February 2008 Print

 

Catholics, now more than ever, must prepare for ideological conflict with the world, embracing true culture by necessity and by right as much as by preference. For the preservation of our souls and the protection of our families, our faith demands a rounded intellectual, emotional, and physical education, to include a firm foundation of thought formed through theology, philosophy, and logic; an appreciation of our physical capacities honed through honest work and true recreation; and habitual and informed access to artistic and literary masterworks, the most profound human attempts to bridge the gap between the natural and supernatural realms.

God has distinguished man from all other created beings by granting him freedom. The burden of free will proves the immensity of God's love for us and His unalterable respect for our dignity. We understand from our earliest days that our religion rests on truths we must choose to learn and understand, rather than on imposed sentiment or human respect. Though we remain susceptible to passions and emotions, reason guides our will and our acts, and we remain at all times free to avoid evil, free to do good. St. Thomas assures us, however, that enemies of freedom exist, internal and external things that would convince us to forfeit our freedom; among the most dangerous of these are fear, concupiscence, and ignorance.¹ We must not fear the hard work required to become thoughtful and intellectually rounded, nor can we fear the opinion of the world that portrays the culturally literate as effete elitists filled with prideful erudition, those who use culture and learning to intimidate, humiliate, or manipulate. The properly cultured person possesses the facility to distinguish and contextualize all forms of art and ideas relative to the absolute truths of God, and does so for the explicit purpose of edifying and educating his neighbor in charity, for the greater glory of God. Ignorance and denial provide no absolute protection from scandal; in fact, they leave one more susceptible to it, just as an attempt to avoid all exposure to contagions actually impedes the development of necessary physiological immunities.

To the extent possible, each Catholic citizen must put on the armor of learning and culture to defend the Faith, morals, and our heritage, all currently under systematic attack. But we cannot guard against that which we fail to recognize as a legitimate threat, nor will we succeed in our attempt to protect and regain the elements which, if lost, we have no capacity to appreciate. For the willfully uncultured Catholic, the restoration of all things in Christ remains an intellectual impossibility: for all his good intentions, he fails to realize the vital relevance of his heritage in the context of today's struggle. He will lack the ability to distinguish substantive from non-substantive expression of thoughts and emotions. The resulting intellectual indifferentism will result either in apathy and false security, or confusion and despair: the best case is a highly suggestible ignorance, the worst, spiritual desolation.

The enemy has over-seeded the field of Catholic beauty and expression with carnal chaff.² We recognize the untended state of society's garden and discern the devil's work, yet how many of us remain content to grow little if anything in our own family plots capable of providing substantial supernatural nourishment for the souls entrusted to us? The enemy indeed has done this–one more intelligent than we, with greater knowledge of our nature than we possess ourselves, and he will strive with tireless contempt to mold societal norms and expressions so that nothing of God remains, and that we become more and more complacent in our diminished ability to realize the deceit. From the second instant of creation, he has worked to perfect the program best suited to our total ruin: Our passive reaction either through ignorance, apathy, or presumption makes us highly susceptible targets of this programming, if not unwitting accomplices. We must choose those things that nourish us, reject those things harmful to us, and avoid the dangerous influences that surround us. God has deemed that good and bad should grow together yet for every threat, He provides a beneficial alternative; by choosing well, we will in turn prove ourselves worthy of His choosing.

Our Nature; Ideological Foundations of Artistic Expression

Our faith assures us of our being and our purpose: as hybrid creatures composed of material body and immortal soul, we exist to know, love, and serve God, and in doing so, potentially merit eternity with Him by the conscious action of our free will in cooperation with His grace and adherence to His law. We further understand, contrary to the prevailing empiricist perspective, that reality includes a metaphysical realm beyond the physical, a supernatural realm beyond the natural, and that all eternity exists beyond our finite and temporary conception of time.³ By extension, human activity orders itself to God's plan, providing either a means for man to attain his ultimate end, or an occasion for his failing to achieve it.

