metanoia MAGAZINE
CONTRIBUTORS
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Helen Davis
CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Anna Clark
DESIGNERS
Juliette Halisky
Erin McLaughlin
Sophia Zamoyta
EDITORS
Mary Doran
John Dillon
Bernadette Rodriguez
ADVISORY BOARD
Kathleen Sullivan, Ph.D.
Daniel McInerny, Ph.D.
Eric Jenislawski, Ph.D.
Niall O’Donnell
Daniel Spiotta
Lianna Youngman
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
Dear Reader,
MISSION STATEMENT:
Metanoia is a student magazine that showcases the height of Christendom College excellence in the areas of journalism, art, and design. It is meant to inspire thoughtful conversation among the student body and the broader Christendom community. Metanoia articles address issues concerning society, our immediate surroundings, and ourselves. Metanoia allows promising students the opportunity to develop their talents so that they can use contemporary media to “Restore All Things in Christ.”
metanoia-magazine.com
“It is not good that the man should be alone;” (Gen. 2:18). Secular society tells us that we are the arbiters of meaning in our lives and that we define ourselves. But as Catholics, we know that we are created by God for community, and cannot truly know ourselves completely isolated from others. So much of who we are is formed by our families, our friendships, our nation; we must take care to order and cultivate these relationships. Christendom provides a culture in which we can grow in our relationship, first and foremost, with Christ, then with mentors and peers.
This issue of Metanoia is the fruit of so many people’s labor, working together to make something beautiful. May you be blessed by the thoughts and insights shared here. We hope that you will enjoy this issue and discover more truly what it is to know and be known by others.
In Christ, Editor-in-Chief Helen Davis
Anna Clark, Creative Director, and Helen Davis, Editor-in-Chief.
THE COURAGEOUS WORD
by REGINA COUSINO '26
“It is, I think, that we are all so alone in what lies deepest in our souls, so unable to find the words, and perhaps the courage to speak with unlocked hearts, that we don’t know at all that it is the same with others.”1Elizabeth Lesuer
The desire to be known runs deep in all of us—to be known not only by ourselves, but also by others. And yet, we often feel the distance that seems to lie between ourselves and others, the distance that betrays our presence but hides who we are. We find that we are not known because we are not looked for; that we are half heard because we are half listened to. The question is frequently asked, “how are you?” without any pause to receive the answer. The question is mere convention, a habit, no longer possessing the tone of inquiry that had once been a polite and thoughtful invitation to the other. It has become a statement that doesn’t seek a reply. It is thus that what lies deepest in our souls gets lost in our silhouette, and we find ourselves alone. We drift further and further away from others because the very knowing we seek rests in sharing the innermost parts of our souls. But mistaken for who we are by our habits or mere appearance, by those things which are “accidental” to us, our innermost parts seem to fade and disappear, and we find ourselves alone. We seem only to be known on the surface, for, as French mystic Elizabeth Leseur puts it, “those we encounter along our earthly path cast a distracted look in passing upon the outer wrappings of our being, and go their way, confident of knowing us sufficiently.”2 They gather who we are at first glance, seeing only enough to prevent them from seeking to know us deeper in the next encounter. Known, we are no longer seen, but unseen, we fail to be known. It is the danger of familiarity wherein can grow estrangement, for the lack of curiosity leads
“The word robes the immaterial reality of the other in tangible vesture that we can perceive."
to a loss of discovery and the loss of the other.
Taken for who we were, we are no longer seen as we are. As T. S. Eliot beautifully expresses in The Cocktail Party: “We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.” works on all of us and never leaves us unchanged. We are changed through our experiences in time, for each new experience, sudden insight, or painful suffering reveals the world to us in a new way. Through the work of time we are continually dying and are born again. We die to each other daily because we are altered in every moment.
