Richard Dawkins and I have something in common: we have both read A Universe from Nothing, by physicist Lawrence Krauss. Krauss invited Dawkins, a renowned atheist, to write the afterword to his book, released in 2012. Although Krauss did not invite me to share my thoughts as well, I do want to point out some fundamental philosophical misunderstandings in his book in order to help those who are not as well versed in physics and cosmology to understand this threat (or lack thereof) to theism.

The book attempts to answer the question “why is there something rather than nothing?” His approach is typical of a materialist, invoking science to answer a philosophical question. “In science we have to be particularly cautious about ‘why’ questions. When we ask, ‘Why?’ we usually mean ‘How?’ If we can answer the latter, that generally suffices our purposes.”[1] Krauss rewords the question in order to avoid two aspects that he sees as implicitly suggested in “why” questions: purpose and progression, as if there were a reason for everything and “as if we were the pinnacle of creation.”[2] Krauss paints a bleak future, in which “nothingness will once again reign.”[3] He finds “a universe without purpose or guidance” to be “invigorating.”[4] What can I say? I most certainly don’t. Perhaps for now we may agree to disagree, while I address the concepts of nothing and everything. Then we will revisit this question. (For the sake of clarity, whenever the word nothing is emphasized in any way, it refers to the philosophical concept of nothing, as opposed to the way we use the word on a daily basis in English.)

First of all, nothing needs to be understood correctly. “By nothing,” Krauss says, “I do not mean nothing, but rather nothing—in this case, the nothingness we normally call empty space.”[5] Recent physicists have discovered that space, apparently empty, actually has quantum fluctuations that can give rise to the sudden appearance of particles. So what? Empty space is not nothing; it’s something, namely, empty space. Krauss would disagree: “Surely ‘nothing’ is every bit as physical as ‘something,’ especially if it is to be defined as the ‘absence of something.’”[6] Yes, empty space is a physical reality, yet it is by no means nothing. Because empty space exists, it is something. It is permeated by fields, such as the gravitational field, and may also contain virtual particles, which may receive enough energy to become actual particles. In all our experience, something has always come from something. Krauss seems to understand empty space as something, but he insists on calling it a version of nothing. “By analogy,”[7] then, he attempts to “extend this argument to the case where space itself is forced into existence.”[8] If empty space is something, however, his analogy does not work.

On the other end of the spectrum, Krauss has a reductionist view of everything, which, he claims, comprises the universe. “After all,” he says, “traditionally the notion of universe has become synonymous with ‘everything that exists.’”[9] Krauss assumes that all things which exist are physical. He cannot seem to understand the notion of there being anything else: “The central problem with the notion of creation is that it appears to require some externality, something outside of the system itself, to preexist, in order to create the conditions necessary for the system to come into being.”[10] The real problem is with his artificial concept of the universe. He heaps “everything that exists” together, but does not acknowledge that there could be distinct ways of existing. For example, galaxies, thought, and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization all exist. Krauss, whether he is aware of it or not, is packing much more into the idea of universe than the way most people understand it. I would venture to say that the majority of people understand “universe” as the material universe, namely, all existing matter, energy, and space-time considered as a whole. This does not mean that nothing else could exist. It just would not be part of the universe. In this way there really is no problem with requiring “some externality.”

A separate objection Krauss has is that he sees no “difference between arguing in favor of an eternally existing creator versus an eternally existing universe without one?”[11] If the universe can explain itself, we have no need for God. But can the universe explain itself? Many cosmologists today are turning to some version of a theory of a “multiverse, either in the form of a landscape of universes existing in a host of extra dimensions, or in the form of a possibly infinitely replicating set of universes in a three-dimensional space as in the case of eternal inflation.”[12] There are probably other versions of the multiverse theory out there, as well. Ultimately, it does not matter what theory we want to talk about, because it comes down to something deeper. Whatever exists, exists; and whatever does not, does not. Why should anything exist anyway? Why is there something rather than nothing? At last we have come around to face this question. Because there is something rather than nothing, something has to exist by necessity. Could this be the universe, or could it only be God?

