by Thomas Hackett

1. Society as Polis: the Integralism of Government, Economy, and Culture

How should the Church relate to society? This decade has seen many rejecting the status quo of our conventional approach and bringing this question to mind with new urgency. Unfortunately, much confusion is sown before the discussion even begins, because “society” is spoken of with little precision. Some use this very muddled definition to refer to the government and its legal system, others refer to economic industries, media outlets, or universities, and still others refer to the nebulous term “culture.”

Before anything of value can be said about how the Church should relate to society, the meaning of the latter term requires clarification. I turn to Pater Edmund Waldstein’s review of Before Church and State by Andrew Jones:

In this integral vision, “church” and “state” did not exist as separate institutions; rather, spiritual and temporal authority cooperated together within a single social whole for the establishment of an earthly peace, ordered to eternal salvation. Nor was there an “economy,” in the modern sense of a relatively autonomous system based on private property and contract. Rather, the use of material goods was thoroughly integrated into the peace.[1]

Likewise, it would be right to say that there was no “culture” in the “modern sense of a relatively autonomous system.” We should not say that culture, economy, state, etc all refer to the same exact entity, lest we fall to the intellectual temptation of Parmenides. However, we should be even more careful to avoid the temptation to liberalism; we must beware the belief that anything other than the Unmoved Mover can be called “autonomous” without countless qualifications. Different aspects of the polis—economy in regard to markets, culture in regard to informal customs, state in regard to legislation and sovereignty, etc—are all distinct orders, but with intimate inter-relation. Everything is integrated into the polis which, insofar as it is just, orders its citizens towards their temporal and eternal end or telos .[2]

So when it comes to building the Kingdom of Heaven— that impossible, yet necessary task— it is harmful to define “society” too vaguely or too narrowly. The term is indeed broad, but that does not preclude precision. Christians cannot be content to baptize only government, only economics, or only culture. It may be prudent, given particular circumstances, only to focus on one or another aspect of the polis, but the telos of uniting all things with Christ and His Church must never be forgotten.

The temptation towards the dis-integration of society is especially strong because liberalism has to some extent succeeded in increasing differentiation between various aspects of society. The image of Hobbes’s Leviathan —which describes radical individualism as human nature and held that the only solution was the “social contract” of the State—has been made into a reality by the liberal capitalist order: many persons feel vanishingly small connection with their culture, their provincial governments, or their local markets, and they certainly don’t regard these three aspects of society as united by any sort of shared purpose. The end goal of this vision would create a world where there is nothing but independent individuals and the sovereign state, annihilating any need for the unity of the Common Good and the integration of society. It is precisely this disintegrating isolation which underlies the many outrages of liberal capitalism and hastens the collapse of any society governed by it. “Taken to its logical conclusion, liberalism’s end game is unsustainable in every respect: it cannot perpetually enforce order upon a collection of autonomous individuals increasingly shorn of constitutive social norms [i.e. the Common Good].”[3]

In the modern West, there is a constant temptation to disregard true unity in the name of false freedom; atomization, the creation of the radical individual, is presumed to be healthy for society. Yet, in medieval integralism even the very existence of “differentiation was always for the sake of greater unity and integration. Thus, the three social orders of laity, secular clergy, and religious (monks and nuns) were seen as having a unity analogous to the unity of the Blessed Trinity. They did not form three separate societal spaces, but three orders united in a single society with a single end: the unity of peace.”[4]

The same should be said of government, economy, and culture.

2. Evangelization: Four Prudential Mindsets

Given this integralist understanding of society, or, as we could also call it the polity or polis, we can now consider how the Church should approach it. We know that all societies should ideally be integrated with and subordinated to the Church but, given that this is not the case, a prudential question arises: how best can the Church pursue her mission to sanctify the world and “make disciples of all nations?” (Matthew 28:19)

Here, I present the four prudential mindsets to evangelization from which we must carefully choose—all four of them are valid in their proper times and places. The importance of distinguishing between them is necessary to guide the practicalities of Christian praxis in different ages, struggles, and societies.

Nero’s Lyre

One view holds that society is in open and physical conflict with the Church, which requires that the Church responds by hiding underground, jealously guarding her traditions and teaching, and desperately clinging together in whatever secret Masses can be performed given the rampant persecution. This sort of guerilla warfare Church has been present many times in history. Some examples being the Soviet Union in the 20th Century, Japan in the 17th Century, and the Roman Empire under Diocletian, Decius, Nero, or others during the first three centuries of the Church. This disorder of society is best characterized by a legend of the emperor Nero who, it is claimed, burned down a section of Rome and played his lyre while watching it burn; a wave of Christian persecution followed, as they were made the scapegoats of the blaze.