God is the source of all legitimate artistic inspiration, a yearning of the intellect to express higher truths and unimaginable beauty, and to penetrate the emotional mode of existence. Through human agents He grants access to extraordinary insights via artistic expression–the communication of these essences and insights in visual, aural, literary and various other forms–the best of which inspire the recipient to contemplate the sublimity of the artwork, thereby deducing God's inspiration in its production. Each artist creates according to his particular skills, and in accordance with the degree of talent granted him by God; each recipient responds in turn to the particular form best suited to his temperament and sensibilities. He appreciates, however, not based specifically on his own talent (for highly variable individual intellectual ability does qualify as talent) but rather his willingness to acquire the capacity to comprehend. In both cases–that of the creative artist who serves as a conduit for divine inspiration, and the recipient who develops the ability to understand truth as transmitted through art–God manifests justice and demands a free act of the will.

He manifests justice in that He distributes his gifts as He sees fit, in a manner bewilderingly inequitable by our estimation and to those at times seemingly least deserving. Those who would create, though never free to abuse their talents, have the capacity to do so, and as such can cause potentially irrevocable scandal: they must choose to create works of art that inspire, challenge, console, and edify. In doing so, artists of all media participate in weaving a tapestry of culture that allows substantive comprehension of the past, orientation in the present, and provides a permanent reflection of their age to future observers. The recipient plays a crucial role in this process, and in effect bears responsibility for the cultural record of his time. Only an educated society can effectively demand substantive art, and convincingly disallow non-substantive or scandalous art. A society unable to take an active part in shaping its cultural legacy will be powerless to stop the advance of commercial trendsetters who cater to our basest passions and crudest pride.

Culture provides a running metaphysical commentary on history; factual events which occur in time inspire artists of all media to reflect and create. Artistic depictions of events and eras often supply insights specifically useful for contextualization, whether political or ideological, and the cultural atmosphere which pervades society provides a backdrop against which people project ideas, as well as intellectual and moral standards. Since the so-called Renaissance in the 16th and 17th centuries–an intellectual movement to remake truth as an evolutionary humanist construct–these ideas have become increasingly hostile to traditional and specifically Catholic standards. On its face, the Renaissance argument for the remaking of truth lacks credibility unless one accepts the thesis that Revelation somehow fails to provide an adequate foundation for truth. In order to correct this theoretical–and conveniently unprovable–deficiency, humanist thinkers "purified" thought by way of a nominal return to the ancient Greek philosophers. Their systematic refusal to acknowledge the historical context of Greek thought in relation to Divine Revelation in the person of Christ–not to mention the obvious intimacy of pre-Christian and Christian thought, an intimacy irrefutably codified by St. Thomas Aquinas–represents one of the boldest cases of intellectual fraud in the history of organized thought. Time and time again the ancients prove their good intentions not only in their penetrating inquiry into the ultimate source of truth–the first cause, the unmoved mover–but in their systematic insistence on the absolute nature of truth and man's moral responsibility to live in strict accordance with it. The often impenetrable modernist attempts to remake truth bear little resemblance to the classical process of discovery.⁴

In the name of progress and intellectual liberty, humanist artists and thinkers have strived to create an atmosphere of total license where creators and consumers of culture and ideas remain free to indulge any personal excess; in turn, like-minded recipients–similarly inspired by contempt of traditional moral strictures–congratulate the artist, the thinker, and themselves for their dazzling sophistication. Any attempt to question this license and overindulgence meets with condemnation as backward, unsophisticated, and prudish. To the contrary, however, the ability to distinguish good from dangerous culture–and if necessary the proper restriction of licentious or scandalous art–is often a moral imperative. The Catholic has no less right to choose the manner of his cultural depiction than his anti-Catholic counterpart, and yet elements hostile to the Faith would seem to have had free reign in debasing society. In wondering how this came to pass, two truths immediately emerge: first, that clearly a supernatural element exists–the acceptance and successful dissemination of popular culture defies natural explanation by any reasonable mode of assessment–and perhaps more chilling, just as Vatican II did not spring fully formed from the forehead of John XXIII (rather, the success of its implementation required a faithful populace sufficiently lethargic and convinced of the impossibility of attack), the enemy has accomplished his overthrow of Western culture because those who would defend it have submitted to a gradual and now near-total diminishment of their capacity to resist: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity."⁵

