I had hoped to write a letter immediately following the Christmas break, but no sooner was I back in Rome than the exam period was upon us.
The university schedule here is unusual to say the least: with exams now behind me, I have only a five day break until second semester begins. Nonetheless, I did get to have a break from the oddities of the Roman way over Christmas as I travelled to the historic college town of Leuven in Belgium for a couple of weeks’ holiday.
The North American College has a sister seminary in Leuven (which was actually founded earlier), and the respective students often swap colleges over the Christmas break for a change of pace.
The charming architecture and ever-present snow made the town look like something out of a traditional Christmas card. I was contemplating celebrating my first white Christmas by building a snowman in the college yard, yet one of my college mates went one step further by building an igloo! And so it was that I celebrated the vigil by enjoying a glass of wine in a Belgian igloo with six friends at 10.30pm on Christmas Eve.
There was some poignancy to the visit in that the NAC has considerably outgrown her older sister in Leuven of late, to the point that the American Bishops have decided to close the Leuven seminary after the current school year.
Furthermore, having some time outside the enclave of Rome drove home some big-picture trends regarding the faith in Europe that I find equally poignant. For starters, I lost count of the number of tremendous old churches I saw in Belgium that have in recent years been converted (not particularly tastefully) into what are essentially museums of religious art.
I’m not the first to observe that being in the Church sometimes feels like being part of a big messy family. It has its warts, but ultimately we owe it for so much of what we hold most dear. Nonetheless, much of Europe these days seems to be playing the role of the rebellious teenager who no longer wants to be part of the family. It’s sad, particularly given that the landscape is covered with family heirlooms – monuments to a time when the family seemed to make more sense to the wider culture.
It’s also sad, knowing that post-Christian Europe is unlikely to last long in its current state. Committed Christians will probably become what Pope Benedict calls a “creative minority”, while the growing Muslim minority will likely assume greater prominence (if shifting demographics are any indication).
As for the aggressive hyper-secularists, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran out of puff fairly early in the piece. After all, we humans do not last long without meaning, and while militant secularism may seem vigorous next to half-believing Christians, its inherent meaninglessness is unlikely to be much of a match for the deep religious convictions of a prominent Islamic presence in Europe.
In the meantime, the more that post-Christian societies distance themselves from their Christian inheritance, the uglier they get.
It’s as though, embarrassed by the perceived baggage of their Christian heritage, they feel the need to throw out anything even remotely connected to this heritage, which unfortunately includes some of the most salutary aspects of our humanity. Who knows, maybe the early stages of all this will jolt folks into realising just how much they are letting slip away.
Indeed, the palpable lack of confidence in much of Europe, evidenced in the remarkable shrinking birth rate (perhaps the ultimate marker of a culture’s hope in the future), is a sign that many here sense that something is amiss.
Regardless, I’m bracing myself to be part of a creative minority – the metaphorical leaven in the loaf – striving to cultivate communities wherein beauty, truth and goodness may flourish and radiate out to transform the wider world.
Of course, I have daily evidence of my own inadequacy in the face of such lofty ideals. In my better moments, I know my utter dependence on God if I seek to take part in that which is my deepest desire. At other times, my pride can render me more-or-less useless. Please pray for me, and for those alongside me: we Christians may believe that the victory is already won, but that does not mean that our role within its unfolding is smooth sailing.