lost piece iii final leaves

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LOST PIECEan undergraduate journal of letters

VOLUME I, ISSUE IIIWorth All The While

LOST PIECE: Issue IIIXS

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No part of this journal may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, record-ing, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the Editor–In–Chief except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The works included in this journal are printed with explicit permission of their authors.

Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Letters The University of Notre Dame Center for Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

an undergraduate journal of lettersXS



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Stephen LechnerEditor in Chief

Raymond KorsonSupporting Editor

Josef KuhnConor Rogers

Editors

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Table of ContentsLost Piece: Issue III

Something of a Mission StatementFrom the Editors ...................................................................................5

Meet the WritersLost Piece ...............................................................................................6

The Virtue of Values and the Value of VirtuesRaymond Korson ...................................................................................8

Virtue for the Postmodern ChildPeter Hlabse ...........................................................................................17

Transports of the Forgone ManJosef Kuhn ..............................................................................................22

Leaning not LearningNicholas Brandt .....................................................................................22

On Notre Dame Student Values: What Comes FirstStephen Lechner .....................................................................................24

Rev. William Corby, C.S.C.: Father of RespectJohn Kelley .............................................................................................30

The 21st Century GunslingerRaymond LeGrand ................................................................................38

To the Immaculate ConceptionPatrick Johnson ......................................................................................43

Virtue, Community, and EducationSamuel Cloghessy....................................................................................44

Cards for Mother’s DayScott Posteuca .........................................................................................51

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Something of a Mission StatementFrom the Editors

Lost Piece exists to facilitate undergraduate reading, discussion, and writing of an intellectual nature beyond course curriculum

and without distraction from the grade point average.

Lost Piece seeks to help undergraduates to complement and even unify what they learn in their classes with

their own personally driven intellectual pursuits.

The goal of Lost Piece is to combat mediocrity in all things, and particularly in all things intellectual.

Lost Piece holds that the goods proper to intellec-tual activity are ends in and of themselves and are to be sought regardless of whatever recognitions may or

may not be extrinsically attached to such activity.

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Meet the Writers

These groups have contributed to the writing of the Fall 2010 Edition of Lost Piece. We encourage you, as an undergrad-uate, to contribute your writing to future editions whether indi-vidually or as part of any such intellectual society. You can send your writing and feedback to the editor at [email protected].

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The Program of Liberal Studies: So it turns out that PLS students don’t only like to talk about such trivial things as “free will” or “the meaning of life” as approached through the lens of certain Great Books, but they also like, even need, to engage ideas wherever they can find them. That’s why a few of them got together to watch movies every week, first as a social event and later more as a discussion group. They like to think they are staying true to the spirit of the word “seminar” (which literally means “seedbed”) by holding profound conversa-tions on their own from which they hope to bear the fruits of new ideas, serious dialogue, and lasting friendships.

Istum: (Also called That Thing) Three years ago, a group of friends decided to get together every

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weekend to start a literary society. Its members include students from the Colleges of Arts and Letters, Science, and Engineering, but strangely none from the college of Business. They write, simply put, despite the obvious fact that they are only tyro writ-ers, and they criticize each other’s writing as best they can. One of their goals is to bring back the essay (which literally means “an attempt”) as a form of writing and as a rhetorical work of art. The group takes its name from one of Cicero’s orations.

The Philosophy Club: The Philosophy Club is a group of a few dozen undergraduates who enjoy arguing, using big words, attempting to answer “life’s great questions,” asking more questions, and arguing.

T: T is a group of undergradu-ates who meet together to discuss issues of importance, ranging from theology to philosophy to current issues in any and all fields. It is a casually structured, socially engaging event that welcomes the opportunity to find both common ground and a mul-titude of opinions on topics. And they drink tea, too.

The Orestes Brownson Council: As a club, OBC is focused on better understanding the Catholic intellectual tradition and its interaction with philosophy, politics, and culture. It takes its name from the American Catholic political thinker who is buried in the crypt of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Orestes Brownson.

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The Virtue of Values and the Value of Virtues

An Introduction

Ray KorsonClass of 2011Supporting Editor

Despite a nagging hesitation to indulge an inclination to make a bold, all-encompassing statement on the world and on human nature in general, I will persist for the sake of argument in this introduction. For perhaps there is no better way to initiate a conversation than by making such a broad and accessible assertion as this: everyone values something. I find it highly unlikely that any individual could confess, in all honesty, that he could find nothing of value in this world, not even himself. Even the suicidal man, insofar as he acts rationally, exhibits a genuine sense of personal value by the very fact that he is willing to destroy himself for the sake of freeing himself from a life that is supposedly devoid of any

value. The essential paradox is that the suicidal man values his life enough to end it. I acknowledge that suicide is a delicate and complicated issue and it varies greatly on a case-by-case basis. Therefore, I wish to limit the example to a par-ticular type: the type of suicide in which one decides to kill himself as the result of rational deliberation. Though one may think that this suicidal man disproves the claim that “every-one values something,” I argue that there is a paradox in this instance because the suicidal person cares enough about the state of his existence to do some-thing about it. What I would like to distinguish is the manner by which he chose to preserve the value of his own life. When I make the claim that everyone values something, I say it with the confidence of our shared experience, our

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mutual existence. Whether or not we acknowledge it, life itself contains the gravity of purpose, and though we may be unable to articulate that purpose, we still believe we have it because we have that innate sense of value. Life, therefore, may be described as an odyssey in search of that purpose or in fulfilment of our values. An important notion to keep in mind is the way in which we attain those values. It has been argued that this way is the life of virtue whereas vice is the obstruction of this same way. A life of virtue essentially ensures that these values and the pursuit of them are rightfully ordered and properly obtained. With this in mind, our attention may return to the paradox of the suicidal man who ends his life in order to save it. If the man did not value his life at all, he would not even care enough about his life to end it. Therefore, the suicidal

man reveals the consciousness of his personal value. It is clear, however that the suicidal man was wrong in the manner by which he chose to respect this value because continuing to live would have spoke of a greater reverence or understanding of his personal value. What if the suicidal man em-braced the virtues of humility, patience, love, or hope rather than wallowing in the vices of hopelessness, self-loathing, and despair? Though purely conjec-tural, one may assume that he would have found the strength to persevere despite the despera-tion of his circumstances. In short, though values are invaluable, it is not enough simply to have them because they are only natural. There is value not only in values themselves but also in the way in which those values are sought. There is value in virtue (as opposed to vice) as a life of virtue may be required for

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the proper discernment and appropriation of such values. Yes, everyone values some-thing. But what is it that you value, and how will you go about achieving them? If you are finding it hard to answer, start reading. Perhaps you will delight in Pete’s reflections on the life of virtue in the postmodern era. Stephen’s essay challenging the values and ethical convictions of the Notre Dame community may provoke you. To satisfy your poetic muse, look to Patrick’s poem praising a model of true virtue. And for your intellectual palette, consider reading Sam’s paper on the philosophy of virtue by Alasdair Macintyre and what this means for uni-versity students here and now. If, by chance, none of these works tickle your fancy, take a moment to think about your own set of values and a method by which to obtain them. Everyone has values, even

if they are as sad as those of Raymond’s Gunslinger. They vary from person to person, but I would argue that their acquirement is all grounded in a life of virtue. But don’t take my word for it. I leave this intro-duction to the delight of your own ruminations. Allow it to serve as a rudimentary precursor to the following collection of poems, essays, and papers that effectively expand upon this brief meditation. Or, if you’d rather, let’s have a conversation.

