This is not about Chesterton

There is a very interesting article on Catholic Household by Steven Drummel on the question of Chesterton's apparent issues with temperance in food and drink and how this could affect his canonization.

The article draws on the reminiscences of those closest to Chesterton, as well as some of his biographers, to document Chesterton's lifetime struggle with sobriety and moderation in his eating habits. The implication of the article is that this behavior suggests that Chesterton lacked the virtue of temperance, which consists in the moderation of the use of earthly goods.

The article was very well written and seemed well researched; I do not know whether the picture Drummel paints is true or not. But my post is not primarily about Chesterton or this particular issue. I am more interested in an argument I saw develop in the combox and what this says about the deficiencies in our contemporary attitudes about canonizations.

Upon seeing a legitimate question raised about Chesterton and the virtue of temperance, many of the Chestertonians in the combox reacted with indignation. Some said that these considerations were completely irrelevant to whether or not Chesterton was a saint; others shrugged and took the "saints aren't perfect" approach; still others argued that anyone who could write so persuasively as Chesterton and bring so many people to the Faith could not but be a saint; one guy argued that since intemperance didn't involve being uncharitable to any other people, it wasn't an issue; others reacted with anger that Chesterton's sanctity could be questioned and regarded the inquiries about his temperance as a personal attack on the late GKC.

All of these reactions, in my opinion, evidence a misguided understanding of canonization investigations and what they are meant to accomplish.

Let's forget that this is GKC for a moment; we could be talking about any person proposed for canonization. Whether or not a person was temperate in food and alcoholic consumption is not only relevant, but absolutely central to the question of sanctity. In fact, I would go so far as to say that if a person is not temperate in food and drink and the use of other created goods, there is no way they could be a saint.

Remember, a saint possesses not only natural virtue, but supernatural virtue. This means, of course, faith, hope and charity to a heroic degree, but it also means that even the saint's natural virtues are elevated and oriented towards supernatural ends.  For example, a virtuous man has formed the habit of prudence, which is the virtue of being able to identify and pursue the good in particular circumstances; i..e, of making good decisions. The saintly man, however, not only exercises natural prudence, but also demonstrates supernatural prudence; i.e., the virtue of prudence ordered towards supernatural ends, meaning exceptional discernment and good sense in spiritual matters.

Now, since supernatural virtue is a requisite of sainthood, and since grace builds on the natural virtues, it follows that a person who lacks even one of natural cardinal virtues cannot be "saintly" in the strict sense. Natural virtue is the foundation of supernatural virtue; if a natural virtue is obviously lacking, they cannot possess the supernaturalized version of that virtue which is built upon the natural. We may still have an exceptionally virtuous person, but nevertheless one with a major defect that makes it inappropriate to classify them as a saint. A person certainly cannot possess supernatural temperance if they lack even the natural virtue of temperance.

Is this being a bit too nitpicky? Absolutely not. Whether or not a person is a saint is a question of their character and conduct on the most personal level. Traditionally, this required an extraordinary degree of scrutiny by the Promotor Fidei ('Devil's Advocate'), whose job, according to the Catholic Encyclopedia, was:

"...to prevent any rash decisions concerning miracles or virtues of the candidates for the honours of the altar. All documents of beatification and canonization processes must be submitted to his examination, and the difficulties and doubts he raises over the virtues and miracles are laid before the congregation and must be satisfactorily answered before any further steps can be taken in the processes. It is his duty to suggest natural explanations for alleged miracles, and even to bring forward human and selfish motives for deeds that have been accounted heroic virtues...His duty requires him to prepare in writing all possible arguments, even at times seemingly slight, against the raising of any one to the honours of the altar. The interest and honour of the Church are concerned in preventing any one from receiving those honours whose death is not juridically proved to have been "precious in the sight of God" [4]

Therefore, one cannot make the accusation that this level of examination is "nitpicking." It is absolutely in keeping with the degree of scrutiny traditionally undergone by proposed candidates for canonization to raise objections to things that are "even at times seemingly slight." I do not think the question of temperance is a slight one.

But I think at the heart of this is the misguided notion that if we support a particular person's cause, it is perfectly normal to be averse to their being scrutinized. As if, because I like and want someone to be raised to the altars, the proper response to inquiries about their personal life is aversion. This is totally backwards.