But what if we were to find the words? What if we found the courage to speak with unlocked hearts? The knowing that we desire seems to be hinged on the spoken word. Indeed, it seems that the doorway into our hearts can only be opened by the utterance of the word, the word which conveys the motion of the spirit. It is through this word that we are invited, that we can enter into the depths and encounter the
core of the other. At once both material and immaterial, the word is always a symbol, pointing to that which is not present. The auditory material sound points to something beyond itself, opening our eyes to the realm of the immaterial, where we can encounter the other as he truly is, whole and entire. For it is only then that our gaze has the power to penetrate the outer wrappings of the other, allowing us to enter within him and touch the deepest cords of his heart.
This intimacy need not be—indeed, it ought not be—a rare occurrence. “Even in a brief encounter, we can touch a soul or, even more, achieve profound insight into that which is hidden beneath appearances; a whole person, a whole life.”4 Let us learn to speak, then, with open and courageous hearts. Let us speak with hope, seeking to communicate the interior word which is understood in the heart but is so often impossible to put into words. Let us encounter each other as the strangers we are, and then apply ourselves and attempt to share what lies deepest in our hearts. Our courage not only opens the door to our own hearts, but allows others to do the same, creating a space in which we can encounter each other whole and entire. For only then can we come to a true understanding of the whole person, the whole life, that lies beneath the appearance, drawing us in through the doorway to dwell with them within. The word robes the immaterial reality of the other in tangible vesture that we can perceive. It robes to reveal, displaying the whole person— both the outward appearance and the throbbing heart within. It provides the doorway where two can huddle together in their loneliness and discover they are
“
Our gaze has the power to penetrate the outer wrappings of the other, allowing us to enter within him and touch the deepest cords of his heart.
what's in a
by JILLIAN VINCENT '27
“What’s in a name?” ponders Shakespeare’s famous heroine, Juliet, out of love for the forbidden Romeo. She continues, "that which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.”1
The foolish girl, captivated by a man she cannot marry due to his family name, mistakenly deems as irrelevant the importance of a name. The shock factor in her statement comes from our intrinsic recognition that she is not speaking the truth—names, far from being irrelevant, are indispensable because of the individuality they highlight in each person. Having a name, distinct from the names of those around us, emphasizes the uniqueness of every individual made lovingly by God.
We see the importance of names throughout Scripture, particularly in Isaiah 43:1, where the LORD says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (emphasis added). God’s use of our names displays His love for us, a sign that He cares deeply about each of His creatures as individuals. Likewise, when we are interacting with those around us, using each other’s names is a sign of Christian charity. We are called to love our neighbor—in what easier way could we do this than simply to recognize another’s individuality by using his or her name?
When I was very young, my mother taught me that the sweetest sound to a person’s ear is the sound of their own name. This is not to condemn our peers as self-centered, nor to claim that they wish to hear their
No community can builtexistwithoutbeing upon personal relationships between individuals." “
names in the way an aspiring celebrity desires his or her name to be in shining lights. Rather, this pleasure at hearing our names pronounced by others comes from the natural desire to be noticed.
The great philosopher Aristotle tells us that man is a social creature.2 Upon this notion, every human heart longs for personal connection. The easiest way to show another person that we care about them and want to form a connection is to learn—and use!—his or her name. We may be amazed at how warmly people respond to hearing their own names used. This use of our peers’ names shows that we care enough about them to acknowledge them as individuals, and it communicates our own wish to form a relationship with them. Furthermore, no broader community can exist without being built upon personal relationships between individuals. Using people’s names is the first step to those personal connections, and thereby a first step to building a larger community made up of people who care about each other.
When a speaker addresses his or her peers by name, the interaction fosters community better than the nameless “hello” or silent head nod in passing. In a world where many walk around in their own worlds, listening to music or staring at a screen, it is easy to shut out the people around us and retreat within ourselves. When we feel like nobody cares who we are, like the people we pass in our day see us as no more than a faceless figure in a sea of others, it leads to one feeling:
Isolation is the very opposite of community. In order to nourish a community, we must foster personal attention to the individuals within it. Though it may seem elementary, remembering somebody’s name is a powerful weapon in the battle against loneliness, the most dangerous pestilence afflicting the west today. According to Mother Teresa, “the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love.” In what simple way can we
show love for our neighbor, as God instructs us to do? Simply by following His own example and addressing our neighbors by name.
