Mr. President, at the end of last year, Marcelle and I attended an event at Georgetown University where Cardinal Theodore McCarrick was awarded a honorary degree. Everyone present at this ceremony was captured by the remarks that the…
Mr. President, at the end of last year, Marcelle and I attended an event at Georgetown University where Cardinal Theodore McCarrick was awarded a honorary degree.
Everyone present at this ceremony was captured by the remarks that the archbishop gave in accepting the degree. He artfully wove us through three ``stories'' to demonstrate the importance of a Catholic university in the Jesuit tradition.
So that all of my colleagues have an opportunity to review the remarks of Cardinal McCarrick, and because of the admiration I have for him, I ask that his acceptance speech at the award of his honorary degree from Georgetown University be printed in the Record.
The material follows:
Remarks by Theodore Cardinal McCarrick, D.D., Ph.D., Archbishop of
Washington, on the Occasion of His Receiving a Honorary Degree,
Georgetown University, December 1, 2004
As Father Brian [McDermott] was reading those wonderful
words and as the president repeated them, I thought of the
wonderful Jewish expression, ``From your mouth to God's
ears.'' I just hope the Lord doesn't get mad that you said
all those nice things about me. Dr. President, Dr. Villani,
Chairman of the Board, members of the board, Your Excellency,
The Apostolic Nuncio [Archbishop Gabriel Montalvo] and my
brother bishops, my--I guess I should say my Georgetown
family now--and I say that with great joy.
I want to begin by telling you sincerely how honored I am
in receiving this degree from Georgetown. I've long regarded
this institution as one of the finest educational
institutions in the United States. During my four years in
Washington, I've always felt part of it in a very special
way. To receive its degree now is a very special joy for me,
and I want you all to know how much I do appreciate it.
I have tremendous respect for your president, Dr. DeGioia.
I was privileged to be present at his inauguration, and to
prophesy at that time that he would lead this institution to
greater heights of excellence and to a continuing growth in
the realization of its mission as a Catholic university in
the Jesuit tradition. My prophecy is coming true every day.
My respect for the Society of Jesus goes back to my early
years of high school when I admired the Jesuits so much that
I found myself going to two of their high schools, not at the
same time, but one after the other until I finally got it
right and received my diploma. My own education in high
school and college has been much enhanced by the excellence
of the ratio studiorum and by its challenges. It has been an
education for which I am so very grateful, and through which
I have been so very blessed. As a matter of fact, since the
rector of Georgetown is my personal theologian, I'm still
learning from the Society and appreciating that wisdom and
insight so very much.
My relationship to Georgetown, as I began to intermit a
moment ago, is not of a visitor in a Catholic institution.
The local bishop is always part of any enterprise which is
related to the Church. A university such as ours is clearly
one of the great boasts and glories of our Catholic community
here in Washington. I have been here many times during the
last four years. I've enjoyed that privilege. I've been here
for academic celebrations, for lectures, for interfaith
moments of prayer, at times of national crisis, for meetings
with students, and often for Mass in your chapels. In the
beginning, I was happy to be welcomed by all of you at the
University. Now I no longer see myself just as a welcomed
visitor, but as part of the family. It is therefore always
a joy when I hear someone say instead of ``Welcome to the
University,'' ``It's nice to have you back.''
Georgetown University, in its stated mission, sees itself
truly and essentially as a Catholic institution in the Jesuit
tradition. That fact opens its life to many wonderful
challenges and many great opportunities. It is a place where
Catholic scholars may freely exercise a faithful witness to
what the Church teaches. It is a place where non-Catholic
scholars and professors, who add so much to the life of this
institution, can pursue their own fields of study with the
assurance that truth is the master here, and that its pursuit
is always welcome. Their understanding of the mission of this
institution adds so much to society's understanding of what
Georgetown is all about. I pray that those who are not
Catholic, both in the faculty and the student body, will
always find inspiration an example from the Catholics who
teach here, both cleric and lay, as well as a deeper
understanding of what we're all about, and what our mission
is--not just in the Church but in society and in the world at
large.
