First, the conference wasn’t the purpose of my journey. I intended a brief visit of three days with my friend in Washington, and since the conference was nearby, we decided to attend Friday’s session and Saturday morning’s. Secondly, I’m not a Chestertonian. I “love” Chesterton (I use that word in its common vernacular misuse), but I’m not a fan or a devotee or a scholar—depending on how sundry Chestertonians might define themselves. There are writers, like Chesterton, whom I admire to the point of veneration, but fandom of any kind is not a temperament I’m endowed with.
I do think, however, that my friend must have had some kind of conversion experience. I don’t know if she joined the Chesterton Society, but I think she bought nearly every book in sight—or a good many anyway. And the reaction was the same after each presentation: “Oh, that was wonderful!” If I happened to miss it—I have trouble sitting still for anything over 50-60 minutes long—I was made to feel that I’d missed the Second Coming. Around the table of books on Catholic social theory, I made the mistake of muttering that I don’t get into that sort of thing much. She countered with: “Oh, but you should! You’re Catholic, aren’t you?” Point taken. I don’t know how many books she bought there.
All the presentations I did hear were too good to single out any one of them, but I got to meet Kevin O’Brien in person. Wow. Really. He and a few of his crew staged a one-act, “Faith of our Fathers”, that made me laugh so loud that if I’d been with any other audience, I think I might have embarrassed myself.
And I do love Chestertonians. Never have I been in a room with so many people I didn’t know with whom I felt downright bonded. Of like mind. Kinship. My kind of people, if you will. I want to go to next year’s conference just to “see the folks” again. I hope it’s not in a big city, though. I’m not a traveler in the first place (this was my first trip away from home in four years), and I found the Washington traffic traumatic, the metro a nightmarish experience. I know that it was only the saintly patience of my city-bred, well-traveled friend that kept her from stuffing a sock into my complaining mouth.
The crowd was, I noted, trans-generational. There were a few old fuddy-duddies like me, but there were a lot of young people as well. Quite young, in fact. How lovely to see at Catholic conferences that children and babies are not left behind with some sitter. I happen to love babies, having never had any of my own, and I enjoyed their presence very much. And where else, I thought, are you going to see teen-agers with scapulars peeking through their tee-shirts, listening—actually paying attention—to some scholar discussing finer points of G. K. Chesterton.
The young people, yes, indeed. Before I was introduced to Eleanor Bourg Donlon, I took her for one of the college kids. Actually, she’s not much older. Someone who’s a brilliant critic, an accomplished editor and writer; someone who has the maturity and moral courage to forego the unhallowed halls of modern academia to pursue real scholarship—is just a kid. And Bernardo Aparicio, president of Dappled Things, is—what?—27? Really? And they’re all so likeable. Not all smart people are likeable, you know.
There is a point I’m making here: Just as we see the Church transforming itself, pulling itself out of the mire and muck of scandal and the banality of modernism, in the new young orthodox priests coming out of seminaries these days, in young families traveling sometimes great distances to attend Latin masses; just as we see the incredible phenomenon of massive numbers attending World Youth Days—and know that the future of the Church is bright—so also, we can be assured that authentic Catholic culture is alive and well and growing. And it’s in good hands. When the time comes, I’ll try to go as gently as possible into that good night, but I have to admit that I’ll sort of resent not getting to see the full flowering of the young talent, faith, and intellect I met at the Chesterton conference.
Meanwhile, I look forward to seeing everyone again next year, God willing.
Wonderful post, Dena! And it was a blessing finally to meet you, and Eleanor, and Fr. Milward, and Richard Aleman – and of course to see Joseph again.
Next year the conference is in my hometown of St. Louis, centrally located and a city without the transportation madness of a Washington, D.C. Theater of the Word will be staging another play, and I’m sure we’ll have a ton of great speakers.
It really is remarkable to be a part of the revival of Christian culture, is it not? And this is exactly what StAR is all about. We are saved not only as individuals, but as families, and in a community, a true culture, in communion with the Body of Christ. Without this culture, this creative flowering and expression that comes from like-minded disciples, the Body atrophies.
So leave your hermitage once a year, Dena, and come to Mecca. Oh, and you don’t have to idolize Chesterton.
One of the great things about the Society is Sanity – and the realization that we only love Gilbert because Gilbert leads us to Christ. Gilbert was a great writer, a wonderful man, a tremendous talent, but not to be idolized, nor even admired only for what he wrote. For he was, above all, a true Christian. And that is the point of everything he wrote.
And that’s why the Conference is always so much fun.
I’ll meet you in St. Louis.
Meanwhile, everyone pray, read Chesterton, and practice the “Hoochie-Koochie”!
Many thanks, Dena. I’m counting down the days until next year’s bash!
I’m a big fan of Gilbert Keith Chesterton, but I’m not sure his personal moral achievements add up to sainthood. He was a brilliant and happy man, but I think of sainthood in terms of Mother Teresa–measureless self-sacrifice.
Rather, I would nominate him for Doctor of the Church.
Chesterton is the greatest Catholic thinker of the 20th century. His book Orthodoxy may be the single finest Catholic work of philosophy that I’ve ever read.
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