The Brownson Record: Issue Five, March 2023

Virtutem Forma Decorat Issue Five | March 2023

Pope Benedict XVI

Appreciating a life dedicated to Christ and His Church

MSGR. MICHAEL HEINTZ

Brownson's America

A Catholic's understanding of the Gilded Age GAVIN HAMRICK

Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia

A testament to the Dominican Republic’s Marian devotion YASIER HERRERA

Issue Five | March 2023

The Annunciation of the Lord

Our Mission

As an independent journal for the Mount St. Mary’s University community, The Brownson Record seeks to promote the Catholic vision of the human person in the modern world. Through earnest reflection on the True, the Good, and the Beautiful, we constantly seek to understand the Mount’s institutional vocation as a university at once Catholic and American. Consistent with the Mount’s undergraduate mission, we aim to nourish a culture in which issues of political, social, and religious life are encountered with rigorous intellectual and moral standards.

Editor-in-Chief

Gavin Hamrick

Editorial Board

McKenna Snow

Jack Daly

Faculty and Alumni Advisors

Joshua Brown, Ph.D.

Alejandro Cañadas, Ph.D.

Msgr. Michael Heintz, Ph.D.

Joshua Hochschild, Ph.D.

John Larrivee, Ph.D.

Harry Scherer, C’22

Interested in writing for us?

Start the editorial process by sending a pitch to brownsonrecord@gmail.com. Please note that we will not accept articles that denigrate the Church, oppose the dignity of human life, or target other students.

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@BrownsonRecord

To make a tax-deductible contribution: Visit our “Donate” page at www.brownsonrecord.com.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up your fifth issue of The Brownson Record ! It has now been one full year since the first edition of this journal was published. In the time since, we have strived to realize our founding hope to "recognize all that is true, good and beautiful about our Mountain Home and think, speak, and act as those with such a pleasant recognition." Indeed, this past year has seen these pages fill with recognitions of the transcendentals from members across our community. If this is any indication for the future, I have great hope that the years ahead will continue to see The Brownson Record serve as a place for the Sons and Daughters of the Mount to come together in their pursuit of higher things.

In this issue, Yasier Herrera shares her personal devotion to Our Lady of Highest Grace and reflects on why

Mary is so worthy of our praise. Andy Eastman invites us to foster hope in the face of a constant temptation towards cynicism. In light of our current moment, I discuss Orestes Brownson's understanding of late 19thcentury America. Dominic Amilcare walks us through the spiritual journey of a young man discerning for the priesthood. And Dylan Bradley argues for a foreign policy that acts in service of the poor. Lastly, in light of the New Year's Eve passing of Pope Benedict XVI, Msgr. Michael Heintz offers appreciation for a man who lived a life of service to Christ and His Church.

As Holy Week and Easter fast approach, I wish you all a blessed rest of Lent and simply leave you with some words of encouragement from the man whose work continues to bear fruit from beyond the grave:

"What we want, what the church wants, what the country wants, is a high-toned Catholic public opinion, independent of the public opinion of the country at large, and in strict accordance with Catholic tradition and Catholic inspirations, so strong, so decided that every Catholic shall feel out, and yield intelligently and lovingly to its sway. It is to you, my dear Catholic young men and Catholic young women, with warm hearts, and cultivated minds, and noble aims, that I appeal to form and sustain such a true Catholic opinion. You, with the blessing of God and directed by your venerable pastors, can do it. It is already forming, and you can complete it. Every good deed done, every pure thought breathed, every true word spoken, shall quicken some intelligence, touch some heart, inspire some noble soul. Nothing true or good is ever lost, no brilliant example ever shines in vain. It will kindle some fire, illumine some darkness, and gladden some eyes. Be active, be true, be heroic, and you will be successful beyond what you can hope."

- Orestes A. Brownson, 1873

Peace be with you, Gavin

Hamrick, Editor-in-Chief

Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia

When I was younger, I used to be confused with all the different Mother Marys (plural) there were. I didn’t understand that Mary was one, and she just appeared in different manners to different groups of people, dressed in a way that is associated with their culture. A Marian advocation that was prominent in my culture and parochial community was Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia, or Our Lady of High Grace. Every year on January 21st, the red, blue, and white colors glow so beautifully throughout my parish, emphasizing her as patroness to the nation of the Dominican Republic. The music and dance shown through the culture of the people displayed the joy they have for a mother that they love so much, and who in turn loves them so deeply.

I had limited knowledge of Our Lady of High Grace until I went to the Basílica Catedral Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia, where I learned of her story. It begins with Ponce de Leon, who was a Spanish settler who had a daughter who they called La Nina. He would ask her what she wanted him to bring back from his work trips, and he would succeed in returning with what was requested. One day, La Nina had a dream of Our Lady, who asked her to request a painting from her father—a painting of Our Lady of High Grace, which would be distinguishable by a white scapular that would be laid on her chest. Ponce de Leon was determined to obtain this requested painting when he left, asking everyone he encountered if they knew about the painting or had a copy of it. People had told him the painting did not exist and that they had never heard of that name. Disappointedly, de Leon shared

his situation with some others at an inn where a man overheard the conversation and possessed the request he desired. In his bag he had the painting: the exact painting Ponce de Leon sought for his daughter. After that moment, de Leon never saw the old man again. When he returned home with Our Lady of la Altagracia, La Nina joyfully brought it inside. But the next day, when they woke up, the painting was gone, and was later found under an orange tree. This happened three more times, so they decided to build a church in the spot the painting continued to appear. Unlike the apparitions of Our Lady of Lourdes, or Our Lady of Fatima, which are more concrete stories, the story of Our Lady of la Altagracia may be told differently by some people. Some people tell this story about the teenage girl who had the vision of Mary and asked her father for the painting, while others say there was no man but instead two brothers who brought the painting from Spain. The latter seems less mysterious. Either way, Nuestra Señora de la Altagracia has become a special sign of hope for the people of Dominican Republic. With her patriotic colors that interconnect with the Dominican flag, people are reminded of her patroness to this small Caribbean country. Each year more than 800,000 people enter the basilica, the architecture of which takes the shape of Our Lady of High Grace, with a high peak in the center and two lower peaks on either side, demonstrating the magnitude of her grace and love. On January 25, 1979, Pope John Paul II crowned Our Lady with a gold and silver crown, depicting her as the Queen of Heaven and Earth.