The preparation of Catholic leaders for the future of our
nation is a noble role. The preparation of those who are not
Catholic in their own burgeoning opportunity to play roles of
leadership in our country, has an equal importance because it
enables the leaders of tomorrow to learn about us, about the
Church, and to appreciate our own Catholic mission in this
complex society. This has always been one of the great roles
of the Society of Jesus, and I pray it will continue always
to be so here at Georgetown. May those of the immediate
family always be challenged to holiness, and those of the
wider family allowed to see what our life in the Lord and in
His church is all about. In the religious life of the
students and faculty at Georgetown, may there always be this
quest for holiness since this has to be the role within any
Catholic institution. The example of the Jesuits, according
to the rule of the great Ignatius, must always be a
challenge, not just to holiness of life, but to priests in
religious vocations both for the Society and for the Diocesan
in priesthood, and for religious life as well. I always
rejoice
in a special way to find graduates of Georgetown hearing the
Lord's call to service in priestly and religious ministry.
This, too, is a measure of our Catholic life and of our deep
Jesuit tradition.
I want to speak briefly tonight about the global importance
or the international aspect of a Catholic university in the
Jesuit tradition. Basically, there are three points I want to
make. First is that the mark of every great university is
caring. The mark of every great Catholic university is
wonder. The mark of every great Catholic university in the
Jesuit tradition is adventure.
The first, caring, demands that there be a background of
authentic humanism in the very nature and mission of every
university, a sense of caring. A great university such as
Georgetown is called to manifest this in a world that tends
so much to be mechanistic and ideological. Secondly, the role
of a Catholic university demands a sense of wonder, of
mystery, and appreciation that everything in this world is
not able to be subjected to positivistic criteria. We believe
that there is a reality beyond the mere material that calls
for recognition of the spiritual, the wonderful. And finally,
the Jesuit tradition of this institution calls for it to be
adventurous, innovative, inventive in the deepest sense. I
believe the young people of today would say with great
solemnity, the ability to think outside the box.
I would like briefly to develop these three points by three
stories. They are stories which have made a difference in my
life. They are perhaps three stories that have been my
instruction in where I am today. The first, the one which we
can call the humanistic, the caring, takes place in Africa,
and challenges us to understand the deep relationship which
each of us has with every other human being on the planet,
reminding us that we are all brothers and sisters in God's
one human family. The second which takes place in Asia, and
which is the only one that I relate second hand, is a story
that reminds us of the need for wonder in every Catholic
life. And finally, the story of an extraordinary Catholic
educator, who is a Jesuit, a story from Eastern Europe,
will bring us out of the box. Let me tell you these three
stories.
Years ago when I was a young bishop, I was sent on a
mission to the Sudan for Catholic Relief Services. I tell
this story because I think it is a big moment in my own life
and has made a change. I see in my growth what may affect the
university and its life. I was fascinated by the Sudan. I had
never been in that part of Africa. I met priests. I met
bishops. I met Muslim leaders. I met the poor. One day, one
of the priests said, ``If you have half a day, we'll go
across the Nile and go beyond Umderman.'' (Umderman, if you
used to go to the old movies is where Kitchener had that
great battle and Lord Gordon was killed.) So I said,
``Sure.'' We went across the Nile, which itself is a great
experience, got to the other side and said, ``What are we
going to see?'' He said, ``No, we're not going to stop
here.'' We went about 25 more miles west into the desert.
There, after the city of Umderman had long since passed, we
saw a huge city of tents. We went in to see some of the
families, and translated, I heard several things.
We're all members of God's one human family, but I never
saw it more clearly than there. These were the people,
probably some from Dafur, but this is 20 years ago, who when
the drought came and there was no water, could not do any
farming, could not take care of their flock. So they gathered
up their families and went toward the river, the Nile, where
water will always be. Now they couldn't get to the Nile. They
had to stop 25 miles away because they were not allowed to go
there. They would have overwhelmed, so the government said,
the facilities. And so they stayed there, and every day they
paid some entrepreneurs who drove little trucks to the Nile,
filled them up with water, and then came back. Of course,
they didn't come back for free. And gradually, these people
paid all the money that they had with them until it was gone.
And after the money was gone, they began to sell their
furniture. And after their furniture was gone, they began to
sell their animals. And after their animals were gone, they
began to sell their children.