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Virtue for the ‘Postmodern Child’An Essay

Peter HlabseClass of 2011Istum

My evening out off campus, attending a tri-annual religious discernment group was coming to a close when I asked Fr. Pat when our next meeting would be taking place. This would be the date the discernment group would be next scheduled to meet and discuss everything from religious vocations to perhaps why the Notre Dame football team might need to implement a ‘Cover-2’ defensive scheme in the upcoming foot-ball season. He responded and gave a specific date and time – and I knew that if I failed to take some kind of formal note of it in order for me to remem-ber it, I would surely forget it by the time I walked into my dorm room. That said, I pulled out my trusty ‘iPod Touch’ (as any college student that has a Mac probably has), opened the

‘Calendar’ application, scrolled to the date that Fr. Pat had scheduled, and began to enter this event into my iPod Touch. I understood this as a perfectly normal sequence of events (as I’m sure most undergraduates in college would) – this ‘Calendar’ application, after all, is my equivalent of a ‘real’ datebook or whatever traditional method some may be so used to see-ing, expecting, and using. Fr. Pat, upon seeing my digital prowess, interjected somewhat sarcastically, and said, ‘Pete, you Postmodern child!’ Surely, Fr. Pat did not intend his observa-tion to be taken as an attack on a person’s character or the like (and I did not take it as an at-tack in the least!), but the simple fact that he was motivated to respond to such an ordinary habit is worth thinking about – albeit perhaps, for a moment. You very well may have heard someone comment at some

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point that, as subjects of the electronically and efficiency driven culture are so prevalent in the twenty-first century, people (especially young people) have lost the art and thus, the fruits that activities such as participating in solitude and actual/physical/‘face to face’ personal interaction offer. For us Catholic-Christians in the audience, we have prob-ably heard more than a couple homilies touching on how God can be found in the silence. This is undoubtedly true, but it can’t be the only place people can be so moved in a direction that is more virtuous and fruitful than another. Perhaps these same people have offered the opinion that in the wake of this isolating culture in which emailing, texting, Facebook, twitter, and blogging have become the predominant forms of com-munication and ‘interaction’,

people have become less enabled to practice ‘virtuous’ acts. I suppose one could even say that these electronic ‘habits’ have hindered our ability to ‘practice’ virtue on a concretely personal level (this notion of ‘practice’, for those who have not had foundations in philosophy, or for those who have forgotten, or for those that need to be con-stantly reminded – like myself, was an idea first proposed by the Greek philosophers). Certainly these observations should be taken seriously (and I do assent to their validity to an extent), but I would like to offer another perspective, in which both those pre-‘postmodern’ individuals and us ‘postmodern’ children can simply, explic-itly, and successfully practice and propagate ‘virtue’. I would like to re-visit the first sentence of the second paragraph.

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Perhaps this sentence offers an insight into this perceived dilemma of a culture conflicting with a ‘postmodern child’s’ ability to practice virtue. I would like to pose a few ques-tions (the answers to which I will not claim to have – nor will I really try to gain ground on in this essay) : What’s the difference between my being a ‘subject’ and my being a ‘participant’? Am I one or the other – am I both? How are my actions shaped by the culture I am in and a part of? While I will not claim that I can prove whether we are not one and indeed are the other, I believe an examination of the difference of these two vantage

points is crucial in discovering a conducive way by which one does not approach a culture strictly as a ‘subject’ of it, rather than an active ‘participant’ within it – and who’s actions both are shaped and shape the fellow members of the culture. First, let’s set the record straight on what exactly we mean by virtue (at least in this essay). Virtue in this case should be understood as a characteristic of one’s habits – a disposition gained primarily through fundamental personal interaction with other people. That is to say, virtue is a positive characteristic of the way we act. In Latin, one may

“You very well may have heard someone comment that, as subjects of the electronically and efficiency driven culture so prevalent in the twenty-first century, people (especially young people) have lost out on the art and fruits that silence and actual/physical/‘ face to face’ personal interaction offer.”

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be familiar with this notion of ‘ habitus’ – that is, virtue embodies a definite ability for growth through activity. I’ll

turn to one of Notre Dame’s finest, Ralph McInerny (1929-2010) for a clearer explanation than anything I could offer.

The ways, or mediums in which human interactions take place are subject to change. There has been (and still is) a face-to-face interaction. There was and still is the idea of writing a letter.

There was and still is the notion of calling someone on the ‘tele-phone’. But at some point, with the rise of the internet and social networking, emailing, texting, ‘Facebooking’, ‘tweeting’, and

“Thomas [Aquinas], guided by Aristotle, considers such habitual dispositions - virtues and vices - as the sources of the actions we perform. A human life is a history, and we dispose ourselves, by the acts we perform, to do similar deeds in the future. Such a stable disposition to act well or badly is what Thomas means, respectively, by virtue and vice. There is, for better or worse, a predictability in our lives, a stability of choice, an ingrained disposition to act in one way rather than another. We are disposed, because of the actions we have already performed, to perform similar actions in the future. This is what is meant by habit: a disposition to perform acts of a certain kind. “A virtue is quality of mind thanks to which we live rightly, which can never be used badly.” This is, in part, Augustine’s definition of virtue, and it is with it that Thomas begins his discussion of the subject in the Summa Theologiae.”1

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blogging all became prevalent. The way in which we interact, and thus act, has changed. That said, what is crucial is that we aren’t subject to change. Human beings are not subject to fundamental change. Our social nature disallows for a cul-ture as a whole to be completely isolated from its constituents. In this way, let’s not view ourselves as ‘subjects’ of an age that stifles every opportunity to be virtuous simply because the way in which we interact with each other is not done in an explicitly personal arena. We are not simply ‘subjects’ of a culture – we are ‘participants’ (and are called to be active participants) – and it is our responsibility (check that, it is our privilege) to employ the means (be it electronic or not) to practice and moreover, get in the habit of being college students that take the lead on creating a virtue-woven cultural setting. That cell phone you just

texted about getting din-ner? – its rightful owner is a person. That Facebook wall you just wrote on/status you just set? – the Facebook users that see it, read it, and react to it – those are persons. In the end, no matter what ‘postmodern’ method you may use (frequently or infrequently), it is going to affect a person. In this, there has been no change between human relations and personal connections that allow for the practice of virtue. I would offer that we are gifted in this ‘post-modern’ age a golden opportu-nity to utilize new and exciting methods as means to practice and propagate acts of prudence, temperance, fortitude, and jus-tice. Perhaps even when we get quite good at it, we might even be so fortunate as to practice a bit of faith, hope, and charity. As a good friend of mine named Michael once said to his acquaintance Ryan, “People, Ryan…people will never go out

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With that said, I find it only appropriate that on Notre Dame’s campus, where the motto ‘Play Like A Champion Today’ is so often heard – that I commend us post-modern chil-dren to embrace this notion of excellence. Certainly, if we can grasp and buy into the notion to ‘Play Like A Champion Today’, we can certainly

practice to grasp and buy into the notion to ‘Text/Facebook/Email/Tweet/Blog Like A [Virtuous] Champion Today’.

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1 Ralph McInerny, Ethica Thomistica: The Moral Philosophy of Thomas Aquinas (The Catholic University of America Press, Washington, D.C., 1982) Ch. 6 : Character and Decisions (see pgs. 91-92)

of business”. So long as people never go out of business, neither will virtue. It’s just up to us, the people, to discern the way in which their habits, elec-tronic or not, can carry virtuous weight. Again, for us Catholic-Christians in the audience (and really, this message applies to

all Christians), let’s turn to the Pope (generally a helpful person to turn to in times of question-ing). Pope Benedict XVI, in preparation for his Word Communications Day on May 16, 2010 titled ‘New Media at the Service of the World’ said,

“Thanks to the new communications media, the Lord can walk the streets of our cities and, stopping before the threshold of our homes and our hearts, say once more: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me.”