Some people may find that crowning Mary, or even venerating her as Our Lady of Highest Grace is controversial, seeing as Jesus was the One who saved the world-not His mother. However, one must look closely at Mary’s special role and how she herself recognizes the omnipotent power of God. She becomes the handmaid of the Lord and allows for His will to be done. Looking closely at the painting of La Altagracia, her adoration fixates on Jesus present in front of her. The way her hands are positioned in prayer, and how her head is tilted as in love towards Baby Jesus, clearly displays her recognition of the One who came to save. Her crown represents her great responsibility as a mother to bring her children closer to her Son, Jesus. Just as the queen of a nation has a duty to leading their people toward goodness, Our Lady carries the duty of guiding the way toward God. As a mother, she knows

her Son’s heart best, which means she knows how to bring us closer to His Divine Heart. The painting exhibits this so clearly and deeply in her humble gaze toward Jesus. She is a reminder to look at Jesus and to adore Him.

As a consistent image in my life, La Altagracia reminds me of joy and love. Seeing how the people at my parish and all around the world celebrate her feast day in unison with their culture—their singing, dancing, how they share in laughter and food— exhilarates me and reminds me of where my family came from.

“Virgen de la Altagracia arropa con tu manto al mundo entero.” Virgin of High Grace, clothe, with your mantle, the whole world. Que Viva la Virgen de La Altagracia!

"Why so Cynical?"Cultivating Hope

What do you think is the single greatest spiritual and emotional problem facing college students? Loneliness? Actually, that’s a very good answer, but guess again. Selfishness? Maybe pride? Well, those are very real and very dangerous things, but they’re not quite what I’m thinking of. The answer, in my opinion, is cynicism; or, being overly-cynical and critical of everything. While I don’t think cynicism is the only problem college students face, it is worthwhile to ponder its reality, and, more importantly, its remedies. In this pondering, you might even find that cynicism is more interconnected with many other problems faced by Catholic Christians on a college campus than first expected.

Quick history lesson: Cynicism (from kunikos, “dog-like” in Greek) in the strictly classical sense, was

a loosely defined school of philosophy that emphasized living in accordance with nature, in defiance of any societal-defined expectations for behavior. Diogenes and the Cynics, unsurprisingly, were largely shunned from the Athenian social square due to their unconventional and shameless beliefs and practices (this, indeed, was in accord with the very principles of Cynicism). They did, however, inform the beliefs of the Stoics, who would become more popular and have an even greater impact on our modern understanding of philosophy. End history lesson.

Lowercase-C cynicism, in the way we understand it today, has little to do with these ancient men beyond borrowing a few small parts of their philosophy. We may define it as a proclivity to believe that the people around us are exclusively self-interested, and thus

Photo by Michael Pray, Seminary'24

against us. It also may be, as I will discuss at greater length, an incarnation of the very real vice and spiritual evil that is called despair.

The former understanding of cynicism is something that we (or at least, I) have tended to project at God. We project a belief that God is only interested in us only in some cutthroat crusade to make us aware of our failings, and catch us out when we are at our lowest. But, to that misconception of God, I say, have faith! God, incarnate as Jesus Christ, overcame the world for our sakes. God wants to give us grace, forgive us, and help us live fully. He is not out to catch us, or make us behave strictly a certain way, etc. No; he wants to forgive you of your sins, and invites you to be lead closer to his (perfect) life!

The other understanding, and the one I’m going to elaborate on a bit more, is cynicism as a type of despair. Despair, of course, is the vice that is directly inverse to the virtue of hope; this means that one of the greatest things we can do to combat cynicism is grow in hope.

Isolation within the Catholic life is common and, to some degree, expected. This goes double for students on college campuses, where much of the general culture seems to view the Catholic life as alien or even something to be opposed. I believe that at the Mount, our culture still retains some regard for the faith; however, as an experiment, I propose that the next time someone asks you a question like “what do you plan to do after you graduate?” answer: “I plan to pursue holiness, raise my family to be holy, and then become a saint.” I’ve tried it–even at a Catholic university like the Mount, it still earned me quite a few sideways glances. I can only imagine what this would look like if I went to a larger state university; the point is, it is common for Catholics, especially young Catholics, to feel cut off from the larger culture, and this creates a divide in our hearts. We want to grow in love for Christ and bring him to others, but we may feel that our efforts will bear no fruit. We may simply be overwhelmed with the many pressures we face and feel incapable of living a fulfilled life, in the Catholic sense.

In response, we must cultivate the theological virtue of hope. Now, hope is not a feeling. The virtue of hope disposes us to desire the kingdom of Heaven

and keep our gaze on the glorified Body of Christ, regardless of the temporal forces that may obscure His presence and make Him less visible.

In our lives, we face certain barriers that prevent hope from taking hold of our hearts. Foremost among these is a repeated habit of sin. When mortal sin takes root in our hearts, and we don’t make every effort to uproot it to make room for God’s grace, the amount of hope we are capable of receiving is already limited. Another such barrier is when we avoid grace by placing more importance on the fake (i.e. social media, video games, self-indulgent habits) than on the real (God, as a matter of fact, is infinitely more real than we are). I will even make the claim that there is a danger in making classwork and academic advancement one’s highest priorities; this approach can lead to a disregard for sharing the Gospel, rejoicing in it, and remembering what it points us to.