When society strums the wicked tune of Nero’s lyre, then the most prudent praxis of the Church is certainly a secretive strategy, which carefully preserves the Faith, generation through generation, and patiently endures whatever martyrs are to be made in that cruel age.

The Unknown God

Another encounter between the Church and the polis can be seen when the Apostle Paul arrives at Athens. He proclaims to the Greeks, “I see that in every way that you are a pious people.” (Acts 17:22) He notices their statue to an unknown god and proclaims that this God has become known and that in their wisdom they worshiped what they did not know, which is now being revealed to them in the person of Jesus Christ. Some scoffed at the Resurrection, but others appreciated this revelation. This philosophy—well characterized by that statue to the unknown god—sees society as grasping truths, but not yet the Truth. It is the perennial teaching of the Church that because all are made through the divine Word Jesus Christ and He was born into the world to be present with all, that even those who have never heard His Name can still aspire, through natural reason, to grasp some semblance of the Truth. It is for this reason that we can admire countless non-Christian works, from the dialogues of Plato to the Vedas of India to the writings of Confucius to the Quran. While we do not regard any of these texts of philosophies as infallible or sacred, there are many parts of them which are fully in agreement with the teachings of the Church. And there are many other parts which, considered in the new light of Christ, take on a whole new meaning that is richer than the author could ever have conceived.

It is this proud tradition of holy appropriation that has allowed the Church to become inculturated into countless nations. This mindset of revealing the unknown god is what animates the Vatican II document Nostra Aetate which ecumenically praises non-Christian religions for that in them which is good and true.

It is especially notable with the Greek philosophers who attained so many great fragments of Truth, which were pieced together by the Church Fathers and later the Scholastics. As MacIntyre says, “Aquinas was in some respects a better Aristotelian than Aristotle.”[5] This confirms the words of Justin Martyr, “For whatever either lawgivers or philosophers uttered well, they elaborated by finding and contemplating some part of the Word. But since they did not know the whole of the Word, which is Christ, they often contradicted themselves.”[6]

This view might even be seen to characterize the Counter-Reformation and the Council of Trent: the best ideas of the early “reformers”—such as the universal call to holiness[7]—were taken as spolia aegyptiorum by such saints as Francis de Sales, who wrote Introduction to the Devout Life. But within a century and a half, the Reformation gave rise to a new beast , very unlike other heresies. We will presently consider the harm in not properly recognizing this transition today.

Donar’s Oak

A third mindset looks on a society as starkly opposed to the Church: the polis is infected with ideas and practices which are barriers to accepting the love of Jesus Christ. In such cases, accepting the terms of the society’s philosophic framework makes the work of the Church incredibly difficult or even impossible; therefore, the attitude of St. Boniface, who spent his life and incurred his death by converting the pagans of Germany in the 8th century. It was he who chopped down Donar’s Oak, a symbol and a source of the Germanic paganism which could not be reconciled with Christian teaching. The wisdom of St. Boniface reminds us that false idols must be cleared away to make room for true worship: “I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.” (Ezekiel 36:25)

This mindset is most appropriate in societies which have already heard the Gospel but obstinately refuse to accept it, or which have fallen back into paganism after accepting Christ. Historically, this mindset was employed by the Church in the fierce arguments of the Fathers with the remaining pagans of the late Roman Empire—as well as many other saints and scholars against the Germanic and Baltic pagans, the Protestantism which coalesced in the generations after Luther, earlier “classical” forms of liberalism, and most recently against the Cult of Santa Muerte. This mentality was also wielded against the Native Americans in most cases—though an extended treatment of this history goes beyond the scope of this essay, this is another occasion on which an imprudent approach has harmed the vocation of the Church.

This mindset is most properly employed in societies which have either stubbornly rejected or apostatized from the Catholic Faith, which makes it rather strange that so many Catholics today are comfortably deferential to the modern West. We will consider this confusion momentarily.

The Shepherd’s Staff

A final way of viewing the relationship is captured by the image of the shepherd’s staff: “And I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd.” (Ezekiel 37:24) Likewise in Psalm 23:

The Lord is my shepherd,

I lack nothing.

