From the Desk of the President
President Thomas E. Dillon
(Summer 2000 Newsletter)
[Index
of Past Articles by President Dillon]
Many times throughout our education here, we reflect on the
question: What is a hero? We look at that question through
the eyes of pagans – like Homer or Aristotle. And we
look at that question through the eyes of the Church –
for example, when reading St. Augustine.
“What is a hero?” we dare to ask. It’s a question
our society does not like to ask much anymore. People are
unaccustomed to thinking about heroism these days. Perhaps
that’s because the question hearkens to the ultimate
issues in life, and people today do not like to think of ultimate
issues much.
To be a hero, you have to be a hero for something.
The twentieth century philosopher Jacques Maritain gives a
good account of why people today may be unwilling to think
about what a hero is and why, for the Christian, the question
presents profound meaning. “Christian heroism,”
he says, “has not the same sources as heroism of other
kinds. It has its source in the heart of a God scourged and
turned to scorn and crucified outside the city gate.”
“It has its source in the heart of a God scourged and
turned to scorn” – this is a powerful reminder of
what heroism is ultimately about. Who today wants to think
of a God who was “scourged and turned to scorn?”
Our St. Thomas Aquinas Medallion recipient is someone who
has had the opportunity to reflect on that question –
indeed, to experience that question, in all of its horrible
manifestations. He is frequently referred to in public as
a “Vietnam prisoner-of-war hero.” But when you talk
to him and read his book, When Hell Was In Session, you will
know immediately that the term “hero” for him means
nothing except in reference to the “heart of a God scourged
and turned to scorn.”
When Jeremiah Denton’s plane left the ramp of the aircraft
carrier Independence on July 18, 1965, in Vietnam, he was
one among many other pilots just doing his duty that day.
Little did he know it would be seven years and seven months
before he’d be able to return home after enduring beatings,
tortures, malnutrition, and hardship of unimaginable horror
– all at the hands of his Communist captors and all because
he refused to betray our country.
By the good and generous grace of God, he endured it –
his faith sustained him. There are many, many things I could
relate about what he did to survive, but a couple of little
examples show you much of what he did to rise to the occasion.
Upon waking every morning, he would go through the Mass, first
in Latin, then in English. He would pray the Rosary during
his torture sessions. After one particularly rough time, when
blindfolded and hand-cuffed to a tree, hanging like Jesus
Christ, he felt particularly alone. He tapped out his initials
to identify himself to a nearby prisoner and his neighbor
responded by tapping out his identifying and consoling initials:
J.C.
If all he did was to survive these circumstances thrust upon
him, that in itself would make him a hero indeed – someone
to emulate, someone who had encountered the heart of a God
scourged and turned to scorn. Yet, because of this, he is
the first to tell you that the real heroes are those who in
their daily lives, like St. Paul, work out their salvation
in fear and trembling. Nothing is certain until the final
race is over. But there is more to his story.
After he returned from Vietnam, he became the first Catholic
elected to statewide office in Alabama, and the first Republican
ever to be elected by popular vote to the U.S. Senate. And
it is there, as a Catholic statesman, that he championed causes
that made him the object of scorn. He defended the unborn
and assisted in passing laws to stop funding of abortion.
He helped stop funding for school-based health clinics. He
sought to have religious freedom protected in public schools.
He sponsored humanitarian aid programs to the war-ravaged
regions of Central America. And he did many, many, other good
things.
You can’t imagine what it’s like to initiate those
causes, when daily, constantly, and nationally, you are told
you are a fool by the nation’s elite, when the morning
papers and the evening news vilify you for what you do –
when Doonesbury devotes cartoons to attacking you for promoting
good and worthy ends. But acting rightly in the face of this
sort of scourging makes one a hero as well.
Fortunately, we are not the only ones to have recognized
his achievements. I could go on for quite some time, listing
his awards and accomplishments. Just a few that highlight
his Catholic recognition include: Pope Paul VI’s Silver
Medal Award, The Catholic War Veterans Celtic Cross Award,
The Knights of Columbus Patriot Award, The Man of the Year
from Morality In Media, A Knight of the Sovereign Military
Order of Malta, and Crisis Magazine’s “Man of the
Year” Award.
In all the important ways, he is “one of us,”and
he knows he is gathered among friends whenever he comes to
the College. He has had a great deal of time to reflect on
what this country is all about, and what our Founding Fathers
meant, and what our country has come to, and what our country
can return to. And we are grateful to have his insights. We
are profoundly grateful that he has come to Thomas Aquinas
College for this special occasion, our Commencement Ceremonies.
He has our prayers, our admiration, and our gratitude. e
-- Qtrly Newsletter, Summer 2000
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