So many people in our country suffer deeply from loneliness. How many people do we meet whose names we forget without a thought, until the moment when we see them again and awkwardly struggle to avoid addressing them? The common excuse “I’m no good with names” seems ever on our tongues. But should this be enough? It certainly isn’t the way to build community. Rather than showing love for our neighbor, it shows marked indifference. Instead of falling back on this loveless excuse, we should challenge ourselves to make a concerted effort at learning the names of those we meet. Is it difficult? Surely it is, at first. Thankfully, it only takes a little practice before it becomes clear that the more we strive to learn others' names, the easier it becomes. From there, it becomes ever easier to build community.
Ultimately, building community all comes down to how well we love our neighbor. And how do we show this love in a simple, but effective, way? By letting them know that we care for them as individuals by using their names. So once again, “What’s in a name?” "What’s in a name" is personal attention. "What’s in a name" is love. ‘What’s in a name’ is the foundation of a thriving community.
“
" Technology cannot replace human contact, the virtual cannot replace the real and neither can social media replace the social sphere.
Pope Francis, Pontifical Academy for Life Workshop
by MEAGHAN PIERCE '25
FromReality Unplugging
One of the great ironies of the digital age is the extent to which we use the latest technology to warn against tech usage. Bloggers write articles about increasing screen time and post them online; social media influencers make posts about the dangers of social media, and you can get ChatGPT to write you a post-apocalyptic story about a world run by artificial intelligence. It seems that despite the widespread unease that surrounds technology use, most of us are more or less at peace with the technological advancements of our day. However, we forget that today’s adults are part of the last generation that was born in a world not yet saturated with personal devices and internet content. If we do not fight for a reasonable and human approach to technology, what will be the fate of future generations?
Meet Harrison.1 He’s six years old and lives in the greater Baltimore area. I met Harrison on a farm, while working at a summer day camp. A few facts about Harrison: his favorite film genre is horror, his favorite pastime is playing video games, and he thinks farm animals are “boring” compared to YouTube characters like “skibidi toilet guy.” And finally, he doesn’t believe in the moon landing because according to him, “astronauts are only in computer games.” Harrison is only one example of children I met at camp whose minds are primarily occupied with the virtual rather than the real. The culprit is obvious: excessive screen time.
Although statistics vary, recent reports on child screen time display shocking results. Despite dire warnings about the negative consequences of electronic devices for children and accompanying expert recommendations for decreased screen time, young children’s use of screens is on the rise across the board. To cite just one estimate, the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychology suggests that “children ages 8-12 in the United States spend 4-6 hours a day watching or using screens.”2 If you gasped at that number, just know that this is one of the more conservative estimates to be found on the web. Furthermore, this study, like most others,
This raises the question, what are the consequences of inundating young children with virtual content? One possibility presented by Matthew Crawford in his book The World Beyond Your Head is the loss of human resilience and the ability to deal with setbacks and obstacles. Crawford writes that real agency is found in “the heteronomy of things,” by which he means the ability of real things to disappoint us or pose challenges to our goals, or, in his words, “the hazards of material reality.”3 Harrison and his friends have not yet totally lost their ability to engage with adversity; they spent several hours at camp trying to dig up an enormous rock.
