Liberal Arts and Servile Attitudes

 It is a common complaint heard from young graduates of liberal arts programs that their expensive degrees are not providing them ample enough opportunity for employment.  I myself have been admonished by older, more “successful” men that college programs in the liberal arts amount to no more than a waste of time and money.  I often admit that a degree in history or philosophy might indeed prove useless in the “real world” and I understand the frustration of being “overeducated”, but at these thoughts I am reminded of a concept laid out by Josef Pieper in his most famous book, Leisure: The Basis of Culture.  He explains that the liberal arts are “liberal” precisely because they are free from being practical or useful.

This, of course, might sound ridiculous at first, but only until the reader will ask himself just what “art” is.  It is no money-making pursuit, though, sadly, it seems to be the occupation of many so-called “artists” of today.  The concept of liberal arts being both liberal and true art depends on the idea that knowledge is something worth pursuing for its own sake, rather than for the sake of something else.  Knowledge which is gained for the sake of practical concerns, such as gaining money and reducing effort, is called “practical knowledge”.  Such knowledge includes science and technology; engineering, programming, mechanics, machining, and the like.  Art, both seen and heard, philosophy, and history are those fields of knowledge which have very little to do with putting bread on the table:  That is, they are free from having to worry about putting bread on the table.  They are all part of what is truly worthy of our time and effort and even our money.  Bread and effort are obvious necessities for life, but they are less than life.  Pieper did quite well in showing that when every pursuit is reduced to something like a dollar value, we become nothing more than machines.  Every ounce of effort we put out in our daily lives to make a living is the clearest evidence that living is always worth more than what it may cost.  We do not live in order to sustain and produce, we sustain and produce in order to live. 

So, what does it mean to live?  It depends what creature is living.  What it means to live as a cat is not the same as to live as a man.  It does not take deep insight to notice what the difference is.  Animals spend their time seeking food and mates, perhaps even solving problems and entertaining themselves while they are at it, but only humans write and read history, tell stories, paint pictures, sing, think aloud, build churches, and pray.  Only humans do these things; they are particularly human.  The liberal arts, then, are concerned ultimately with humanity and being human.  "Why study liberal arts?"  How absurd this question becomes!  We pursue the arts because in them we are most free, most human, and most alive.

If, dear reader, you are one of those souls who worked hard to obtain a liberal arts degree because you loved it and were subsequently sent out into the world by your alma mater in the hope of making a decent wage by that knowledge, you have been misled.  It might help more to go back and learn something practical to practice instead of condemning the economy for being too weak to support you or hating society for being too simple to appreciate your expertise.  Much joy and gratitude is to be had, however, for knowing what is worth knowing for no other reason than that you wanted to know it.

Americanism and Democracy

       “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  Rom 12:2

In 1899, Pope Leo XIII addressed the encyclical, Testem Benevolentiae, to Cardinal Gibbons of Baltimore (the Premier See of the United States) concerning a heresy he referred to as “Americanism.”  In the encyclical, Leo described Americanism as describing collectively a set of opinions to which he believed the American cultural and political atmosphere to be especially susceptible:

“The underlying principle of these new opinions is that, in order to more easily attract those who differ from her, the Church should shape her teachings more in accord with the spirit of the age and relax some of her ancient severity and make some concessions to new opinions.”

That is, if the Church would “get with the times,” there would be greater harmony between the world and disgruntled believers alike.  Cardinal Gibbons was quick to reply, stating in defense of the Church in America that the opinions against which Leo had spoken were virtually non-existent among American Catholics.  Gibbons might have been honest at the time, but Leo was no fool.  About a century later, it is obvious that Americanism is very much alive.

            The reason Americans are especially susceptible to such opinions is that, although they are in principle a democratic people, there is a widespread confusion as to what democracy means.  When one asks any Christian what his beliefs are, he is likely to get an answer like “Conservative Baptist” or “Liberal Catholic, but…”  It seems that Christians let their democratic-political way of thinking shape their religious views.  In addition to this muddling of principles, however, there is a ubiquitous conviction of belief in the separation of Church and State.

            Many argue that Leo XIII sought to abolish this belief, but those who make this assertion misunderstand it.  The Founding Fathers designed the American system of government in response to a system which they felt was too easily prone to tyranny.  A monarchy or aristocracy does not necessarily have a vested interest in the good of their subjects unless it threatens their own wellbeing.  The apparent solution to this problem was to create a government in which the good of a people was put into their own hands under their own governance.  This implied, however, that the people knew well enough what was for their own good.  Activists like Thomas Paine showed that the general population could indeed be well-enough equipped to handle their own affairs so long as the public was capable of participating in the political forum.  It was this capacity for the free exchange of ideas that was seen as the leaven of democracy, though American society at the time was unanimously Christian:  Many social goods that are the center of controversy today were no more than a natural and common disposition.  It is well-known that there was a prejudice against “Papists” which lasted into the nineteenth century mainly for the reason that Catholics were perceived as living under papal obedience and thus incapable of holding their own opinions in the public sphere.  This prejudice, of course, dwindled over time as it became evident that even Catholics could keep Church and State separate.

            The fact that this prejudice existed at all shows that Church and State bear a much closer relationship than is commonly thought, and our forefathers knew this.  Both the Church and the State concern man and his actions with one another.  Whatever one’s religious beliefs may be, they will manifest themselves in his actions, yet one’s actions are also the subject of laws and policies enacted by the State.  Ultimately, therefore, it seems that one need only to determine which actions concern religion and which concern public policy.  This is the general understanding of the separation:  What concerns public policy is one thing and what concerns religion is another.  This usually works well.  The State can mandate brake lights and window tax while the Church obliges Sunday worship and works of charity.  So what do we do when the State commands a priest to testify against his confessants or legalizes the murder of unborn children?

            When “separation” is understood only as drawing a line between the two, there inevitably arise ambiguities of authority which turn the distinction between Church and State into a fierce antagonism.  It should be surprising when it happens, especially in a democratic society, because each institution is concerned with the same thing; namely, the good of the individual and of society.  When each institution becomes the other’s rival, both the individual and society are torn apart, and this is ultimately disastrous for both: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  The separation of Church and State, then, is only a healthy separation if they strive for a mutually sustainable goal.  Only then will they not interfere with each other.

            American government is designed to prevent tyranny.  Christianity teaches that there is no greater tyranny than sin and moral depravity.  A cursory knowledge of history demonstrates that the most despotic of nations are also the most depraved.  There is nothing which is inherently at odds between sound moral doctrine and sound civil management, yet there is nevertheless a growing demand from “progressive” Christians to change what they believe to be “outdated” theology as well as federal law, as if what is good and natural changes with the times.  Why can we not just live in the 21^st century?  Because Christians live according to a Truth that is eternal and a law which is in accord with that Truth.  A law devoid of Christian morals is ripe for tyranny, democratic or not. 

A true, healthy democracy is not the rule by a majority which decides what is good for their country, it is the rule by a majority which seeks the good of their country.  The greatest good will never be found without the guidance of Christianity.  Democracy is perhaps the safest system of government for its citizens, but an un-Christian majority is ignorant of the goodness of God and thus doomed to live in dysfunction, as Saint Thomas Aquinas observed in the first response of his Summa:

“It was necessary that man should be taught by a divine revelation; because the truth about God such as reason could discover, would only be known by a few, and that after a long time, and with the admixture of many errors.”