Listening to the families, for whom the sacrifice of an
older child had to be made so that younger children could
survive, it is a story that is engrained in my heart because
I think that it showed me that all life has to have caring in
it. All life has to have a sense of who we are as God's
people. A university has to have that, any university,
because if we are training people without understanding that
we are all related, that we're all one family, then we are
training them for a world that does not exist. That's the
first lesson. A university must be involved in caring and in
showing people how to care. I think Georgetown is.
The second story happened in East Timor. I had gone to East
Timor for some other reason, and it was maybe three months
after the elections, and two months or one month after the
whole country had been in a state of terrible turmoil, and
those who did not want East Timor to be free began to kill
all the leaders. Anyone who taught in school, anyone who had
a good job, anyone who had any kind of an education was a
target for these militias.
The Catholic Church had been very important to these
people. Eighty-five percent of the people had been Catholic,
surprisingly, in one of these small islands of Indonesia. A
great bishop, Bishop Belo, who won the Nobel Prize, was
guarding the flock and taking care of them all. One day I
went to visit him. I went to visit him in the charred ruins
of his house, and then they told me the story.
About a week before, there had been marauding bands, always
armed and always dangerous and violent. The people began to
become afraid. The bishop's house was a place with a large
lawn. The people came into the lawn trying to seek protection
from him who was a leader and from being together. Maybe
1,000 people were gathered there in the lawn, and the bishop
came out and began to talk to them. While they were there,
suddenly a band of militia came in with their guns, pushing
the people aside, pushing the bishop aside. We heard all
kinds of different things that may have been said, but
ultimately they lit a fire and threw it in the bishop's
house. The bishop went to try to save it, but he was held
back. The people were awed, and scared, and afraid to do
anything. While the bishop was watching the destruction of
his house, and while the people in desperate fear were
just standing around, a young man came out of the crowd.
It was dark except for the flames. He went to the bishop,
tried to move him away from the flames. A soldier came up,
pushed the young man away, and stuck his gun in the
bishop's back, and got ready to pull the trigger. There
was a hush, and almost a scream at the same time among the
people. The young man came back and gently pushed the
bishop forward and stood behind him, between the gun and
the bishop and did not move. The man with the gun didn't
know what to do, and there was silence. Where did this
fellow come from, this young man? Nobody knew him. But
somehow he found courage that nobody else had. Somehow he
found an ability to, in a world full of violence and
anger, he found a sense of wonder and mystery. The man
with the gun became embarrassed because he didn't know
what to do. So, he hit the young man, pulled his gun back,
and walked back to the soldiers. The moment was enough to
break the tension, so the militia left. The bishop turned
around to thank the young man. He wasn't there anymore. He
had disappeared into the crowd.
I thought, there is a sense of wonder and mystery in your
life when people find courage to do things that one would
never expect, when people find the ability to stand up for
something that they believe, even if it threatens their life
or everything they have. A Catholic university has to prepare
people for that. A Catholic university has to somehow enhance
in every human being that sense of wonder, that sense of
mystery, that sense that you can do what you never thought
you could do. You can rise above yourself, and your spirit
can be enflamed, and enhanced by the needs that you see in
your brothers. A university that is truly Catholic, has to
pass that lesson along. I think Georgetown does.
The third and last story is a different kind of story. It's
a story of a Jesuit; an extraordinary Jesuit. In Slovakia, at
the time of the communist persecution, only a certain number
of priests were allowed to be ordained. To ordain outside
that number, the bishop would be thrown into prison and the
priest as well. There was a young Jesuit who had commissioned
to be a priest called Jan Chryzostom Korec. Korec was
ordained at maybe 26 years-old, and began to serve as a
priest. The Jesuit provincial of Slovakia who was living in
disguise and living underground as so many were, came to see
him one day. He said, ``Father Korec, Bishop Hnilica--who was
an underground bishop--has permission to consecrate you a
bishop. And we feel that you should accept.'' Well, this is a
man now 27 years old, but unless somebody accepted this
burden, the Church could disappear. So ultimately he said,
``Yes, I will do whatever you think is right.'' So, in the
kitchen of a friend the next night, he was consecrated a
bishop. Then he once again disappeared and continued to work
as a priest.
About six months later, the provincial came to him again
and said, ``Korec, we have a man now who is ready to be
ordained a priest, a man of the Society. Will you ordain
him?'' He said, ``Okay.'' and he ordained the young man in a
park at twilight. Unfortunately, the young man was not as
careful as he should have been, and the authorities found out
that he was a priest. They brought him in and they began to
put him under all kinds of tortures and difficulties.