Look, there are lots of people I would like to see made saints. I will share one with you; the late Jesuit priest, Fr. John Hardon (d. 2000). I think his works could be of immense value to modern catechesis, his personal life was exemplary, and he demonstrated a spiritual wisdom and maturity that evidenced the work of grace to an exceptional degree. And his ministry has born exceptional fruit. I am one of them, though hardly exceptional.

Let me ask - for one who loves Fr. Hardon, what should my proper response be to critical inquiries about his personal character?

If I really believe Fr. Hardon is a saint, I should welcome these inquiries. If he truly is a saint, then I can have confidence that the objections will be satisfactorily answered, and my faith in his sanctity will be all the stronger. On the other hand, if scrutiny reveals that he is not a saint, then I do not want him to be raised to the altars, no matter how much I 'like' him. I want Fr. Hardon to be canonized, but only if he proves worthy of canonization. If his reputation cannot stand up to the scrutiny, then God save us from canonizing an unworthy candidate!

Would it make sense for me to get upset at questions about his character? Should I dismiss scrutiny into his life and works on the grounds that I am so moved by his writings that no investigation is needed, or that sanctity is so self-evident that any assertions to the contrary must be taken as ad hominem attacks?

If I boast that my son is the best math student in his grade, does it make sense to bristle with indignation at the suggestion that he actually be tested in math? Rather, should I not want him to be tested to we can more truthfully assess his abilities? Let our assertions be grounded in truth, not in sentiment.

I love G.K. Chesterton. His writings have moved me profoundly and have been very formative in my intellectual and spiritual development, both when I was a young man and to this day. Furthermore, I know countless souls who have similarly benefited from his works. But the writings do not the whole man make. This is about supernatural virtue, not profound writings. It does not matter whether it is Chesterton, or Cardinal Newman, Fulton Sheen, Mother Teresa or Paul VI. We should not be afraid of asking questions about these people, because ultimately we want God to be glorified, and God is glorified by true sanctity, not by papering over or dismissing valid objections.

What role do Chestertonians have to play in the investigations of GKC's sanctity? Chestertonians need to help this process by addressing and answering the sorts of inquiries posed in Mr. Drummel's article, not dismissing them. I don't know a lot about Chesterton's personal life. But let me say, if Mr. Drummel's article is accurate, then in my opinion this constitutes a serious obstacle to the canonization of GKC. Therefore, if you love GKC and want to see him raised to the altars, please answer these objections - don't make up reasons why they are not objections, or say they are irrelevant, or take them as personal attacks - but answer them. Mr. Drummel suggests Chesterton may have lacked temperance. It is your job, Chestertonians, to explain why he didn't.

One last note, addressing the "saints aren't perfect" rejoinder we hear from time to time. Agreed. Saints are not 'perfect.' They do have sin. But, while they are not perfect, a saint is someone we expect to have attained a degree of victory over their sin. While I would never argue that saints must be sinless, I would also argue that a person who has capitulated to sin in one aspect of their life should not be considered a saint. Saints are those who, while having sin like all of us, labor to attain victory over that sin. Mr. Drummel suggests that Chesterton fundamentally failed in his battle against drunkenness and gluttony, which signifies a lack of temperance. If what Drummel says is true, Chesterton did not have victory over these vices but rather succumbed to them - they even contributed to his death.

I am not arguing Chesterton is not a saint. This post isn't ultimately about him, as I have said, but about how we should respond to inquiries into men and women we think ought to be canonized. I would like to see a St. Chesterton of Beaconsfield, but more so I want us to be intellectually honest.

Chesterton would have never dismissed an argument the way I saw Chestertonians in the combox so doing; if you love Chesterton, live up to his legacy and address these objections head on. GKC deserves nothing less. Truth will prevail, and we should rejoice when it does, whatever that truth may be. It won't diminish my love of Chesterton one way or another, nor should it for you.

Related Post: History of the Devil's Advocate

Chesterton on...wife beating!?