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Transports of the Foregone ManA Story

Josef KuhnClass of 2011Program of Liberal Studies

There goes the genius, hair like a storm cloud and eyebrows arched, irises flashing lightning. Leaving the door behind him, he enters gray cobblestone streets, sheened with rain—mazes of horses and carriages, and people who never go out without hats. He has been troubled of late, disturbed; he senses that his life has been growing more distant, fragmentary, cracked like the irregular mosaics of the streets he walks. He has been trying to listen to God through a tin can attached to a string. An apt metaphor, he thinks grimly, for his eardrums are becoming muffled, dull like wet cotton. A carriage flashes by, the mares darkly intent on their destination, and the wheel splashes water from a puddle onto his leg, jolting him out of his ruminations. He could not

hear it coming from behind; this only darkens his mood. He thinks back to that morning, when the lady of the house sweetly flashed her eyes at him, her brown curls dangling softly and her lips moving, but without anything that could be called a sound penetrating his ears. The passages into the stronghold are all blocked, and his head is now under siege, a siege that will be long and arduous. The stormclouds roll in; the dusk continues to gather. He still has the memory of music—glorious cantatas and oratorios continually stretch their limbs, unfolding and awaking in his mind. But try as he might, he cannot stop the memories from acquiring a troubling musky odor, the dullness of old silver. He has been writing, writing now more than ever, in a furious attempt to ward off the twilight of the sense. Yet still the onslaught progresses, ominously, eternally.

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He is at the music-hall now. His orchestra is inside, and he knows that in several hours, masses will be thronging here, for him, to hear his newest masterpiece. He clutches the rolled score under his jacket, protecting it from the rain. It contains his final touches, the pencil-stroke finishes to his great symphony. And he knows in his heart that it is great, even though he will never hear it. Inside, the hall is empty but the stage is full. The maestro mounts his podium, spreads out his plans, and calls his troops to order. A twinge of loss pierces his rib cage as he watches their movements and remembers the shuffle of sheets, the scrape of chairs, the tiny ticks of instruments that he cannot hear anymore. He issues his last-minute instructions, and pencils scrape mutely across paper, writing little Italian notes and adding one more cursive

f to the fortissimo of the final fermata. He closes his eyes. How much better to have been blind. He would trade his eyes, the overestimated organ of the populace, for just a touch of the sense that invades the skull and permeates the soul—the sense that allows one to feel. For he feels nothing as the adoring crowd shuffles in and takes their places in the auditorium. He scorns their gazes, turns his back to them. Why worship as a god someone who cannot hear, cannot receive? Someone less than a man; someone who can now only give. The masses have no sense, he thinks. Nor could he feel anything when his lady, the one who gave him a room and a home, touched his hand in the kitchen that morning, looking into his eyes and silently mouthing, “Good luck.” He knows that it is now too late for him to love her;

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he can only offer his whole self up to her, laying his sheet of notations on her altar. The exalted man raises his wand, and the music starts. He grips a white sceptre of tremendous power, and only he knows how to wield it; a flick of the wrist here, a twirl and eddy there. Sometimes he brings it down with an ethereal lightness, sometimes with a thunderous force. He knows that his orchestra, men and women in communion with him in pursuit of the ineffable, are following his will with the minutest perfection. They are his appendages; he is their authority. But still he cannot hear a horn, a flute, a single violin string as he makes his arms rise and fall. He is lost in an endless space of silence, an infinite and timeless void. On the ship bound through seas of cloud, he is alone at the helm; his crew is all down below. He must recall the sound. He

surveys his subjects, his many arms furiously drawing bows across strings, his many mouths exhuming their souls through pipes of gold. They must go yet higher, and farther. He works his arms desperately, feverishly, waving his thunderstick, beat-ing the air. His blood is begin-ning to boil; it rises into his eyes. His vision begins to fall away in swirls of black, violet, and yellow. He doesn’t need it, anyway. He is the shaman, leading his tribe into ecstasy for rain, and he would jump up and down on the podium if his feet weren’t bound to the earth by a leaden weight. The silence is his burden. But he moves faster, harder, with more and more rage. They must go yet higher, and farther yet! Straining, he is straining for that monument, the mountain of stone than man may set down where he can claim, “Here, right here, I stuffed chairs and pendants and daggers and rags into a

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barrel, shoved them out to sea, and then disburdened I leapt, my feet left the ground, and I went on up to the sun.” So straining against dead-locked ears and a walled-in head, strains of a sound divine begin to reach the foregone man, first as if from afar, then from closer. They were singing, “All men then will become brothers.” And for that instant, he knew that they had made it, that he, they had broken through, and love came flooding back to him. Finally, exhausted, he dropped his arms, turned around, and was amazed to see a sea of standing people, their hands creating ripples. A small, gentle sound, like the pattering of rain on a window Monday morning, reached him.

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Leaning, Not LearningA Poem

He was ten feet tall and covered in gray,With foresight golden as the day.He walked up to me and tapped my head,This is no world for saints, he said.

Sprinkler systems on starch green lawns,Meet their doom in early frost.In that same way we were the walking dead,This is no world for saints, he said.

Downloading pixels ripe with sex,Anticipating pleasures and pleasures ahead.So also with a blast of cannon lead,This is no world for saints, he said.

He was ten feet tall and covered in gray,And wouldn’t you know it, he asked me to stay.I would be player in his stead,This is no world for saints, he said.

And then there rang a cacophonous boomThat shook the walls and lifted the room,The dirt from below then showed its faceAnd revealed the worms of horrid disgrace.

Nick BrandtClass of 2011T

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The foundation upon which they lived their lies,Twisted their skins, insulting their bodies,It force fed stale air when they crawled back to bed,This is no world for saints, he said.

He was ten feet tall and covered in gray,And only he knew what resulted on that fateful day,When the whole world vomited what it had been fed,This is no world for saints, it said.

“You see, my son” he said to me,“The earth’s been leaning all this time,And it just took a few years,For the people to lean, too.”

Around and around on an axis we turn,Seeking the hopes we hope we yearn.And now the hopes have gone astray,He was ten feet tall and covered in gray.

We lean, we hope, we know we want,To make a sound in a cacophonic room,But the sound we make is the sound of dread,This is no world for saints, he said. V

He was ten feet tall and covered in gray,With foresight golden as the day.He walked up to me and tapped my head,This is no world for saints, he said.

Sprinkler systems on starch green lawns,Meet their doom in early frost.In that same way we were the walking dead,This is no world for saints, he said.

Downloading pixels ripe with sex,Anticipating pleasures and pleasures ahead.So also with a blast of cannon lead,This is no world for saints, he said.

He was ten feet tall and covered in gray,And wouldn’t you know it, he asked me to stay.I would be player in his stead,This is no world for saints, he said.

And then there rang a cacophonous boomThat shook the walls and lifted the room,The dirt from below then showed its faceAnd revealed the worms of horrid disgrace.

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On Notre Dame Student Values: What Comes First?

An EssayStephen LechnerClass of 2011Istum

While conversing with many of my fellow students here at our Notre Dame I have often noted a very noble quality among my peers, and that is that the vast majority of Notre Dame students seem bent upon saving the world from its great-est threat of undoing. At first, I thought this a highly admirable trait, and it brought me to enjoy a certain pride in my Alma Mater. Soon enough, however, I found this enjoyment to have a somewhat shallower foundation than I had hoped. I began to think if a school is annually producing two thousand well formed individuals who are truly bent upon saving the world from its greatest threat of undoing then that world should not now be so undone as the one we currently inhabit.