However, as Crawford points out, technology eventually atrophies our ability to engage with “otherness,” with the world outside our head. As children today grow up more and more living in a virtual world, it is easy to imagine them losing their resilience, because the world of technology will always present an environment which requires less courage and perseverance than the “real” world. It is simply too easy to live in the virtual realm, where the stakes are lower and the consequences less serious. Worse still, Harrison’s generation, as well as those following, may lose their ability to engage with other people. After all, as Crawford writes, other people “make too many demands and constantly disappoint.”4 How many of these children will not turn to a virtual reality which conforms to what they want when confronted with other people’s real difference and
Yet even more concerning than the loss of resilience is the loss of wonder. Harrison could not fully appreciate the real world of sticks and stones and cows and goats because his mind was too full of inane and grotesque virtual content. When it attacks our capacity for wonder, technology strikes at the core of our nature. As human beings, we are made to live
in a real world, one which we did not and never could create. Our experience of this world as being “other” is the foundation for wonder, which in turn inspires all our creative efforts, connecting us with the otherness of the world. Engaging with virtual content, however, is an assent to a world which requires no creativity or imagination on our part, and worst of all, one which does not, like genuine creativity, point us back to the real world. Like Harrison, we may learn to prefer the world of virtual reality, even to measure real life against it, instead of the other way around. Yet this strikes at the very root of our being, because it is through our relation to others that we discover what it means to be truly human. To be is to be in relation to the other. As the late Pope Benedict XVI wrote of the human spirit: “And precisely in this, namely, that it not only is, but reaches beyond itself, it comes to itself. In transcending itself it has itself; by being with the other it first becomes itself.” ability to reach outside ourselves and encounter the world in which we have been created, we lose our humanity.
A final word: while everyone rants against modern technology and how it has changed our culture, few people seem to have any clear idea of what to do about it. Our modern relativism and reticence towards expressing “values” which may infringe on other people’s freedom gives us no footing on which to base our arguments. Experts may continue to warn against screen time, but their warnings can only extend so far in a society which has so few common ethical or moral standards. They can appeal to the detrimental effects on our physical health – but if it is “my body, my choice,” why can’t I ruin my eyes and my sleep with eight hours of screen time a day? A genuinely Catholic approach to technology will have to find new arguments, or our warnings will
childhood wonder should be destroyed or that children should be robbed of an encounter with the real world. Perhaps it is through a return to childhood that we can finally convince society that the use of technology must be guided in such a way that it builds up and does not destroy our humanity, which is fundamentally defined by our relation to others.
CHARITY IN ARGUMENT
by MADELEINE CLARK '26
All too often, arguments do little but breed tension and anger. They cause conflict and separation between people when they should do the exact opposite. Arguments exist for the ultimate good of creating harmony and unity through a better understanding of each other’s positions for the sake of discovering the truth. Indeed, people have always argued with one another to come together in search of truth. However, when an argument strays from this end of the search for truth, it loses focus upon an essential aspect of disagreement: charity. When deprived of charity, our arguments can devolve into a pointless battle for superiority. On both sides, we must remember this pursuit of truth is a shared journey. In order to reclaim the true nature of this pursuit, we must reintegrate charity in our arguments through the following four ways.
First, we must remember that truth is a gift, not a weapon. On both sides of the argument, each person should be trying to enlighten the other person, to share the truth with another person. The truth is a precious treasure, which we ought to give with joy and love. If, in an argument, we beat one another over the head with what we believe is – probably incorrectly – the truth or use it to place ourselves higher than the other, then we are failing.
As St. Paul aptly mentions, “If I speak with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal”.1 We must always remember that the reason we are trying to share the beauty of the truth with each other is ultimately out of love.
Second, remember that each party within the argument is a person. We are speaking to another person who was created in the image of God with emotions as well as an intellect. If we want the other person to work with us to arrive at the truth, then we must remember to speak with kindness and patience. Inversely, the person arguing with you is striving towards the same end that you are: the truth. He desires that you understand the truth with him. Sometimes, you might find yourself on the receiving end of the truth rather than giving it. Treat the person as you would a friend.
3
Third, listen and seek to understand. Often arguments devolve because of misunderstanding and miscommunication. How can we hope to convince another person if we do not fully grasp what argument he is putting forward? If neither party listens to the other, it leads to talking over each other and misconstruing each other’s views. Before responding, listen to the person’s claims, and earnestly seek to understand him.
Charity is a necessary part of all arguments. Take away charity, and we no longer recognize argumentation’s whole purpose: seeking the truth together. Without love, we cannot properly give the truth to another, nor can we receive it. Truth and love are integrally connected. As Pope Benedict XVI explains, “Only in truth does charity shine forth, only in truth can charity be authentically lived.”2 Love is the branch from which the truth blooms; without charity, truth cannot spring forth. Whenever we argue, we must remember that we are doing so because we are striving for the truth together, and that charity must be at the heart of this pursuit.