Christ himself is hope personified. He alone has the power to completely overcome despair and cynicism and lead us into a fully hopeful life. Cultivating a relationship with Christ through the Eucharist and through daily prayer helps us to become better acquainted with Him, our living hope, and to overcome cynicism and despair. A daily holy hour is simply indispensable when it comes to overcoming the vice of despair. This should include spiritual reading –Holy Scripture is obviously great here, and I’ve been reading The Imitation of Christ over the last few months for specific guidance on how to grow in the life of grace and purge laxness from my spiritual life. Follow this with contemplative prayer (especially the Rosary!) and you will find yourself, if not outright filled with hope, at least reassured in your relationship with God that you have a time every day to lay down your cares and concerns to Him in prayer.

If there is one thing I can end on, it would be the exhortation to build the virtue of hope and to pray without ceasing; these are two practices that are entirely collaborative. If there is one antidote to cynicism that I could prescribe, it would be to pray daily, as much and as often as you can. Pray for the Church, the world, the poor, your loved ones, and your own holiness. This, indeed, is the antidote for almost any lingering spiritual ill.

Brownson's America

Americans acknowledge their country is changing. Many welcome it with open arms, hoping only to increase the pace of the transition. Others feel left behind, disoriented, and increasingly reminded of their growing social and economic precarity. Even when it sounds like there is finally agreement on what the problems are, rarely is there a shared understanding of their cause.

Suffrage is more widespread than ever before, yet despite this, and the endless legal and social proclamations of political equality, government action still seems largely to cater to corporate and commercial interests. Economic inequality is at an all-time high, and a new aristocracy rationalizes their greater wealth and status on the grounds of merit. Having progressed beyond medieval notions of noblesse oblige, this new elite feels entitled to forego substantive commitment to the common good, believing they have earned their position in society by working hard.

Meanwhile, many in the working class, retaining hope in the country’s promise of equality, experience shame and despair in their inability to reach similar levels of respect and prosperity, even though it is often no fault of their own. The shifting labor market forces a new generation into the instability of leaving behind their families and communities. For them, the means of living that were once generationally inherited are now unattainable. Economists and well-meaning parents tell young lovers to push off their marriages, lest the premature creation of a family sentence them to a life of hardship relative to their more entrepreneurial peers.

Journalistic standards, too, continue to deteriorate as a sensational news culture fights to stay relevant and engages in what Walter Lippmann called the “manufacture of consent.” Serious constitutional jurisprudence has been replaced by a sophistry that merely works to further ideological or class interests.

You would be more than forgiven for thinking this is simply America as we experience her today. Yet, it was also the nation of the late Orestes Augustus Brownson: renowned 19th-century Catholic convert, prolific writer, and the honorable namesake of this journal. In 1873, 150 years ago, Brownson wrote about what he saw happening to his country and printed his observations in his Quarterly Review in an essay entitled “The Democratic Principle.” His mind was never too far away from the literary geniuses of his day; it was the same year that saw Mark Twain publish the era’s titular novel: The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today. With the Civil War over and the agrarian South thoroughly defeated, America barreled forward into rapid industrialization and economic change. Certainly, there was growth, but as Brownson noticed, with it came the above forms of moral and social decay. “Utility or expediency, not right or justice, is the standard adopted in politics,” wrote Brownson. He found that American democracy “operates practically, almost exclusively, in favor of those who command and employ capital or credit in business, and against

the poorer and more numerous classes.” Bemoaning corporate influence over government in a way the modern Ohioans of East Palestine could still no doubt attest, Brownson wrote that the “great feudal lords had souls, railroad corporations have none.”

Noting that the “rich are richer, and the poor are poorer,” Brownson on the one end decried the decadence of a new economic elite, what he called “an aristocracy founded on business capacity and capital or credit, a thousand times worse and more offensive, because more exacting, more insolent and haughty, always afraid of compromising its dignity by mingling with the poor or unfashionable.” And, on the other end he lamented how a lacking appreciation for the dignity of the poor had led to a “universal struggle to escape poverty, and to acquire riches as a means of equality and respectability.” Moreover, Brownson saw the Constitution, not even a century old at the time, as having been “practically disregarded, and its wisest and most vital provisions are treated by the ruling people as non avenues.”

While the Progressive era of the forthcoming decades would offer its own explanations and solutions for America’s public woes, Brownson saw a deeper reason for the nation’s unraveling, and he offered an account that transcended momentary reformist movements. He saw that many Americans had come to view political authority as having a “purely human origin.” The idea that law and just government are simply derived from the will of the people was, for Brownson, a radical departure from a Christian tradition that understood authority as a participation in and obedience to the law of God, a ius gentium for all peoples. Far from critiquing the American constitutional system of popular representation and republican government, though, Brownson was rather condemning the mistaken belief that civil authority did not have to submit itself to the higher standard of the moral order, no matter the governmental form that civil authority took.

Such a fundamental departure from the Christian conception of the political was bound to have disastrous consequences with Brownson noting how it “excludes the divine order which alone has authority for conscience, divorces politics from ethics, substitutes utility for right, and makes it the measure of justice, fails of the end of all just government, the promotion

of the public good, and is either no government at all, but a mere agency of the controlling private interests of the people, or a government of mere force.” The corrupt economic arrangement Brownson witnessed at the outset of the Gilded Age was not an unexpected contradiction to the exclusion of the moral order from the public sphere but was rather made worse by it. “By excluding the moral element and founding the state on utility, democracy tends to materialize the mind, and to create a passion for sensible goods, or material wealth and well-being,” he writes. Once again, just as Brownson was not condemning democratic practice, nor was he opposing material well-being itself. Instead, he was pointing out how a politics that neglects the moral order will tend to focus more exclusively on nonspiritual goods.

