What we think is the right road
The only right road is that there is no right road. The only thing we know for sure is that we don't know anything for sure. The only constant is change. Only one of our presidents, Bill Clinton, is an alumnus of a Catholic college, and it was he who told us that the only secure foundation for democracy is a vigorous uncertainty about the truth of anything. Besides all that, Christians should be humble enough not to support any views uncompromisingly.
But it's the wrong road
It ain't so, for there are many things we can know through right reason (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1954, 307, 1776). The very idea, though, that there can be "right reason" – that is, graced thinking consistent with the established canons of logic (CCC 1960) – is alien to many today. That we may be sure of some things and thoughts; that there is an objective moral order; that there is an unchanging and eternal reality: these concepts are anathema to those who champion the self above all or who deny any ethical standard beyond their own feelings.
One New York Times columnist wrote that being sure about things "is the enemy of decency and humanity." One hopes that he is sure about that opinion. If that writer is correct, then there is no virtue and no vice; there is no right and no wrong; there is no good and no evil, for there are only opinions about such matters. Everything is a matter of mere conjecture.
Asked if he could define sin, President Barack Obama replied, "Sin is being out of alignment with my values." That is, of course, correct – if anything can be correct today – because, according to the intellectual fads and fashions of our day, there are no standards to which we may appeal except what pleases or profits us. The standard of right or wrong, good or evil, is always and only internal. It is solely up to us to make subjective moral judgments. Of course, others have preceded us in that view: Adam and Eve, committing the original sin (see Genesis 3:5 and CCC 407).
In his new book about the Traditional Latin Mass, Peter Kwasniewski uses the term "martyrial meaning" to refer to "absolute truth worth dying for, worth giving up everything for." There is a war, he writes, "against ultimate transcendent meaningfulness." If there is no ultimate meaning – no God, no Christ, no Church, no Truth – then the idea that sin means inconsistency with "my values" is perfectly intelligible.
However, Catholics know that God exists – and that everything is, or at least ought to be, different for us because we know that and act in the light of that primordial conviction.
But isn't the chief idea of education to produce an open mind? No: there is a profound difference between an open mind and an empty head. G.K. Chesterton put it well: "Merely having an open mind is nothing. The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid." By the complementary power of faith and reason, we know that there is an enduring Truth, conformity to which produces justice and peace (for example, read John 12:46 and Romans 12:2).
"Faith and reason are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth; and God has placed in the human heart a desire to know the truth," wrote St. John Paul II. No contemporary cynic or nihilist exceeds the sneering contempt of Pilate's mocking question, "What is truth?" (John 18:18) asked of Him who is Truth Incarnate.
Must we be relativists to support democracy, much as Bill Clinton told us? It was also John Paul II who taught that a democracy in conformity with the moral law promotes the dignity of the human person, protects human rights and serves the authentic common good. A democratic system "would be shaken in its foundations" if people doubted the existence of objective moral law which spawns and sponsors civil law.
That, tragically, is precisely what has been happening in our country, where the pillar of the moral law has been disparaged, discounted and denied. And, as Psalm 11 plaintively asks, "When the pillars are overthrown, what can the just man do?"
St. Thomas Aquinas taught us that humility is not saying we know nothing and can do nothing, but instead knowing that apart from Our Lord, we can do nothing; that we worship God only and above all; and that, in concert with Him, there is nothing we cannot do (see Phil 4:13).
Humility is not denying that we have talent or strength; humility is using our gifts wisely and well. Humility opposes arrogance.
St. Paul, in his valedictory, adjured his hearers to be humble and bold – and admonished them about the enduring need to protect the people from "fierce wolves" (false teachers) who would sow confusion and error (Acts Chapter 20), pulling down the pillars of faith.
What we have received in and from the faith which comes to us from the Apostles, let us "proclaim from the rooftops" (Mt 10:27 and Lk 12:3), for we can be certain of the foundational truth of our lives: It is the eternal Truth of the Gospel, which should always and everywhere – nothing relative about it! – be in our minds (+), on our lips (+) and in our hearts (+). Laus tibi, Christe! ("Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ!")
Deacon James H. Toner serves at Our Lady of Grace Church in Greensboro.
