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One Man’s Influence On Me I was greatly, inexplicably, privileged to have been befriended by Ivan Illich (1926-2002). There are many aspects to his genius and I hope his many distinct influences have affected me. Perhaps the greatest, only now surfacing in my awareness, is his insistence on nonviolence, his various works for peace. During the Vatican Council, Illich explicitly made his position clear. Called to Rome as a peritus by Cardinal Leo Joseph Suenens, one of the four men setting the daily agenda for the sessions, Illich acted on his judgment of the Council’s work: He left Rome because the Church would not condemn nuclear war─a position many churchmen hold to this day. As Illich said to Suenens, “It’s not a question of democracy, it’s not a question of committee decisions, it’s a question of witness.” Illich would later write about the Church as institution, about the difficulty of moving a bureaucratic enterprise. Churchmen, acting in an institutional structure, could find no place for witness; they could only act as bureaucrats, as functionaries. A few years later, in 1983, Europe was faced with the possibility of the deployment of Pershing missiles. Illich voiced his opposition to nuclear armaments by standing on a German street corner─in silence. Later, he wrote: “The most intelligent and most experienced expert can use silence as his last word [italics in the original]. And anyone in the world can choose silent protest and the demonstration of unspeakable horror as an expression of his direct and wise faith in life and in hope for his children.” One way to reach into questions concerned with nonviolence is through children. Illich had read Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov. In that book one of the brothers, Ivan, speaks about the infliction of pain on children. He recognized that “. . . it is a peculiar characteristic of many people, this love of torturing children . . .” Ivan Karamazov, the novel makes dramatically clear, was tormented by the fact of children suffering. Both Illich and Dostoevsky felt the same way. Simone Weil recorded her agreement: “No reason, whatever it may be, that can be put forward to me to compensate for a child’s tear can bring me to accept that tear.” Illich was also much attracted to another book of Dostoievsky’s, The Idiot. He mentioned this novel several times and emphasized the character of the idiot as fool. He once told me that one of the regrets of his life was that he did not take the opportunity to meet Heinrich Böll before the German author died. One of the principal books of Böll is titled The Clown. Illich saw himself as a clown, as a fool. Boll’s story and Illich’s view inspire me as I go downtown to protest the current administration’s policies. Perhaps when someone smiles at me as I stand on the street demonstrating the person looks at me as one would look at a retarded child. Many people, I suspect, look upon me as some kind of kook, a real nut. Nevertheless I hope I act influenced by Illich. When I sent The Rivers North of the Future─a book dictated by Illich─to my daughter, her only remark in a letter was to ask about the notion of a fool. She picked out one of the most significant points of that book and of Illich’s life. The vision of Illich as fool has multiple levels of meaning. For example, when he made his decision in Rome not to go on for higher studies after his ordination, the wish of Montini (later, Paul VI) for him, he wanted to avoid becoming another Vatican diplomat. A few months later he devoted himself to assistimg Puerto Ricans in New York City. Ultimately, he sought to follow the supreme fool, Jesus Christ. Illich wanted to embrace the Gospel, as anyone can see from reading his last will and testament, The Rivers North of the Future. He clearly saw the predominant themes or forces, the influences and tendencies of the modern world. He observed that many seem to be obsessed with the pursuit of health, searching to avoid pain and discomfort, utilizing available technological intrusions. These often culminate in a frantic effort to prolong one’s life. Illich saw that many appear devoted to the pursuit of pleasure─for example, seeking out exotic settings and cuisines; further, the continual running after distractions of every sort occupies an apparent need. For the affluent, Western society is abundantly and magnificently designed to respond to these eagerly sought chimeras. The believer is pushed toward confusion, caught between the tradition of the Cross and prevailing modes of living. But Illich also faced a new element, modern media and, specifically, the Internet. Illich understood and accepted the teaching of St. Thomas. As applied today, that means that the Internet is an attractive and powerful temptation to commit various sins, for example, the sin of curiosity, the sin of detraction, the sin of calumny and, perhaps most seriously, the capital sin or vice of acedia, sloth. But it is also possible that the Internet leads believers to a genuinely new understanding of and participation in the Cross of Jesus Christ. According to Simone Weil:
Finally, she concludes: “One can only accept the existence of affliction by considering it at a distance.” Perhaps the awesome and frightening sophistication of what one sees through the Internet is the shock that can awaken a bored and ossified viewer. Perhaps hearts grown cold and hard and selfish might be opened to the other. Several times Illich remarked to me that he looked in vain for someone to write a more definitive criticism of growth, a critical view of what is termed the “American Way of Life.” Above all, this way is marked by consumption. I hope that my stance on consumption is influenced by his position. As he wrote in Tools for Conviviality, “In a consumer society there are inevitably two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy.” I keep this quote on my desk to remind me; I might be moved. One of the many influences of Illich which I hope affects my life is his teaching on lectio divina. The reality of lectio divina is most explicitly developed in his book, In the Vineyard of the Text. As I understand the practice, it is a way of reading, the attempt to be affected by the printed word. In the Middle Ages, monks who practiced lectio divina hoped that the text would enter them, that they would enter the text. Since what they principally read was Sacred Scripture, they wanted to be transformed by their reading. Today I am presented with a lot of print. In addition, the media give me pictures. It seems to me that inspired by Ivan Illich I should exercise a careful watch on what I read and see─some words and pictures are to be avoided. But words and pictures that I admit to my consciousness should influence me. For example, the story of a “natural disaster” like an earthquake should not leave me unmoved; the murders in Philadelphia should strongly affect me. Illich often talked about and lived the spirit of powerlessness. I hope this idea also works on me. He took the truth of this insight directly from the Cross, from the end of Jesus Christ on earth. One can cite Simone Weil’s comments on the phrase Jesus quoted from Psalm 21: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” She says simply, “There we have the real proof that Christianity is something divine.” Illich insisted that the reality of the Cross is at the heart of the Incarnation. As one sees from his life, he believed in the passion and death of Christ. Often in my actions protesting administration policies I have been struck by the powerlessness of the demonstrators. On one side, a few people, homemade signs and flyers, on the other, the greatest military power ever assembled in history. This military might is then thrown against a war-ravaged people. I hope to see a need to acknowledge, more deeply inside myself, the reality of the fact of powerlessness. Lee Hoinacki
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