The tragic idea then came to me that perhaps all of these world saviors are not efficient enough in their noble aspira-tions to make any substantial difference. Perhaps they are in fact saving the world from what is not its greatest and most underlying threat of undoing, but from what is at best one or more of its lesser threats. We should first investigate the nature of these global-scale threats that Notre Dame students are most intent upon battling. Their list is extensive and variant. World hunger seems to be the most com-monly mentioned problem, although intolerance of one form or another is a competitive second. In recent months, global warming has been a key target of many eager friends and I might add animal cruelty as another high flier. Tobacco users often receive evil looks

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as they try to find solace in the warmth of the good leaf, which I find humorous considering the vast seas of Natural Light that are guzzled down without so much as a brow raise. I doubt I can really do justice to a list of evils that our friends here are all focused on eradicating, but perhaps mention is due to those of cancer, abortion, drug addic-tion, orphaned children, heart disease, homelessness, over-population, underpopulation, AIDS, words that begin with the letter “R”, etc, etc, etc… Now the fact that most members of our student body are each determined to stop evil and establish good makes me very happy, so long as what we are stopping really is evil and what we are establishing really is good. In fact many of the things I have listed are real evils and some real measure ought to be taken in reforming them; however, it seems to me that if these sorts of evils are

all that we are fighting then we are missing the mark and missing it wide. These things that I have mentioned are, for the most part, the causes of hardship in life. Hardship, I agree, is always unpleasant and in some cases should be avoided even at great cost, but hardship as such is not what we should be most worried about. It is very possible for people who live under the burden of excruciat-ing hardships to live happy lives and lives of purpose. However, a quick look at our society today1—a society that is con-fronted with comparatively little hardship relative to the whole of human history—demonstrates that great numbers of people

1 This is, of course, assuming that there is such a thing as “our society.” And there are several reasons to suppose that there isn’t such a thing… I can think of at least two. But hopefully there remains enough meaning in the words to continue the argument.

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are not living happy lives, and definitely not lives of purpose—at least not of purpose worthy enough to live satisfying lives, lives at which they can look back on from their deathbeds and smile more or less uncon-ditionally. If it is possible to live happy lives and lives of purpose even while enduring excruciating hardships, then by battling these hardships, are we really fighting the greatest threat of the world’s undoing? Now I don’t claim to know in any brilliant depth what the problems of the world really are, let alone how to solve them, but I fancy that I can do a little bet-ter than what we have thus far if I break the matter down to two words: purpose and ethics. I propose that people are unhappy first and foremost not because they lack material wellbeing enough to reach the peculiarly high standards of living that we Domers tend to enjoy, but rather because they lack purpose

and direction in life. Without purpose, human beings cannot live happy lives because without purpose all of man’s actions—including that of existing—are futile, floating in an abyss of madness. Only an animal can live under such circumstances, not a rational animal.2 But we cannot coherently speak of human purpose with-out speaking, at least in some way, of ethics. The inability of a society to establish an ethical system for human beings dem-onstrates the inability of that

2 You may disagree with me on this last point. If you do, then you are a very interesting kind of person, the kind of person who Fyodor Dostoevsky investigates in his Notes from Underground and other works. But know that if you really are willing to say that man can live happily under such circumstances, you had better be prepared to be called a madman by many people. There are prices to pay for being an interesting person.

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society to identify a purpose for human beings. If you find this statement hard, simply consider the main question of ethics: “how should I live my life?” A question of purpose presupposes this: “why should I live my life?” All that ethics is, then, is the way someone acts in order to achieve their purpose—it is to ask “how should I live” in order to achieve their “why I should live.” Unless a person is capable of answering to some extent the second question, “why I should live”, he or she is likely incapable of answering the first question, “how I should live,” because the “why” question presupposes and necessarily leads to the “how” question. Therefore, any person’s inability to answer the question of “how” suggests that they are similarly unable to answer the question of “why”. And if this is true for the individual person, how much more is it so for a society of persons? Thus, if a society is entirely

without ethics and, as follows, entirely without purpose it is likely to promote an environ-ment that is hostile towards happiness—one might call it a society entirely without peace. We should note here that our society is not entirely without ethics and not entirely without an understanding of purpose and so there is hope for some kind of happiness in our society. However, our social understanding of ethics is sadly limited (and I know not how I can use a more emphatic word). This demonstrates that our social understanding of human purpose is sadly limited as well. What little we have of an ethical understanding in our society does not go substantially beyond the condemnation of rape, murder, and in some cases theft, and our political leaders are too often uninterested in avoiding even these last no-no’s in their practical lives. What this should demonstrate is

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that the happiness of our society, while not entirely absent, is sadly limited. If what I have said thus far is true, then if we are really serious about combating the most underlying of the world’s problems we must help to instill within our culture a strong sense of purpose and to establish that purpose clearly within an ethical system. This presupposes, of course, that we know and can identify what the purpose of the human being is as well as how one should act in order to achieve that purpose. Humanly speaking, this may very well be a ridiculous presupposition; however, the truly optimistic student might now breathe a sigh of relief to consider that our university annually graduates somewhere over sixteen hundred people who should be convinced that they actually can identify man’s purpose and his means of achieving that purpose and

even that they can do so in a universal way: Catholics. Where the Notre Dame stu-dent reader ends up now, that is if he is serious about saving the world from its greatest threat of undoing and if what I have said in the last few hundred words is true, is in one of two possible scenarios. In the first scenario, the student may not surely know what the purpose of the human being is or through what ethical system such a purpose is possible to achieve. What this student must do if he or she means to substantially help the world is to search for solid answers to these questions. In the second scenario, the student may be convinced, as the Catholic is supposed to be, that he knows the answers to these questions. While constantly seeking to gain a more complete grasp of these answers, what this student must do is to vigorously try to achieve his purpose and to help as many

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people as he can to achieve it in their own lives. If students act thus, according to whichever situation they find themselves in, they will be assisting human beings in achieving their pur-poses and in living happy lives. Perhaps as a way of filling in the gaps, one might ask what to do then with the problems mentioned earlier—those real evils which students have already been addressing and should continue to address. But if this first problem of lack of purpose and ethics is properly and substantially addressed, as I believe it is our duty as Christians, as citizens, and as future alumni of Notre Dame to do so, I am convinced that several of the other large problems will disappear. Those that do not disappear will be much easier to cope with and may also be easier to combat. Perhaps Kevin Healy, a fellow Domer and a good friend of mine who recently died of

cancer, can demonstrate this to us. He was better able to bear his pain as a result of his fervent Catholic faith which inspired his life as well as his death with purpose and meaning. In his case, he was even able to take his suffering—an example of the very hardship that students would like to vanish—and transform it into an occasion for his achieving for himself and for others what it was that he was convinced was the purpose of every human being. His under-standing of his natural purpose, realized within his ethical system, enabled him to convert his cross into a treasure—a trea-sure that no one and no thing can take away from him now.

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Rev. William Corby, C.S.C.: Father of Respect

A Research PaperJohn KelleyClass of 2011History

Father William Corby served the Irish Brigade of the Union Army during the American Civil War with devotion that became legendary. In Memoirs of Chaplain Life: Three Years with the Irish Brigade in the Army of the Potomac, his depictions of everyday life in the Irish Brigade and of the battles in which the brigade fought are fascinating and give an honest account of what life was like for the Irish Catholic soldiers of the Irish Brigade. In addition to being Irish, Catholicism was a separating factor between the Irish Brigade and the rest of the Union Army. Fr. Corby person-ally came to terms with being Irish-American and Catholic in a primarily Protestant society by reflecting on the historical

feats of Irish-Americans and Catholics in his memoirs, as well as in a physical sense by keeping the open practice of Catholicism in the lives of soldiers of the Irish Brigade and using the Civil War itself as an impetus for interaction between Irish-American Catholics and Anglo-American Protestants. Fr. Corby recognized that anti-Catholic sentiments in America were largely unfound-ed. Corby wrote that “The Pope loves the United States, as he has frequently asserted, and he has other occupations, besides uprooting national institutions within her borders.”2 Corby knew that the Pope felt no antipathy toward the United States. The Pope dealt with more pressing matters than the politics of a comparatively young country with little global influence. The Pope had no