If you look at most revolutions in the world, you'll see a heroic figure – a man or a woman who inspired the people to rise and fight for their cause. We have George Washington in the United States, Dr. Jose Rizal in the Philippines, Emiliano Zapata in Mexico and many other heroes punctuating urban squares and national parks with their monuments and statues. Human heroes, flesh and blood incarnates. But what's totally amazing is that in the Philippine Revolution of 1986 which toppled dictator Ferdinand Marcos, the person the Filipino nation elevated to heroic status was not a regular person – it was the Blessed Virgin Mary.
The Filipino nation could have chosen Cory Aquino, who was intensely campaigning against Marcos' corruption on the island of Cebu; or Cardinal Jaime Sin, who risked his life using Radio Veritas (the only non-governmental channel) to direct the mass demonstration; or General Fidel Ramos and Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile Sr., who instigated military rebellion. So why did people erect a statue of the Blessed Mother as the heroine of the 1986 EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue) Revolution? What was happening on the ground? What did the Blessed Mother actually do?
To understand this unique national phenomenon, you must go back to the scene that unfolded from Feb. 22 to Feb. 25, 1986: an ocean of protestors occupying Epifanio de los Santos Avenue, the main thoroughfare around Manila, holding signs clamoring for freedom and justice. But in this scene, the people are also holding something not found in other countries' demonstrations: statues, images and pictures of the Blessed Mother.
The soldiers who were given the command to fire on the demonstrators saw this and uttered to themselves: "Hey, those people are the children of Mama Mary. I, too, am a son of Mama Mary. Hey, those people are carrying rosaries, praying the rosaries. I, too, have a rosary in my pocket. Hey, those people are singing 'Ave Maria.' I've known that tune since I was 4 years old." A mental conflict shook their heads. A spiritual alarm jarred their souls. It just did not make sense for the soldiers to fire at their fellow Marian brothers and sisters.
Meanwhile, a secondary miracle was happening. There are at least 96 Philippine languages in the Philippines and more than 140 ethno-linguistic groups in the south. The soldier from Pangasinan Province who spoke the Ilocano and Panggalatok languages, upon seeing the image of the Blessed Mother, exclaimed: "That's Mama Mary, Our Lady of Manaoag." The Tagalog soldier from Rizal Province declared: "That's Mama Mary, Our Lady of Antipolo." The Bicolano soldier also recognized the woman as "Ina" (mother) – the term Bicolanos use to address Our Lady of Peñafrancia. And so it went, with Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary of La Naval de Manila, Our Lady of the Pillar in Zamboanga, Nuestra Virgen de Regla in Lapulapu City, Our Lady of Badoc in Ilocos, Our Lady of Caysasay in Taal, Batangas, Our Lady of Piat in Cagayan Valley, Our Lady of Badoc in Ilocos, the Nuestra Señora de Guia in Ermita, etc.
So when Marcos' central command gave the order to fire on the demonstrators, according to Jesuit Father Nilo Tanalega, the artillery unit made excuses, saying: "Sorry, sir, we cannot get the machine to read the correct coordinates for the target." And, "Sir, something is wrong with our cannon – it's malfunctioning."
In an attempt to manipulate cultural diversity to his advantage, Marcos deviously assigned soldiers from different language groups other than Tagalog, the language of Manila. The object was to prevent ethnic bonding or social bonding by one province native with a co-province native. But the demonstrators, recognizing this tactic, sought beautiful Ibanag women to offer sandwiches and water to Ibanag soldiers; beautiful Visayan women to bring flowers and towel wipes to Visayan soldiers, lovely Bicolana belles to offer snacks and drinks to Bicolano soldiers, etc.
At the end of four unpredictably risky days, the Blessed Mother brought about the first bloodless revolution that became known in the world as "People Power" – a legacy that Filipinos bequeathed to the world. It was also the first Marian Revolution of its kind. Today, the proof of Our Lady's intercession is depicted by a statue of her standing tall at the intersection of Ortigas Avenue and Epifanio de los Santos.
Dr. Cris V. Villapando is director of faith formation programs for the Diocese of Charlotte and active in the Filipino Catholic community in Charlotte. This month marks the 30th anniversary of the EDSA "People Power" Revolution that toppled the Marcos dictatorship in the Philippines.