Your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.”[8]

Until Christ returns, His Church is tasked with the authority to guide all people to the perfect peace and love of Christ “even to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8) Though this will never be fully realized until the eschaton, there have been many historical moments when integralism has been realized to some imperfect degree: states have publicly proclaimed their subordination to the Gospels and all aspects of society have been ordered towards justice and the salvation of humanity.

In such a blessed state, there is still work to do. Until the eschaton arrives, sin and error will still persists and threaten to disintegrate what God has made. Because the Church is already integrated into society, the primary form of building, rebuilding, and holding together the Kingdom of God is in the revivals of the Church. Under integralism there will still be temptations towards lethargy and corruption[9], even though the social order attains closest to the ideal. But historically, God’s merciful grace can always be seen reviving the Church in such moments. The Benedictines, Norbertines, Cistercians, the Knights Templar, the Dominicans, and the Jesuits; the great artists and philosophers—Venerable Bede, Hildegard von Bingen, the Angelic Doctor—all brought new life to the integralism of medieval Christendom. The rightly ordered city, before that Last Great Day, requires the Psalmist’s daily quest for justice:

Every morning I will put to silence

all the wicked in the land;

I will cut off every evildoer

from the city of the Lord.”[10]

III. The Second Vatican Council

It is important that the correct mindset be discerned. The craftsman must know what tool he needs for each task; if he applies a saw to a screw, or a screwdriver to a tree trunk, the results will be fruitless at best, disastrous at worst. Consider the almost comedic absurdity if all pious members of the Body of Christ treated medieval Christendom with the same fear and precaution deserving of Soviet Russia. Or if the kirishitan of Japan went openly to the Shogun with the mindset of the Apostle in Athens.

Yet many Catholics have imbibed this finely distilled folly. For the past two centuries, most Catholics in the West, especially in America , have treated modernity with the Unknown God Mentality: “though modern Western society isn’t perfect, it contains within it the seeds of truth—the ‘Judeo-Christian Values’—which can be brought to life and fulfilled by the active participation of the Church.”

This is an approach to modernity that has been thoroughly worn out. Father Murray, George Weigel, and indeed the tone, if not the essence, of the entire Second Vatican Council have encouraged a cordial and very friendly openness with modernity. But as mentioned above, when the wrong mindset is imprudently used, the effects can be catastrophic. While the Second Vatican Council never technically contradicts doctrine, it is lamentably easy to read its documents in such a way that results in unorthodox praxis. The enthusiastic optimism of documents such as Nostra Aetate , Gaudium et Spes , and especially Dignitatis Humanae gives the impression that modernity is a partial good, rather than something more sinister. None of this assessment is meant to question the Truth proclaimed by the Second Vatican Council—when interpreted with the “hermeneutics of continuity” and in light of Tradition , these documents are a proud affirmation of the perennial teachings of the Magisterium—but it is meant to expose how an imprudent mindset of evangelism, which changes the tone if not the Truth, can gravely harm the Church’s sacred mission.

Vatican II represents the very height of what agreements can be made between modernity and the Church, without sacrificing Her infallible teachings. And it has not been enough for modern society. The rapidly increasing secularization of the West, intimately tied to the tyranny of capitalism, has utterly rejected the proposals of Vatican II because liberalism never wanted to seek Truth in the first place. Liberalism is not a pagan religion, unknowingly awaiting its fulfillment in Christ, but a “violent hermeneutic” which wars with any public notions of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, enforcing civic nihilism while masked in twisted definitions for freedom , justice, rights , and the common good .

IV. Prudent Praxis

Against the Castle-Trads

Given the global hegemony of the liberal capitalist (dis)order, the only prudent praxis of evangelism, which we must now carry out, must be guided by the Donar’s Oak Mentality. There are some who—having been shocked into the realization that liberalism is no friend of faith—are promoting an alarmist Nero’s Lyre Mentality, which suggests that we must retreat to and fortify the half-built castles and trenches of orthodoxy to survive the “post-Christian” society.

To this, I answer that we will know clearly when Nero’s Lyre is strumming. I do not deny that the volatility of liberalism’s collapse makes this future possible, but until the bodies of martyrs decorate the public square, we have no business crying out “persecution!” In my experience, the families who have holed themselves up in “trad communities” have played a valuable, but not a transformative role in the Church. There is great danger of hiding the inviolate Faith and the bounties of tradition “under a bushel.” (Matthew 5:15)

The creation of tight-knit communities to resist capitalist liberalism (as suggested in Patrick Deneen’s book ) is certainly well-served by self-organization and even retreat, in some sense. But consider the example of the Amish who have survived in their separated communities, yet have not at all prevented the moral decay of the West. The Church’s mission requires communities independent, but not secluded , from liberalism. Unless we hear the definitive chords, the battle must be fought.