If the universe is the ultimate necessary being, then it can explain its own existence and could not have been otherwise. First of all, although the universe has some principles of unity and is considered as a whole, it should not be considered as one thing; it is rather a collection of material things. Our experience tells us that the material things which comprise the universe are contingent, which means they do not explain their own existence and could have been otherwise. For example, if I were to ask, “Why is there a dandelion growing in the parking lot?” the answer “Because it’s a dandelion!” is insufficient. One must recognize that it grew from a seed that had ended up in the little crack in the asphalt. And where did that seed come from? Another dandelion. What about that dandelion? We could go back further, and eventually, if only we knew the answer for sure, we might come to say that the first dandelion evolved from a different species of living thing, and that the first living thing came from organic compounds, and we could keep going back all the way to the Big Bang. Why was there a Big Bang? “Because it’s a Big Bang!” is not a sufficient answer. Could we find anything that sufficiently explains its own existence? No material thing, for that matter. Thus all material things are contingent. They could have not existed at all. If there were no matter, no energy, and no space-time, there would be no material universe.

If the universe exists, whether it had a beginning in time or not, it is because something non-material brought it into existence. This non-material thing would have to be non-contingent, too. It would have to explain its own existence. The very essence of this being must be to exist—or better yet, to BE. This is God, who out of nothing created the material universe—creatio ex nihilo. That is why there is something rather than nothing. Why does God exist? Because he’s God! If we understand what it means to be God, then we can see that he explains his own existence.

More questions should now arise. What is God? If he exists and is all-good and all-powerful, then why is there evil in the world? Is the God who created the universe the same as the God the Christians believe in? These are questions well worth answering, but they would be topics for another discussion. The question Lawrence Krauss wanted to answer was “Why is there something rather than nothing?” We have seen that he customized the key terms of that question and then set out to answer a different question entirely.  Facing the original question with all honesty, I have found a different answer. It would deserve an entire book, but for now let this treatment suffice.

Br Joseph teaches humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit:   Skiwalker79 on Flickr

With many people I talk to I find that, other than Mass and prayers before meals, there is not much time devoted specifically to prayer. We all need to be closer to God and ultimately we want to go to heaven; but to do this, we need a lot of help, and a great means highly advised by the Church is daily meditation, or mental prayer.  But why meditate every day? Isn’t Sunday Mass enough?

When I was in high school I asked out the little sister of one of my best friends. We liked each other and it was so exciting, “going out”. So… the next day I saw her as usual, we talked as usual—it was great! The Valentine’s Day Dance came around and I never quite got up the nerve to ask her to go with me, but that was okay.  We danced, and we were already going out, right? Several weeks later I finally asked her out on a date and it went over a lot worse than I had expected. The date floundered and we ended up joining our group of friends to hang out instead. She broke up with me the week after. I was baffled and crestfallen. What had happened?! It was going so well!

I asked her about it several years later, since we are still good friends, and she reminded me of the one time I had called her house. She picked up the phone, all excited when she heard it was me, but then I asked to speak to her brother. I never called her; we never communicated outside of seeing each other at school as we normally did; that had killed the relationship. If you never go out of your way to talk to God, can you really get to know him? If you don’t dedicate some specific time to speaking with him, being with him, how will you ever achieve the heights of happiness: communion with God in the depths of your soul? Mass is important, indeed, paramount, but more is needed.

To start, set apart 15 minutes every day to be with God, and commit to it. Ultimately, you learn to pray by praying, but just to get you going, here are three prayer tips from Blessed John Paul II on how to pray well:

First, begin by realizing that you are in God’s presence. God loves you infinitely. He knows you better than you know yourself; he cares about you and what you have to say and he wants to tell you something each time you pray. This is key to praying well.

Second, we need to achieve deep interior silence. This is tough, and it requires us to cut down on all the noise we take in, making time to be alone with God in our hearts. But more than that, it implies looking not for ourselves in prayer, but only for the Lord, in self-giving, seeking union with His will. Don’t worry, it takes a long time and much purification to perfectly achieve it, but that is the attitude and desire we must go to prayer with.

Lastly, we need to be ourselves in prayer. Prayer is eminently personal; it is not a skill but a relationship being cultivated between you and him. There needs to be a place in your prayer to tell God everything, even your sins and weaknesses, and ask for strength for yourself and others.

If you struggle in life like I do; if you want to find that happiness you long for deep down; if you want to get closer to God, there is only one way. Start praying, get in touch with the Source of all strength, he whom your heart was made for; make time for God. Prayer is the solution: it’s not easy, but it’s fulfilling.