Finally, he said, ``I was ordained a priest quietly,
secretly.'' And they said, ``Who did it?'' After more
torture, he said, ``Korec.'' So they went and called Korec
in, and they said, ``Are you a bishop?'' Without going into
any kind of Jesuitical subtleties, he said, ``Me, a bishop,
that's the silliest thing I've ever heard!'' He kept saying
that and they let him go. He didn't look like a bishop. Well,
six months later, the provincial came back and he said, ``We
have another man. Will you ordain him?'' Korec ordained him
in somebody's living room. And this man, too, unfortunately,
after some months was caught, brought in, tortured, revealed
Korec, and so then they had him. They sent him away to prison
in solitary confinement. He was there 18 years. And then
finally in the Prague spring, they allowed him to come out
and to work. They gave him a job working in a chemical
factory, unpacking chemical things and spillage: a very
dangerous job. He did it quietly. Now he no longer had the
right to be a priest, so they gave him these other jobs.
He's an interesting man, and gradually people looked for
him. Gradually, he began quietly to be a priest again.
They weren't
sure of him, so the lamp in his one-room bedroom apartment
was wired. They listened to all of his conversations.
He has wonderful stories to tell about playing the radio so
loud that the neighbors complained, but at least he could
have conversations then. Gradually, he began to do things
that no one else has been able to do. When the iron curtain
fell, he was acknowledged as a bishop. He went down to see
the Holy Father. The Holy Father told him that he was to be
given given the Diocese of Nitra, which is the diocese of St.
Methodius, of the great Sts. Cyril and Methodisum, one of
those great wonderful sees.
About two years after that I was in Slovakia and I was
talking to one of the vice-presidents of the Slovak
parliament who was a Catholic. We were talking about those
tough days of the communist regime. And I said, ``How did you
ever get your education?'' He said, ``I went to the
university.'' I said, ``Which one?'' He said, ``I went to
Korec University.'' I said, ``What do you mean?'' He said,
``Every Saturday when we had off--because they had to work on
Sunday. Every Saturday which was our day off, we'd pack some
salami and some beer and go up into the hills and Father
Korec would come. All day long, we would sit, and he would
teach us about the Church, about Catholic Social Thought,
about philosophy, about theology.'' And this man said to me,
``I know more about these things than if I had gone to the
university for four years because we never missed a Saturday.
Dozens of us would go. He would write on pieces of paper what
we had to know, and he would make 50 copies all in his own
handwriting.'' I've seen them.
To be adventurous. To be inventive. Not to let the world
make it impossible for you to grow, and live, and enjoy.
Always to listen to that other voice that says you can do it:
find a way. I think that's the mark of a Jesuit tradition,
and I think we find it here at Georgetown.
I've kept you too long with these stories of mine, but I
feel that a story, like a picture, is worth a thousand words.
These stories, as I said at the beginning, have moved me,
maybe hopefully a little further in my understanding of what
education is. Maybe it will give us all an understanding of
what I mean when I say a great Catholic university in the
Jesuit tradition has to be.
Every university should teach its students and its faculty
and administration that we live in a world of brothers and
sisters, not as strangers and enemies, but that we all share
a common dignity, and that all lives are precious, everyone's
life. Secondly, to be truly Catholic, we must be open to
wonder, to mystery, the mysteries of our faith, the mysteries
of love, the mysteries even of science which will always be
searching for greater clarity. As Catholics, we must never be
afraid of mystery, of that wonder that causes us to do things
we never thought we could do. Our faith is built on mystery,
and to be truly wise, and truly educated, we must be men and
women who accept wonder as an essential element of our
existence. And finally, in the story of Cardinal Korec (who
ultimately became a cardinal), we are challenged to see what
a university can also be when circumstances and the
challenges of the world around us call us all to find in
different ways the great things that are essential for our
lives and vital for our growth and wisdom. I find these
things here at Georgetown. I pray that they always will be
here. I pray, too, that these elements of deep human concern
of wonder and adventure, may be even more developed, more
understood and embraced, under great leadership with great
men and women in a brilliant future which will always be part
mystery and even always part out of the box. Thank you very
much.