Brownson believed that when the people treat the government as a mere vehicle for the creation and protection of wealth, there are often only a small few, the new aristocracy he describes above, who are actually in a position to benefit from such an approach to government. Despite widespread political equality, the absence of a respect for the moral order and moral equality has the double effect of worsening material inequality while also making it socially unbearable for the lower classes. Indeed, Brownson points out that “democracy, excluding the moral order, can content no one with moral equality.” Lastly and most significantly, it removes the framework through which such injustices can be meaningfully challenged, and the common good effectively pursued.

Brownson was also rather pessimistic about the ability of the American people to charitably receive and make sense of his claim that a politics separated from the moral order poses a serious danger. He noted how even many of his contemporary Catholics—without fully understanding the implications—had come to accept the idea that human beings are the only source of law and authority, noting how “if they read us at all, they will not understand us, and will feel towards us only anger or contempt.”

Yet despite the resemblance between Brownson’s America and our own, I think it is here that we find a most important difference and a more tangible cause for hope. Far from applauding the change, ours is a time in which the latest NBC News poll records that 71% of Americans believe the country is going in the

wrong direction. While I’m still sure that many will not understand what Brownson and his modern heirs are trying to say, I have reason to hope that ideas that once elicited only anger and contempt now spark curiosity and deeper reflection on what it is we’re missing.

Photo of Immaculate Heart of Mary and St. Patrick Church in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Orestes Brownson lived in Elizabeth from 1857 to 1875.

Discerning the Priesthood at Mount St. Mary's

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” - St. Augustine

Those words from St. Augustine written in Confessions, remind all of us as Christians that seeking to know the Almighty, and how to best serve him by our own gifts and talents we have been given by God, is essential to fulfilling our God-given vocation. A vocation is a calling from God to fulfill a distinct role in life where one can attain holiness. In the Catholic sense, this means being called to the Holy Priesthood, Religious life, Marriage, or Single life. To discern one’s vocation is to discover in the innermost part of your heart, what God’s intended purpose is for you in life. To quote Thomas Merton, “Vocations are intended by God to manifest His love.” God loves each one of us infinitely, and He has gifted us many talents and natural abilities to serve Him, by discerning your Godgiven vocation, you are discerning how God wants you to best serve Him, with your own natural gifts and within your capacity. To discover your true vocation in life is the most important discovery you will ever make. In my own case, it took me 17 years to figure out what I truly felt called by God to do with my life, and I’ll now share with you my journey thus far in discerning my vocation.

I am originally from Tabernacle, New Jersey and I’m currently a sophomore at the Mount, where I’m currently a philosophy major with a history minor. I also compete on the cross country and track and field teams as a 5,000m and 10,000m runner. I previously attended Seneca High School where I also ran for all four years. My faith background before the Mount was mostly sparse. I was baptized Roman Catholic in 2003, a few months after my birth, as per tradition in the Roman Rite. But after which, I remained nonpracticing along with my family until, by the grace of God, I returned to the Church in March of 2020. In the months leading up to March, I had garnered much success and satisfaction in my life in most areas, especially in running and competing. However, a sudden desire fell upon me and grew ever so slightly by the day, which was a genuine longing to thank God for the ecstasy I was experiencing. Discussing the matter further to my best friend at the time, who was coincidently also in the same situation spiritually as

myself at the time, and who also attends at the Mount, only progressed matters until one day, it was as if a sudden wave of purpose overwhelmed me that pushed me further to finally return to the Faith. As one of my first actions in igniting my spiritual life, I started attending my high school’s Fellowship of Christian Athletes meetings.

The first time I attended one of these meetings I was pleasantly surprised at the warm welcome I received and the genuine energy of the dozen strong group in attendance. When asked what church I attended during pleasantries with one of the coordinators, I was taken aback and flushed with a wave of embarrassment and even shame, as I did not, nor had I regularly attended any church my whole life. From that very moment I had the internal conviction that I would attend Mass for the first time in my life that very weekend. So, on March 7, 2020, I attended my local parishes’ Sunday Vigil Mass on Saturday evening. From the very moment I walked in, as new as it felt, I remember instantly feeling an overwhelming feeling that I was finally home, and that unbeknownst to me at the time, I had just made the most significant decision in my life, to begin my reversion to Roman Catholicism.

A few months later, after the main portion of the COVID-19 lockdown period had ended, in which during it I maintained a steady prayer routine after only attending a few Masses before lockdown, I began to expose myself to other aspects of the Catholic Faith. Especially the Tridentine Mass, or Traditional Latin Mass, which greatly enhanced my spiritual life due to its structured rubrics focused on reverence and tradition, and its mysterious nature as the Priest faces the altar and not the people. The summer of 2020 though, was where my vocational discernment began. After a prolonged period of uneasiness about my future endeavors I recall vividly while attending a Saturday evening Mass in August, it was in the moments shortly after Holy Communion had been distributed, I looked up to the crucifix above the altar, and in the silence of my heart, hearing God say to me in a soft voice, “Be a Priest”. Instantly this overwhelming wave of emotion overcame me that almost brought me to tears, a lot of it was relief and joy, but the other portion was fear. I had not been so familiarized with the Priesthood by this point with only having practiced the Faith for 5 months, but I certainly knew that the Priesthood

Photo of a statue of St. John Vianney, patron saint of priests, by Michael Pray, Seminary'24

entailed celibacy. The discipline of clerical celibacy and of giving up one’s life in the service of God and for the salvation of souls is an idea so great and profound that it made me extremely intimidated at the time and flushed with feelings of unworthiness to think that God was inviting me, out of all people, to potentially one day share in His priesthood. This fear and uncertainty of mine at the time though would soon be transformed into a feeling of great peace and eagerness to do God’s will.