Br Christopher studies humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: Josh Kenzer on flickr

Back when thy voice first sounded strong,

Came piercing through my plight,

Darkness! All was darkness!

And thou, mine only light.

Thou badest — I did answer and

I let the sail flap free.

Rope and oar forgotten,

I stepped and made towards thee.

The waves rose round my trembling tread,

My shaken, troubled way;

Tired, lost, unheeding,

Mine eyes from thee did stray.

The greedy froth about me bit;

Mine only hope a cry:

“Save me! Wilt thou save me?

Thou canst and cannot I.”

Br Eric teaches humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: Bill_Liao on Flickr

Les Miserables is one of the greatest literary masterpieces of all time (and also one of the biggest, a real brick). It also holds first place among my favorite books. As I finished it up for a second time a few weeks ago, I put it down with a deep sense of satisfaction for two reasons. First of all, I had finished a 1200 page book, which is an accomplishment in itself. Second of all and more importantly, it had changed me. But why? Was it just a nice story, or was there something deeper? I felt like there was something deep inside me that the book touched. As a humanist who is studying the heart of man, I started to do some thinking.

Les Miserables causes, in my not-so-humble opinion, a greater catharsis than any other book ever written. Aristotle in his Poetics calls a catharsis the proper ordering of emotions. He goes on to give four basic emotions: pity, joy, hope, and fear. As a great story, Les Miserables touches all of these emotions throughout the story, but I think the one it touches most strongly and most deeply is pity. This is important for two reasons.

First of all, pity is extremely important for all of us trying to form a heart like Christ’s. In Les Miserables, you can’t help but feel for Jean Valjean as he tries to break with a life of crime and start a new life on the straight and narrow. You suffer with him as he runs and hides from his past, which he can never seem to escape from. You learn compassion. You learn to be like a priest, taking on the sinner’s struggle for sanctity. The suffering of Valjean’s soul becomes more and more your own with every page you turn.

Second of all, pity is important for any human being. We have grown up in a world of violence: violence in the news, violence in movies, violence in TV shows, violence in video games. We become desensitized. Our hearts can be hardened toward suffering. Our culture of Facebook and texting impersonalizes the world and makes us incapable of real friendship, distancing us from each other.  A catharsis of pity breaks your heart, but it also renews and reorders us. Through suffering our heart is broken. The more our heart is broken, the more opportunities we have to become human because we are able to love more deeply and more genuinely.

You don’t have to take my word for it. Pope Francis in his Lenten letter to the Archdiocese of Buenos Aires before he was elected Pope, spoke about rending your heart. “Rend your hearts so that through this opening we can truly see.  Rend your hearts, open your hearts, because only with [such a] heart can we allow the entry of the merciful love of the Father, who loves us and heals us…  Changing our way of living is both a sign and fruit of a torn heart, reconciled by a love that overwhelms us. Rend your hearts to hear the echo of so many torn lives, so that indifference [to suffering] does not paralyze us.”

“In the beginning,” man was made in God’s likeness. To become more human means to become more Godlike. When our heart is broken, God is able to slip in through the cracks and penetrate places where before we had Do Not Enter signs. Because God’s presence increases, so does our love.

To sum it all up, it was worth carrying the brick around. It can seem like a daunting task, but to all those who have not gone on the 1200 page journey, I encourage you whole-heartedly. I can tell you from my own experience: it broke my heart… which is a good thing.

Br Thomas studies humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: Guillermo Galan

                Here in Cheshire we have a little pond, probably twice the size of a normal backyard pool. When winter rolls around, it usually freezes over if the temperature gets low enough. But the pond does not always completely freeze. There are often little patches of unfrozen water here and there.

Once on a cold January day I was taking a pleasant stroll outside. It was during our month of exams, and as it was strangely warm, I was enjoying the fresh air. I noticed a group of novices gathered around the edge of the pond and one novice going to and fro on the well-frozen section (a novice is one who is discerning the vocation and preparing to take religious vows).

To my utter surprise I saw him attempting to cross the whole pond. He drew near to the other side as the rest of the novices cheered him on. But the opposite side was not completely frozen. What could he have been thinking?! Maybe he wanted to see how far he could get. Who knows? Then, the inevitable happened. His right foot plunged into the frigid waters as all the ice around him shattered. And then he disappeared under the ice, but quickly reemerged. He was in his cassock and soaked to the bone. I just laughed and continued on my way.