4
Fourth, interpret your interlocutor’s argument in the best possible light. Often in an argument we try to “straw man” the other person’s assertion and make it weaker when in fact we should do the opposite. An excellent model of this charitable approach is St. Thomas Aquinas. In his Summa Theologiae, he lists the objections first, giving them credibility and presenting them in a favorable light. To imitate this practice, we should give the person the benefit of the doubt that what he is conveying has merit. Perhaps our understanding of the other person’s position is lacking. Repeat his argument back as best you can to him for clarification; then respond.
Fight all error, but do it with good humor, patience, kindness, and love.
St. John of Kanty
How beautiful then is modesty and what a gem among virtues it is.
St. Bernard of Clairvaux
Stylin' in Society How Magnanimous Modesty Informs Relationships
Too often, modern man’s methodology for distinguishing “us” from “them”—whoever that alien group may be—consists in clothing. Kids on the playground are mocked for dressing differently. In the educational system, students try to fit in with a certain style. Social outcasts, even through their adult life, are often ostracized because of their clothing choices. Unfortunately, the “otherness” of clothing is only exacerbated by the moral quandary of modesty. In Christian circles, there is often a broad divide between those who attempt to cover as much of the human body as possible and those who do not, causing consternation or even uproar over what seems to be a frivolous issue. Can there be a virtuous mean between two very broad extremes? While
by ISABEL-MARIE AUCLAIR '26
this issue can encompass any clothing choice, let us focus primarily on analyzing the extremes found in Christian communities and discern the mean going forward.
The first extreme I will address is the view of modesty as a no-consequences social philosophy that both denies any culpability and refuses to adhere to any set standard on how a person may dress, speak, or behave. This attitude is expressed in the ironic rhetorical question, “Am I my brother's keeper?” In more secular circles, clothing serves only as self-expression. In focusing on the dehumanized individual instead of focusing on the family, community, or common good, society’s individualistic structure tempts us to view modesty only as a measure
of comfort. Do I feel comfortable wearing this? Do I feel confident or most myself? Cultural divide further contributes to an alienating emphasis placed on clothing. The Catechism of the Catholic Church warns the faithful against cultural relativism, in which morality is entirely contextually dependent on nationality or ethnicity.1 An example of this is the rebellious American teenage spirit, which rejects the United States’ puritanical roots in order to undermine any moral standard in today's American culture. Even for those in Christian circles, one can easily read this no-consequences view of modesty into the Bible. In the Sermon on the Mount, Our Lord says, “every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and throw it away.”2 Should the Bible-believing Christian woman read the above as an observer’s prerogative to keep custody of the eyes no matter what she herself is wearing? No, rather, the passage should be understood to mean that Christians should consider how their manner of dress may affect others and that chastity of thought is not wholly the responsibility of the observer. The social climate exacerbates this slide into individualism which is fundamentally against the unity inherent in Christ’s Mystical Body.
In what I believe to be a very well-intentioned attempt to move away from the secular standards of modesty not based in virtue, Christians often encounter the other extreme. In these circles, modesty is used as a legalistic form of body-shaming that implies that those who dress or behave in a manner not according to arbitrary standards are irreparably corrupting those around them. In what is called “purity culture,” Christians experience severe selfdoubt and shame. Furthermore, they struggle to relate in a true and beautiful way to the opposite sex, whether in platonic or romantic relationships. This can also be
seen in interactions with authority figures when people are reprimanded by ad hominem attacks on their supposed “immodesty” and therefore irredeemable immorality. This stands in contrast with a constructive correction for a transgression against a subgroup’s concrete standard of clothing or behavioral convention. This spirit of legalism can only lead to resentment, stemming from an enforced view of morality as a mere list of obligations, instead of leading to the fulfillment of the human person. Additionally, this attempt to preserve the human person only degrades and infantilizes them, deeming them incapable of using their God-given intellect and free will to discern the good and beautiful.
