Is civility a Gospel virtue?

In recent months, Cardinal Avery Dulles lectured on Faith and Civility at a prep school in Columbus, Ohio, and Archbishop Timothy Dolan of Milwaukee addressed the Wisconsin state legislature, relating civility to habits which the Gospel respects and fosters. The attention of such respected Church leaders to civility indicates two things: l) they feel we are no longer a very civil society and, 2) being civil is not unrelated to living according to the Gospel.

Are we becoming a less civil society? It isn’t hard to criticize the level of public discourse. Even a decade ago, the coarseness of language and vulgarity of thought now fairly pervasive on television and radio and in the films would have been unacceptable. Some pundit has said, “The barbarians are not at the gate; they’re in the next room watching television.” Public irritability, undisguised rage, raw ambition, lack of basic honesty and plain rudeness are no longer masked by at least a pretense of politeness when a controversial subject is introduced. A difference of opinion is contorted into an attack upon a person. A decline in common standards of decent speech and behavior is evidence of a lack of common standards and common goals for our society.

Civility is about people in society; it is the quality of the citizen. Citizens of a common city are expected to treat one another civilly, as intelligent beings who can freely respond to reason and who are always deserving of respect, even in the midst of disagreements. Civility vanishes when passion and prejudice take the place of reasoned discourse. Public life is possible only where one’s word is trusted and trustworthy, where one’s commitments are kept, where one’s colleagues and even one’s enemies are treated with dignity, where legitimate authority is respected, where manners help make the pressures of the day bearable.

Is there a religious dimension to civility? Should we be concerned about a lack of civility not just as citizens but as men and women of faith? Reading the Gospels, one could argue that Jesus was not particularly civil. He denounced his enemies as hypocrites and accused his friends of lack of faith. He insulted people who asked favors of him and was rude to the people of his hometown. All of this can be interpreted, perhaps, as prophetic discourse; and prophets are not supposed to be polite. The word of God is always two-edged, as sharp as any sword.

Yet Jesus, in his own life and in his instructions to his disciples, rejected violence and demanded love of enemies and patience in suffering. Bearing witness to the truth, he asks for discipleship to be based on free assent. As Pope John Paul II often says: “The Church proposes; she imposes nothing … Love is the driving force of mission.” Speaking to the Catholic laity in the world of his day, St. Francis of Assisi wrote: “Realize, dear brothers and sisters, that courtesy is one of the properties of God. … It is the sister of charity, by which hatred is vanquished and love is cherished.”

Civility is a sign of humility, of the recognition that one is not the center of the universe, of the desire to be properly submissive to God and to those whom God gives us as companions on our earthly journey, especially those most in need. A civil person is grateful, because he or she recognizes that life itself is a gift for which one can only say “thank you.”

Love, even of enemies, patience, humility, surrender to God, gratitude—all these are Gospel virtues. If civility is the stuff of these, then civility itself marks the life of a disciple of Jesus Christ. Of course, civility isn’t enough. We have all met people who are exquisitely polite with a courtesy that masks contempt. Yet even cold courtesy is preferable to anger and violence. If at least the forms of respect are maintained, love can gradually grow and transform hearts and whole societies. If civility is not enough, neither is our much vaunted sincerity when “sincerity” means demeaning others just because that’s how one “feels” at the moment. Finally, only love is enough and, as St. Francis wrote seven centuries ago, a loving heart creates a courteous person, a civil man or woman.

The biographer of Ronald Reagan, his former speechwriter Peggy Noonan, describes how Mr. Reagan, affected by Alzheimer’s disease so badly that he can recognize no one and is helpless in the face of the most elementary demands of living, remains civil. When he inadvertently bumps the arm of the nurse feeding him or steps on her toes as she leads him to the bathroom, he spontaneously looks at her and says, “I’m sorry; excuse me.” Civility and courtesy, perhaps the first virtues he learned as a child, have become so ingrained that they are the last habits to go in old age. No matter what one thinks of Mr. Reagan’s political philosophy or policies, he remains a man of character, a civil person.

Finally, if civility is in trouble in society at large, it’s also in trouble in the Church. Public conversation in the Church also requires the self-discipline made possible by charity. The faith is not irrational and can be proposed politely in credible fashion. To be Catholic means sharing common beliefs and moral convictions. To be Catholic is to be part of a common life based on worship of God as he wants to be worshiped, reverently uniting one’s own self-sacrifice to that of Christ in the celebration of the Eucharist, wondering in awe at the mystery of God and the grandeur of his gifts. When our life in the Church is marked by polarization and impatience, communion of faith and worship is weakened. Cardinal Bernardin pointed this out in the year before his untimely death.

“Adult Catholicism” does not mean creating an alternative Church, arrogantly breaking faith with the Church and her teachings; it means finding ways to take responsibility for them, humbly and together, and to speak of them civilly to those who do not understand, let alone believe. It means submitting every agenda to the Lord, every personal inclination to examination before him. How courteous are our prayers? The baroque language of a St. Teresa of Avila, addressing God as if he were the King of Spain, may not be the proper idiom for today’s prayers. But God remains God; and we are not God. Our prayers should reflect that infinite difference, even as they acknowledge God’s graciously giving us the means to be one with him in Christ. Perhaps that’s the test for ecclesiastical civility, as it is for so much else in the Church: how do we pray?

My prayers are with you; please keep me in yours.

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Francis Cardinal George, OMI
Archbishop of Chicago

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