Now I know where we get our expression, walking on thin ice. This little event spoke clearly to me of the need to avoid the thin ice in our lives, those spots where we are more prone to fall into sin and temptation. We think we can make it over to the other side without falling in or getting wet. But the wiser solution might be to stay away altogether. Don’t we pray in the Our Father, “and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”? While it’s easy to laugh at others’ imprudence, we sometimes aren’t so keen to notice our own stupidity when we risk plunging into the icy waters of sin.

Br John studies humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: Nomadic_Lass on Flickr

Santiago de Chile, 6:30 pm. Sitting and reading on the green grass atop a hill, as the last rays of the setting sun bathed the wide sweep of Santiago far below in gold… Little was I prepared for scene two: the curtain was coming down on my evening of tranquility and quiet reading – perhaps forever. Although I didn´t hear the muffled footsteps behind me, I was not alone.

I don´t know how many people have assured me that Santiago de Chile is a very secure city – a remarkably safe, an impressively safe place to live. I was easily convinced, and it wasn´t hard to believe it, especially while you walked through some of the nicer parts of the city and gazed up at towering high-rises shimmering in the sunlight. Why, of course! But somehow, a vague suspicion still lingered in my mind. Maybe it had something to do with the odd way the locals had of surrounding their property with 15 foot fences topped with spikes, razor wire, electric lines, or everything at once. Hmmmm. This was problem one.

Another question arose when I heard about a poll which established that an optimistic 75% of Americans think that they will go to heaven when they die. When asked to vote whether they thought that Mother Teresa went to heaven or not, another study showed that again 75% thought she did. That’s quite generous of them, but when you put those two numbers together it basically comes down to Mother Teresa having nothing on us. Actually, it was a pleasant surprise to find out that we are a nation of saints; that we the people are cheerfully crowding up the straight and narrow path in droves. Is it really that easy? Why are we so optimistic? Problem two.

Back to the hill. From behind a clump of brush about five yards away came a guy in a blue shirt and dirty jeans. I knew something was wrong – the way the guy was looking at the ground, saying nothing – just coming on fast. Dropping my book, I got to my feet as the shifty man closed in.

“Good afternoon?” I ventured in imperfect but understandable Spanish. Shifty, only feet away, just mumbled something about water, and then raised his head. His dark brown eyes were narrowed and menacing. This guy meant business.

It all happened before I could react. Shifty grabbed something from his pocket and swung it straight at me. Another figure jumped in from the right. At that same instant I felt a hand from behind grab onto my shirt collar, and cold steel pressed against my neck.

“Give me your money!” the guy in front of me demanded in a harsh voice. Finding myself effectively surrounded, I meekly emptied my pockets (which contained nothing but a handkerchief and a Rosary), explaining that I was a seminarian and had no money. The desperados rejected the hanky, but one of them grabbed the Rosary. Once they realized that indeed there was no money they let me go and began to head off.

But wait – they still have my Rosary. “Hey,” I yelled out, “and my Rosary?” Perhaps it was because they realized it was of little value, or perhaps some faint fear of God lived on in their hearts; but whatever the motives, one of them returned with the Rosary, and then ran off.

Walking back down the hill, not without a couple of backward glances, I looked out over the glimmering skyscrapers and understood. Santiago de Chile is a very secure city, compared to the rest of South America. Chile has come a long way, but also has a long way to go.

Problem one solved: we tend to see ourselves not for what we are, but for what we are not. We judge ourselves as compared with or opposed to others. And thus we measure objective truths – like crime, sin and forgiveness, heaven and hell – with relative or subjective criteria.

That also resolved problem two. Perhaps we think that being good (or the ticket to heaven) consists in not being bad, when in reality it is something completely different, and so much more. Instead of thinking that we are all right just because we are not “like the rest”, not thieves or crooks, perhaps we should judge ourselves with objective criteria (like the Ten Commandments). Are we truly good?

I am now a wiser and warier person. I still read books atop the hill, but not alone and never after dusk. The chances of another attack are not huge, but still, I don´t want to risk it – I am no Mother Teresa.

Br Michael is currently on a period of apostolic internship working with youth groups in Chile.

Photo credit: alobos Life on Flickr

Br Joseph A’Hearn, LC

The old clutches of death never failed to grab hold

Of the strongest of fighters, no matter how bold.

It’s no wonder the news caught the world by surprise

At the hint that from death any man could arise.