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reason to assert his influence over American politics, and he therefore did not do so. By stating that the Pope had better things to do than manipulate American politics, Corby also implies that the Pope respects national boundaries; in this sense, Corby considered him to be another national leader with priorities within his own realm. Irish-American Catholics may have been bound to follow religious edicts decreed by the Pope, but they had no reason to follow the Pope’s political decrees over those of the government of the United States. By pointing out the erroneous Protestant perception that Catholics in America had

stronger allegiance to the Pope than to the federal government, Fr. Corby helped his readers, and presumably soldiers who were aware of his sentiments, recognize that Catholics in America adhered just as much as Protestants to the principle of separation of church and state.Fr. Corby knew that Catholics had been instrumental in the founding of the United States, and he proved this fact in his memoirs by cit-ing specific examples of Catholic Europeans who had fought under Washington. Corby wrote that during the American Revolution,

Ireland sent her brave sons to do battle in the cause of liberty. Poland sent an illustrious Kosciusko. Alsace sent a noble DeKalb. From France and her Catholic king came the great and patriotic Lafayette and the noted Rochambeau, with thousands of French Catholic soldiers.3

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Irish Catholics made up a sizable proportion of the Continental Army, so they helped establish the country in which the Protestants lived. In addition to these Irish Catholics, Catholic countries on continental Europe sent military advisors and troops to help the Revolutionary cause. Without European Catholics, it is arguable that the Protestants would have no country in which to create anti-Catholic sentiments; Fr. Corby used this argument as a tool in his memoirs to help him show that the Irish and Catholics are just as American as everyone else. Fr. Corby dealt with ethnic and religious tensions by showing that Irish-Americans and Catholics had remained as loyal to their country as the American Protestants had been since the inception of the United States. Corby asked “Wherein have the Catholic Church and the Catholic people

in this country failed in patrio-tism?”4 At that point in history, the main Catholic contingent in the United States was the Irish, and Irish-American Catholics as a group had never par-ticipated in rebellious activity directed against the state. Many of the Catholic immigrants coming to the United States tried to integrate themselves into American society and adopted American ways of life and political thought. The tensions between Protestants and Catholics in the United States were more super-ficial than in other countries to which the Irish emigrated, and as a result most Protestants were not afraid to engage with Irish-American Catholics amicably. Corby wrote that “some of the finest tributes I ever read to our faith came from Protestant pens – from honest, well-meaning men.”5 He then stated that “Men of this kind are more numerous in our happy and

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prosperous society than in any other country in the world.”6 Many American Protestant writers were very accepting of Catholicism in America and were even praiseworthy of it. They knew that they made significant contributions to American society and helped it become a place of opportunity. Religious freedom is a central tenet of life in the United States, and Fr. Corby showed in his memoirs that most patriotic Protestants adhered to this principle by accepting Irish-American Catholics and their contributions in American wars such as the Civil War. The Civil War made coming to terms with being Irish-American and Catholic much easier by bringing huge numbers of Catholics and Protestants together. Fr. Corby wrote that “When men stand in common danger, a fraternal feeling springs up between them and generates a Christian, charitable

sentiment that often leads to most excellent results.”7 The Civil War united Catholics and Protestants, Irish-Americans and Anglo-Americans, in a conflict against a common enemy. This unity helped Fr. Corby deal with being Irish-Catholic and Catholic in an Anglo-American Protestant army because these two groups were willing to work together to accomplish the common goal of preserving their country. Fr. Corby’s actions at the Battle of Gettysburg in July 1863 were the culmination of his coming to terms with ethnic and religious tensions. On the afternoon of the second day of the battle, Fr. Corby performed a general absolution to the Irish Brigade. According to Corby’s memoirs, he “noticed that all, Catholic and non-Catholic, offi-cers and private soldiers showed a profound respect, wishing at this fatal crisis to receive every benefit of divine grace that

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could be imparted through the instrumentality of the church ministry.”8 The soldiers of the Union forces fighting at Gettysburg were deeply im-pressed by the inspiring sight of Fr. Corby giving absolution to all forces on the field; even the famous Major-General Winfield Scott Hancock “removed his hat, and, as far as compatible with the situation, bowed in reverential devotion.”9 The fact that the absolution was given by a Catholic chaplain was not an issue with the soldiers – they were awed by the powerful gesture. Whether Catholic or Protestant, all Christians on that battlefield believed in the same God and knew that

many of them were about to die. The manner in which God was worshipped and in which they were absolved of their sins was irrelevant in their eyes – it was merely a means to an end. There were differences between Protestants and Irish-American Catholics in the United States, but they were largely superficial; Fr. Corby’s very public absolu-tion at Gettysburg was proof that most Protestants were tolerant of Catholics and were not afraid to show admiration. Fr. Corby’s general absolu-tion gained greater respect for Irish-American Catholics in America. Fr. Corby wrote that after the battle of Gettysburg,

a captain, a non-Catholic, rode up to me, and… said: “Chaplain, I would like to know more about your religion. I was present on that awful day, July 2, when you ‘made a prayer,’ and… I never witnessed one so powerful as the one you made that day”.10

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This officer, like the rest of the soldiers who witnessed the absolution, came to admire Fr. Corby and his religious zeal. The Protestant officer wanted to learn about Catholicism, which is a sign that he respected the religion and had put any previ-ous reservations aside. Fr. Corby and the Irish Brigade therefore inadvertently came to terms with being Irish-American and Catholic in Protestant American society through their battlefield absolution – they openly practiced their religion during the greatest battle of the Civil War in front of Protestants and were shown respect. The Civil War also helped Fr. Corby and the Irish Brigade deal with being Irish-American and Catholic in the United States by establishing a link between patriotism and Catholicism. “Military Masses” celebrated by Fr. Corby involved “several thousand men and officers on whose bright, neat

uniforms the gold ornaments sparkle in the sunlight, while dress swords... make a pleasing contrast to burnished sabre and polished steel bayonet.”11 At Masses celebrated in Army camps, the soldiers wore the equivalent of their Sunday best – their dress uniforms. They looked as patriotic toward the United States as they possibly could, yet they were preparing to worship God. The Irish Brigade openly worshipped God at Fr. Corby’s Masses as an overwhelmingly Catholic unit while proudly wearing the uni-form of, and fighting fiercely for the preservation of, the United States as a political entity. The celebration of St. Patrick’s Day in 1863 by Fr. Corby and the rest of the Irish Brigade was another key moment in Fr. Corby’s coming to terms with being Irish-American and Catholic in America. Fr. Corby wrote that “The novel and daring nature of

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the celebration… was, indeed, so brilliant and creditable that I heard distinguished soldiers claim that their grandmothers or grandfathers were Irish.”12 Fr. Corby celebrated a Mass on St. Patrick’s Day, and then there were massive sporting events and festivities. While celebrated in Ireland and many other countries with Irish populations, St. Patrick’s Day has special meaning for Irish-Americans and was enthusiasti-cally celebrated at the time of the Civil War; the holiday therefore could have caused heightened tensions between Irish-American Catholics and Protestants in the Union Army.13 However, primarily non-Catholic units in the Army were excited to take part in it. Some were even proud to claim Irish ancestry! With his celebration of the St. Patrick’s Day Mass and his participation in the following entertain-ment, Fr. Corby bridged a

divide between Protestants and Irish-American Catholics in America – he showed that Protestants and practicing Irish-American Catholics could gather together peace-fully and interact positively. Through the audience-directed reflections in his memoirs and the maintenance of an active Catholic spiritual life in the Irish Brigade during the Civil War, Fr. William Corby came to terms with being Irish-American and Catholic in a mainly Protestant army and nation. In Memoirs of Chaplain Life, Fr. Corby showed his readers that anti-Catholic Protestants at the time of the Civil War were a minority and most American non-Catholics recognize the great contribu-tions that Catholics, and in particular Irish Catholics, had made to the establishment of the United States. Fr. Corby’s religious practices and contribu-tions to Catholic-Protestant

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relations within the context of the Union Army during the Civil War increased the fame of the Irish Brigade, and thus gained both Irish-Americans and Catholics great respect.

