by Bishop James Conley
Recently, Joseph Pearce, the acclaimed JRR Tolkien scholar and author of dozens of books on the Catholic literary tradition, came to Lincoln to give a series of lectures. Professor Pearce spoke to our priests at the spring Clergy Study Day, and to a joint session of seminarians from St. Gregory the Great Seminary in Seward and Our Lady of Guadalupe in Denton. He also gave a beautiful lecture on “Poems Every Catholic Should Know,” at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln Newman Center, for the students of the Newman Institute for Catholic Thought and Culture.
Professor Pearce spoke on a variety of topics over the three days he was here, including a fascinating lecture entitled: “Unlocking the Catholicism of the Lord of the Rings.” A fact that is perhaps not always understood or appreciated, Tolkien described his epic supernatural fiction trilogy in these words to his close friend and Jesuit priest, Father Robert Murray: “The Lord of the Rings is, of course, a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.”
As a side note, Professor Pearce, who hales from merry England, arrived to my house on Super Bowl Sunday, and I invited him to his first Super Bowl Party. He, of course, became a diehard Chiefs fan!
In one of his talks, Pearce explained that the definition of man as homo sapien (wise man) is a fairly modern definition that came out of the 18th century Age of Enlightenment. A more ancient definition of man is homo viator (man on a journey) which dates back to the ancient Greek understanding of man as anthropos (upwardly turning). It’s from this definition of man that we derive the modern English word “anthropology,” the study of man.
Pearce explained how man, because he is a two-legged creature and is able to easily “look up” and gaze at the stars and beyond, is very different from a four-legged creature, whose eyes are constantly directed downwards to the earth. Pearce remarked that while “an animal grazes, man gazes.”
Because man is a homo viator, one of the central themes of all great literature is centered on man on a journey, man on an adventure through this world. Going back to the Iliad and the Odyssey, through Virgil’s Aeneid, Augustine’s Confessions, Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, the plays of Shakespeare and Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings,” the greatest literature of western civilization tells a story about “man on a journey” through this world fraught with danger, adversity and disappointment, with his heart and his eyes turned upward and looking beyond to greatness.
The season of Lent is very much like a microcosm of the journey of life. We identify 40 days, a relatively short period of time each year, to examine ourselves on this journey we are on, make adjustments, changes, improvements, radical surgery perhaps, all to realign our sights on the goal—heaven and eternal life. We acknowledge our inadequacies, shortcomings and woundedness, our need for healing, grace and reconciliation. We discipline our senses through fasting and abstinence, we counter our selfishness with almsgiving, and we intensify and renew our friendship with Jesus through a more intentional regimen of prayer and contemplation.
One of the books I took up for this Lent is the recently published three-volume set of the prison diaries of His Eminence, George Cardinal Pell, the former Vatican Secretary for the Economy, and Archbishop-Emeritus of Sydney in Australia. This fascinating and remarkable work entitled “Prison Journal” chronicles the 404 days Cardinal Pell spent in solitary confinement in a Melbourne prison, accused of child sexual abuse, before he was completely and categorically exonerated of all accusations and released from prison in 2020.
Full disclosure: Cardinal Pell was a dear friend of mine and mentor for more than 25 years. I first met Cardinal Pell in 1996, when I was working in the Holy See at the “then” Congregation for Bishops. I had been assigned the “Australian Desk” and, at the time, Cardinal Pell was an auxiliary bishop in the Archdiocese of Melbourne, soon to become the Archbishop of Melbourne and then the Archbishop of Sydney. He helped me to understand the unique culture of Australia, its people, its faith and its place in the life of the Church.
Cardinal Pell was eventually released from prison April 7, 2020, and returned to his job in Rome as the Secretary for the Economy and one of the members of the Council of Nine (C-9), Pope Francis’ closest cardinal advisors. Cardinal Pell was basically in charge of overseeing the financial reforms in the Church and charged with exposing and eliminating the financial corruption in the Church. Cardinal Pell died suddenly and unexpectedly in Rome Jan. 11, 2023, at the age of 81, from complications after hip surgery.
Reading “Prison Journal,” I hear his voice on every page, a voice filled with faith, trust, serenity and humor, as he chronicles his life in prison. He uses his prison journal as an “examination of conscience,” reviewing the whole of his life, going back to his early childhood in Ballarat. Cardinal Pell mentions names and places, friends and enemies, joys and sorrows, as he walks the reader through his whole life.
At the end of each section, he offers a prayer for this or that need in the world and in the Church. He introduces us to the prison guards whom he befriends, as well as his fellow prisoners, whom he never sees because of his solitary confinement, but whom he hears in the neighboring cells when they cry out in anguish and sorrow. He prays for his accusers and all victims of clergy sexual abuse, that the Lord might purge this diabolical evil from the Church. It is clear that he loves his native Australia, in spite of the gross miscarriage of the Australian justice system that landed him in prison. He is not bitter.
Knowing many of the names and stories in the journal, I have been moved to tears several times at the deep faith and trust in the Lord that comes through the pages of the “Prison Journal.” Deprived of celebrating Mass for more than a year, and not knowing whether or not he would spend the rest of his life in solitary confinement, Cardinal Pell keeps his faith strong through his daily routine of prayer, exercise and meditation. Oxford trained in history and an absolutely brilliant writer, Cardinal Pell’s wry sense of humor, mirth and hope, comes through on every page.
What struck me the most is his appreciation of friendship. He recalls all the people in his life with deep respect and gratitude, and how important their friendships have been to him. There is also a deep humility in the cardinal’s reflection on his own personal life. He shows us that, in spite of our mistakes, misunderstandings and overall sinfulness, we are never alone and God’s providence is always close at hand, guiding us, consoling us and inspiring us not to give up, but to always persevere forward in the journey — onward and upward in hope.
We are all homo viators. We are all on a journey through this world. We are not alone. We have faithful companions who walk with us in fellowship. People who love us, encourage us and inspire us not to give up, but to keep going. In the end, if we don’t give up, we win.
In a biography on the great poet and playwright, Oscar Wilde, who lived a dissolute life of drugs and a lifelong struggle with same-sex attraction, Pearce chronicles the man’s journey. After spending time in prison and ending up homeless on the streets of Paris, Pearce describes the beautiful death of Oscar Wilde who, in the end, embraces his Catholic faith and dies in the arms of Holy Mother Church.
Acknowledging his own woundedness, troubled and complicated life, Oscar Wilde describes his own life — and perhaps all our lives — as fallen human creatures: “We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking up at the stars.”
"God our Father, we join our trials and tribulations to the redemptive sufferings of your Son. May something, many good things, come out of this mess, so that the Kingdom is spread and more believe God is good for them (and us)."
- A prayer written by Cardinal George Pell, March 22, 2019, in his “Prison Journal.” The cardinal included prayers at the end of each entry, chronicling the 404 days he spent in solitary confinement in a Melbourne prison, accused of child sexual abuse, before he was completely and categorically exonerated of all accusations and released from prison
