Chad Pecknold gave a brilliant a brilliant summary of De Koninck on the common good at a panel at a recent conference in Dallas (embedded above). The discussion that followed, moderated by Ryan Anderson, was also very good. Anderson’s questions were quite trenchant.
Pecknold’s Gegenüber was Daniel Burns who raised a question about the love of one’s country, including love of one’s regime (in the Straussian sense of politeia) as a prerequisite to effective political action. I think that Pecknold and Anderson answer it quite correctly: To love one’s politeia rightly is to love what is good in it and wish to improve it by correcting what is not good. This is also a point that Gladden Pappin made at a recent conference in Steubenville: following Aristotle, he argued that action taken to “preserve” a “regime” in the right way actually changes it for the better. And, as Pecknold argues so persuasively, to make something better you need to have the right standard. How such “preservation” might be done in the current American was indicated with much insight by Patrick Deneen in another panel at the same conference.
Sermon, Feast of Saint Joseph, Saint Peter Church, Steubenville, March 19th, 2021.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
The liturgical texts for the Feast of St. Joseph emphasizes one of his virtues more than all the rest: namely, his justice. Justus ut palma florébit: sicut cedrus Líbani multiplicábitur / The just man shall flourish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar of Lebanon, the schola chanted in the introit. And in the Gospel we heard: Joseph autem, vir ejus, cum esset justus et nollet eam tradúcere, vóluit occúlte dimíttere eam / Whereupon Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing publicly to expose her, was minded to put her away privately. In the Preface I will sing: Qui et vir justus, a te Deíparæ Vírgini Sponsus est datus: et fidélis servus ac prudens, super Famíliam tuam est constitútus / who, being a just man, was given by Thee as a Spouse to the Virgin Mother of God, and, as a faithful and prudent servant was set over Thy Family.
Saint Joseph is the just man.
The iconographic tradition puts more emphasis on another one of his virtues: chastity. He is depicted with a lily the symbol of purity. Joseph is resplendent with the spiritual beauty of chastity.
I visited the Circus Belloni today. The Ringmaster, Carlos, gave me a little tour. His family has had this circus for seven generations, but now they are in danger of going down on account of the pandemic. They they haven’t been allowed to have any performances. They usually winter at stables in Germany, but the pandemic has now stranded them here in Austria. They have been calling up parishes, asking for donations, so I brought them a small one today.
Cardinal Schönborn ordained five of my confrères to the priesthood, and three to the diaconate, yesterday. One of the neomysts is Pater Thomas, who’s sister is a Dominican nun, and whose uncle is auxiliary bishop of Salzburg.
On the ceiling above the stairs leading to the abbot’s apartments in Heiligenkreuz there is an allegorical representation of the monastery. Stift Heiligenkreuz is represented by a lady in armor with shield and spear. Above the monastery are the three theological virtues: Faith, represented by a lady with the cross and chalice; hope with an anchor; and love, nursing a baby. A ray of light from the faith bounces off Heiligenkreuz’s shield, and drives away the powers of evil: demons, heretics, and deceitful women.
An acquaintance of mine recently received the Benedictine habit at the Stift Nonnberg, the venerable Benedictine nunnery founded by St. Rupert at the beginning of the 8th century in Salzburg. Here’s a video of the vestition ceremony:
There come times in one’s life when one conceives a great desire to read Kierkegaard. There are certain moods that he captured better than any other writer. For example:
I got up one morning in unusually good humour. This positive mood actually expanded as the morning progressed, in a manner I had never before experienced. By one o’clock my mood had climaxed, and I sensed the dizzying heights of complete contentment, a level that appears on no scale designed to measure moods, not even on the poetic thermometer. My body no longer seemed weighed down by gravity. It was as if I had no body, in that every function hummed along perfectly, every nerve rejoiced, the harmony punctuated by each beat of my pulse which served in turn only to remind me of the delightfulness of the moment. I almost floated as I walked, not like the bird that cuts through the air as it leaves the earth, but like the wind over the fields, like the nostalgic rocking of waves, like the dreamy progress of clouds across the sky. My being was transparent as the clear depths of the ocean, as the night’s self-satisfied stillness, as the soft soliloquy of midday. Every mood resonated melodically in my soul. Every thought, from the most foolish to the most profound, offered itself, and offered itself with the same blissful festiveness. Every impression was anticipated before it came, and thus awoke from within me. It was as if all of existence were in love with me. Everything quivered in deep rapport with my being. Everything in me was portentous; all mysteries explained in my microcosmic bliss that transfigured everything, even the unpleasant, the most annoying remark, the most loathsome sight, the most fatal collision.
As I said, it was exactly at one o’clock that my mood reached its peak, where I sensed the heights of perfect contentment. But then suddenly I got something in my eye. I do not know whether it was an eyelash, an insect, or a piece of dust. I know this though, that my mood immediately plummeted almost into the abyss of despair. [Søren Kierkegaard, Repetition and Philosophical Crumbs, trans. M. G. Piety (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009) pp. 40-41].