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2 Father William Corby, Memoirs of Chaplain Life: Three Years with the Irish Brigade in the Army of the Potomac. Lawrence Frederick Kohl, ed. (New York: Fordham University Press, 1992), 67.3 Ibid, 68.4 Ibid, 66-67.5 Ibid, 70.6 Ibid, 70.7 Ibid, 186.8 Ibid, 184.9 Ibid, 184.10 Ibid, 185.11 Ibid, 100.12 Ibid, 142.13 Patrick Griffin, “The History of St. Patrick’s Day,” Lecture, The Irish-American Experience, University of Notre Dame, 17 March 2010.

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The 21st Century GunslingerAn Essay

Raymond LeGrandClass of 2011Istum

I am a cowboy and a gunslinger. You may laugh because I live in the middle of a big city and drive my sports car to work every day, but it’s no joke. The only difference between the Western gunslinger and me is that his certification was based on how fast he could draw his six-shooter, whereas my weapon of choice is a piece of paper that states “This person is qualified because he graduated from Generic University USA.” Our lives would be the same, except the cowboy of the wild west would’ve been afraid to use the technological wizardry that I have, and I would be afraid to stand up to him in a bar fight. In the past, gunslingers had to be quick on the draw. With modern technology, I don’t have to be quick, because my iPhone will let me know there’s

danger before the bad guy even realizes that he is thinking about attacking me. That was why he lived as a hired gun, and why I work as a hired business-man who hopes someday to be a CEO. The fact is that I can type away on computers faster than I can think. That is certainly better than riding horses all day and shooting your neighbor next door. In some ways, gunslingers back in their day and age might have been even greater pragmatists than I am in mine. I spend all day worrying about practical ways to ship products, liquidate inventory, and outsell the competition. The gunsling-ers would have made it even simpler: kill or be killed. If you’re a hired gun, there isn’t much of an alternative to this train of thought. In that sense I am a lesser son of greater sires. But to be fair, the more independent I become, the

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more like them I become and the less I have to depend on other people. This is easier said than done, of course, since our culture places so much emphasis on people being nice to one another. But then again, that comes in pretty handy when it allows me to do whatever I want to do, when no one will hinder my freedom because they are afraid of being perceived as anything less than the nice person they’re supposed to be. They say that money is power. With one swipe of my plastic credit card, I can purchase almost anything I see. That is the power of plastic money. All that happens after that is some numbers in a computer go down, reflecting a deduc-tion from my bank account. Sometimes I wonder what it all means, since the numbers magi-cally go up with every paycheck and down with every impulsive purchase. But then again, how long will it be before someone

catches on to the game and puts an end to it? All it would take is some hacker or a little glitch in the computer program, and then I’m out of money. How can people call that power when it could so easily vanish or be taken away? No wonder why the gunslingers of old didn’t really trust money. They knew it was necessary in order to survive without stealing food, but they didn’t seem to give it that much importance. Instead, they carried their guns around at a jaunty angle that nothing except death could take away. Their independence meant that they would take orders from no one except themselves. That is what I consider real power. The gunslingers walked around carrying power strapped to their hips. I walk around exercising control over my subordinates and employees with the push of my thumb on the Blackberry. This may not be the same level of power because it seems

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almost impossible to remove my dependence on other people, but I am getting closer every day. I imagine the westerner of old left home when he was real young and set out for adventure. With some of the stories I’ve heard, maybe these cowboys never had a home. I did the same thing when I left for college. I packed up my bags and set off for a world of adventure. Oh sure, I love my parents and family, I’m a good American boy in that sense. But the job I found after graduation placed me ten thousand miles away. Of course I chose the job, since independence seems to be the primary American virtue. In reality, I’ve long since given up those ties to my past, both location and family, even though I do visit them occasionally. I even post ‘happy birthday’ on the Facebook walls of some of my old friends. Sure, I could’ve settled down with my college sweetheart, but the

job offers we received placed us on opposite sides of the continent, and that’s when we discovered that we were really just “good friends.” I think I can understand why the gunslingers of old didn’t have a family. It is very easy to go from one town to the next, drifting from one job to the next when the only one you need to care about is yourself. As long as I keep up this lifestyle, no one wants to marry me and have a family, because I would probably be gone with the wind on a whim. I chose long ago to live the excitement of climbing the rungs of the corporate ladder and occasionally enjoying the night-life. Most of my friends have chosen the same lifestyle, and they hope to avoid thinking about marriage until they turn thirty. It is something that we gave up a while ago, a sacrifice for the sake of mobility. People who aspire to be the next CEO do not become one by accident.

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You just get used to the lone nights in front of your desk, just like the cowboys of old on patrol in the saddle. Sometimes I wish for a home: a permanent place to rest my head, but usually a hotel room suffices. Besides, I’m really close to making it big. Maybe I’ll even be remembered. Yes, we will be remembered by history, just like people remember the west. They shot the cowards, the bandits, and anyone else who got in the way. But now things have become more civilized. We fire and hire employees based on the whims of the market. We take out other companies using price controls, mind-numbing effi-ciency, and lawyers. Will we be remembered by name? Probably not, just like many of the great gunslingers of old. But if I do manage to get that CEO posi-tion, then I’ll have a fighting chance. There is always the hope that someday I will be among the ranks of people like Donald

Trump, Lloyd Blankfien, Terry Gou. They remind me of legendary figures like Billy the Kid and Black Jack. I don’t go wherever the wind blows me, like some kind of tumbleweed. Instead, I go wherever the company sends me. I guess in the past most gunslingers probably believed in God and something more than blind destiny. They might not have been certain about why they were traveling around, but I guess they did think there was a reason for their existence. Of course, being an enlightened man, I don’t take God too seriously, and instead I have tremendous faith that the next place my company sends me will lead to another promotion, and another, and another. Why do I pursue this lifestyle? I suppose that it is for the same reason that the gunslingers of old engaged in such a life. They left home at an early age to pursue their

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destiny. After a while, you just get used to not settling down and pursuing anything less than legendary. It’s not the money I care so much about, seeing as I’ve already got plenty of it and no reason to spend it on anyone but myself. But the adventure and the independence that it provides—I reckon that’s what keeps me going.

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To the Immaculate ConceptionA Poem

Patrick JohnsonClass of 2011Program of Liberal Studies

Mary our Mother, and Church our Mary, In you all good will concentrate, And drink peace: open, not wary, Breathing childhood, immaculate trait. V

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Virtue, Community, and Education1

An Essay

Sam CloghessyClass of 2011Orestes Brownson Council

The work of Alasdair MacIntyre has been the subject both of much praise and of much criticism. Important and controversial, MacIntyre’s work is relevant not only to those interested in ethics and politics, but to all, especially the young people of today. Furthermore, since MacIntyre is an emeritus professor at the University of Notre Dame, as students at this university we especially should be familiar with his work. Therefore, the purpose of this paper is both to introduce to MacIntyre those who may not be familiar with his work, as well as to prompt students to begin thinking about the ways in which MacIntyre’s ideas can begin to be put into practice. In his groundbreaking work After Virtue, MacIntyre presents a powerful critique

of modernity. Beginning with the observable irreconcilability of almost all contemporary moral debate, MacIntyre does not argue on account of this observable fact that there is no objective moral truth, no way to rationally argue about morality. Instead, he argues that our inability to rationally evaluate moral rules can be explained by the loss of an understanding in the modern period of the context within which these moral rules originally existed.