Crucifixion and scourging, a crown full of thorns—

Not to mention fatigue and the insults and scorns.

How few men can stand up when they’re beaten with rods!

Only those who are granted the strength that is God’s.

Could the nails keep him down and compel him to lose?

And could death overpower the King of the Jews?

One of them, to make sure that the victim had died,

Gripped a lance and, releasing it, punctured his side.

‘Twas a bone-chilling death. His disciples felt doomed,

When they took down the corpse and our Jesus entombed.

Then they hid and they wept out a river of tears.

They forgot or they doubted he’d conquer their fears.

So they waited a day and they talked of the news,

Putting pieces together, but finding no clues.

What a waste of a life if this Jesus was fake!

They had left nets and homes. Now their lives were at stake.

In the meantime the Chief Priests positioned a guard

At the tomb, so that stealing the body’d be hard.

And the sun set again, bowing out to the West,

As a sign of the end of that Sabbath of rest.

Mary Magdalene came, and in utter dismay,

Briskly froze in her tracks, saw the stone rolled away.

Who had stolen his body? How could she have missed?

Now her hopes all seemed crushed like dry leaves in a fist.

Neither Peter nor John, when they came on the scene,

Could agree to decipher yet what it could mean.

So they left her in tears at the peak of her plight.

She would not be consoled by the young men in white.

Then the gardener appeared as a man mild and meek,

“Woman, why do you cry and for whom do you seek?”

“Sir,” she said, “Tell me where his dead body might lie,

To anoint him with oil, as befits men who die.”

She broke down again, weeping for what seemed like days.

When her tears had dried up, her sad eyes met his gaze.

But the gardener’s deep eyes were aglow like a flame,

And he stared with a smile, and he called out her name.

No, it wasn’t the gardener, but Jesus right there.

He has risen from death, so believe if you dare.

That’s the story of God. That’s the story of love.

That’s the story of fallen man saved from above.

Now the trumpets are blasting; the flags are unfurled.

This is news not to hide but to tell to the world.

For if Jesus has risen, he’s God, tried and true.

No, it can’t just be kept as a personal view.

For if Jesus is God and he’s risen again,

What could stop our becoming a new kind of men?

He has given us strength from an undying source.

As his faith-filled disciples, we’ll harness this force.

We can walk in the light and have nothing to fear—

Neither shadows nor death—with our God always near.

He has offered his life for each one as a friend,

But he’s taught us through dying that death’s not the end.

In our lives here on Earth we can fight and we’ll thrive.

No, we can’t keep our silence. We feel so alive.

And we can’t be contained, but there’s nothing to hide

Because nothing can stop us with God on our side.

It’s a treasure we have, and it’s not to our health

Should we keep it inside, should we not share the wealth.

He’s entrusted a mission to us. The first phase

Is to spread the Good News till the world’s set ablaze.

But since we know the story, we often forget

The surprise that alone he emerged from the pit.

The disciples were clueless. They thought he was gone.

May we never get used to the joy of this dawn.

And remember, when seeing the rolled-away stone,

We are not left to wander; we’re not left alone.

Jesus touches the wounds in the depths of our soul.

As he makes all things new, he now renders us whole.

Br Joseph teaches humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: Samuraijohnny on Flikr

There is a profound difference between those who live life intentionally, with purpose, and those who let life come at them, content to simply accept circumstances and pass the time.

In the iconic motion picture The Matrix, a compelling scene takes place towards the beginning of the film. A man named Neo is brought into a dark living room with two chairs, as rain falls outside. The stillness is broken by Morpheus speaking to Neo. As they sit down, he offers Neo the chance to seize reality, to be literally “unplugged” from the computer program he has unwittingly been living in all his life. This matrix program allows people to live an ordinary life in the computer, while their real bodies sit in liquid-filled coffins hooked up to energy-sucking tubes that power the artificial-intelligences who are their overlords! Pretty scary concept.

Here’s the catch: if you choose to exit the matrix, you have to live in the real world, a dark, horrible place run by nefarious, blood-sucking, human-hating, planet-destroying computers! (By the way, the Xerox machine here at our seminary is pretty incorrigible as it is, so I don’t even want to imagine it waking up one day and deciding on purpose to cause trouble.) So what does Neo decide? Of course he opts to leave the matrix and stand up to all evil Xerox machines and their sci-fi, futuristic, cyber descendents. That’s why he’s the hero!