I just came across this thought from Chesterton in an essay entitled "Divorce versus Democracy", originally featured in the 1915 edition of Nash's Magazine and reprinted in the November, 2001 edition of "The Chesterton Review" (Vol. XXVII, No.4 ). To put it in context, Chesterton is arguing against a relaxation in divorce laws in England, arguing (correctly, I think) that the causes put forward for a relaxation in divorce laws by the British government at the time were actually symptoms of the injustice of British society and themselves responsible for the increase in divorces. In this context, he discusses wife beating ("cruelty"), which he says is frequently grounds for divorce. Yet, he argues, if the British society were not so unjustly structured and the poor not ground down so hard, the husband would have less occasion to beat his wife. He then goes on a little tangent about wife-hitting, in which he says it is sometimes a "self-defense." The argument seems to be that wife beating is just a symptom of something else, and that judges should not grant divorces just because husbands may "hit out" at their wives once in awhile. Here's the excerpt from "Divorce versus Democracy":

A poor woman does not judge her husband as a bully by whether he has ever hit out. One might as well say that a schoolboy judges whether another schoolboy is a bully by whether he has ever hit out. The poor wife, like the schoolboy, judges him as a bully by whether he is a bully. She knows that while wife-beating really may be a crime, wife-hitting is sometimes very like just self-defense. No one knows better than she does that her husband often has a great deal to put up with: sometimes she means him to; sometimes she is justified. She comes and tells all this to the magistrates again and again; in police court after police court women with black eyes try to explain the thing to judges with no eyes...In these people's lives the rooms are crowded, the tempers are torn to rags, the natural exits are forbidden. In such societies it is as abominable to punish or divorce people for a blow as it would be to punish or divorce a gentleman for slamming the door (pp. 450-451).

It's hard to draw more out of it than this since the blurb is only a tangent in a bigger essay. Chesterton seems to be saying that domestic violence is the result of a stifling social situation that blocks off all the "natural exits" of a man's aggression, and that it does not make sense to grant a divorce because of isolated cases of "wife-hitting" which are (apparently) to be expected from time to time just as much as a gentleman slamming a door.

I don't know what to make of this, especially of GK's comment that wife-hitting is sometimes a "just self-defense." Does anybody have any input or comments on this? It be interesting to send this to Dale Ahlquist (or maybe Armstrong?) and get his take on it.

"Blessed" GK Chesterton?

A few days ago, Zenit reported that there is now a serious movement under way to push for a beatification of GK Chesterton. I had always heard rumors of a Chesteron beatification, but they were always kind of tongue-in-cheek. Apparently, this new resolution is serious. Paulo Gulisano, author of the first Italian language biography of Chesterton, had this to say:

Many people feel there is clear evidence of Chesterton's sanctity: Testimonies about him speak of a person of great goodness and humility, a man without enemies, who proposed the faith without compromises but also without confrontation, a defender of Truth and Charity. His greatness is also in the fact that he knew how to present Christianity to a wide public, made up of Christians and secular people. His books, ranging from "Orthodoxy" to "St. Francis of Assisi," from "Father Brown" to "The Ball and the Cross," are brilliant presentations of the Christian faith, witnessed with clarity and valor before the world.

According to the ancient categories of the Church, we could define Chesterton as a "confessor of the faith." He was not just an apologist, but also a type of prophet who glimpsed far ahead of time the dramatic character of modern issues like eugenics. The English Dominican Aidan Nichols sustains that Chesterton should be seen as nothing less than a possible "father of the Church" of the 20th century.

The whole Zenit article is pretty interesting and worth reading. I'm as big a Chesterton fan as anyone, but I don't know how I feel about this. I think it is exciting, certainly, but I'm just not sure. The problem is, sanctity is not the same thing as being a good person or a profound writer, nor is it even the same thing as being virtuous. You can be virtuous and not have sanctity - sanctity consists in practicing these virtues to a heroic degree. When asked what Chesterton's heroic virtues were, Gulisano replies:

Faith, hope and charity: These were Chesterton's fundamental virtues. Moreover, he was innocent, simple, profoundly humble. Though having personally experienced sorrow, he was a chorister of Christian joy. Chesterton's work is a type of medicine for the soul, or better, it can more precisely be defined as an antidote. The writer himself had actually used the metaphor of antidote to define the effect of sanctity on the world: The saint has the objective of being a sign of contradiction and of restoring mental sanity to a world gone crazy.