1 I would like to begin with two disclaimers: first, the author of this paper is in no way an authority on the work of Alasdair MacIntyre and apologizes in advance for any mistakes almost certainly made in interpreting and speculating on MacIntyre’s ideas. Second, given the limited space, this paper is necessarily a very brief and cursory explanation of MacIntyre’s ideas; as such, for a proper explanation of MacIntyre’s philosophy and for any questions, the reader is referred to MacIntyre’s own work, especially After Virtue and all that follows.

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Furthermore, he argues, any successful attempt to restore ra-tionality to morality and moral debate will require a renewed understanding of such contexts. In After Virtue and in his subsequent work, MacIntyre attempts to facilitate this renewed understanding of the contexts within which certain moral rules arose, and in which they can again become intel-ligible. To do this, he relies upon an account of the virtues in which the virtues are the means by which we attain our end, our good as human beings. The good for man is the seeking of the good life in cooperation with others, and so MacIntyre’s account of the virtues imagines individuals entering into com-munities in which they help others cultivate the virtues in order to achieve their good that is the good life, and in which they are helped by others in the same way. The modern nation-state being incapable

of providing the individual with the means to seek the good life, MacIntyre urges us to construct the “local forms of community within which civility and the intellectual and moral life can be sustained”.14 What might these local communities look like? It is worth highlighting a few of their particularly important features. The first feature is the virtue of integrity. The ability of the members of a community to properly order the practices in which they engage and the goods they pursue into a unified whole is precisely the standard by which they are judged by their fellow citizens. Individuals and groups of people within the local community will interact with one another in a variety of different capacities; for example, at work, then at a church func-tion, then as neighbors, and finally in the deliberation of the political process. In interacting in all these different capacities

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individuals cannot avoid being judged for who they truly are, and so honesty and integrity become central virtues to the local community. There is no room here for the elaborate “self-presentation” so prevalent

in the modern world.15

One of the most imme-diately recognizable features of MacIntyre’s local political communities is its size. “Such societies,” MacIntyre explains,

need to be small-scale so that, whenever necessary, those who hold political office can be put to the question by the citizens and the citizens put to the question by those who hold political office in the course of extended deliberative debate in which there is widespread participation and from which no one from whom something might be learned is excluded – that is, from which no one is excluded.16

This idea of access to the political process being available to all members of the community is central for MacIntyre. Since these communities share an understanding of the human good,17 and this understanding of the human good is the com-mon good toward which the community strives together, it makes sense that each member of the community should have access to the political process, for

it is here that the most important questions for any member of the community, questions of their goods as humans, are addressed. It is important to be clear here about what Macintyre intends, for it is quite different from the modern conception of access to the political process. While it is true that citizens in liberal democracies have access to the political system primarily via voting, the truth is that, since the

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available alternatives are chosen by political elites, the ordinary citizen’s real access to the politics of the state is severely restricted.18 On the contrary, in the local community that MacIntyre envisions, “there will…be institutionalized forms of deliberation to which all those members of the com-munity who have proposals, objections and arguments to contribute have access.”19

The final feature that should be highlighted is education. In the context of MacIntyre’s local community, education plays a indispensable role, providing preparation for entry into the political life of the community as well as a common base from which deliberations regarding the nature of the good for the community can take place, and can take place in a way such that differing positions can be rationally debated and evaluated. For MacIntyre, education is much more than

what takes place in a university. MacIntyre’s local community is characterized by lifelong teach-ing and learning engaged in by all members of the community, from the youngest to the oldest, everyone aware that they might have something to learn from anyone they meet. Formal edu-cation, MacIntyre argues, must be thought of not as a means to some other end, a career for instance, but instead as “the beginning of, and the providing the skills, virtues and resources for, a lifelong education directed toward and informed by the achievement of the good.”20

The question one ought now to ask is what should be done with all of this. There are two levels on which this question can be answered. The first, which will not be treated explicitly here, is with a view beyond graduation from this university and a consideration of how one might begin to bring about small, virtue-centered

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communities wherever one lives. The highlighting of the features of the community above is meant as an aid in that regard, to give a picture of what such a community might look like. The second level on which this question can be answered is to consider what can be done by current students at this university, while they are here, to help create this sort of community here. In many ways, a university about the size of Notre Dame would be an ideal place to create such a commu-nity, and many things could be done to help bring this about. A unified curriculum, for example, specifically designed to provide a broad and complete education to students and which could serve as the common ground from which discussions of any kind could begin; emphasis in

the classroom on understanding the relation between disciplines; and reorganization of campus and student life so that students study, live, pray, eat, and spend time in recreation together with a more or less established group of students, and unify these ac-tivities into one comprehensive life. Since these sorts of things are unlikely to happen in the foreseeable future however, the responsibility falls upon current students to build up these sorts of communities wherever they can. Some specific suggestions might be helpful in this regard, and here you, the reader, especially the undergraduate reader, are being addressed. First and foremost, study and take courses in the subjects that will make you a fully educated human be-ing. MacIntyre suggests

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It might well be the case that students are unable to study all of these subjects to the level suggested, especially considering that ideally for MacIntyre these are the things one would study up until one’s entry into the university as an undergraduate.22 The intent here is simply that you study as many of them in as much detail as possible. If you are studying a subject with more stringent course requirements, such as science or engineering, then it is all the more important that you use as many free electives as possible to take courses in the abovementioned subjects outside your field of study.

Second, read, study, and learn as much as possible on your own outside of class, in any and all of the abovementioned subjects. Much, if not all, of your abil-ity to receive a full education will depend upon your own efforts, which will almost necessarily extend beyond the classroom. This is particularly important for those students previously mentioned whose fields of study have strict course requirements, as your personal effort will be even more im-mediately necessary if you are to receive a full education. Third, and of critical impor-tance, engage in conversations with your friends about the

a lot of history and a lot of mathematics, including both the calculus and statistics, some experimental physics and observa-tional astronomy, a reading knowledge of Greek, sufficient to read Homer or the New Testament, and if English-speaking, a speaking knowledge of a modern language other than English, and great quantities of English literature, especially Shakespeare. Time also has to be there for music and art. Philosophy should…be introduced at the undergraduate level.21

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subjects you are studying and about subjects of substance and importance outside of class. Talk about these things regularly over dinner at the dining hall. Get a group of your friends together regularly for the specific purpose of discussing one of these subjects; this is in fact already happening on campus. These meetings can be as formal or informal as you choose; the purpose is simply to get the serious discussion of subjects of importance to continue beyond the classroom and into your everyday lives. Finally, resolve to ensure that your education continues throughout your life, and that your undergraduate experience is the begin-ning of a life of learning.

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14 MacIntyre, After Virtue, 263.15 MacIntyre, “Politics, Philosophy and the Common Good”, 248-249.16 MacIntyre, “Politics, Philosophy and the Common Good”, 248-249.17 Alasdair MacIntyre, “The Privatization of Good: An Inaugural Lecture”, The Review of Politics, 351.18 MacIntyre, “Politics, Philosophy and the Common Good”, 236.19 Alasdair MacIntyre, Dependent Rational Animals: Why Human Being Need the Virtues (London: Gerald Duckworth & Co. Ltd., 1999), 130.20 MacIntyre, “The Privatization of Good”, 359.21 “An Interview With Alasdair MacIntyre,” Cogito, 5 (1991), 72.22 Ibid.