Like Neo, we have each been plugged into a reality. None of us chooses the location or circumstances of our birth. We are placed in a century not of our own choosing. And we have each been given a set of physical, mental, emotional, and psychological characteristics.

Like Neo, each of us at some point will confront difficult questions: “How will I live my life? What use will I make of the circumstances I find myself in? Will I live to please God or to please myself?” Perhaps the worst response to this question is no response at all. Even Joshua of the Old Testament tells the Israelites that they must make a choice of some kind. Joshua 24:14-15: “Now, therefore, fear the LORD and serve him completely and sincerely…If it is displeasing to you to serve the LORD, choose today whom you will serve, the gods your ancestors served beyond the river or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are dwelling…”

God has set the span of our lives at a few score years, at best. Why then do we live as if our lives on this earth are forever? What do we hope to gain by putting off the tough decisions of life in favor of the present pleasant circumstances? It is folly, and I too am foolish. Don’t wait! Don’t let life pass you by! Every day is an opportunity to do good, to serve the Lord, and advance on our pilgrimage to heaven. Let’s not make God pull his hair out as he watches us squander our lives on things of trivial importance. And let’s not be afraid to decide to enter the battle against evil; the Lord is on our side, so bring on that Xerox machine!

Deuteronomy 30: 16-20a: “If you obey the commandments of the LORD… the LORD, your God, will bless you in the land you are entering to posses. If, however, your heart turns away and you do not obey, but are led astray and bow down to other gods and serve them, I tell you today that you will certainly perish… I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, loving the LORD, your God, obeying his voice, and holding fast to him.”

Br Erik studies humanities at the Legion’s novitiate and college of humanities in Cheshire, Connecticut.

Photo credit: David.Asch on flickr

The following dialogue follows the structure of Joseph Ratzinger’s expositions in The Yes of Jesus Christ: Exercises in Faith, Hope and Love (Crossroad Publishers, New York 2005), which are also published as the last part of Christianity and the Crisis of Cultures (LEV / San Francisco: Ignatius 2006). Of course, this conversation between Benedict XVI and a young agnostic never actually took place, but if it did, here’s what it might have looked like.

John: Holy Father, thank you for the conversation we had last time.  It really helped me to get some ideas straight.  But there are many questions remaining…

Benedict: There will always be questions.

John: What do you mean?

Benedict: Well, were you thinking that faith could give you complete security about everything?

John: It seemed to me that it was so.  At least you seem to have a lot of security from your faith, since through it you can know God and his will for you.

Benedict: True, but not in the way you would think.  You see, faith can never give you the certainty of “scientific knowledge”. Moreover, faith is the fundamental act of Christian existence; it answers the question about how we can be truly human, about how we can fulfill our destiny.

John: Okay, I have to admit that that sounds pretty nice.  But if faith can’t give us scientific certainty it is reduced to something transitory and we will have to continue looking for something beyond it that really answers our questions.  Obviously without falling into some kind of existentialism where everything just seems so absurd because I cannot explain what I am here for.

Benedict: Good, I see you have thought over this quite a bit.  Now just allow me a question – it may seem strange at first, but trust me – in the end it will widen your horizons considerably.

John: Are you implying that my outlook is somewhat limited?

Benedict: Don’t take it personally.  Everyone in our society is somehow limited by it, since we were thought to perceive the world this way: I’m talking about our scientific world view, the unconditional trust in technology and scientific certainty.

John: I knew it!  The Church says science is bad and has nothing to do with faith.  Excuse me, but frankly, that is senseless.

Benedict: Wait…  First, let me ask you my question: Do see my iPad here?  Where is it…?  Ah, here.  Look at it.  Can you explain to me how it works?

John: Well, Holy Father, that is not too difficult.  Do you see this little button here?  You press it, and then…

Benedict: I’ve gotten that far.  That is how you turn it on…

John: And then you can use the touch screen to navigate the different programs and to type text and so forth.

Benedict: You seem to know what you’re talking about.  But how exactly does the touch screen work?  I mean, there must be sensors there or something similar.

John: I happen to have a cousin who works at Apple designing the screens.  He told me that it is a rather ingenious system, with separate layers of a conductive material which obviously have to be transparent. There are actually many different types…

Benedict: I really wish I had someone like you on my staff to explain all those things to me.  You really seem to be an expert regarding touch screens.  But the real expert is your cousin, and you’re just tapping into his knowledge.  Now, could you also explain to me how the electric supply works or how the operating system is programmed?

