If in the previous article I spoke about the writer’s external labors, I must emphasize that the internal ones are at least as difficult. By “internal labors” I mean, of course, the work of conception and creation. As the very words suggest, these are two distinct things. The first takes place strictly within the writer. More precisely, within his mind and heart. There he “distills” all the readings, conversations, and experiences he has accumulated. There his own ideas, his own vision, and his own voice begin to be born. The key word in the previous sentence is vision. This is the essence of future creations. For those who write texts of ideas—essays—vision manifests itself as a coherent conception regarding the subject of future articles. For those who write novels, novellas, or poetry, it manifests itself in the form of characters, context, details, and the narrative thread they will follow. In the case of poetry, matters are more complicated, so I shall leave that subject for another article.
For the writer whose Christian, Catholic identity is essential, things take on certain specific characteristics. Here I would also make a statement that must be properly understood: there are no “Christian writers,” but rather Christians who write. No subject belonging to secular literature or essay-writing is foreign to them. Likewise, they follow all the rules of secular art (codified, first, by ancient Greeks and Latins)—which possess universal value. Is it merely accidental that the great writers are almost always Christians? Dante, Cervantes, Shakespeare, Góngora, Manzoni, Newman, Chesterton, Conrad, Sienkiewicz, Huysmans, Tolkien, Bernanos, Papini, and many others were all Christians. Even a much more hermetic and confused poet such as Ezra Pound was influenced—as Andrea Colombo demonstrated in his brilliant monograph Il Dio di Ezra Pound—by Christian authors and ideas. The impact of Faith upon literature, as upon the visual arts, has produced an immense number of works of unquestionable quality. A bold historian of the arts could probably show that never has so much been created, and so well, as within the universe of ideas inspired by Holy Scripture of Judeo-Christian tradition.
The situation is just as favorable in the realm of literature of ideas. Chesterton himself is merely the heir of essayistic giants such as Montaigne, Newman, and Chateaubriand. Great writers have often been great essayists as well, Joseph Conrad being only one example. Even “troubled” journalists and novelists, deeply tormented by the impact of sin upon life, such as Ernest Hemingway and Graham Greene, wrote articles from which one can learn the art of intelligent expression. And authors of epic works, such as Professor J.R.R. Tolkien, shone not only through their fictional creations but also through epoch-making lectures and essays such as “On Fairy-Stories.” But do such authors still exist today? Or, more radically: is their existence still possible?
In a context where the number of aspiring writers has grown exponentially, while the number of publications remains relatively small, the question of whether literature of the quality of the masters mentioned above is still possible becomes extremely difficult. Today we grope through a labyrinth built from thousands and thousands of books and articles. Quite literally, we are drowning in an ocean of texts. We simply can no longer keep pace. Even within the relatively limited territory of Catholic literature and essay-writing, no one can keep up with everything that is written. No one can know every author worthy of attention. The explanation, however, is not that there are too many of them. Rather, it is that they are very difficult to discover in the ocean of texts scattered everywhere online. Having said this, I return to the problem stated at the beginning: what should be the content of a Catholic author’s articles?
Obviously, the first answer is crystal clear: an author writes about the subjects that interest him. It would be simple if that were enough. But it is not. Inevitably, he must answer another important question: are readers interested in the same subjects and themes that interest the author? Must the author leave his “ivory tower” in order to engage directly with his audience and discover the most important concerns of today’s readers? Almost all authors seek to capture public interest. But this can be a trap. Very often these interests are the result of minds being infected—through the mass media and news channels—with subjects that are not only irrelevant but even harmful. Politics in particular, with its endless discussions of crises, wars, scandals, and all manner of similar matters, has become omnipresent. I have seen many writers fall into the snare of easy popularity by discussing “hot” topics that possess no real value. This is why we must turn our gaze toward the great masters of writing: Saints Augustine, Francis de Sales, John Henry Newman, John Bosco, Maximilian Kolbe. Chesterton, Conrad, Tolkien, and Bernanos are true literary models for those interested in becoming real, substantial writers.
The saints remind us, however, that the first subject of the Catholic writer is Truth itself. Faith itself. This is the principal “subject,” the supreme theme of their articles. In a word: the Creed, Mystagogy, Prayer, and the Ten Commandments. Fortunately, we still have a few writers who are genuine models when it comes to engaging in debates without losing sight of the truth. Joseph Pearce, Edward Feser, and Peter Kwasniewski are among them. Their subjects are therefore those of Christian philosophy and theology. The goal is not academic scholarship but popularization: to make the key elements of Christian life as accessible as possible without diminishing the quality of exposition. Moral and spiritual values, the rediscovery of meditation and contemplation, the current crisis of the Church, and similar matters are probably among the most important topics. “Yes, but many people already write about such things,” someone might say. That is true. Yet few have the courage to call things by their proper names. Christian truth, in its entirety, is inconvenient and uncomfortable. It is not popular. And it is not fashionable. The writer who bears witness to it quickly discovers that the doors of many “Catholic” publications are closed to him.
