This is going to be a long one.
I have returned at least temporarily, though hopefully longer. I am in the middle of a somewhat busy time, as I am applying to graduate schools and still working on homework. However, this is one of those times when I realize that this is not all there is to life. All of this work and perpetual focus on the future is, in the end, problematic. I say this not because I think work is futile, but because I think it can be somewhat distracting, even that work which is important.
I tend to feel like Theology departments, at least the one here at Notre Dame, mostly have the correct perspective. Theology departments are able to have the humility to admit that their work, while indeed very important, must come under the auspices of faith, of authentic relationship with God. Theology is, at its nature, faith seeking understanding. It is all-encompassing, because it seeks not only to understand the tenets of one’s faith; it also seeks to place it within the real world. Theology appreciates the world as a gift; it appreciates that humanity was made beautiful and good and retains those qualities despite our fallen nature; it seeks to account for all that is good and evil in the world. Theology has ultimate relevance to real life, because faith that does not fit with reality is useless.
Waiting for mass outside of a dorm chapel the other evening, some people were discussing which was the greater evil, abortion or contraception. That’s great that they’re talking about it, but there was something that troubled me deeply about how they spoke about it. The conversation went something like this:
“Which would you prefer people were doing, abortion or contraception?”
“I’m a good Catholic <slight laughter>, so I would say neither.”
“Well, yeah, so am I, but seriously, outside of being a Catholic, like, in the real world, which would you say? … Catholicism isn’t the same as real life, like out there.”
The conversation carried on for a short time, but it was primarily that last part that bothered me so much. I don’t mean to judge those people involved in the conversation; they may well be great people. However, what was said there pointed to a great problem in the modern Church. Religion is seen as a Sunday thing, and it may even offer a little guidance to your thought at least superficially, but in the end, everybody knows that it’s unrealistic. This view denies what truth you say that it actually has, because you refuse to admit that it has real relevance to or understanding of society. What good is that sort of faith?
On a University campus, especially one as focused on academics as Notre Dame, it can be easy to place an inordinate amount of importance on things like your future and your work. It seems to me that while these things are indeed important (I am applying to graduate schools, after all), it can never be as important as truly discovering how we are to live. It’s the difference between being and living; by living, we find ourselves realizing who we are as persons created in the image and likeness of God. How else can one explain the beauty in the world? I am by no means the first to say this, but surely those moments of recognizing beauty, those moments of joy, however short, point us to greater goods. Like Augustine described in Book XXII of City of God, and like Sir/Professor John Cavadini loves to demonstrate, the lesser miracles, even the daily wonders and beauties (miraculum is a wondrous thing, after all), evoke a sense of profound joy, wonder, and gratitude. Recognition of beauty turns us away from ourselves, away from the pride (superbia) which resides within all of fallen humanity, and lifts up our souls, if even for a moment. That moment of turning can bring us to authentic worship, because we begin to look for the One who is behind that beauty, for the object of our gratitude.
Today/Tonight, I was blessed with a couple of opportunities to engage in that great practice. Right now, South Bend is being hit with a snow storm that is covering everything in several inches of snow. Yes, I have seen snow many times since being up here at Notre Dame, but there is no denying the beauty of fresh snow. I know many will say that it’s because I’m from Georgia that I derive so much enjoyment from snow, but I think there is something far greater at work. But these opportunities that I mentioned were not merely seeing the beauty of fallen snow, which alone should be enough.
The first occurred in the early evening when standing outside of my dorm. The light was beginning to dim slightly, and the whole earth and everything on it was covered with fresh snow. The several new inches of the snow muffled the traffic in the distance just enough to make me more attentive. I soon noticed a figure move in the woods behind my dorm, which proved to be a large white-tailed deer, a doe, standing in a deep bit of snow. It came further out of the woods, and following it were five others, two or three of them fawns. They walked together in the snow, occasionally glancing in my direction checking my own activity. I considered going into my room to get my camera, but there seemed to be far more value in actually embracing the experience rather than trying to capture it on film. After a time, when a snow plow drove by, the deer ran away, and I was left standing, watching, and offering up a prayer of praise and gratitude.
Later, when returning from work at Starbucks at 1:30 AM, I stopped by the snow-covered grotto to light a candle and pray. I couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of the flames of candles flickering in the shallow cave dedicated to Our Lady, while more snow gently fell. The silence of the moment was far greater than before, and it was tremendously uplifting. After taking a moment to share it with a friend, a Theology major named Laura, who had also made the trip to the grotto, I walked away marveling at what stood around me. When I returned to my dorm, the same deer (presumably) stood in the snow, and I experienced that same feeling of wonder. I again remained nearby in order to watch the beautiful sight.
Anyways, one thing that was striking to me about those inexplicable moments of transcendent joy was that in both instances, other students walked by at some point, but they refused to see the same beauty. Several ignored the scenery entirely, and the few that I told about it barely acknowledged that it was interesting at all. Only one actually came to look at the sight as well, and while it seemed that he found it somewhat interesting, he didn’t seem to acknowledge it as more than ordinary. Again, I do not mean to judge them at all; rather, I wanted so greatly to share that moment with them, too. Laura, whom I saw at the grotto, was the only one to express the same appreciation for the beauty of surroundings. She even showed joy for the deer that she never got to see (my girlfriend Laura also grew excited when hearing about it). I suppose since she was already in that posture of prayer, she, too, was able to find joy in the simplicity and peace of the moment.
If nothing else, this experience demonstrates how beauty can truly shock us into seeing God and gaining real perspective. Faith and theology surely seems to make one more inclined towards recognizing this joy. Theology acknowledges the importance of making time to see God’s signature in nature. It encourages one to (as Cavadini says) “kneel before mystery” and to embrace beauty as more than superfluous trifles. As we discussed in one of my classes today, in C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters, the demon Screwtape writes to junior tempter Wormwood that he must keep the man focused on the past and the future, because “The Enemy” (i.e. God) wants people to focus on the present and eternity. With beauty, God encourages us to do precisely that, not to worry about our future goals and career aspirations, but to live where (and when) we are with an eye to eternity. Beauty encourages greater unity with God.
That is why it’s so important to make time to “stop and smell the roses.” It’s not only for a greater quality of life, but to help us to find God. In order to be greater “ocular athletes,” we must make time for exercise. That’s what I’m going to try to do more.
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