This further growth in my spiritual life leading into the Fall of 2020 led me to get in touch with my local vocation director for my home diocese, the Diocese of Trenton. I also began spiritual direction, which helped me orient my life further around prayer. I eventually committed to compete in Division I cross country and track and field for the Mount in November as well, knowing that the Catholic environment and seminary close by would foster the perfect atmosphere for me to continue in my discernment. After finishing my Sacraments in the Spring of 2021, that of Confirmation and First Eucharist, I only felt more convicted in my Faith and in the path I was pursuing now that I was fully Catholic.

Discerning as an undergraduate since I arrived at the Mount in the Fall of 2021 has been both a blessing and a challenge simultaneously. The lack of a structured formation environment that I would have had, had I entered seminary instead was something that I was uneasy about not having, despite my unwavering conviction in coming to the Mount. For context, I had previously started the application process to enter college seminary a few weeks after committing to the Mount in the Fall of my senior year, but eventually forgoing that path to recommit to the Mount and to give myself more time to discern, as in retrospect I did not feel ready, nor fully convicted in entering seminary after high school and I am still very glad I made the decision to come to the Mount. However, while the Mount is strongly Catholic in its identity; it was not quite the Catholic haven I had envisioned before I moved onto campus. While I was not as naïve to think that there would be no non-Catholics on campus, the amount that was not Catholic or practicing Catholic surprised me and was certainly a culture shock. This was most prevalent as a student-athlete at the Mount. While this of course can be great to have others on

campus who are not Catholic or religious, especially as it presents a healthy opportunity for evangelization, and to hear and learn from opposing viewpoints and backgrounds, I would not be fully truthful if I did not say that at certain times, I certainly felt like an outcast as being a devout Catholic who took my faith seriously. This has made it, and still makes it difficult in certain environments to communicate with others on campus and on the athletic side who are on a different mode of thought, due to an active faith life being absent, along with myself being more on the introverted side. Despite this challenge though, I can certainly say that I would not be the man I am today without the teammates and people who I have befriended over the past two years here at the Mount, both with and without active faith backgrounds.

Having close and devout friends along with the Seminarians on the same campus to interact with however provided the enriching Catholic atmosphere I was looking for, to contrast the secular environment that I entered when at athletic functions. Ultimately, living faithfully at the Mount is an atmosphere that affords devout Catholics many opportunities to practice their faith, with numerous Mass, Adoration, and Confession times available every day. This was something that has been critical to the further development of my faith life, along with serving in Mass every Sunday.

In a surprise turn of events though during the latter half of my 1st semester at the Mount, I felt the long reigning peacefulness of my calling to the priesthood shift, a feeling of peace in which I had not left me since the summer of 2020 when it first developed. This conviction came through deep prayer and meditation and very much caused great shock, to the peacefulness I found within this new orientation. Little did I know at the time, but this newfound feeling would last until the following year. Throughout that span of time, I remained deeply devoted to my prayer life, and even furthering it during that time, with now feeling called to marriage and not holy orders. The priesthood would enter my mind on occasion, but it did not evoke a deep and profound feeling inside of me as it once had.

What became a consequence of this time though was my sense of purpose. While I truly felt genuine about my vocation not being the priesthood during this period, I struggled and went back and forth on what

would become of myself if not a priest. I thought about being a philosophy professor, or joining the military which was a constant passion of mine for most of my early youth with being heavily involved with the U.S. Naval Sea Cadets for 4 years, but I could not come up with something where it sat unquestionably right with me. A profession that I could call my ultimate dream. This feeling continued into the late Fall of 2022, until I attended my diocese’s pilgrimage to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington D.C., which is where I can pinpoint my reinvigoration in my calling to the Priesthood, and where I received a mental wakeup call, to finally say yes to my calling and enter seminary. At the pilgrimage, I had the opportunity to serve in Mass with the seminarians from my diocese. Having this honor to serve in Mass that day with the seminarians, and many priests from the diocese, and my bishop, gave me an overwhelming sense of conviction to recommit myself to discerning the priesthood. From that very moment, the strength of certainty in my vocation being the priesthood only grew, which by God’s grace eventually led me to decide to begin the application to enter seminary in the Fall of 2023 to finally begin my formation and studies for the priesthood. While potentially soon leaving the Mount and uprooting myself after 2 years of forming friendships and memories will be extremely difficult, there is a constant level of restlessness that remains inside of me the more time I spend not in seminary and not being a seminarian. I desire with all my heart to do what I believe the Lord is inviting me to do, for Him, His Church, and for the salvation of souls. I also understand the significant importance of answering the call to enter seminary in this day and age, to one day God-willing be ordained a priest, and to be a holy one. I will look back on the time I spent as a student-athlete at the Mount not only as crucial for my discernment, but also as a joyous and fruitful time in my life where I can say that I grew much as a person, mostly due to the influence of the many friends, teammates, coaches, and faculty that have influenced and guided me. I additionally hope that by sharing my journey, it can be of merit to all of you who are discerning and discovering your own vocation, and that you have the courage to respond to what the Lord is inviting you to do. As to quote our late Holy Father, Pope Benedict

XVI, “The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.”

May God bless you and Go Mount!