John: Well, as I told you, my cousin works for Apple, but these are not the areas he specializes in.  Nonetheless, if I told him you were interested he could ask some of his colleagues and they could give you very precise explanations.

Benedict: Thank you for the offer.  But this is not really my main concern now.  As long as my iPad works, I’m happy.  What I really wanted to get at with my question – just in case you were wondering – is that, in the end, for our everyday life we rely on the knowledge of experts and scientists such as your cousin.

John: Without them we would really get nowhere.

Benedict: Still, you would have to admit that our knowledge of these technical things is also something rather transitory.  Even one scientist can’t know absolutely everything science has to offer.  Nor can he – and much less we – verify experimentally all of his colleagues’ claims.

John: You have a point.  But I really believe we can trust those scientists.  I mean, what else could we do?  And in the end they mostly turn out to be right: you press the button and the iPad turns on!

Benedict: Wait a second: You just used the words “believe” and “trust” talking about science.  So even for science we need some sort of faith that lets us participate in the others’ knowledge.

John: I guess so…

Benedict: So what about the “scientific certainty” you implored earlier?

John: Well, now that I think about it…  We really depend a lot on others so that we can have reliable scientific knowledge.  I mean, we can’t really start from scratch every time we want to discover something new.  We just have to trust that others got it right and build on that.  That is a prerequisite for certainty.

Benedict: Absolute certainty?

John: Certainty.  To make its absolute, well, let me think…  You really would have to go all the way back to check the scientific foundations you are building on.

Benedict: Okay.  So much for science.  But how about the question we were talking about earlier?  How can we be truly human; how can we fulfill our destiny?

John: Can faith give you those answers?  Your thoughts on scientific knowledge throw me off track.  I used to think, I mean, I hoped that there would be absolutely certain answers.  But If we can’t even have certainty there…

Benedict: Now, don’t despair.  On the one hand, faith is a gift God can always give you as a supernatural grace.

John: But, he hasn’t!

Benedict: Wait.  We just saw that we can have some sort of certainty in science.  Enough, or to be precise, more than enough. This allows you to lead a normal life without ever falling into an existential crisis because you are unsure if your iPad will turn on or not when you press the button.

John: You mean that I can also have a faith that is good enough to live?  But, wait a minute: your example of science is not too accurate.  I mean, I can’t think of any experiments to verify faith.  And faith is just about me and God, so there are no intermediates!

Benedict: It’s okay, John.  Let me just give you some thoughts on your objections.  First: We are never alone before God.  We are in the Church, a community of believers.  Some of our fellow believers have a closer relation to God.  We call them saints.  They are our experts on God.  And then we have the head of the Church.

John: The Pope?  Thinking of it, he really should be an expert in faith.

Benedict: Sorry, I was not clear about that.  CHRIST is the head of the Church.  The Pope is just his vicar here on earth.

John: Good thing that you clarified that. No living man could presume to be omniscient regarding the faith – as you implied before.

Benedict: Back to the point: in the end, we faithful all use the “knowledge” of the saints who were close to Christ, the Son of God who reveals the Father to us.  He came “so that we might believe”.

John: That is a beautiful thought…  Believers actually share in each other’s faith, and ultimately in Christ’s relationship with God.

Benedict: That’s why we always form a community of believers.  Anyway, as for your other objection – what was it again?

John: That there are no experiments to verify faith.

Benedict: Are there none?  Did you ever try it?

John: Actually, I have.  I mean, I prayed for the healing of a friend but nothing happened…  There was no miracle.

Benedict: Probably because God doesn’t always use miracles.  But actually, I was thinking about a much “simpler” way to experience the truth of faith.  Live it.  Don’t just think about if it is true or is it scientifically certain or not.  Not even science can give you scientific certainty like the one most people today proclaim to have.  Just trust and try the faith!  I can guarantee you: you will verify your “knowledge” of the faith by your lived experience.

John: I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

Benedict: I understand.  Just think about it: when you live your faith you are never completely without security, just like in science…  And you can certainly count on my prayers.

John: Thank you so much, Holy Father.

Benedict: See you soon!