That the Church must not retreat nor compromise, but battle to cut down the rotten oak of modernity is further mandated by Her preferential option for the poor. The society we face leaves many communities to suffer and traps even more individuals in the atomization of capitalism. The millions who desperately eat the bad fruits of that wretched tree must be provided for by the True Vine. There are many ways in which we notch the trunk of liberalism, but the most powerful is certainly in the Works of Mercy —which is made very difficult for those who would hide in an impenetrable Castle of Tradition.

A Touch of Nuance

The world is a messy place, shot through with complexity; any philosophy which fails to drink deeply of nuance is doomed to die. Modernity (and certainly postmodernity) is incredibly broad. As “the synthesis of all heresies,”[11] it contains multitudes and is loaded with internal contradictions. Not every one of these ideas are absolutely false, and thus some nuances in our approach are required. We must remember that a heresy is not a pure lie, but an isolated truth or a truth taken too far[12].

Because of this, there are some aspects of modernity which are rightfully approached with the Unknown God Mentality: the Marxist critique of capitalism (if not the Communist ideology), postmodern theology and deconstruction, certain poetic aspects of existentialism, some feminist critiques, and many new paradigms of scientific advancement. Though I firmly hold that our general mindset should be that of St. Boniface, I cannot deny that there are diamonds in the rough—these we should approach with the Unknown God Mentality, without falling into an excessive sympathy for modernity.

But when it comes to liberalism, we can offer no such generosity.

St. Boniface, Pray For Us

Treating liberalism as Greek philosophy to be baptized rather than Donar’s Oak to felled and supplanted by the Gospel was and is the great scandal of the Church in modernity.[13] Though not here, a discussion is needed to detail how we became so blind; regardless, we did not have the eyes to see. Our mindset must shift immediately and radically and to this end, I propose a careful reading of how Boniface felled Donar’s Oak. For those not familiar, here follows an excerpt from the earliest hagiography of Boniface, written briefly after his death in 754, which details the most famous story of the saint:

Now at that time many of the Hessians, brought under the Catholic faith and confirmed by the grace of the sevenfold spirit, received the laying on of hands; others indeed, not yet strengthened in soul, refused to accept in their entirety the lessons of the inviolate faith. Moreover some were wont secretly, some openly to sacrifice to trees and springs; some in secret, others openly practiced inspections of victims and divinations, legerdemain and incantations; some turned their attention to auguries and auspices and various sacrificial rites; while others, with sounder minds, abandoned all the profanations of heathenism, and committed none of these things. With the advice and counsel of these last, the saint attempted, in the place called Gaesmere, while the servants of God stood by his side, to fell a certain oak of extraordinary size, which is called, by an old name of the pagans, the Oak of [Donar][14]. And when in the strength of his steadfast heart he had cut the lower notch, there was present a great multitude of pagans, who in their souls were earnestly cursing the enemy of their gods. But when the fore side of the tree was notched only a little, suddenly the oak’s vast bulk, driven by a blast from above, crashed to the ground, shivering its crown of branches as it fell; and, as if by the gracious compensation of the Most High, it was also burst into four parts, and four trunks of huge size, equal in length, were seen, unwrought by the brethren who stood by. At this sight the pagans who before had cursed now, on the contrary, believed, and blessed the Lord, and put away their former reviling. Then moreover the most holy bishop, after taking counsel with the brethren, built from the timber of the tree wooden oratory, and dedicated it in honor of Saint Peter the apostle.[15]

Consider first that some of the Hessians who gathered at Donar’s Oak were pagans who had reverted back to their pre-Christian religion. This is analogous to the great apostasy of Christendom, which now reverts to something even more perverse than taunting paganism.

But despite the “profanations of heathenism,” Boniface does not act alone. It is after the “advice and council” of the faithful that he embarks to fell Donar’s Oak. So too, integralism, by its very nature, cannot be an individual task. It requires community to share the Church’s teaching and live it out. It is through active participation in online hubs (such as the Josias, Tradistae , or social media) and, more importantly, parishes, families, and friends who pray and work together, that integralism is realized. It is only with the advice and council of the Church Militant that we can follow Boniface in taking up the axe.

