Kakistocrat

Priest and Bishop, Bartolome de las Casas (1454-1566) would note that nine years after the Spanish arrival in Central/South America 90% of the Native and African populations being used for work there had perished. While some points of similarity exist between the arrival of the Europeans in Central/South America, with their arrival in North America, it is the general attitude of the French Jesuits who came to Canada that allows for a Catholic today to be far less embarrassed, than if there was only the history of European activity in Central/South America to remember.

While there are similarities in how each described the appearance of the Native, Jesuits of North America did not make the mistake of Pedro Van de Caminha (1500), who, though kinder than many around him, viewed the Central/South American naitve as innocent, and as children of a pre-fallen Adam and Eve. Jesuit Paul Le Jeune (1591-1664) and his fellow Jesuits approach the North American Native far more realistically. Certain tribes are even described as ‘barbarous’ and before we are thrown off by that language we need realize that the litmus test for ‘barbarism’ depends on the amount of blood spilt in war. Compared to his colleagues who approached the Native in the Central/South American region, Le Jeune rightly abandons the ‘Noble Savage’ concept, although he does ask his audience (who are unfamiliar with the North American Native) to treat his subject with grace for ‘before the faith was received in Germany, Spain or England, those nations were not more civilized [and] mind is not lacking among the Savages of Canada, but education and instruction.”

While cautious that his hearers not adopt a judgmental tone towards the Natives, and while very clearly admiring the fitness of the Native people, Le Jeune also has high regard for their manners. In fact he juxtaposes his sometimes frustrated and grumbling Jesuit brothers with how respectful the Natives are:

A Sagamore [who] dining in our room one day, wished to say something; and, not finding an opportunity, because they were all talking at the same time, at last prayed the company to give him a little time to talk his turn, and all alone, as he did.

Le Jeune is also impressed by the Native ability to learn. Describing an occasion in which he was teaching a Native child as well as a “little Negro or Moor,” he claims that so rewarding was this experience that were he granted the finest audiences in France in exchange for these two pupils, he would not hesitate to keep the students.

While Le Jeune’s overall attitude is respectful, he does remain a product of his French culture, and though his desire to help the North American Native is obvious (both in his life and writings) a Euro-centric attitude is not completely absent, though when it does emerge the causes for it (in my opinion) are rather mild. The “common flies, gnats, fireflies, mosquitoes” are quite disagreeable while “the mosquitoes, they are disagreeable beyond description. Some people are compelled to go to bed after coming from the woods, they are so badly stung.” Le Jeune considers what he would do to alleviate the problem, and while not finding fault with the Natives in their failure to do so, there is a hint of ‘why don’t they do what I’d do.” Mild, as I said.

A similar attitude emerges when describing how the Native men and women clothe themselves. He believes that the Native custom of wearing furs when it is cold was “learned in imitation of the Europeans.” Now I am sure a careful study could uncover ways in which the European activity in Canada benefitted the Natives, but that furs may be worn for warmth, I don’t think can be seen as a European innovation.

While the writings of the early Jesuits (there are 73 volumes) are of anthropological importance, such information was used by the Relations earliest audiences (Jesuit Superiors) to assist in the future state of missionary activity in North America. Le Jeune consistently uses forms of the phrase ‘we shall hope for a great harvest from this country,’ to show what his primary goal is. Several hundred years later there was an attempt by some to attempt to overthrow the Native tribal religions by intermarrying Christians and Natives, but the early Jesuits had little interest in intermarriage, though they do theorize that if they can get the roving Natives to settle into one place, they could have schools opened for them and teach them how to farm, and that through gaining their admiration, the Natives would embrace their faith. When Le Jeune encounters a Native ‘sorcerer,’ the ‘sorcerer,’ after hearing such plans, states that “to employ so many men to aid us, without taking anything away from us; if though shouldst do that, thou woudst secure the greater part of the Savages, and they would believe all thy words.” Le Jeune interprets the opposition of the ‘Sorcerer’ (whose words he has paraphrased) as a sign that the harvest is near.

I conclude with apologies. This is a slightly longer than usual post for an already rather long-winded blogger, but I think the issue is important enough. Too often, contemporary accounts paint broadly and interpret Christian activity in the ‘new world’ negatively. Put quite bluntly, the Jesuits of North America did not have to address the atrocities that de las Casas had to, simply because, as seen through the earliest writings of the North American Jesuits, the Native people were treated with love and respect. Father Paul Le Jeune records what he honestly believes to be the inferiorities of the Natives, but such criticisms for him center largely on the fact that the Natives aren’t dealing with mosquitoes in a way that eradicates them. His Euro-centrism is a tamed one, and is largely overshadowed by his honest desire to record what he believes to be strengths and weaknesses so as to assist future missionaries.