I appreciate the praise of Chesterton's work, but a beatification is about the man, not is work. I once heard (I think on EWTN, maybe on some Catholic Radio station) a certain lay apologist make the errant claim that St. Thomas Aquinas was canonized solely by virtue of his writings and not because of his personal holiness. Anyone who has studied the canonization proceedings of any saints from the 13th or 14th centuries knows that everything revolves around personal sanctity. Saying Chesterton was innocent and humble, and then going on to praise his writing, is really not enough for me to jump on the bandwagon, however much I love Chesterton.

One problem with modern canonizations is the fact that it is increasingly difficult to gauge sanctity. You would think that with modern means of record keeping, video, writings, etc. it would be much easier nowadays to determine if a person is truly saintly, but I think it is more difficult today for three reasons.

1) No Accountability. This is especially the case with lay people who are candidates for canonization. In the case of St. Dominic, and of St. Therese of Lisieux, for example, among the persons interviewed in the canonization proceedings were the confessors of each of these saints. St. Dominic retained the same confessor for most of his adult life, as did St. Therese. In the proceedings, both were able to say with certainty, "Yes, I can testify that so-and-so never committed a mortal sin." I don't know if Chesterton had a regular confessor or not; if so, he's long dead. But for a regular lay person going to multiple different priests for confession, anonymously, how can anybody come forward and say anything comparable? This makes us fall back on subjective testimony like "he had a very innocent demeanor," which may be a valid observation but is not the same as a confessor saying he never committed a mortal sin.

2) Private nature of modern life. Consider this: in the medieval village, it was impossible for a sinner to hide is sins, or for a virtuous person to go unrecognized. Everybody knew one another, life was predominantly social and collective, and each person had a reputation. If a priest was a whore-monger, everybody knew it. If an old widow was prayerful and charitable, this was evident, as well. Every peasant knew each other's foibles. Granny is cranky. The guy at the edge of town is insane. Miller Jones' daughter got pregnant out of wedlock. These type of things were impossible to hide, and the reality of medieval social life served as a kind of social testimony to a person's sanctity (or lack thereof). It was extremely hard to fool everybody; i.e., much harder to live a "double life." But now, where most people's co-workers, friends, family and neighbors are all separate groups of people who may never interact, how is there any collective testimony?

When a man can come home to his private house, go inside and look at Internet porn, then go to his job on Monday like normal, how can anyone say what is going on? The same Mr. and Mrs. Johnson who are so nice at the office party may in fact be depraved swingers who, because of things like the Internet, can indulge in their disorders anonymously and without exposing themselves. What I am saying is that in the modern world, with its compartmentalization, its individualism and the capacity for excessive privacy and anonymity, how can anyone say anything with certainty about anyone else? There is a much, much greater ability for people to lead double-lives, which is why such statements like "he was innocent and joyful" don't hold a lot of weight nowadays. The serial killer is always the normal one, right? I'm certainly not saying Chesterton in particular had any such private vices, but Chesterton would be the first to admit that such a potentiality was highly possible in our world.

3) Confusion about what sanctity is. The masses at large I think have always had strange ideas about what holiness is; at some points and places, it was whether one did a lot or miracles, or how stomach-turning and violent the penances one inflicted on themselves was. The problem is that today, many in the Church establishment are even confused about what sanctity is. I think many see it as simply setting one forward as a role model, apart from the supernatural reality of their sanctity and intercession before the throne of God in heaven. Nobody can understand what sanctity is if sin isn't preached, and we all know how that topic is treated today. Confusion about what sanctity means renders it even more difficult in determining whether one is truly holy. It is like trying to find something in muddy water without knowing what it is you are looking for.

These problems are common to modern canonizations, I think. I don't know if they apply to Chesterton or not. Chesterton was truly brilliant and deserves every honor that can possibly be legitimately heaped upon him. I hope they find legitimate evidence of his sanctity. If he is beatified, I will be happy. It is different than my attitude towards Bl. Mother Teresa and JPII, both of whom I positively think should not be canonized. Here, I would love to see Chesterton beatified, but I want to make sure he is beatified for the right reason.

