One of the vanities of youth is to believe we are all powerful, lord commander over our passions—that we are “captain of our souls.” But as we age, we begin to better understand our creatureliness, that our vices often hold us hostage, that it’s easy to drink too much, eat too much, give in to jealousy or lust, become judgmental, or succumb to thinking sexist or racist thoughts. We find ourselves confessing the same sins over and over again in the confessional box.
With age comes the humility and sobriety to better appreciate Paul, who admits that:
For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate... For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing" (Romans 7:15, 18b-19)
Catholic anthropology teaches us that we are fundamentally good, but flawed. We are graced with Christ’s presence within us, capable of virtue, but flawed by a primordial, original sin that pulls us to vice. Understanding these dueling impulses has kept our Church realistic in its theology. We have the freedom to choose Christ, but at the same time, the temptation to reject him. As an antidote to any utopian idealism, the Church proclaims that God’s kingdom is “already, but not yet” here.
This realism also explains our Church’s sacramental theology—our need to “see” and “feel” God’s presence and his love through physical signs. “ God is love” is an abstraction without much power to move us, unless we can experience God’s love through others, making his love concrete in the here and now. We are not capable of living saintly lives without celebrating the saints who have gone before us, or by experiencing sanctity in the people we live with. Rituals with incense, bells, and water point to supernatural realities we cannot deduce from pure logic or reason.
It’s also why we need we need to immerse ourselves in what is beautiful, to “think about things,” again with Paul, that are “true, noble, and right” and “whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, excellent or praiseworthy” (Philippians 4:8). Paul understands that all that is truly beautiful draws us to reflect upon the Creator of such beauty.
More commonly today, we are immersed in the opposite—our social media and television celebrate what is ugly and vulgar, appealing to our lesser angels, the voyeuristic part of us that wants to “rubberneck” the “wreck” of other people’s lives. How else to understand shows like Jerry Springer, or most reality television, or movies that feature the truly macabre?
“Art imitates life.” That’s true, no doubt, but the converse is also true, and more frightening: that “Life imitates art.” The technological know-how to produce stunning HD video, the ability of advertisers to manipulate our emotions through images, colors, sound, and music, the use of headlines to provoke us to “click” on a link —all conspire to manipulate us. Our attitudes and values are "artfully" shaped by those who wish to sell us something, creating a culture that sweeps us and everyone else downstream.
This cultural current can not be resisted merely by force of will. We need God’s grace to overcome our creaturely vices. But we also need beauty—to see it, to adore it, to immerse ourselves in it. That’s one of my worries about declining Mass attendance. Without this weekly opportunity to “enter in” and to fix our eyes on “higher things,” I fear our gaze will sink to more earthly, cruder matters.
But our world doesn’t need more mud wrestlers! We need artists, sculptors, directors, film producers, thespians, musicians, playwrights, dancers and to elevate our gaze. We need good liturgy to pull us out of the here and now and to worship and adore. We need the witness of saints and holy people to inspire us.We need reminding of that which is wholesome, good, and joyful, yes, but also that which is painful and causes mourning. Such is the mystery of living and dying that makes life an adventure—indeed, that makes life beautiful.
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