The Need for Culture in Man, "A Being Darkly Wise and Rudely Great"⁶

As fallen creatures, capable only of imperfect comprehension of God's truth, He would nonetheless have us as "joint heirs with Christ."⁷ Our attempts to know, love, and serve God, and to re-establish all things in Christ are both individual and social, a collective striving to transcend the darkness of our human wisdom and conquer the rudeness of our nature for the sake of attaining true greatness through Christ. Created as social beings, that which we do to help each other grow in knowledge and love of God serves as the foundation of our society. Culture at its best exists as an act of metaphysical altruism in which the artist provides increased self-knowledge, understanding of the world, and appreciation of heritage to the recipient. This gift transcends time and place, its power and efficacy in no way diminished by temporal and physical distance: God often provides timely information–most specifically useful to a soul in need–in the form of artistic consolation crafted by a fellow sufferer centuries before the fact. This immediate supernatural intersection of lives outside of linear chronology serves as a poignant reminder of His insatiable desire to help us help each other.

Art and literature provide expanded knowledge of the human condition through accurate though often highly dramatized depictions of human nature. We recognize our weakness and assess our strengths more objectively in the plights of literary characters; we observe whole lives lived, mistakes made and avoided, fortunes gained and squandered, conquests of warring nations–or of a single human heart. We hear in music the public exposition of our innermost emotional yearnings, truths all the more devastating and exuberant in that their depiction defies naming. Beyond theology and philosophy, beyond intellectual strivings to contemplate absolutes, there exists in art the triumphant fragility of single lives laid bare in words, colors, and sounds; a community without containment, the reciprocal transmission of empathy and charity between artist and recipient irrespective of time and place. We have at our disposal more than 20 centuries of masterful insights concerning temperament, character, interaction, conflict, morality, and ethical dilemmas, and access to this compendium of the human experience requires little more than honest intention and literacy, a literacy which breaks the bondage of ignorance, quiets our passionate concupiscence, and restores our freedom from fearful passivity. This literacy demands diligent application, yet all can attain it: God does not, however, simply bestow it. The illiterate man can communicate on the natural level to satisfy physical needs; he cannot without choosing, however, communicate with all of cultural history to satisfy his supernatural and metaphysical needs. We submit to God's truth; we submit to His plan to employ fellow human agents for our edification; we humbly accept the fact that He has granted exceptional insights to men throughout history and that we have all eternity to gain in knowing God's truth in their works: we must not hesitate diligently to submit to the arduous and rewarding business of literacy. Few pursuits yield higher gain–for us and those whom we would direct and inspire.

Beyond knowledge of self, interaction with great art provides protection against the allurements of the world by allowing us to understand their true nature. Cultural literacy will instill in the participant confidence to expose and resist inferior or dangerous art by understanding proper historical context, and developing the ability to recognize substantive techniques. Throughout history, art has developed in a manner reflective of man's dual nature, and as a result of his often conflicting desires. To frame the argument in oversimplified terms, cultivated art–the highest expression of artistic technique combined with highest purpose, whether a fresco by Titian, a canzone by Gabrieli, or the stupefying architectural grandeur of St. Peter's Basilica–inspires, edifies, and educates; vernacular art, consisting of temporary or popular forms, exists primarily as entertainment created not for edification but for recreational diversion.⁸ Obviously, no clear demarcation exists, and some of the most satisfying of both of these general types include elements of both. Most people of moderate literacy and good will, however, will admit that, stylistic and personal idiosyncrasies aside, one can readily distinguish one type from the other.