A Foreign Policy for the Poor

World poverty is one of the pressing issues of modernity. Now, where you were born is not up to you; it is something of a lottery in that way. But when someone is born into one of the wealthiest nations, there is a certain responsibility and obligation in caring for one’s brothers and sisters around the world who are less fortunate. The United States, as one of the dominant world powers, must do something to end this crisis and improve the material conditions of the world’s abandoned. The Borgen Project, which I am a part of, offers insight and resources to how the United States can help.

When you talk to the average person, you may hear a mix of reasons why giving foreign aid is a bad idea. One of the common misconceptions is how much the United States gives. The United States, in the 21-22 fiscal year, spent $29.5 billion (about $91 per person in the US) on foreign aid, which sounds like a lot of money. However, that $29.5 billion was part of a federal budget of $7195.1 billion. The percentage of the whole budget going to aid is .41%. For perspective, 13.6% of our budget went to defense spending. The United States needs to lead the world in reducing world poverty; we have the money for it. The results of foreign aid speak for themselves.

It should be noted that engaging in generous foreign aid actually helps the foreign country’s ability to become self-sufficient in the long term. However, in order to make sense of this, we must change our perception of foreign aid. We should think of foreign aid as an investment. By investing in developing nations, we are investing in the future. By bringing

them into international trade, it benefits the United States. The developing nations are now importing and exporting goods to the international market, which benefits all parties involved. Given enough time, just like all investments, we will get more than our original investment. As their market grows, then the need for foreign investment will decrease. Ultimately, the nation will no longer require investment, becoming entirely self-sufficient. By becoming self-sufficient, poverty will decrease along with its harmful by-products. The now-successfully developed nations will start to invest in other developing nations. Trade relations will begin to foster diplomatic relations with more significant economic powers (US, European Union, etc.) and bordering nations. The fostered relationships will have phenomenal outcomes, including new trade unions; take for example, the Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS).

Another common critique of foreign investment is the impoverished Americans. Again, the standard argument is that we should prioritize domestic poverty first. Essentially, this argument is that we need to fix our house before trying to fix someone else's. But the problem with this is, splitting them into two different categories is strange: domestic poverty is part of world poverty. They are not mutually exclusive; we can help the world's impoverished and help the Americans that are suffering in a similar capacity. The United States has enough money to help all the economically disadvantaged. Granted, we have to advocate differently for domestic poverty than world poverty. For domestic poverty, we can advocate for the state government to

make changes; for global poverty, we can only advocate for the federal government to do more.

Now we have discussed why foreign investment is beneficial; now we must understand where the funding goes and what it is used for. The primary agency that funds go to is USAID. USAID's mission is to improve people's lives in the developing world. USAID provides the necessities of modernity: inoculation, education, economic stabilizing, establishing diplomatic relationships, and crisis relief (among other things). USAID's goal is to establish the nation as fully self-sufficient, and then to ultimately dissolve its own efforts, because of the lack of need. USAID is, of course, funded through the government. So, if improving the lives of the world's most unfortunate is a priority, then the public must pressure the government to increase funding. Electoral pressure, especially recently, has proven to be helpful. In addition, political pressure can come in the form of calling, emailing your congresspeople, and protesting. There are, of course, many limitations to working in the governmental system; however, that’s where other forms of political pressure come into play.

Social media is a great way to promote and educate people to action. Seeing the inhumane

condition on their phone screen may open someone's eyes. Someone who previously never cared about the issue has become aware of the issue. The next step is acting. We can sit here and type words on a screen, but what does that accomplish besides improving your writing? “Hashtag activism” does have merit and does work in some situations; however, it is difficult to improve the material conditions through words for global poverty. If we make reducing world poverty a voting priority then we can push it to the foreword of American foreign policy.

Often with politics, we feel small, like our opinion does not matter, but that is far from the truth. We, the People, substantially impact politics; after all, we vote these people into office. Calling your congressperson's office only takes a few minutes; you can also email them, all of which get noted. When public pressure has grown large, the congresspersons will have to act. We at the Borgen Project are advocating for the world's impoverished. However, the Borgen Project is small and needs your help. As an organization, our goal is to make contacting your Congressperson as easy as we can through our action center. I hope everyone does their part in the fight to end world poverty, because even the small actions matter.

Poetry

Virtuous Living III: Veiled Valor

Dana Sauers

Courage prepares for battle donning the mail shirt of Conviction,

Upon his steed of Strength he gallops headlong into the fray.

Jumping the obstacles of others crestfallen, dodging the weapons of Self-doubt he races along the way he questions motives of whether vainglory or other booty is truly his end.

Over the hillcrest he sees his enemy poised.

Eye to eye: he sees himself.

Mary's Mountain

John Singleton

Have you hiked the holy hill where the oaks soar like a temple? Granite boulders tossed about like tumbling dice

Have you rambled over foot trails, crashed the brambles accidental? Wandered stray along the heights in waning light

Have you lost your way and found it, searching for the silent spaces? Reclined to climb a pine or turn a stone

Have you lapped your lungs in mountain air from wild and windswept places? And scaled that sacred summit all alone

Have you seared your meat by cookout, seen the view from Indian Lookout? Drop the poses, ditch the labels, damn the scars

Can you cast aside your worries, comb the canyons, plumb the quarries? And worship like a child beneath the stars

Have you heard the Easter waters rushing down the holy mountain? Fresh jets of cold and wet from hidden springs

Have you ever felt the urge to plunge unbridled in that fountain? Taste the tonic that such absolution brings

If you’re waiting on that wildness go and seek the mighty mildness Of Our Lady on the hill who gleams with gold In her mountain arboretum, find the glory of God’s freedom Test your mettle, fight the battle, win your soul

Song of Spring

Sebastian Flemings

O Winter, our good mountain leave; From your icy sting, reprieve. Darkness came but now must flee, Sweet Spring has come to set us free!

