In my last post, I wrote a survey of the important classes, teachers, and thinkers that influenced my own development as a theologian during my undergraduate years. Now, I'll discuss my first year of graduate studies at Boston College, where I was granted a full tuition remission scholarship. (An interesting coincidence: a visiting priest at the Mass I attended this morning is studying at Boston College.) Since Dr. Williams went to Boston College, he was familiar with the program. He told me that the one required class would be "Catholic Systematic Theology I" with Fr. Harvey Egan, SJ, and that the main text would be Karl Rahner's Foundations of Christian Faith. Thus, the summer between my Senior Year of College and my first semester of Graduate school, I began reading through Rahner's book. I was working as a Veterinary Assistant. (Technically, my title was "nurse aid," but in reality, I had the duties of a Vet Tech.) I often brought the book to work and read during breaks. As an interesting aside: I remember discussing what I was reading with one of the Veterinarians. I don't recall getting the impression that she was Catholic at the time, but decades later, at my new parish, she is now a parishioner and an extra-ordinary minister of Holy Communion. She was also at the same Mass this morning.
Rahner's Foundations was indeed a fascinating book for me. It has been many, many years since I've read it, and I will not go so far as to say I agree with everything in it, but it was still a very good read that stretched my intellectual muscles. The book is really an exercise in what is called either Fundamental or Foundational Theology, hence the title of the book. As the term suggests, Fundamental Theology basically lays the groundwork for theological studies by providing a rational argument for the validity of Christian belief. It discusses the precursors to belief, such as rational proofs of God's existence and related questions. Rahner's Foundations similarly attempts to provide an intellectually honest justification for belief. He does so in a way that addresses the philosophical questions of his day, which includes a turn to the subject in philosophy. Thus, it is somewhat 'subjective' (not in the sense of relativistic) insofar as it describes the human person; it is a form of theological anthropology. (In fact CUA accepted this course as a transfer in place of a Theological Anthropology course precisely for that reason.) There were a number of intellectually stimulating presentations in the book that have stuck with me. I may go into those in more detail in future posts, but as a foretaste, one instance is the provocative chapter entitled, "Jesus Christ within an Evolutionary View of the World." The basic thrust is the idea that the Incarnation is the goal of Creation itself and not just an afterthought meant to heal humanity because of sin. It is position shared by many Eastern Catholics and Orthodox. (Aquinas is open about that as a valid position, but he leans towards the other side based mainly on certain expressions found in Scripture that describe the de facto situation.) Much of Rahner's philosophy clearly influences this work (and pretty much all of his works, despite his statements to the contrary). It was a very good read. I would like to read it again in light of my own maturation in the years since.
Other courses that I took at Boston College were "Pauline Literature" with the world-renowned exegete Pheme Perkins. I loved speaking with her outside of class. Somehow, though, the notes I took in her class were very minimal, which is rather unusual for me. The only thing I really remembered learning was the "soma" "sarx" distinction (body vs flesh). I wrote my first graduate paper for her class. It was an exegesis of Romans 7:7-12. It was supposed to be a 10 page paper, but I wrote 16. I remember speaking with Dr. Perkins from about 5 pm until 6pm the day I turned it in. She was heading out on a plane the next day. Much to my surprise, she had read, graded, and provided very detailed analysis of my paper and emailed it to me around 10:30 pm that same night. I got an A, and she asked what my intended focus in theology was going to be. I think she was dismayed when I said, "Systematics." Perhaps the most memorable part of that class was her promise that, if we did well on our second papers, she would replace our final exam with a "rant session." Essentially, we each had to choose a topic related to St. Paul and present a short "rant" paper to the class. She was very adamant that it had to be in the literary genre of a "rant." In other words, it was meant to be fun and a break from detailed academic work.
I also took a course on "The Development of Theology as a Science in the Middle Ages." That was my first real foray into detailed scholasticism. It was a doozy. I felt lost half the time. Names like Robert Grosseteste and Hugh of St. Victor stuck in my head, but I found it difficult to keep them and their ideas straight in my head. I remember walking and talking with the professor, a renowned scholar, Stephen Brown, and asking him: "So, is theology a science?" In very scholastic fashion, his reply was basically, "yes...and no" (Sic et Non). He was a brilliant man. He was involved in the publication of a translation of St. Bonaventure's work The Journey of the Mind to God, that I would later use in one of my own courses.
Another world renowned theologian, Fr. Francis Sullivan, SJ, taught my "Documents of Vatican II" course. I liked the course, but had some reservations. I loved many of the Documents of Vatican II, but I did not much care for some of his takes on them. I call him the anti-Dulles. They are both well-known American, Jesuit theologians whose writings are very organized and clear, easy to follow and to understand. Whereas Dulles is slightly on the right side of the spectrum, Sullivan is--in mirror image fashion--slightly on the left. I prefer Dulles. (One day, I'd like to do a comparison of their two books, both entitled "Magisterium.") In any event, since Sullivan--whom I believe was in his 80s back then--taught in Rome at the Gregorian University during Vatican II, he provided interesting some background information.
I also took a course, "Catholic Systematic Theology II," with Fr. Matthew Lamb, SJ. It was a good class overall, despite the fact that his lectures weren't that well organized. He would go off on tangents. It was in that class, however, where the point about multi-verity vs university was first posed to me. He also pointed out that the requirements for a "Master's Degree" in theology were lamentable, and that students were not afforded a sufficient education to really get them to where they needed to be. Later, he went on to start the Theology program at Ave Maria, and he created a fantastic curriculum that I envy and highly recommend. He was also my appointed academic advisor.
I could not, in good conscience, take any of the Moral Theology courses offered at Boston College. Even the titles were dreadful, let alone their descriptions. Thus, I opted to take advantage of the consortium and took "Introduction to Moral Theology" with the very prominent Dominican, Fr. Romanus Cessario, OP. The class was outstanding! Fr. Cessario is a straight shooter, even if a bit crass at times. His personality came off as somewhat arrogant to me, but his content was nearly flawless, and thus perhaps it was earned self-confidence. I learned a tremendous amount in that class; it probably had the single biggest influence on my Moral Theology to date. The main book we used was Servais Pinckaers's The Sources of Christian Ethics. We also used Cessario's own book, but rather sparingly, which shows some humility. Additionally, we gave a lot of attention to Veritatis Splendor, an encyclical by Pope John Paul II. Cessario said that we could consider the course a commentary on that letter. (I found it ironic years later when I read a quote from Cessario blaming John Paul II for allowing de Lubac and his followers to cause the destabilization of the unity of Catholic theology. I have to disagree with him on that point.) My term paper, which he applauded, was "The Ontology of Human Freedom." That course and my final paper became the scaffold for many of my future classes, talks, speeches, and discussions over the years. Oh! Some of you may be familiar with Fr. Michael Gaitley. He's become a well known author of popular books on prayer and spirituality, such as 33 Days to Morning Glory. He was in that very same class with me. We had some good discussions. I ran into him again years later in DC, when we were also both at CUA. Small Catholic world!
I took another course at St. John's on "The Holy Spirit," which mainly used Yves Congar's huge book of the same title. I vaguely remember the professor, one of the other students, the cover of the book, and one small section on the Filioque controversy. I'm sure it was much better than what I can recall. But, nevertheless, I don't recall.
In addition to the positive influences during my time at Boston College, there were also some negative experiences that also shaped my thought. I think I'll save those for a separate post, and leave this one as is.
Until next time...
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