By Randall Smith
In the movie Cinderella Man (2005), based on the life of the boxer James J. Braddock, there is a moving scene in which Braddock, after having received government assistance for a time to support his family, shows up at the public office to return that money. It was there when he needed it, and now he wants to return it so that it is available for others. It’s something almost impossible to imagine today. Return money… so that others can receive help?
In his 1961 inaugural address, John F. Kennedy delivered his famous exhortation: «Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.» Today it would be unthinkable—if not considered «fascist»—.
In Plato’s dialogue Critón, Socrates’ friend tells him that, although he has been sentenced to death, the officials would look the other way if his friends bribed the jailers and helped him escape into exile. Socrates refuses, telling him that, having been born, educated, and benefited in Athens by its law and culture, he owes his existence to Athens and cannot abandon it, even if that means dying.
Now consider the common attitude of the modern college student. His country’s military strength has provided them with years of peace; its economic strength has made them members of the richest country in history; and that nation has literally invested millions of dollars in their education—from free public schools to scholarships and accessible loans. How many live convinced that they now owe something, anything, to their country, to their community, or to their parents? It’s not that they are against it; simply, it has never occurred to them to think about it.
Most young people do not attend college to acquire skills in service to their families, neighbors, or nation. Nor are they recruited for that purpose. They are attracted with promises of personal success: «getting ahead,» «being successful,» «being their authentic self,» «becoming all they can be,» «the leaders of tomorrow.»
Would any current university announce that it trains the «servants of tomorrow«? It would be admirable if some Christian university said: «We form our students to serve others, because Christ did.» But I fear that it would have less success than the slogan: «Come and get your place on the CEOs’ street!»
This type of promotion is considered necessary in a culture of expressive individualism. «Expressive individualism»—writes the author Carter Snead—»considers the individual self, atomized, as the fundamental unit of human reality. This self is not defined by its bonds or relationships, but by its ability to freely choose its own path, revealed through the exploration of its own feelings.»
«No object of choice—whether property, a vocation, or even the creation of a family—defines or constitutes the self. In the words of Michael Sandel, it is an ‘unencumbered self.'» Expressive individualism «does not recognize unchosen obligations. The self only commits to what it has freely chosen. And it only accepts commitments that allow it to pursue its own original, unique, and self-determined quest for meaning.»
Sometimes one hears the claim: «I’m spiritual, but not religious.» What that usually means is: I don’t want to be obligated to anything I haven’t chosen. Can someone be religious and not patriotic? Perhaps, if being «patriotic» meant «my country, right or wrong.» But not if being Catholic meant «I owe nothing to my country.»
Nothing in the Church’s teaching supports such a view. On the contrary, as St. Augustine understood, although Christians are a «pilgrim people», they are often—and called to be—the best citizens, because they are not driven by the libido dominandi (the lust for dominion), but by the loving gift of themselves in service to others.
The Pope St. John Paul II observed in his apostolic exhortation Christifideles laici that the Christian layperson must act as leaven in society. We do not «Christianize» society «from above,» by converting a monarch who then imposes Christianity on his kingdom. We do it «from below», when the faithful laity integrate the Gospel into their everyday and secular life.
The greatest threat to this vision, says the Pope, is believing that one can separate religious life from secular life. If during the week I act like everyone else, with «rivalries, jealousy, anger, selfishness, slander, gossip, vanity, and disorder,» but on Sunday I kneel devoutly at Mass, I can still think that I am «a good Catholic.» St. Paul repeatedly warns against this error.
But if I owe things to my country, to my community, and to my family, and if those obligations are not diminished by my Catholic faith, but rather strengthened and multiplied, then Catholics must resist the temptation of expressive individualism.
We will need to conceive our life differently from the rest of society: in the face of those who see their existence as essentially individual and not communal; in the face of those who understand freedom as freedom from all restraint, and not as freedom to serve others.
Unfortunately, many will have to accept that the «Catholic» schools on which they depend for their adult formation have also succumbed to that culture of prestige and personal success, rather than the culture of selfless service. The spread of this attitude forces us to ask ourselves whether Catholics continue to be leaven that Christianizes society, or whether we have surrendered to it, disguising that surrender with appearances of faith in a God whom we serve with words, but not with life.
About the author
Randall B. Smith is a professor of Theology at the University of St. Thomas, in Houston, Texas. His most recent book is From Here to Eternity: Reflections on Death, Immortality, and the Resurrection of the Body.