St. Louis philosopher looks deeply at life: John Kavanaugh, lover of music, a keeper of friends - Catholic priest - Profile - Interview

National Catholic Reporter, Sept 19, 1997 by Jeannette Batz

ST. LOUIS -- "There's one like that in Dublin," Jesuit Fr. John Kavanaugh tells me, grinning. "They call her `The Floozie in the Jacuzzi.'" I step back from the roof-wall of Jesuit Hall, where I've been surveying St. Louis University's gurgling new fountains. It all seems a bit Disneyesque to me, but Kavanaugh, who's been a professor of philosophy here for many years, assures me that SLU has become a much more engaging, intellectually satisfying place.

There was a time when he thought of leaving -- he even asked to be sent, if it pleased the order, to Zimbabwe. Instead, the faculty expanded and the dialogue deepened, so that he no longer felt out of place. Now Kavanaugh -- famous since the late '70s for scathing critiques of Madison Avenue and the consumer society -- is sharpening his principles and applying them to bioethics.

He writes the "Ethics Notebook" column for America, the national magazine produced by his religious order. He's expanded his undergraduate offerings to include courses in medical ethics for nursing and premed students. He's been asked to publish collections of his homilies. (Kavanaugh is legendary for his ability to weave serious theology into everyday life, calling forth conscience so humbly that no one's left squirming in the pew.) These days, he fights consumerism more directly, logging hours at the local Catholic Worker house. He continues to offer students -- and colleagues -- the insights of a personalist ethics grounded in a philosophical understanding of human nature. He's reached a new contentment.

We head for a table and chairs toward the back of the roof, Kavanaugh asking ruefully if I minded him smoking. More serious and less outrageously charming than his younger brother Tom -- a St. Louis graphic designer who reviews movies for the St. Louis Review, the archdiocesan newspaper, and who chose a layperson's child-rowdy life - John Kavanaugh has a quiet presence, touched with dry wit and soaked in sensitivity, intimacy, depth. Even his voice, softened by an Irish-lullaby throatiness, is gentle and melodic. I know he likes to play handball, sings Irish folk songs with family and friends (they've even cut a CD, sold at Catholic Supply in St. Louis).

Kavanaugh holds graduate degrees in philosophy, divinity, dogmatic theology and social philosophy. He's won Catholic Press Awards for general commentary the Australian Radio United Nations Award for a Dom Helder Camara lecture. His first book, Following Christ in a Consumer Society, published in 1981 (revised as Still Following Christ in a Consumer Society, Orbis, 1991), earned him a national reputation, as did his role as one of the St. Louis Jesuits, the group that brought new music to the post-Vatican II Catholic liturgy. He's endured the agonizing, protracted, premature deaths of three extremely close friends. He's a news junkie and berates himself for it. Where do I start?

Taking the easy way out, I ask what's been hardest for him, as a priest and as a man. He nods rapidly, thinks a minute, then sighs. "I get tired of divisions in the Catholic church, fatigued by them, and it possibly has a bad effect on me. I feel less at home with people on the far left and the far right." For Kavanaugh, being Catholic means committing yourself to follow Christ in the context of "a wonderful scripture and liturgical life, the example of great men and women of faith, and a beautiful but flawed tradition." If someone's Catholicism centers around being American or clergy or gay or respectable, that erodes the common ground. "Does the National Catholic Reporter acknowledge any sins that liberals commit?" he asks abruptly. "Does the [conservative Catholic press] acknowledge any sins that conservatives commit? Feminists commit sins as much as clerics. Reality is for us to discover and honor, not create and construct."

In his just-published collection of homilies, Engaging the Word (Orbis), Kavanaugh writes, "One of the most seductive temptations of the believer is to identify the will of God with the will of the believer, and not the other way around. God's will is squeezed into patriotism, leftism, capitalism, feminism. ... How do we escape fooling ourselves?" His solution, he explains now, is to appeal not to anyone's individual perspective but to the very tenets of the faith. "What you do is shame the person -- that's a harsh word, but when you're talking about violence, power, sexuality, money, do people really want to say, What is the most Christlike thing to do? (The book is dedicated to his other sibling, his sister, Kathleen Stinmann of St. Louis, who is recovering from a series of strokes.)

"I fail in so many ways living that life," he admits, "but I'm willing to be called to it. The reason I confess smoking is I really believe it compromises my discipleship. I know there is something problematic morally. I have to acknowledge the disability there. It's related to my vow of poverty, to my critique of capitalism, to the tradition of asceticism.'

My forehead wrinkles. To the nondirect, the solution always seems so simple. Oh, I've quit for three years, I've quit for one year," he says. "Both times I've gone back when people died, thinking it doesn't make a difference. Now I really think I'd like to quit before I'm on oxygen!"