Having said this, I will conclude my article by speaking about those subjects that seem to me, nevertheless, of crucial importance. This is due entirely to the modern context. For it has generated profound transformations and elevated heresies and heterodox ideas to the rank of law. The first concerns the importance of Holy Scripture. In my opinion, the historical-critical method lies at the heart of the present crisis. Holy Scripture is, in practice, rejected by numerous clerics and hierarchs. Often without realizing it, they have absorbed relativistic ideas that deny both biblical inerrancy and the divine inspiration of the sacred texts. The latter is done by denying their authorship. From many biblical studies manuals one learns that Moses was not the author of the Pentateuch, nor Saint John the Apostle of the Book of Revelation, and so on. At the same time, traditional methods of interpretation—especially the spiritual exegesis of Scripture—have been almost entirely forgotten, just as mystical theology is absent from the curricula of most Catholic universities. All of this is due to the ascendancy of so-called “scientific” methods, which are concerned only with what can be proven, experimented upon, and empirically demonstrated. Likewise, the mystical-allegorical interpretation of the Sacraments and the Holy Liturgy is almost completely overlooked. How could it be otherwise in the age of clown liturgies?
Biblical history, too, has been devastated. The world is no longer regarded as God’s creation, and Adam and Eve are no longer seen as the first inhabitants of Eden. All these things are considered “myths” (i.e., beautiful lies) from a bygone age, when people could still naively believe such things. Evolutionism, dominant even in Catholic schools, no longer permits a firm belief in monogenism, just as modern philological sciences ridicule theories concerning the origin of all nations and language families from Noah’s three sons—Shem, Ham, and Japheth. These, then, are subjects worthy of the Catholic writer’s attention and continuous labor. Obviously, in a world where readers are bombarded with countless alternative theories (the Big Bang, evolutionism, million- and billion-year chronologies, etc.), his task is among the most difficult. Not infrequently he will find himself rejected even by publications that ought to support him in his mission. Why? Because the editor-in-chief is an evolutionist, or because he fears publishing articles that challenge the “dogmas” of the modern world.
Furthermore, participation in contemporary debates must be guided by eternal Wisdom rather than by the desire for success. Moderation, together with prudence, is of great help. The desire to be widely read, to have large numbers of readers, is the most difficult temptation. How can one earn a living from writing without many readers? Yes, it is a difficult problem. Some, despite being good writers and notable media personalities, end up doing incredible things for popularity—especially of the “apocalyptic” variety. It is very dangerous—and unethical—to pretend to know who the Antichrist is in order to attract attention. Likewise, fashionable topics deserve attention only insofar as they provide an opportunity to offer a sound perspective based on solid judgment rather than a chase after sensationalism.
Finally, as a deeply personal note, I emphasize what has become my most profound mature conviction. Truth cannot win the battle through rational argumentation alone. On the contrary, after thirty years of literary activity, I am convinced that Truth is far more effective when accompanied by Beauty and Goodness. Today, more than ever, it is Beauty that conquers. And Goodness never loses the value given to it by good works performed in the service of God and one’s neighbor. In this sense, the writer must emphasize and present everything that is beautiful and good, cultivating the aesthetics of language understood from a rigorously theological and metaphysical perspective.
From this point of view, poetry—alongside music, literature, and the visual arts—is the most important form of creation. Theater and cinema should likewise be well represented. Amid the media tsunami of productions of this kind, true masterpieces appear rarely, very rarely, yet consistently enough to deserve being presented to as many readers as possible. At the same time, nothing prevents us from becoming creators ourselves, setting aside—at least occasionally—texts of ideas, polemics, and the debates of the moment. Otherwise, with so many texts and so many authors trying to teach something, we forget that our highest purpose is contemplation—which by its nature is intuitive and spontaneous—rather than discursive thought and the excessive exercise of reason. It is time not only to remember that saints such as Thomas Aquinas, John of the Cross and Alphonsus Maria de Liguori composed religious hymns, poems, Christmas carols, and enjoyed listening to operettas, but also to understand that the summit of human genius guided by God is not reasoning but prayer. And prayer, as we know from Holy Scripture, when it reaches its highest intensity, always becomes poetry.
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