In terms of overall purpose, cultivated art created at a specific point in history becomes part of an overarching continuum of philosophical thought, literary word, and artistic deed representing man's collective expression of eternal truth. Ideally, talent, technique, and intention combine in this creation, and each age contributes to the continuum such that ever-present truth provides a substantive supernatural bridge between past and future. The vernacular artist, while ultimately choosing not to participate in this comprehensive fashion, does his part by adding sights, sounds, and local flavor which remind the recipient of the very human nature of artistic expression. Countless examples of this cross-pollination exist, from the influence of secular musicians in the development of liturgical polyphony to Shakespeare's ennobling common speech, simultaneously redefining drama and inventing modern English. Cultivated art provides the substance of our metaphysical nourishment–the balanced meal itself, healthful, substantial, and satisfying–while vernacular art adds spice, flavor, and sweets and trifles without which the meal would seem incomplete, but which could never constitute a meal in themselves. The coexistence of these forms adds depth, and allows for extravagant variety, but artists and consumers must maintain proper balance and perspective. Quite literally, the devil is in the details.

Talent, purpose, intention, and circumstance combine in every conceivable manner. In every case, we must have the means to assess the work that emerges based on purpose and quality. A desire to produce cultivated art does not guarantee the talent sufficient to produce it; some of history's most talented artists have created exclusively vernacular or even scandalous works; many artists have strived to usurp cultivated techniques for vernacular purpose, while others have attempted to elevate vernacular means for cultivated ends. Since the turn of the 17th century, composers and audiences have lived by the motto ars gratis artis, "art for art's sake"–objectively scandalous because nothing besides God can exist under its own power or for its own sake–meaning that art could exist for ends specifically detached from the Church. So do we as Catholics reject all such art? We cannot, because the art itself–in adherence to physical laws of nature (both in its construction and our capacity to receive it) and principals of aesthetics–will testify to God's truth regardless of either the philosophical conditions coinciding with its creation, or the stated intentions of the artist: God determines the essence to which the artist must wittingly or unwittingly submit–the inherent goodness of the stuff of his art. The goodness of the man and the quality of his work are separate issues.

By way of analogy: a chef who happens to be an evil man must prepare edible food if he will have any influence, no matter how impious his motivations. He may want diners to join him in his wickedness; they presumably need to eat, but despite their hunger would not choose to eat in his restaurant if he served poisonous or rotten food. Though filled with personal malice, he nonetheless prepares them a good and proper meal. They do not sin in eating it; they would only sin in cooperating with his evil. If, however, he makes this cooperation a condition of his feeding them, they are free to–and must–refuse to eat. Beyond this point the analogy begins to break down, because taste (the physiological capacity) degrades only as the result of physical defect; taste (the act of the will in choosing and preferring) degrades only by a further act of the will, whether passive or active. But to extend the analogy to include the developmental aspect by way of metaphor, as children we must learn to condition our palates through exposure to things we may not like, but which our parents know we need. Adults allowed to refuse such things as children (their parents' responsibility) will maintain adolescent tastes to their distinct physical, psychological, and social disadvantage (their own responsibility): these adults may fuel their bodies with childish foods, but will rarely eat well, and will almost never dine. When they do, they will have no appreciation for what they consume, no sense of how to enjoy it, and, in the worse case, find themselves unwittingly swindled by culinary fads, with a palate incapable of recognizing pretense. Conversely, children directed and encouraged to develop sophisticated palates quickly realize that food provides not only physical but metaphysical nourishment: they become fully incorporated into the community at table. Trends and swindle represent no threat to this child because he knows goodness.

A final point relating to the distinction between exercising and passing judgment: God will distribute his talents at His own good pleasure, and we can never know His mind–we can only act in accordance to His will. The contrast of a hundred mediocre composers of polyphonic Masses rightly forgotten by history with the blinding wit and verbal skill of the satirist Voltaire serves to illustrate. God granted to the composer who dedicated himself to the service of the Church talent insufficient to last even his own lifetime; to the profligate heretic Voltaire–dedicated to a Sauline persecution of the Church–He bestowed majestic, heretofore immortal powers. And yet, God will not be mocked: both nameless servant and apostate genius will have his reward, but what of the work they leave behind? We dare not presume to judge the final state of an artist (or for that matter any man), but let our proper sophistication and learning allow us to judge the technical merit of his contribution irrespective of his life. In the case of the indexed Voltaire, the Church has spoken; but what of the heretic Johann Sebastian Bach, occultist Richard Wagner, syphilitic Franz Schubert, or Freemason Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart? The Church condemns their actions as she simultaneously embraces their efforts as masterworks in their own right. God allows the objective evil of a man's life so that the greater good of his work and its influence might come of it. May God have mercy on them and every one of us, and may the profound influences their objectively and substantially good works have on developing Catholics act as prayers on their behalf.

