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If I had a wish-list for the church today, it would
include a request for three saints of old to re-appear in
a new guise. What the church needs today is a new
Augustine of Hippo, a new Francis of Assisi, and a new
Thomas More.
First, we need a new Augustine: St. Augustine was a rare
genius, an intellectual, an artist, a brilliant person
who, before his conversion to Christianity, looked upon
Christianity as a superstition, a naivete, a gentle myth
which, while it sustained his mother whom he loved, lacked
the intellectual rigor to be real truth. His original
attitude towards Christianity was one of condescension, he
saw it as something beneath him, beneath his intellectual
and artistic dignity. Slowly, through the very honesty of
his own intellectual search, he came to see the truth of
Christ. A day came when he dropped to his knees, committed
himself to a truth that he had once despised, and then for
the rest of his life put his great genius at its
service.
What he did then was to marry Christian revelation to the
experience, language, art, and intellectual life of his
time. In terms of an image, he wrote a software for
Christianity that has, for the most part, lasted for
nearly 17 hundred years. Bill Gates may have given us
Windows 98, but Augustine gave us Christianity and Common
Sense 400 AD. In the Western world, this software has
endured essentially intact down to this very day.
A new Augustine is called for today. What the church
would most need is for some young, post-modern genius, an
intellectual and an artist, to convert to Christianity
and, right by the dynamics of his or her own conversion,
show that the enlightenment and what follows from it is
not what it espouses itself to be, namely, something
intellectually beyond Christianity, but rather that it, in
its best expressions, is simply a cousin in truth. We need
too for that person to write a new software for
Christianity. We need a new Augustine to again make
Christianity an intellectual and aesthetic option for a
culture that perceives it as lacking in both.
Then too we need a new Francis of Assisi: We need someone,
man or woman, who can re-inflame the romantic imagination
of Christianity. Francis was a saint, but he was more than
that. He was also a man of rare imagination. He was
someone who, like a great artist, could reshape the
collective imagination.
What Francis was able to do, among other things of course,
was to give to the world a new and a more attractive
vision of how Christianity is connected to nature, how a
life of simplicity itself can be an aesthetic, and how the
altruism which lies at the heart of Jesus’ message can be
more attractively imaged and lived. What he said, did, and
founded became, almost instantly, something analogous to a
great work of art, it drew people to itself and inflamed
their imaginations. Hundreds of years later, it is still
doing the same thing. But his images no longer fire the
imagination as powerfully as they once did. We need a new
Francis, a post-modern man or woman, who can again inflame
the romantic imagination of world in the same way that
Francis once did. This is badly needed in an age that all
but militates against simplicity, altruism, and nature. In
a time of morally-authorized greed, where celebrity is
divinity, and where restlessness and grandiosity have been
taken to new levels, in a world of high-rise living, some
great artist must again show us that what we really want
is to live simply, altruistically, and in harmony with
nature.
Finally, we need a new Thomas More: We need someone, woman
or man, who is a top-level lawyer, a politician, a great
humanist, a lover of the arts, fully immersed in the
affairs of culture, and yet is able to combine all of
these involvements, and such a love of the world, with a
simple faith, an uncompromising integrity, human
attractiveness, an enviable wit, and a capacity for moral
martyrdom. This woman or man too, unlike Augustine and
Francis, needs to be married, with children, not a monk,
priest, or nun. We need models of non-celibate sanctity.
Thomas More was driven by two great loves and two great
loyalties—love of the world and loyalty to it and love of
God and loyalty to God. His life—that of a great humanist
and a great Christian—continually radiated both those
loves and both those loyalties. In the end, of course,
they weren’t equal. God was given a certain priority, but,
even then, love for the world was never denigrated. He
loved both, God and the world, solidly to the end,
modelling what a healthy, full, joyfilled and faithfilled
life can look like. We need a new Thomas More today.
And so the want-ads are out: Wanted—A new Augustine of
Hippo. Wanted—A new Francis of Assisi. Wanted—A new Thomas
More. Applications anyone?
Ron Rolheiser
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