the metaphorical baby out with the bathwater:
Since this is how things are, then, do you think we should censure silver and gold because of greedy men, food because of gluttons, wine because of drunkards, attractive women because of fornicators and adulterers, and so on? Especially since you recognize that the physician makes good use of fire whereas the poisoner makes evil use of bread.6
For those striving for modesty in the modernday, the situation seems hopeless—try to be comfortable, but you are sending people to hell; try to accommodate arbitrary standards, but doing so legitimizes the unjust verbal attacks. What, then, is the metric for modesty? St. Thomas responds that modesty resides in fittingness: first to the person, then to external situations.3 St. Thomas’s answer builds on Sirach 19:29, which says “A man’s attire and open-mouthed laughter, and a man’s manner of walking, show what he is,” in other words, one must seek fittingness in clothes, conversation, and behavior. Regarding these, then, the faithful can take the following broad principles from the Angelic Doctor and St. Augustine. St. Thomas continues that seeking attention or even a lack of attention to clothes or other outward attire can be inordinate attachment.4 Inordinate attachment to anything, even a good thing, St. Augustine writes, holds back the faithful from the true good.5 However, St. Augustine cautions against throwing
Writing on the moral life in the light of Sacred Scripture, these great saints agree that prudential decisions, made with knowledge of oneself and one’s surroundings, creates the catalyst for modesty. Because modesty—while not wholly culturally relative—is largely actualized in specific relationships or social interactions, it can be tempting to shun societal responsibilities altogether and only claim modesty as a type of Catholic selfactualization to glorify the beauty of the human body. It is important to realize, however, our relationship with God and our relationship with others are intrinsically linked; in other words, Catholics are called to live radical charity in all of their relationships. If a person’s social worth or selfactualization depends entirely on external expressions of modesty such as clothes, language, or behavioral mannerisms, then something is intrinsically wrong in their relationship with God— and therefore their life in society. Strengthened by confirmation, the Church Militant achieves salvation not through individualism or illogical and uncharitable rebukes, but through greater unity in the Holy Spirit. Modesty should be recognized as charity, and ultimately a means to grow in God’s unity.
Our True Citizenship
BY AVIGAYIL HOLMSTEAD '25
The feeling of being “at home” is important to many people both literally and figuratively. Everyone wants to feel as if they truly belong somewhere, and usually that is somewhere specific. Recently, two of my friends were discussing how many times each of them had moved and both mentioned that there was a house during their adolescent years that had been particularly hard to leave. Those respective houses have been their homes – leaving that particular place behind had
been such an emotional experience that those specific houses are still remembered as where they really belong. I tried to think if there had been a time when I had felt the same way about leaving any of the seven different houses in which I had lived. Over the course of the discussion, I realized that I had never felt that way.
All the houses my family and I have lived in have sheltered us, kept us warm, rang with laughter during dinnertime, and have been
locations of the prosaic beauty that comes to be when a family creates a space they call “home.” Yet, I had never cared so much as to be painfully affected by the loss of a specific place when we moved. I realized there were several reasons for this lack of attachment. My parents were born and raised in America; when my father was finishing up his Ph.D. in Hebrew and Semitic Studies and my parents were given the chance to study in Israel, I was born in Jerusalem during the Second Intifada; and I have lived in Canada from the ages of three to twenty-two. I am what is called a Third Culture Individual: a child raised in a culture different from her parents’ native culture. Thus, I grew up appreciating independence and knowledge of the United States’ founding principles, but I lived in Israel, where multiculturalism, public mildness and courtesy were valued. I have also always had an affinity for and interest in the European and Middle Eastern countries having been born across the Atlantic but I have never really felt that I properly belonged in either culture.
For me, home had never been a house. Visiting relatives regularly in the United States, voting in both the U.S. and Israel, and interacting with my father’s connections from across the Ocean — these experiences led me to recognize that home had never been a country either. As I explained these thoughts to my friends, I shared that, instead, home had always been my family. It had never been hard to move because my family had always been moving with me too. And this
segues into trying to understand where our true citizenship, our true sense of belonging, lies.
