What we think is the right road
What is happiness? We are happy when we drink champagne, when our favorite team wins the Super Bowl, or we receive a high grade in a challenging class. We are happy when we are rewarded with a big promotion at work, or when we find recognition or fun in various activities. The dictionary says, simply, that happy means "feeling or causing pleasure." We have the right to the pursuit of happiness, just as it says in the Constitution.
But it's the wrong road
Actually, no, it ain't so: It's the Declaration of Independence that discusses the "pursuit of happiness" – and it's wrong. By "wrong," I mean that Thomas Jefferson probably should have mentioned that we must not pursue pleasure by any means or by every means, but let's cut him a little slack because, after all, his chief purpose was not to argue philosophy but to justify revolution.
In teaching philosophy or ethics to college students, I have found that the subject of happiness is a particularly difficult one to raise to abstract standards. Students just plain know when they are happy, and they initially defy the need for any analysis of it.
But upon reflection and interrogation (which is, after all, what philosophy is all about), they begin to admit that there have been occasions when they thought they were happy, but certain results, consequences and after-effects led to a sometimes agonizing re-appraisal.
So: sometimes we think we're happy when, really, we aren't? Would it be helpful if we could predict that what we were going to do would result in genuine, and not counterfeit, happiness?
Counterfeit happiness? That's the giddiness that often results after a few drinks. And the philosopher (or deacon) is obligated to say that the purposeful destruction of reason is (a) never a good thing and (b) always sinful.
But wait, you may object: How did you sneak in a homily here? What does "sin" have to do with all this?
Here, exactly, is fertile and fruitful ground for the Catholic philosopher, who goes on to say something like this: Have you ever thought that happy means blessed?
If you read Matthew, Chapter 5: 1-12, you encounter the Beatitudes: "Blessed are those..." But some sources give the translation not as "blessed" but as "happy." Suppose the philosopher then said: If you want to be happy, strive to be blessed – that is, to be holy.
But you may say that you "know" what it means to be happy, and holiness has nothing whatever to do with it. Until now.
Are you happy when you love your mom and dad? Your brothers and sisters? Or would you put certain bodily pleasures above such love?
Isn't the greatest pleasure the joy we receive from thinking and saying and doing those things we ought to (see the Catechism of the Catholic Church 1780)? ("Ought" may be the most important word in ethics, for it implies a standard beyond our own appetites and urges. Those are what I want; doing God's will is what I ought to want.)
So, you may object, you're telling me that to be really happy I have to be a "holy roller"?
No, not at all. But I am saying that to be happy we have to conform our ways and wills to God's. St. Paul tells us that in his Letter to the Romans (12:2). When we indulge our appetites despite knowing what we ought to do (from good education and formation), we will not be happy, we will be miserable. Maybe not immediately, but later, for sure. That's not being a "holy roller," it's being reasonable.
Think about this, too, please. I won't ask for your definition of freedom, but let me give you someone else's (actually, Archbishop Fulton Sheen's definition): Freedom is sinlessness. This definition is also in John 8:34. We do what we are, and we are what we continually do. (That's Aristotle.) Do-be-do-be-do. (That's Frank Sinatra.)
When we regularly sin, we condition ourselves to sin; we habituate ourselves to evil. Can evil bring anything except counterfeit happiness?
Shouldn't we try very hard to find the best thoughts, words and deeds – and practice them? Isn't it logical that these lead to real and lasting happiness, and that freedom means doing what we ought to do?
There is a close – a very close – connection among happiness, freedom and holiness. Joy ultimately means knowing, loving and serving God.
A long time ago, Dante told us that "In His will is our peace." Knowing and doing God's will-holiness-happiness-freedom-peace: it's of a piece. St. Thomas Aquinas, as is so often true, put it well: "Man cannot live without joy; therefore when he is deprived of true spiritual joys it is necessary that he become addicted to carnal pleasures."
And we can do better than that, can't we? Philosophy tells us we can. We should. We must.
Deacon James H. Toner serves at Our Lady of Grace Church in Greensboro.
For "Star Wars" fans, eager anticipation preceded the seventh film which continues the sci-fi epic of good versus evil, "The Force Awakens." Unfortunately, we see this real battle on the world stage daily, and it is no Hollywood fantasy. Unlike the Jedis, we have no ethereal "force" to tap into for extra support. Or do we?
Throughout the centuries we have been given many devotional prayers, such as the rosary, revealed to St. Dominic by the Virgin Mary in 1208. On Sept. 12, 1213, after reciting the rosary, massively outmatched Christian knights won a spectacular victory against the Cathars in the Battle of Muret in southern France. They attributed the miraculous outcome to the intercessory power of the rosary. Again centuries later, on Oct. 7, 1571, vastly outnumbered Christians defeated the impressive Ottoman navy at Lepanto, off Greece. Again, the rosary was credited as instrumental. Many historians agree this outcome preserved European civilization and was perhaps the greatest naval battle ever fought, and the Church still celebrates the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary on Oct. 7 in memory of this victory.
I became more interested in devotional prayer after I survived a plane crash on the Hudson River in 2009, on U.S. Airways Flight 1549. When the captain told us to "brace for impact," I said mental goodbyes to my family and then my only solace became contemplating the Divine Mercy image. I had rekindled this devotion to the Divine Mercy, along with the rosary, in my New Year's resolutions that year. My faith became paramount before we hit the icy waters, and it gave me peace amid dread and fear. We were very fortunate to have no fatalities, and the crash was dubbed the "Miracle on the Hudson."
One of the aspects of devotional prayer that I have found intriguing are the extraordinary promises attached for those who pray with heartfelt dedication, such as the 15 promises of the rosary, including one against misfortune; the 12 promises of the Sacred Heart as revealed to St. Margaret Mary Alocoque, including peace in the home, and those of forgiveness of the Divine Mercy given to St. Faustina. There are others even less well known, such as the promises of the Way of the Cross revealed to Brother Estanislao, in which Jesus promised to be "a protective shield"; those of the Holy Face of Jesus given to Sister Mary of St. Peter, for preservation of the faith, and the Green Scapular promises revealed to Sister Justine Bisqueyburu, for health and conversion. Information about these and others can be found easily on the internet.
Jesus said: "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you." If we take our faith seriously, we know we have a small, but critical, part to play in our salvation. We are called to a loving, trusting relationship with God, and devotional prayers offer an easy way to foster these sentiments. It takes a degree of humility to realize our need for mercy. To believe in the power of prayer and, further, to believe in the promises attached to certain devotional prayers, requires a bit more: a simple, childlike faith. In Scripture, Jesus said there is something key about being childlike, as did great saints like St. Therese of Lisieux.
Beyond gifts of grace and blessings, we engage in something profound through prayer: we oppose evil directly. It was the "secret" of the saints. Padre Pio even called the rosary "the weapon." Lest we get discouraged and wonder what we can do to counter great evils in the world, we can take up devotional prayer with faith, humility and courage. "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers...against spiritual wickedness..." (Eph 6:12). Long ago, no doubt the armies of Jericho thought absurd the methodical marching of the Israelites around the walls of their city, but amid blasting horns on the seventh day the walls indeed fell. A biblical foreshadowing of modern day devotional prayer? May this Jubilee Year of Mercy inspire us to seek out the mercy and power of these treasured devotions, and may the force (of prayer) be with you, always.
Fred Berretta is a member of St. Matthew Church in Charlotte.