Last week, Archbishop Charles Chaput of Denver was the keynote speaker at the Orange County Catholic Prayer Breakfast (which I was supposed to mention here on the blog before it happened, but forgot to…so sorry Michelle!). Blogger Jake blogged on the talk here and the Archbishop’s remarks are here. (pdf version)

He begins by speaking about art and perspective, contrasting the context of medieval, religious-centered art with the quite different context of the contemporary world.

We’re born, we grow, we suffer, we die. So do the people we love. Do our lives mean anything? And if they do,what do they mean? These are the questions that really matter to all of us. They mattered even more urgently to people with shorter life spans 700 years ago. Medieval art is about birth, growth, suffering, death and the hope of new life, all viewed through the person of Jesus Christ. It’s about God. But it’s also about us as human beings –because Jesus Christ is not only God; he’s also human.

When a Medieval artist painted Pilate showing a beaten and bloody Christ to the mob with the words ecce homo –"behold the man"- – he spoke to the suffering of every man and woman who viewed the painting. That’s the genius of the Gospel and the art it inspires. Christian art is about the dignity of the human person loved and redeemed by God.

He continues, working through some vocabulary of the modern world, what words mean and don’t mean. Finally, he turns to one of the burning questions of the moment in some quarters – the horrors of the influence of religion on public life:

In recent years, some people in both political parties would like to blame the conflicts in American public life onreligious believers. The argument goes like this. Religion is so powerful and so personal that whenever it enters public life in an organized way, it divides people. It repels. It polarizes. It oversimplifies complex issues. It creates bitterness. It invites extremism. And finally it violates the spirit of the Constitution by muddling up the separation of Church and state that keeps Americans from sliding into intolerance.

The same argument goes on to claim that, once they’re free from the burden of religious interference, mature citizens and leaders can engage in reasoned discourse, putting aside superstition and private obsessions to choose the best course for the widest public. Because the state is above moral and religious tribalism, it can best guarantee the rights of everyone. Therefore a fully secularized public square would be the adulthood of the American Experiment.

That’s the hype. Here’s the reality.

First of all, key differences exist between public institutions which are non-sectarian, and secularist ideology.

Everybody can live with the former. No Christian in his or her right mind should want to live with the latter.

Whenever you hear loud fretting about an irrational fear of an Established Church, somebody’s trying to forcereligious believers and communities out of the public discussion of issues.

Second, the American Experiment — more than any other modem state — is the product of religiously shapedconcepts and tradition. It can’t survive for long without respecting the source of that tradition. A fully secularized public life would mean policy by the powerful for the powerful because no permanent principles can exist in a morally neutral vacuum.

Finally, secularism isn’t really morally neutral. It’s actively destructive. It undermines community. It attacksthe heart of what it means to be human. It rejects the sacred while posturing itself as neutral to the sacred. Itignores the most basic questions of social purpose and personal meaning by writing them off as privateidiosyncrasies. It also just doesn ‘t work — in fact, by its nature it can’t work — as a life-giving principle for society.

And despite its own propaganda, it’s never been a natural, evolutionary, historical result of human progress.

Certain beliefs have always held Americans together as a people. Christianity and its Jewish roots have always provided the grounding for our most important national principles, like inalienable rights and equality under the law. But as a country, we’re losing the Founders’ perspective on the meaning of our shared public life. We have wealth and power and free time and choices and toys– but we no longer see clearly who we are. Material thingsdon’t give us meaning. We’re in danger of becoming the "men without chests" that C.S. Lewis talked about in The Abolition of Man – people sapped of their heart, energy, courage and convictions by the machinery they helped to create. And if we can’t find a way to heal that interior emptiness, then as an experiment in the best ideals of human freedom, America will fail.

I began by talking about Christmas. Who owns it? Why are we supposed to be happy? What are we really celebrating?

Good will, joy, peace, harmony, the giving of gifts – these are beautiful and holy things deeply linked to Christmas.

But not to Santa Claus. And especially not to a politically correct, secular Santa Claus. Joy is not generic. Good will needs a reason. We don’t suddenly become generous because the radio plays Jingle Bells.

Christmas is about the birth of Jesus Christ. We believe that Jesus is the messiah of Israel, the only Son of God, the Word of God made flesh. We believe that He was born in poverty in Bethlehem in order to grow and preach God’s kingdom, and suffer, die and rise from the dead – all for the sake of our redemption, because God loves us. Christmas is a feast of love, but it’s God’s love first that makes it possible. Christmas begins our deliverance from sin and death. That’s why St. Leo the Great called it the "birthday of joy." What begins in the stable ends in our salvation. That’s why we celebrate Christmas, and it’s the best and only reason the human heart needs.

Catholics observe these last few weeks every year before Christmas as the season of Advent. It’s a time when the Church asks us to prepare our lives to receive Jesus the child at Christmas, and Jesus the king at the end of time.

How can we best do that? The tradition of the Church tells us by vigil and by prayer.

The season of Advent is a vigil. The word "vigil" means to keep watch during normal sleeping hours, to pay attention when others are sleeping. It comes from a very old Indo- European word "weg", which means "be lively or active."

So to keep vigil or to be vigilant does not mean passive waiting but active, restless waiting, expectant waiting for the Lord. It means paying attention to what is going on in the world around us, and not being asleep. It means acting, living out our mission to be God’s agents in the world.

Every truly Christian life is a kind of martyrdom, because what martyr means is witness. That’s our task — a life of conscious, deliberate witness for Jesus Christ and our Catholic faith, in our families, our friendships, our business dealings and our public actions. When Jesus said, "make disciples of all nations," and "you will be my witnesses,"

He didn’t mean the guy down the road. He was speaking to you and to me.