After doing so, the saint begins to cut with “the strength of his steadfast heart” despite the “great multitude of pagans, who in their souls were earnestly cursing the enemy of their gods.” It is doubtless that Catholics face an immense crowd of those who curse us. In love and charity, while still gripping the axe, we must continue with steadfast heart. It is certain that St. Boniface’s strength of will was supplied by a life of prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and devotion to the Sacraments. Our lives must be no different. Integralism is not a mere ideology, but one particular doctrine of the True Faith, which must be lived in its entirety if it is to change our rebellious hearts into instruments of God’s grace.

And when the most holy bishop had only started to notch the foreside of the tree, “suddenly the oak’s vast bulk, driven by a blast from above, crashed to the ground, shivering its crown of branches as it fell.” At many moments in history, the oak of liberalism has seemed to be of “extraordinary size” with deep and invincible roots; at others, it has seemed a necessary evil. But in the present moment, there are many scholars—from a multitude of perspectives—who either fear, rejoice, or coldly consider that liberalism is collapsing in on itself, immolated by its internal contradictions. What God has in store for the Church, none can say, but it is not an unreasonable hope to think that if only the Church would throw all Her strength into cutting a notch the whole vast bulk of capitalist liberalism might plummet down. We must consider also that this story is an embellishment; we must be prepared for the grueling work of chopping until we have reached the core. Regardless, the hagiography relates that Donar’s Oak was then split into four pieces by the fall, a symbol of the Gospels which have conquered once again.

At the sight of this, many pagans converted; we might expect the same if the civic nihilism of liberalism is uprooted. And from the timber of Donar’s Oak, a new oratory is constructed—what new Christendom might be built from the felled wood of the liberal order? What new challenges await integralism in the post-industrial world? Through what saints still working among us will God see the Social Kingship of His Son restored?

Unless we maintain a steadfast heart, taking up for ourselves the mindset Boniface before Donar’s Oak, and begin to strike at the rotten trunk of liberalism, we will never know.

Notes

[1] Edmund Waldstein, O.Cist. “An Integralist Manifesto,” First Things, October 2017. https://www.firstthings.com/article/2017/10/an-integralist-manifesto (my emphasis)

[2] The pagan polis might (hypothetically) justly order its citizens to their natural end (the life of the cardinal virtues), but it is impossible for any polis which is not integrated with (and subordinated to) the Church to order citizens to their final, highest, and supernatural end: the life of theological virtues of faith, hope, and love.

[3] Patrick Deneen. Why Liberalism Failed. Chapter 1, Page 42.

[4] Edmund Waldstein, O.Cist. “An Integralist Manifesto,” First Things, October 2017.

[5] Alasdair MacIntyre, “Prologue to the Third Edition After Virtue After a Quarter of a Century.”

[6] Justin Martyr. Second Apology. Chapter 10. See also: “Whatever things were rightly said among all men, are the property of us Christians” (Chapter 13).

[7] This, of course, has always been the doctrine of the Church, but in the early 16th century, it was widely believed and taught that only religious and clergy could hope to enter Heaven without a long purgation. St. Francis de Sales greatly renewed lay piety, without “taking the truth too far” as did the Protestants who interpreted the “universal call to holiness” to preclude the hierarchy of vocations (cf CCC 1618-1620).

[8] Psalm 23: 1,4

[9] The Devil always finds a way to prey upon the Church. Perhaps the only time when She is most immune to corruption is in those dark times when She is purified by the blood of martyrs, struggling to survive against brutal persecution.

[10] Psalm 101: 8

[11] Pope Pius X. Pascendi Dominici Gregis. 8 September 1907.

[12] I paraphrase the third chapter of Chesterton’s Orthodoxy: “The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone.” https://www.pagebypagebooks.com/Gilbert_K_Chesterton/Orthodoxy/The_Suicide_of_Thought_p1.html

[13] I owe this paraphrase, and by extension the earliest seeds of inpsiration for this entire essay, to this tweet by Joe Gehret: https://twitter.com/joegehret/status/935889134538850304

[14] The original text gives “Jupiter,” which is a Latinization of Donar, also known as Thor, the Germanic warrior-god of hammer renown.

[15] Willibald of Mainz, 8th Century, translated by George W. Robinson, 1916, The Life of Saint Boniface by Willibald. Harvard University Press. https://archive.org/details/lifeofsaintboni00robiuoft

Header image: Caspar David Friedrich: Hünengrab am Meer, 1807.

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