Finally, substantive culture encourages an increased understanding and appreciation of Catholic heritage. Christendom has produced the definitive examples of all genres of substantive art and literature, and in numbers that overwhelm the contributions of all other dispensations. Built on the foundation of God's truth, Catholic thought, literature, and art provide a cultural edifice of such strength and breadth to define the substantive merits of any subsequent efforts: the good reflects, the bad rejects. We must work zealously to encourage and explain this reflection in non-Catholic masterworks to those who would not otherwise have exposure to Catholic truth, and whenever possible to introduce Catholic truth to culturally literate non-Catholics in the form of great Catholic art. Catholic men and women striving to restore all things in Christ must not shrink from the challenge to understand, assess, embrace, and defend substantive culture in the realistic historical and ideological context of past eras, and to accept the charge to lead the world toward a Christianized and properly cultured future. The embrace of substantive culture is less a choice than a Catholic responsibility: to avail ourselves of every opportunity to understand our human nature, to recognize God's gift in the beauty He wills as well as the dangers He allows, to love and serve Him free from ignorant apprehension, and to provide an example of equilibrium in an increasingly uncivilized world.

 

Dr. Andrew Childs serves currently as Professor of Music at St. Mary's Academy and College, and Assistant to the Director of Education for the United States District of the Society of Saint Pius X (SSPX). Previously, he taught at Yale University, the University of California at Irvine, Missouri State University, and Connecticut College. He earned his Bachelor of Music Degree from UCI, and his Doctor of Musical Arts degree from the University of Washington. His scholarship has focused on the music of American composer Charles Ives, and music as a reflection of ideology throughout history. An active professional performer, he has presented concert performances throughout the country, and has sung over 100 performances of nearly 30 operatic roles. He made his Lincoln Center debut with Glimmerglass Opera in 1999. Dr. Childs has premiered works by numerous composers, including Pulitzer Prize winner Yehudi Wyner, and has recorded for the Centaur and Albany labels.

 

¹ Summa Theologica, I-IIae, 5-8.

² Mt. 13:28.

³ Empiricism: science-based humanism that denies the possibility of reality beyond sense-experience. The intellectual stalemate between the humanist and the Catholic perspectives results from the replacement of one Faith with another, the response of man to his undeniable need to worship; the object of worship defines these opposing systems. Ironically, the man who would deny God and replace Him with science or nature (or himself) forces himself into a world view requiring far greater "leaps of faith" than belief in God's design. By insisting that men were the architects of this design (who merely called it God's for their own gain and that of a political organization called the Church, thereby rendering the design fraudulent), empiricists create a remarkable paradox: the empirically "unprovable" existence of God negates the consistency of His system, while simultaneously validating the inconsistencies of the Humanist system.

⁴ Given the completeness of the answer that Revelation provides their questioning, and at the risk of hypothetical presumption (something modern philosophers readily engage in concerning the Ancients), one could imagine their finding the current mode of theoretical philosophy bafflingly redundant.

⁵ W. B. Yeats (1865-1939), "The Second Coming."

⁶ Alexander Pope (1688-1744), "Know Thyself."

⁷ Rom. 8:17.

⁸ Musicologist H. Wiley Hitchcock developed the "cultivated/vernacular" nomenclature in his book Music in the United States; this has always seemed the least unsatisfying way to present a discussion defined by ambiguity. Any continuation along these lines, however, assumes the recognition that entertainment and recreation have only very recently become intellectually passive concepts–more on the dangers of this in the next installment.