Belonging to a country—wanting to belong to a country—is a good thing. Patriotism is a virtue that is slowly disappearing in American culture. We should be proud of, protective of, and grateful for our country as the land that has provided us with the physical space to survive. And yet belonging to a family has a unique value of its own. The caring hands of loving parents cultivate the character in the home. Our interactions with our parents and our siblings are the first interactions and, for a while, the most extensive interactions we have with other human beings. In so many ways, our family informs our identity. Yet, this “citizenship of family” is also being undervalued in culture today. In many European and Eastern cultures, the family name is the connection one is most proud of when one introduces himself, but we have become so individualistic in Western culture that the family connection is unappreciated. “I can succeed alone.” “I can pull myself up by my own bootstraps.” “I’m a self-made man.” All these phrases encourage young men and women to disregard all else and focus only on their own story. The story of an individual, however, would not exist without all the other stories that came before.
Beyond our national and familial citizenships, the heavenly citizenship exists as our commonly ignored yet most significant citizenship. Christians
are called to remember not only God’s promises to them but their promise to God: to live righteously. As created beings, Christians or not, everyone is still challenged to live thoughtfully, seeking their Creator. Although national and familial citizenship can be escaped, our innate citizenship under God cannot be. People’s strongest sense of belonging may be to their countries; others derive their sense of self from their family in some way. But for those who feel as if they have neither, they still have the global citizenship in God. In relation to God, everyone can belong; we all have equal standing as created persons who are loved.
This may seem like there is no difference among people, no way to distinguish the uniqueness of each person. We like to identify ourselves with something that makes us different from others, and to be Christian seems to be to forget ourselves entirely. Yet, as C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity: There are no real personalities [apart from God]. Until you have given up your self to Him you will not have a real
back. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ, and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.1
We like to say we belong — to our country, to our families, to ourselves. We like to call some place “home.” Yet, our countries and communities and even our families will pass away; only God is eternal and we only truly belong to Him. Perhaps more of our identities should relate to the everlasting One, who will never pass away. My experience has led me to identify myself more with my family and my Christian values instead of a nation. Admittedly, not feeling connected to one country, to one place, feels unsecure and uncommitted. Yet, it is not Americanness or Canadian-ness or Israeli-ness that unites all of humanity. It is God. Christianity can seem to advocate for our giving ourselves away completely and never gaining a sense of belonging in this world. If, however, C.S. Lewis is right (and I’m willing to bet that he is), we find out that we will never feel a deeper sense of belonging and identity should we declare our heavenly citizenship as our most significant citizenship. “But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”2
Endnotes
THE COURAGEOUS WORD
1. Sheldon Vanauken, A Severe Mercy.
2. Elizabeth Leseur, The Secret Diary of Elizabeth Leseur.
3. T.S. Eliot, The Cocktail Party.
4. Elizabeth Leseur, The Secret Diary of Elizabeth Leseur.
WHAT'S IN A NAME?
1. Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2, lines 47-48.
2. Aristotle, The Politics of Aristotle, Vol. 2 : Prefatory Essays, edited by W. l. Newman. Clarendon, 1887.
TECHNOLOGY: UNPLUGGING FROM REALITY
1. Not his real name.
2. https://www.aacap.org/AACAP/Families_and_Youth/Facts_for_ Families/FFF-Guide/Children-And-Watching-TV-054.aspx
3. Matthew Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head (New York: Farrar, Strauss, & Giroux, 2016), 72.
4. Crawford, 177.
5. Joseph Ratzinger, “Concerning the Notion of Person in Theology,” Communio 17 (Fall 1990): 451.
CHARITY IN ARGUMENT
1. 1 Corinthians 13:1.
2. Benedict XVI, "Caritas in Veritate" (29 June 2009), Vatican translation: Charity in Truth. The Holy See Online (accessed September 27, 2024).
STYLIN' IN SOCIETY