K.

A detail or two in the Gospels allow for a small amount to be known about Jesus’ chosen twelve. Certain ones may enjoy more attention than others, but it is St. Thomas who may figure more prominently than one might originally suppose.

When Jesus has received word that his friend Lazarus is sick, and his disciples hear of his intention to return to Judea to visit him, they remind him, ‘Rabbi, it is not long since the Jews wanted to stone you; and you are going back again?’ Jesus produces an ambiguous mini-parable which does not at all satisfy his disciples tension. It is the words of Thomas which break through the reluctance of his fellow disciples: ‘Let us go too, and die with him.’

They do not die (yet, I suppose), and John’s reader next meets Thomas at the Last Supper. Jesus here predicts his own betrayal and subsequent death, but tells his disciples that he is preparing for their own entry into the world beyond. Thomas tells Jesus that as they do not know where he is going, how are they supposed to follow him there. Here Jesus gives the ‘I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,’ line.

According to John 20, after rising from the dead, Jesus appears first to Mary Magdalene, but then to the disciples. Thomas is noticeably absent. When the disciples tell them that they have seen the risen Jesus, Thomas famously demands certain criteria be met, before he believes them. While history has been quick to judge our ‘Doubting Thomas,’ his doubt in this regard are not at all absurd.

A week later, when he sees Jesus for himself, he accepts the evidence that has been placed before him.

Graham Greene’s The Comedians, recounts fictionally the life inside the oppressive regime of Haitian Papa Doc Duvalier. Towards the end of the book, a small band of men begin to resist Duvalier, and they choose violent means. As is often the case, death is the result. A young priest officiates at the funeral for a few of the fallen rebels. Reflecting on Thomas’ "Let us go too, and die with him," the priest preaches

The Church is in the world, it is part of the suffering of the world, and though Christ condemned the disciple who struck off the ear of the high priest’s servant, our hearts go out in sympathy to all who are moved to violence by the suffering of others. The Church condemns violence, but it condemns indifference more harshly. Violence can be the expression of love, indifference never. One is an imperfection of charity, the other is the perfection of egoism. In the days of fear, doubt and confusion, the simplicity and loyalty of one apostle advocated a political solution. He was wrong, but I would rather be wrong with St. Thomas than right with the cold and craven. Let us go to Jerusalem, and die with him.

Violence is wrong (Jesus never embraced it), but "our hearts [do] go out in sympathy to all who are moved to violence by the suffering of others." Or, to quote Neil Young: "No one has the answer/ But one thing is true/ You’ve got to turn on evil/ When it’s coming after you/ You’ve got to face it down/ And when it tries to hide/ You’ve gota go in after it/ And never be denied…"

Mr. Smith, a pacifist and former Presidential candidate, is unimpressed with the priest’s message, and while I haven’t quite figured out the link between Thomas and violence (perhaps Greene believes Thomas would have employed violence to protect Jesus in Judea, or that Thomas was the one who sliced off the ear of the high priest’s slave?), I do think that Thomas can be seen as a warning against indifference to suffering. He is certainly a model of courage (as he was more willing to die with Jesus, than let him journey into danger alone), religious inquiry (’Lord, we do not know where you are going, so how can we know the way?’), rational thought (making decisions based on evidence is fully in line with loving God with one’s mind), and both humility and honesty to see something in a different way, and change perspective. Thomas leaves a lot to strive for should we wish to model ourselves after him.

K. 

Declaring him to be in possession of "heroic virtues," the Vatican’s Congregation of the Causes of Saints, has moved Pope Pius XII one step closer to official sainthood. As Pope from 1939 to 1958, Pius’s legacy hinges on the question of his perceived silence during the Holocaust.

While plenty has been written both in support and condemnation of Pope Pius XII, only last year were the Vatican archives from his era made fully accessible. Because the question of his silence has still not been adequately addressed, until it has been, and particularly until the Jewish people have been themselves convinced of his "heroic virtues" (perhaps by Yad Vashem’s formal identification of him as a righteous gentle), only then should the case for his sainthood proceed.

While saint-making is an internal Church matter, the potential sainthood of Pius XII, precisely because of his perceived silence during the Holocaust, has consequences beyond the Church, and in light of the relative good relations with the Jewish people that have lasted now some forty years, I do not think it would be wise, or consistent with Christian charity, to recognize the still-present wounds within the Jewish community and proceed by continuing Pius XII’ canonization.

What do you think?

(This is less of a discussion regarding Pius actions during the Holocaust, then it is a discussion of the wisdom of canonizing him while the verdict is still out on his perceived silence).

K.