Impressions from La Salette
By Brian McCall
Serene Manliness
Twoand a half years ago I wrote in these pages of my experience bringing my oldest son to commence his high school formation at Notre Dame de La Salette Boys Academy in Georgetown, Illinois. In that article I discussed the school’s philosophy of educating the whole boy—spiritually, intellectually, socially, and physically.
Recently I had the opportunity to visit La Salette for a few days and give three conferences to the boys. My impressions only confirmed that what is happening in the obscurity of remote Illinois is one of the most important things necessary for the restoration of the Church and civil society.
My first impression upon arrival on campus was one of peacefulness. With over eighty boys from eighth through twelfth grade there is certainly much activity on campus. One might expect to be greeted by a loud, boisterous cacophony. Yet, as one enters the gates of the school one breathes a sigh of relief. The serenity is palpable.
I have often read in philosophy of that component of the common good described as the "tranquility of order."
I had understood the concept but at La Salette I have experienced it. As one progresses through the well-ordered periods of the day one knows that God is in His Heaven and all is right with the world. The orderliness of how staff and students go about their duties brings peacefulness. Certainly they have their share of problems, yet the community moves about its day with a deep sense of order. Everyone has his place, his job— his responsibility. It might be the ironing of the purple covers for Passiontide or the washing of the dinner dishes or the writing of a summary of the next chapter for religion class or the conjugating of Latin verbs or the mopping out of the gym basement which flooded yet again due to the rain the previous day. The whole gamut of activities might seem overwhelming in the whole but when divided into its proper place and time— punctuated by the predictable bell that resounds across the farmland—all seems not only possible but perfectly ordered.
The well-structured tranquility of order allows one to focus on the required task at hand. Now is the time for dishes or history class or rugby practice (or listening to Mr. McCall’s conference) and so I must focus my entire will on that which is required of me right now.
This was most evident during my conferences. As I looked out at the boys I was almost discombobulated by their focus. Being accustomed to teach graduate students in their mid-twenties, I usually find myself lecturing to the backs of laptop computers as the dazed figures behind move their roving eyes from the laptop screen to the phone that they work frantically with their thumbs.
Years ago in my career I realized it was impossible to separate students in the modern classroom from their security blankets of addictive technology. They live and breathe a world lacking all sense of punctuated order. They live a life of multi-tasking where everything is done simultaneously and nothing is done well. Multitasking is the antithesis of the tranquility of order.
In contrast, here at La Salette were boys ranging from age 13 through 18 who at least in their exterior appearance were focusing their attention on what was required of them in this forty-five minute period. Rather than open laptops, the tools of students across the ages—open notebooks and pens—rested on their desks. Obviously I have no way of knowing the state of their minds and the distractions that may have competed with my words, but, at least exteriorly, they were single tasking. They were supposed to be listening to my conferences and taking notes and that is what they were doing, as well as they could.
Likewise as the end of the school day was singled they switched tasks to that of tackling their schoolmates in the muddy field for rugby practice. One task must end before another begins. That is the tranquility of order and something these boys could teach to the generation that multitasked through their education only to find themselves right where they began—having been led nowhere in order to multitask in circles.
The other distinct impression beyond the unity of order is the clear manliness of the place. Kneeling in the chapel for evening rosary and benediction one could feel the masculinity in forceful unison of the praying of the Aves and the deep echoing of the Tantum Ergo. The vigorous masculinity of the student body was palpable, speaking and moving una voce. This is striking because it is so absent in a world devoid of masculinity.
Our society is dominated by the effeminate, the trite, the weak. The
Novus Ordo is drowning in it. Now the subtlety and the gentleness of the chant echoing down the nave demonstrate that it is not the masculinity of uncontrolled male brute force. The controlled strength of the rugby team on the field (even in the face of foulmouthed competitors) distinguishes the La Salette manliness from mere aggressive passion unregulated by reason.
The politeness and respect with which each boy greets a visitor results from a manliness confident in its strength yet controlled by right reason. A man, a gentleman, does not flit about with femininity tossed by the winds of the world, nor does he lash out and crush with brute violence all that lies in his path. He exudes a calm, ordered strength. There is a time to push forward with all one’s physical strength (in a rugby ruck for example), and there is time to call upon strength of soul to sing in praise of one’s Creator with gentle subtlety.
Being a gentleman, and not merely a male, requires wisdom. Schools of the modern world seem only capable of producing one of the two vicious extremes. The models of masculinity they promote are either effeminate, pasty faced, gender neutral creatures who know neither what they are nor what they are meant to do in life or they are overweight rabid brutes who cannot tell the difference between reality and their violence training consoles. These are not gentlemen; they are either hybrid women or brute animals.
The narrow way of virtue involves the ordered manliness taught at La Salette.
My recent experience has confirmed that all that comprises the institution of La Salette is more than a theoretical knowledge of formation exposited at the opening ceremonies. It is a deep wisdom that is both taught and lived. If only there were more institutions like this the future of Church and civil society would be so much brighter. If more boys could experience this Catholic tranquility of order, I’m sure the world would soon be populated by men, gentlemen worthy of the dignity of their nature.
For more information on La Salette or to contribute to the formation of a new class of truly Catholic gentlemen you can contact the Academy at 5065 Olivet Road, Georgetown, IL, 61846, or visit www.LaSalette.net
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Headmaster Father Michael McMahon prays with his La Salette Lions