My soul yearns, it pines, it pleads for Light. I eagerly your grace await. Yet from Orion, no reply. ~ Soon, O Dawn, from on high break!

Frost and fog, shadow and cold Silence deep and brooding, Winter’s reign has come to end The Word leaves silence broken.

Ashes to buds and dust to blossoms; Nature’s breath directing. Spring engulfs all living things, Creating and perfecting.

Venus rises, the stage is set: Life and death do battle. Hope and guilt deal heavy blows, Chimes of deathly rattle!

Shadows sprawl before Dawn breaks; Creeping up the mountain. “My soul, O Lord, do not forsake, But bathe in th’ Eternal Fountain!”

Welcome, Spring! O fruitful time, When our wounds recover; Our flesh is sealed, new Life revealed; To Him be praise forever!

As His herald, lark and robin Proclaim the songs he wrote them. Oak and iris do revive With vibrance uncontended.

From barren desert, we return Warmth and joy for us you bring. How long have we awaited you, O King of Kings! O Wondrous Spring!

Photo by Michael Pray, Seminary'24

Msgr. Michael Heintz

Pope Benedict XVI: An Appreciation

They broke a pattern. For over a century, nearly every man who had been elected successor of St Peter had been a trained papal diplomat: Leo XIII (18781903), Benedict XV (1914-1922), Pius XI (19221939), Pius XII (1939-1958), John XXIII (19581963), and Paul VI (1963-1978) had each served as nuncio (ambassador) in the Vatican diplomatic corps, with Pius XII even serving as papal secretary of state under his predecessor. The outliers were Giuseppe Sarto (St Pius X, 1903-1914) and Albino Luciani, (John Paul I, who was pope for just a month in 1978). No doubt nearly each homily given, every public allocution uttered, or encyclical published by any of these great men was more than likely written for them, by a theological aide-de-camp or private secretary; often these ghost-writers were trusted priest-professors at one of the Roman universities, the Urbanum, the Gregorianum, or the Angelicum. Having assumed the chair of St Peter, most of these pontiffs did not think of themselves principally as theologians, but as pastors who had been entrusted with the supreme teaching office.

At the end of the twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first, John Paul II (19782005) and Benedict XVI (2005-2013) broke the pattern. In 1978 and again in 2005, the College of Cardinals opted for two scholars. Karol Wojtyła and Joseph Ratzinger -- long before being made Cardinals -- had each distinguished himself as a first-rate thinker. And as pontiffs, unlike their predecessors, each no doubt was the principal author of nearly every word

they spoke or published. Wojtyła, deeply influenced by the personalist philosophy of Max Scheler, while at the same time the pupil of the eminent Roman Dominican, Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, had a flair for original, philosophically sophisticated, thinking, in particular in the area of theological anthropology and moral theology (hence, his programmatic Wednesday audiences popularly referred to as the "Theology of the Body"). Benedict, equally gifted intellectually, had a slightly different cast of mind. Deeply steeped in the Fathers of the Church, and not having been educated in the Roman system, Ratzinger's strengths lay in the depth of his erudition and knowledge of the Tradition as a living, organic reality, and further in his ability to communicate it in a way that was new, fresh, and truly beautiful. His Wednesday audiences were devoted to an ongoing catechesis on the Fathers and the Doctors of the Church. Benedict was deeply persuaded that the saints were themselves a "theological font," a true source of wisdom about God and insight into the life of faith, and often more accessible to modern sensibilities than a theological treatise or an apologetic argument. Pope John Paul II had personally chosen Joseph Ratzinger as his close collaborator, and as prefect of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith from 1982 until his election as John Paul's successor in 2005, Ratzinger worked together with the pontiff to chart the course of post-conciliar Catholicism. Three striking features of Pope Benedict's theological work are its comprehensive nature and profound coherence, its deep integration of doctrina and vita, and its robust

Msgr Michael Heintz, PhD, is Academic Dean of the Seminary and Associate Professor of Historical and Systematic Theology

conception of the Word of God.

One need only read Ratzinger's Introduction to Christianity, published in 1968, to recognize the coherence of his theological vision. The fundamental principles and themes that would echo thirty years later during his pontificate are already evident in this early work. Based on lectures he had given at the University of Tübingen the prior year, Ratzinger takes seriously the intellectual challenges facing the confession of faith in the modern period, and tackles the matter head-on by an analysis of doubt. Yes, doubt is present even in the life of faith, Ratzinger concedes. But even the unbeliever -- not merely the mild agnostic but even the harshest opponent of faith -- does not argue from the high ground, from a position of necessarily intellectual superiority. Even he must concede that he himself, too, entertains doubt. After all, he has to consider the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, Christianity is true. One can read this book and draw numerous connections between the principles and themes enunciated in it and the later work of Ratzinger, as a theologian and as bishop of Rome. Ratzinger had a knack -- even as pope -- for understanding the questions that weigh on peoples' hearts, as well as how the Catholic Tradition offers real answers, ones that truly respond to them at the deepest level -- and can do so perennially -- rather than ersatz, facile, and seemingly attractive solutions that only further impair this search for meaning by wedding the answer to the Zeitgeist. And as a consummate teacher, he could also make those answers accessible and appealing to his contemporaries. Joseph Ratzinger, long before being pope, possessed a theological vision that was truly comprehensive and profoundly coherent.