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Cards For Mother’s DayA Story

Scott PosteucaClass of 2011The Philosophy Club

“Hey Jack, you know it’s Mother’s Day on Sunday.” I curse under my breath. Dad catches my look and asks, “What was that for?”“Nothing, I just forgot.” This isn’t true—in fact, I have been dreading the day for weeks—but it’s enough to make Dad happy. “Oh, don’t worry. You still have five days to get her a present. I’m sure you’ll pull something together like you always do. Like that bracelet you got her last year.”“That was Jim,” I re-mind him coldly. “Well, then, the ear-rings you got her.”“That was Joe. Two years ago.” “Well, I dunno. Give her a card then. She’ll like that.”“Yeah. Just like she always does,” I point out matter-of-factly.

He tries to put me at ease, but it doesn’t work. By now I’ve heard that “it’s the thought that counts” stuff way too many times to take it seriously. I understand; Dad doesn’t get it. He was an only child who could make his mother scream with joy—and yes, Grandma is the type that screams with joy—just by smiling. I, on the other hand, have two older brothers, both of whom are straight-A students, are captains of their varsity sports teams (one soccer and one baseball), and among countless other talents, have two well-paying jobs by which to buy great Mother’s Day presents—which they don’t by the way. Earrings? Bracelet? Wal-Mart purchases, both of them. Of course, I struggle to keep a B average, went to cross country after being cut from everything else, and am fifteen—one year too young to have a legitimate job in the state of Indiana. I run paper routes

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every morning, but the two dollars and eighty-five cents I pull in on a daily basis doesn’t promise much competition for the eight-fifty-an-hour weekend shifts of my two older brothers. Story of my life as the third of four brothers: try all you want, get overlooked… but by Joe and Jim of all people! Dad sighs, having given up to the fact that I’m not exactly thrilled about the situation, and turns toward the kitchen, saying as he does, “Your mother loves you, Jack. Don’t beat yourself up over a little Mother’s Day present.” I know he means well, but I also know there’s no way he’ll really understand. After all, it’s not like Mom is his mother, so he really doesn’t have to worry about it at all. He may be fine giving her a card, but I’m not.

A couple hours later and I find myself rummaging through old newspaper and magazine

ads for something she’d like. There’s Kohl’s, J. C. Penny’s, Marshall’s—I’ve looked through all of these before, of course, but I’m just praying something will catch my eye that’s almost affordable. I see all kinds of necklaces, bracelets, earrings, pins, and God knows what else, all glittering in gold, silver, pearl, diamonds and the like. Problem is, I know nothing about what any of their descriptions mean other than $299 and $449 and all kinds of out-of-range figures. Sure there’s a couple of things within three months’ pay, but they’re not much to look at. I spend a full hour looking through the pile of papers this time until I start to get upset. I really thought this might be the year—now that I finally have a job to get money of my own—that I could get something for Mom, even outdo my brothers a little, maybe. But here I am. Two eighty-five a day just

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doesn’t get you far. Until… My eyes widen as I come to a new ad in a J. C. Penny’s maga-zine titled, “DiamonArt® 4.95 CT. T. W. Pear Cut Pendant.” I don’t really gather much from the description of the necklace as I read it—something about simulated diamonds and a pear shaped gem—but the picture is beautiful… and it’s on SALE! Originally $199, it’s been brought down to $89! It’s got to be four times what Jim or Joe would ever get for her. I recheck the date of the ad and am re-lieved to find that it’s only three days old. How it has managed to fall to the bottom of the age-old newspaper pile was beyond me—perhaps because it was all crumpled up—but what matters is I found it! A chance to get a real present for Mom, even with my meager income!

Two days later, I’m at the J. C. Penney’s two miles from home with the magazine ad and

one hundred and twenty dol-lars, just in case the taxes push the price up (I’ve been thwarted by the mysterious increase from taxes before). It took the nearly two months of paper-boy money I’d saved along with four lawn-mowings in the neighborhood over the last two days, but I’ve managed to collect enough. The lady at the desk is one of those older ladies who wear about four-inches of makeup in a vain attempt to hide their age, but she’s nice enough, so I try hard not to judge her. I show her the ad and the money in my hand with a lost look on my face as though I were from some foreign planet trying to barter for a little loaf of bread, and she tells me to sit still as she runs in back to the inventory. After a nervous ten minutes, she returns holding a small black box with a slightly pear-shaped pendant in it, glimmering silver as she turns it. She hands the necklace to me and further demonstrates

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the luck I had in getting it. “It’s a good thing you came when you did, darlin’. It was the last one like it in our stor-age. I could’ve sworn we’d sold our last two days ago.” I happily collect the seven-teen dollars of change and decide to stop by the Walgreen’s on the walk back home to get a Mother’s Day card to go with it. Just for kicks, I pick out one with a lot of glitter to comple-ment the gift it accompanies. Mother’s Day arrives and I am jumping with nervous excitement. Every so often I start to wonder whether or not Mom will like the necklace, only to convince myself that she will when I remember the way it glistened as I held it in my hands. Then I imagine what it will look like when Joe and Jim come up with whatever they bring only to be followed by little brother with a two hundred dollar pendant. The

day passes by pretty quickly until the fated moment just after lunch when everybody brings out their presents. I place the little box with the necklace in my pocket for an added element of surprise and walk downstairs holding the card. Joe is the first to give Mom a present. He has some flowers, which are nice and make her very happy. Jim gives her a jar of his favorite caramels, and several people in the room smile with prospective delight. I smile too. The two older brothers have spent thriftily this year—Jim is getting ready to go off to college next fall, and now I remember Joe’s been looking for a car. They each give her a card, of course, and Mom is as happy as she always is to see her children’s generosity. Anticipation grows. I put my hand in my pocket to retrieve the box when sud-denly Dad holds out a small package to Mom. Everybody

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looks at him and he explains with a little embarrassment. “Er, here honey. I, uh, thought it’d be nice to get you something a little nicer this year.” I swallow hard as Mom unwraps a familiar black box. She opens it carefully, and there is a “DiamonArt® 4.95 CT. T. W. Pear Cut Pendant” glittering in her hand. Despite my efforts, I give a little moan of dismay, but it gets lost in the gasps of surprise from the others at the gift. It takes a few seconds for me to realize what’s happened—was I robbed?—but before long, the reality of the situation sets in. Mom has her necklace, and is very pleased with it. She hugs Dad and thanks him warmly—and now it’s my turn to give Mom a gift. For a moment I hold the box tightly in my fist, not really knowing what to do with it. But a few seconds pass and I let it fall back into my pocket,

holding the card up for Mom to take instead. She accepts it with a smile and reads it aloud…

Dear Mom,

I hope you have a won-derful Mother’s Day. This may seem like a lot, but I just wanted to give a little more this year to let you know that I love you. Keep up the good work.

With Love,

-Jack

P.S. I hope it’s shiny enough.

Mom smiles and hugs me, just as she always does. Nobody really gets what the message is about, and nobody really understands why my face turns the color that it does, but I play along as best I can: Here Mom, here’s a glittery

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card for Mother’s Day—hope I’m not overdoing things.

I never did return the necklace. It sits buried away in my room to this moment. After all, I decided, it was the thought that counted.

V

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I


Colophon:

This journal is compiled entirely from the works of undergraduate scholars at

The University of Notre Dame.

The editors of Lost Piece: An Undergraduate Journal of Lettersare indebted to Dr. Cecilia Lucero for her invaluable assistance on

behalf of The Center for Undergraduate Scholarly Engagement.

The editors also extend thanks to the Undergraduate Research Opportunity Program,

and the Institute of Scholarship in the Liberal Arts, both of which are directed by Dr. Agustin Fuentes.

Stephen Lechner, Editor in Chief; Raymond Korson, Executive Editor;

Joseph Kuhn and Conor Rogers, Associate Editors

Lost Piece was designed in Adobe InDesign, CS5; its body copy is set in 12 pt Adobe Caslon Pro.

This publication was designed by Vu Nguyen ‘10, [email protected].

lost piece iii final leaves

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