Watch out for cannonballs.

Minutes: The Presidential Advisory Committee on the Catholic Character of the College: Meeting #2

Move that we approve the minutes from last time.

Move that we burn the minutes from last time. The last meeting was a freaking bloodbath, it went on for hours. All we concluded in the end was the meeting. Agree.

Agree.

We're not going to talk about Saint Ignatius and the damned cannonball between his legs again, are we?

Or whether Ted Hesburgh is a saint who saved the American Catholic university from slow choking by economic forces and reinvented it as a vigorous modern entity, or a smarmy arrogant dog who let liberal secularists take over the cathedral?

Or whether Jesuit colleges are Catholic?

Or if a chapel on campus means you're Catholic?

Or a crucifix in every classroom?

Or baptismal certificates on the walls of offices?

Or a campus ministry office?

Or a Catholic studies institute?

Or veiled mention of Catholic tradition and heritage in the college's mission statement?

Or quietly asking faculty and staff candidates about their faith lives?

Or canceling classes on Good Friday?

Or offering a daily Mass somewhere on campus?

Or sparing no effort to recruit kids from Catholic high schools?

Or having the local bishop sit on the stage at graduation?

Or having the bishop lunch with the theology faculty?

Or having a theology faculty?

Or another hour's discussion of Ex corde ecclesiae? Or whether Cardinal Ratzinger wants to be chancellor of the world's Catholic colleges?

Or whether the president should always be a priest or nun or religious brother?

Or whether the academic vice-president should always be a religious?

Or whether some unspecified percentage of the faculty should be professional religious?

Or whether all public relations photos have a priest in them somewhere, chatting cheerfully with students of various colors and heights?

Or whether all college publications should carry some mention of Catholicity?

Or whether we have some formal relationships with local parishes and Catholic schools and the diocese?

Or whether all forums and symposia and such should start with a prayer?

Or having lots of visiting speakers about Catholic stuff?

Or being able to use the words Jesus, Christ, God, Virgin Mary, saints, prayer, spirituality, and grace in conversations without drawing incredulous looks or nervous laughter?

Or the word hermeneutics?

What does hermeneutics mean, anyway?

It's a town in California.

It's an operation having something to do with part of the small colon.

Semicolon?

Isn't Catholic character one of those things you know if you see it? You can't test for it, but its absence is noticeable?

What, like a rash?

Look, folks, we have to turn in a report to the president. What are we going to say?

Move that we say we're really, really Catholic, and then refer all questions to campus ministry.

Move that we establish an Endowed Professorship of Catholic Character.

Move that we issue a press release saying we have gobs of Catholic character.

Move that we have a Catholic character page on the Web site.

And a statue of Christ on the quad.

And the Virgin Mary.

And Saint Ignatius.

And the cannonball. Did you know that cannonball just missed...

Hey, why don't we have a statue of Catholic Character?

Catholic character? How about Peter Maurin? He was a Catholic character.

Move that we close the meeting and issue the following report to the president: The Catholic character of the college is so intricately stitched throughout its life and work that evidence of it is everywhere, from people to curricula to ritual to rhetoric to signage to symbol to story; that attempts to measure and quantify the Catholic character of the college are as entertaining and fruitless as measuring the depth of personal character; that an institution's Catholic character, like personal substance, is best measured by act and ambiance; that the college's Catholic character is at once both bone-deep and ephemeral, and thus wonderful, invigorating, and puzzling; and that like love it is immeasurable and nutritious. Questions? Call campus ministry. Agree. Agree.

I can't believe you people don't want to put up a statue of Peter Maurin.

Brian Doyle is the editor of Portland Magazine at the University of Portland, in Oregon. He and his father Jim Doyle are the authors of Two Voices, a collection of essays.