Further, in tune with many of the Ressourcement theologians of the mid twentieth century (some of whom, like de Lubac and von Balthasar, he knew personally), Ratzinger emphasized the co-inherence of theological study and the spiritual life, the interpenetration of theology and spirituality. Faith, prayer, and committed discipleship cannot and should not be "bracketed" or "cordoned off" for one who takes theology seriously. And to take theology seriously means not only hitting the books, but also hitting one's knees. Prayer is integral to the theological vocation, prayer that is formed first within the Church's public

liturgy and returns regularly to be nurtured there, and which enables the theologian a kind of understanding available only to those who love. Amor ipse notitia est, as Gregory the Great had taught, echoed a full millennium later by Blaise Pascal: le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point: love itself is a kind of knowing, and the living God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is grasped not by mere intellectual cogitation alone. Pascal, a mathematician, had experienced God, and as a living fire. The Logos whose work is sung in the prologue of the Fourth Gospel is not the remote and disinterested thought-thinkingthought or unmoved mover or Aristotle, much less the cold, calculating "reason" of scientific empiricism,

but a Person. And indeed, this Logos is the one, the only one, who can offer order and meaning to our lives. As pope, Benedict worried that the very concept of logos or "reason" had been suffering, since the early modern period, from a kind of sclerotic constriction, being narrowly limited to that which is empirically verifiable. Rather, in an attempt to restore the term to its full vigor, Ratzinger suggests that one helpful way of translating Logos is as "Meaning." The very Logos of the Gospels, incarnate in the Person of Jesus, reveals himself also as Agape, a love that is willing to give itself entirely, and not merely as an abstract consideration, but in an embodied way. Benedict teaches us that if

we are to find meaning in our lives, if we are to live significantly, we must learn to die to ourselves, to give ourselves in love. Thus, our vita must not only reflect, but in fact embody, our doctrina: we must not only talk the talk; we must walk the talk.

Ratzinger's rich conception of the revealed Logos no doubt stems from (and may also have been influential in the drafting of) what is probably the theologically richest document of the Second Vatican Council, Dei Verbum. In fact, Dei Verbum itself provides a key hermeneutic and functions as a lens for understanding the other conciliar documents. When most people hear the term "Word of God," they immediately think of the text of Scripture; this is certainly true. But wait, there's more. What the Council recaptures and reframes is that the Word of God is first and foremost a Person, the Incarnate Lord, Jesus Christ, the fullness of God's self-revelation. As John of the Cross taught in his Ascent of Mount Carmel,

in his Son, the Word-made-flesh, Jesus Christ, God has said all he has to say. We await no further, additional revelation. Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition are akin to sacraments (in the loose sense) of that singular and unsurpassable revelation of God's work in Christ, transmitted to us in written and unwritten modes. A good deal of Joseph Ratzinger's intellectual energy was spent unpacking the significance of this, not least for contemporary biblical scholarship -- not principally as an academic exercise, but rather because of Ratzinger's deep conviction that the Scriptures are to be read and interpreted in a way that communicates the living Word of God to the Church. For the Scriptures are not only to be read and interpreted (and indeed preached), but first prayed. Every encounter with the Scriptures is-or should be-a deeply intimate encounter with the Person of the Risen Lord Jesus, whose Spirit animates those very texts and who, in his incarnate Person, provides the principle both of their unity and of their interpretation. The Foreword (a mere fourteen pages) to his 2007 English edition of Jesus of Nazareth is a game-changing tour-de-force on how the Gospels-and by extension, the entirety of the Scriptures, Old and New Testaments-are to be read, prayed, and preached. In this brief Foreword (itself worth the price of the entire book!), Pope Benedict is merely recovering the way-the ancient way-that the Church had always approached the Scriptures and which was often forgotten or, at least beginning in the 18th and 19th centuries, shelved as passé. Pope Benedict is by no means a fundamentalist: what he is certainly not doing is rejecting out-of-hand the advances that historical, archeological, literary, linguistic, and cultural research have made in the understanding of the Bible in its original context. Dei Verbum 12 makes clear that these are literally critical for determining the original author's intent. But Dei Verbum 12 continues to posit with equal or greater assertiveness (and this has often been forgotten or ignored) that these texts must, by their very nature, be read within the entire living Tradition of the Church and with the eyes of faith, with the ultimate aim of knowing not only what the human author had intended, but more importantly what God wants to reveal to us today, right now. Critical scholarship is essential in helping us to understand what a sacred text meant. But the prayerful reading of the Scriptures, under the aspect

of faith and within the living Body of the Church, reveals to us what the text means, today, right now. This does not disqualify or dismiss what it meant, but it does make clear that its meaning is not reducible simply to its original historical or literary context. Inspiration is not merely a matter of how God's Spirit moves a sacred author (interesting as such questions may indeed be), but more importantly functions to assure us (and readers of every age and place) that the text of Scripture is a privileged locus of God's selfcommunication-here and now, wherever that "here" and "now" happen to be-and not merely to peoples of the past. And further, the principal environment, the primary milieu, the freshest atmosphere, in which the Scriptures live, is the Sacred Liturgy itself, where the altar interprets the ambo, so to speak, as what Christ did once and for all, is not only made present under the veil of the Sacrament, but itself opens up to believers the full meaning of the entirety of the Scriptures.

Pope Benedict XVI was a model theologian because he was first (and remained) a model disciple: a lover of the Logos, a hearer of the Word, reclining on the breast of the Lord in prayer, and taking as his own the Mother of God, the type and figure of the Church, whom he served with fidelity and love. Requiescat in pace

"Pope Benedict XVI was a model theologian because he was first (and remained) a model disciple: a lover of the Logos, a hearer of the Word, reclining on the breast of the Lord in prayer, and taking as his own the Mother of God, the type and figure of the Church, whom he served with fidelity and love."

~ Msgr. Michael Heintz, Pope Benedict XVI: An Appreciation Back Cover: Photo of the dome of the Chapel of the Immaculate Conception entitled Emitte Spiritum Tuum by Fr. Lawrence Lew, O.P.