New Year celebrations. Although Benedict XVI has always been reputed as a solid liturgist, it wasn’t until lately that the depth of his love for the traditional Catholic liturgy was brought to light. Here are a few examples and explanations…

Upon the appointment of the new papal master of ceremonies (the man responsible for directing papal Masses, etc.), an effort has been in the works to restore some of the liturgical glory proper to the celebrations of the Roman Pontiff. In other words, Benedict realized that much of the Church’s rich traditions had been lost in past decades and decided to take up the task of re-establishing what was always good and true in the liturgy. The issuing of Summorum Pontificum was one step in that direction (click here for the document and here for my post on it). In addition to simply reinvigorating a love of the Tridentine Mass though, the pope has also been keen to instill anew the beauty proper to the novus ordo Mass, celebrated after Vatican II.

While the details of this project would take a long time to hash out, looking at the pope’s Christmas and New Year’s liturgies might shed some light on the underlying reality. The primary goal of Benedict, it seems, is to properly utilize and respect some of the symbolism that was cast out in many cases throughout the last forty years. Some visible examples of this have been his use of older, more ornate vestments, beautiful vessels (to hold the Blessed Sacrament), more well-planned and properly ‘Catholic’ liturgies, and an increased use of Latin when celebrating the Mass. For a brief time in recent history, each of these things was popularly deemed as causing separation between priest and people—between the simplicity of life needed to be Christ-like, and the lavishness of worldly pleasure. However, in his much more objective and apostolic foresight, the Holy Father has seen past this deceptive claim and is beginning to promote the truth which has always underlined Catholic tradition.

I suppose what I intend to say could be summed up by this: we ought to be thankful for our current Holy Father’s insight, both spiritually and academically, which is able not only to integrate the current trends in thought and spirituality, but also to meld them with the illustrious tradition given to us by the Church. Whether it is in his pastoral and educated approach to Church doctrine, or in the more ostensible area of liturgy, Benedict XVI is doing great things to preserve and renew the totality of the Catholic faith handed on to us from the Apostles. We certainly ought to support him with our prayers, but we also need to support him with our willingness to accept and respond positively to this great resurgence and ‘springtime’ of the Church. The real beauty of the Kingdom of God is only just beginning to show itself, and the more we approach the source of that beauty in the Eucharist, the more it will become totally manifest in our homes and in the world.

I asked this question to a friend of mine who is a philosophy scholar, and the only answer he could really give me was, "Well, it depends." That's how you know you're talking about philosophy! However, I was a little disheartened, seeing how I've taken a few classes that have covered this idea and still really have no concrete grasp of what is meant when I come across the word "existentialism" in my day-to-day life. Certainly it's a popular topic (for those who are pursuing collegiate studies, at least) and something assumed to be well within grasp of any student. However, this is obviously not the case. At least for me it seems a nebulous term, at best, and something altogether contrived, in many instances. So, I thought a little run-through here on the blog might help to clarify both my and your notions of "existentialism," which certainly plays such a huge part in the world of modern thought and in all disciplines of contemporary study.

A preliminary definition of the term, "existentialism," might be this: an emphasis on the existence of the human person as a free individual, capable of forming his or her own future by autonomous choices. Although this phrase doesn't capture all the nuances and uses of the term, it's a good starting place. Part of the problem with defining "existentialism" is that there is no real 'doctrine of existentialism' to turn to (as opposed to, say, scholastic philosophy.) The formulation of existential philosophy has been a long, broad-spanning process, occurring through philosophical discourse (viz. Jean-Paul Sartre [left], who adopted the term for himself; Martin Heidegger, who despised the label), literary output (viz. Fyodor Dostoevsky, who embodied the idea in his characters) and artistic and political commentary (viz. Gabriel Marcel, playwright and 20th century philosopher). Although few of its proponents officially classified themselves as 'existentialists,' their contributions were integral in providing the groundwork for the whole movement.

One hallmark of existential philosophy, generally, seems to be the idea that "existence precedes essence." For anyone familiar with Aristotelian/Thomistic philosophy, this idea seems completely absurd since the 'form' of any existing object must first be in the mind of God before being actualized in an individual existence. The opposite is true in existentialism, though; the existing individual determines its own essence, or nature, by its chosen course of existence. In this sense, existentialism picks up where Cartesian and Kantian philosophy leave off, namely in a primary consideration of the 'self' before that of the 'other' (or, in similar terms, the Creator). Thus, existential philosophy contributes greatly to the modern humanism that continues to inundate our society, for better or worse, and places the burden of consideration not on God, but on human freedom.

As problematic as this can obviously be (since we immediately lose perspective of all metaphysical order given to us in scholastic philosophy), we cannot discount existential philosophy as something altogether bad. In fact, many 'existentialists' contribute greatly to a truly Christian sense of philosophy: e.g. Marcel [right], Dostoevsky, etc. In many cases, the seemingly self-destructive perceptions of reality that existentialism holds are instead converted into healthy, productive stances; take for instance Marcel's idea of the "broken world," and his obvious recognition of some objective, Almighty beauty that transcends yet intervenes in this world through mystery and wonder, which we fail to make time for. Here, what is truly a part of the corpus of 'existentialism' also breaks into other areas of philosophy, illustrating further the difficulty in defining just what it means to be "existential."

There is no way to treat this immense topic here, but hopefully this little reflection has sparked some of you to think about it more. I intend to write more on this subject, namely in terms of Dostoevsky's novels, which I've recently been working through; this should both provide good basis for discussion as well as a foundation for digging deeper into the question of existentialism. If we are to be contributors to the world of modern thought, we must understand it's premises well, and hopefully these posts will help to accomplish that goal in some small way.