A line of a poem I read in college kept coming to mind these past weeks. The original verses memorialized the death of a great man. His passing was compared to the fall of a giant tree on a mountain crest, leaving a lonesome place against the sky (or words to that effect).
Two giants of Catholic life have died in the past few weeks, leaving empty places in the religious culture of our land — Cardinal Avery Dulles, SJ, in December and Father Richard John Neuhaus in January. Their passing was well noted by the secular world, for they made a mark not only on the ecclesiastical community of our time but upon the civil community as well. Both were converts to the Catholic Church, Cardinal Dulles from Presbyterianism (and agnosticism) and Father Neuhaus from Lutheranism.
I was impressed by the publications of Cardinal Dulles — by his books (such as The Craft of Theology and Models of the Church), published articles, commentaries in defense of the Catholic tradition. He was truly a giant Catholic intellectual of our era. His father, John Foster Dulles, was the secretary of state under President Dwight Eisenhower. Avery went through a painstaking faith journey and came to the peace in the Catholic Church. When he died last month, the Holy Father himself sent a beautiful letter of condolences. He spoke of the late cardinal’s “noble soul, deep learning, serene judgment, unfailing love of the Lord and his church and long years of teaching and theological research.”
Father Richard John Neuhaus I met several times and not only had the opportunity to hear him lecture on various topics but also to chat with him more than once over coffee or lunch about the culture of America. He was a fascinating lecturer and conversationalist. Several times we talked about his coming to San Antonio for a talk — and he was willing — but schedule conflicts always seem to intervene.
I remember being introduced first to Father Neuhaus through his books of the 1980’s, such as The Naked Public Square and The Catholic Moment. In the former book he argued against relegating religious understanding to the private realm and ostracizing it from the public community, as though religious belief, which is one of the most powerful influences on a man or woman, forming their core beliefs and meaning of life, is not meant to play a role in the political sphere.
In his The Catholic Moment, he argued, as a Lutheran, that the Catholic Church was the only religious institution organized enough and strong enough to withstand the secularization that was taking place in America. He admitted that main-line Protestantism was losing its authority and its ability to counteract the modern trends. He declared that concerned Protestants and Jews would do well to rally with Catholics in a common front against the powers of darkness of the land. Within three years he had entered the Catholic Church and soon was ordained a priest by Cardinal John O’Connor of New York.
He became part of the Institute on Religion and Public Life in New York City and the first editor of its monthly magazine First Things. I always began reading my copy of the monthly magazine at the end — with the reflections of Father Neuhaus (“The Public Square” and “While We’re At It”), where he would comment on multiple occurrences of the day, recently published books, newspaper or magazine articles, etc. As I read various tributes to Father Neuhaus in these past few days, I was surprised at how many commentators mentioned that they too always started reading the magazine at the end. It was hard to believe that one man could critically cover so many topics and do it so well.
Father Richard was a kind and tolerant man. But an object of his scorn was the New York Times, which represented for him the epitome of a secular and anti-Catholic mind. Most issues of First Things contained at least one critical reflection about the newspaper’s stands, such as: “For the New York Times, the only good Catholic is a bad Catholic.” That was prompted by the custom of the Times to regularly invite Catholic dissenters to comment on Catholic doctrine or decisions.
Father Neuhaus before his death wrote his reflections for the February (2009) issue of First Things. There is a poignancy in reading them now: “As of this writing, I am contending with cancer. Be assured that I neither fear to die nor refuse to live. The entirety of our prayer is ‘Your will be done’ — ‘not as a note of resignation but of desire beyond expression.’ I commend myself to your intercession and that of all the saints and angels who accompany us each step through time toward home.” Let that serve as his epitaph.
Father John A. Leies, SM, STD, is president emeritus of St. Mary’s University and was formerly head of the Theology Department there.