Br László currently serves as an assistant to the Instructor of Novices in Cheshire, CT 

Photo Credit: M.Mazur/www.thepapalvisit.org.uk on Flikr

I would like to share a little bit of my “live” experience here in Rome after the white smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel.

The Smoke

At around 5:30 I went down to our computer room (where there are about 50 computers or so) to study for an upcoming midterm exam. About three computers were set up to show live feeds of the chimney, just in case the white smoke signal came. As we studied and occasionally glanced up, the only thing that the cameras showed were seagulls perched on top of the chimney, but no smoke.

At 7:00, study came to an end, and some of us gathered around the computer screens, waiting for what was to come. Would it be black smoke or white? (Black would mean the election had been indecisive; white would mean we had a pope).  7:01, nothing, and getting antsy; 7:02, wondering what’s going on, the camera panning out to show a crowded Saint Peter’s square; 7:03, still nothing… 7:04… smoke.

A brother said, “It’s black… well, maybe grayish…” But then, the other brothers huddling around the other screens shouted, “It’s white! It’s white! It’s white!”

Screens showed crowds jumping up and down, umbrellas and flags waving in the air, the bells of St. Peter’s ringing… the whole city shook with the news! Of course we have a new pope, let´s get going!

The Stampede

At 7:05 the bells around the house started ringing, and all 300 brothers ran all through the house to the door, waiting for the buses to take us to Saint Peter’s. Imagine 300 Olympic runners in the hundred meter dash; or a Matrix film, hundreds of cassocks flying in the air! Some ran to the train station while others stood in shock. Others got car keys and drove away to the square. The majority of us filled the buses, and went off to meet our new pope. Thanks to our bus driver’s skill, we managed to beat Rome traffic and got there in about twenty minutes.

Cars were flying Vatican flags. People ran through the streets to the square. Our bus parked a short distance from Saint Peter’s Square. We jumped back into the race. Even two brothers who were on crutches a few days ago were seen running through the streets of Rome. I stopped one and asked, “I thought you were injured… what’s going on?” He responded, “I don’t know, maybe this Pope’s miraculous!”

As we went running through the streets, shopkeepers stepped out to shout, “Auguri (congratulations)!” We made it within the columns of Saint Peter’s Square by 7:50. Everyone was there: Americans, Latin Americans, Chinese and Germans, Italians, Filipinos, Czechs and Polish, priests and nuns, seminarians, religious, newscasters, journalists, photographers, the Swiss Guard and the Carabinieri (Italian police), etc. Everyone was there to meet our new pope!

The Announcement

By 8:00, tension kept rising. People asked us what was going to happen. Others were silently praying in the background. 8:10 came and one of the cardinals came onto the balcony. At once the crowd roared with a cheer louder than anything I have heard before! Cardinal Tauran announced in Latin that our new pope was Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who had chosen the name Francis. Everyone started to clap again.

“It’s because we didn’t expect him,” they said. “We don’t even know who he is.”

I looked at one of the other Legionaries next to me, and I asked, “Do you know him?”

“Bergoglio? I’ve never heard of him before.” It was a shock to us all, yet a beautiful shock. It’s a clear sign that God’s ways are not ours. None of the “favorites” were chosen. The media was caught off guard and so were about 75% of the people in the square. Then we heard he was from Argentina. Argentina? Wow. Never would’ve guessed. But then a roar of cheers started, “Francesco, Francesco, Francesco!!!” Who cared if we didn’t know him personally, he was our pope, and deserved our love!

Aftermath

The next day I dedicated my hour of prayer to praying about our new pope, about what I felt during the whole announcement, and what God expects of him and of us.

Thinking his first words, I came to the conclusion that God has given us a pope of utmost simplicity of heart. The kindness that came from his voice that night touched me deeply. I felt that he was putting his whole heart into each of his words. He is a pope who will, I think, catch people off guard, and touch their hearts in a special way.

He chose Francis as his name, in honor of St Francis of Assisi. Why? Gospel poverty? Simplicity of heart? Charity? Instrument of peace? Hmm. Well, perhaps all of those, at least according to what I experienced when I saw him that first time. If Benedict XVI was the humble worker in the Lord’s vineyard, for whom I am very grateful, Pope Francis may well be the instrument of peace and simplicity. I don’t know exactly how things will turn out. We’ll have to wait and see.

Br Jaime studies philosophy at Regina Apostolorum University in Rome.

Photo Credit: by Giampaolo Macorig on Flickr