A Terrible Witness

A very pious and orthodox priest that I knew confided to me recently that he had been very upset by the uncharitable behavior of some fellow Catholics. This is nothing new, but he stressed that these Catholics were traditional, orthodox Catholics - the kind who really shouldn't be offending by their lack of charity.

He told me two very interesting points: first, he said that when traditional Catholics behave in this cold, uncaring manner, it makes him have more sympathy for the liberals and progressives. Coming from him, this was very shocking, but I can see his point. A happy progressive is more pleasant to be around than a stuffy, frowning, kill-joy trad (not to say all trads are stuffy or all progressives are happy).

Secondly, and more I think to the point, he said that traditional Catholics who are cold, uncaring and rude seem to be of the opinion that the fact that they hold the correct faith and have the proper bonds with the Church somehow excuses every other defect or flaw in their lives. This is hitting the nail on the head: being a traditionalist or orthodox or faithful or whatever you want to call it is not the end of faith - that is simply the faith. It is not as if you have arrived by simply believing what every Catholic is supposed to believe. The end of the faith is holiness, holiness "without which no man will see the Lord" (Heb. 12:14). If trads think they can get off being arrogant, vindictive, uncharitable and downright unpleasant just because they are trads, then they are sorely mistaken.

I say this from first hand experience, and many of you who have been around traditionalism for a long time can verify this. I have known trads whose faces are stuck in perpetual frowns. I've met some who couldn't muster up a sense of humor about the littlest thing, who a perpetually looking for something to criticize. It is worst when priests are dragged into it - when a priest tries to do something traditional for the first time, like celebrating ad orientem or having a Corpus Christi procession, and instead of being thankful they complain that he is not doing it good enough or to their specifications.

If trads complain when priests are trying to be traditional but are still learning, what are our pastors to think about trads in general? We all have to be holy, and holiness is charity. While I know there is a time for rebukes (which are always to be mild, according to St. Paul) and for boldly proclaiming the truth (in love, again Paul tells us), we ought not to go around in a perpetual "attitude of rebuke," where we simply live to rebuke and chastise, like the woman one blogger wrote about who sits in the Church with a stack of pamphlets on why it's sinful to talk before Mass and just waits for some person to violate that point of etiquette so she can rush up, tell them to be quiet and hand them a pamphlet, which she always has on hand.

Humility. Humility. Humility. St. Bernard said these were the three greatest virtues. If we are privileged to know and believe the truth, it is because God in His infinite mercy chose to extend His grace to us, like Xerxes extending the golden scepter to Esther even though she merited death by entering his chambers unbidden (Est. 5:2). It is assuredly not because we are better than anyone else. Many of the saints who were religious, when asked if they thought they were better than others who didn't do as rigorous penance, said that on the contrary, they were worse sinners and needed the extra penances and disciplines imposed by the religious life because they were so weak that without them they would fall away. That ought to be our attitude: if God gives us any special grace at all, whether it is to know and love the traditional Mass or whatever, it is because we are so weak that we needed it to stay faithful. Therefore, we have absolutely no grounds for boasting.

Interestingly enough, I have noticed one very important but unlikely factor that is present in all pleasant, well-rounded traditionalists that tends to set them apart from irritable, wet-blanket trads. It is very simple: G.K. Chesterton. Those who love G.K. Chesterton always tend to have a more balanced, humorous and common sense approach to things, even things pertaining to God and the liturgy. Those "stuffy" trads who are frumpy, frowning and complainers cannot seem to tolerate G.K.C. and don't understand why so many people like him. This is just an observation that is far from scientific, but what do you think? Do you know any mean-spirited trads who are Chesterton fans? I don't. Chesterton seems to keep things pleasant and put people in their proper place in a humorous sort of way.

Any how, in conclusion, just because you are traditional doesn't mean you have a blank check to be a jerk.

Chesterton on our attitude toward the universe

I was preparing a talk for my Youth Group and decided to draw upon this wonderful quote from Chesterton, in which he talks about the importance of having a general, all-encompassing philosophic attitude towards the universe that underlies all of our practical judgments about how to live life:

Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, "Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good--" At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark (Heretics, I).

Nothing like coming back to Chesterton!