Abstract
Alice Von Hildebrand (1923–2022) was a woman of great intellectual depth and sincere devotion to Christ as remembered by many of her friends, family, and students. Her husband, Dietrich Von Hildebrand, was a prominent Catholic philosopher of the 20th century, known for his contribution to phenomenology and ethics. Alice was a philosopher, author, and teacher in her own right, but also a significant collaborator with her husband in his work. Some of her notable works include The Privilege of Being a Woman, Man & Woman: A Divine Intervention, and Soul of a Lion.
The Remnant of Paradise is a work of remembrance and celebration of Alice’s life and legacy. It is somewhere between a collection, a biography, and a remembrance of a woman who lived her Catholic faith to the fullest. It is divided into two main sections, one including many of her published essays and the other including remembrances written by family members, friends, colleagues, and students. The collection of Alice’s essays, organized by the Hildebrand Project, features topics related to Catholic philosophy and spirituality. The remembrances include personal testimonials of those who knew her and several short biographies. The title comes from one of her most memorable quotes in her later years, “friendship is the remnant of paradise” (121). She is remembered here for her noble spirit, gracious wit, and her love for being a woman.
Several themes emerge from Alice’s essays in this volume that represent a microcosm of her favorite topics to speak and write about. Like her husband, she was a strong proponent of Roman Catholic tradition and spirituality. However, as a Protestant, I found her approach more fascinating than antagonistic, and her firmness never struck me as anything less than a sincere commitment to truth. As John Henry Crosby recounts, Alice often said, in Platonic fashion, that truth was never mine or yours but ours and that her desire was to “be unified in the truth.” Her references are all direct, some profound, and none without sincerity. One such example is her reflection about Mary as “The Queen of Widows,” in which Mary’s piety and strength to endure as a widow at the cross serve as an example for Christian widows seeking authentic fellowship with our Lord and His church during such a difficult experience. As providing the only strength possible to endure such hardship, Alice extols Mary’s dependence on the Lord’s grace rather than her individual strength. Such strength is accessible to all who call upon the Lord, but Alice notes that the “weaker sex” often has the greatest access to this strength.
One theme present in the first several essays is a robust view of Christian femininity. Though many would classify her as a Christian feminist, Alice despises the term because she associated it with Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex. She explicitly resists the label of Christian feminist in favor of a “champion of femininity” (104). In “The Discrimination Complex,” she flips the question of female inferiority in the Bible on its head by tracing the special relationship God has with women. While Adam was created from what Alice often called the “slime of the earth,” Eve was created from another person. She was called the “mother of the living” (Gen 3:20), and she begat Cain “with the help of the Lord” (Gen 4:1). Indeed, the great duel between humanity and the serpent hints at the unique role of women in the economy of redemption. As James Harold writes in remembrance of Alice, “Philosophers note that the higher the kind of being is, the more that being can contain seeming opposites” (122). This is undoubtedly true of Alice’s high view of women, bestowed with a fullness of beauty and complexity.
Another theme is Alice’s critique of cultural relativism. In “Truth, Our Daily Bread,” she distinguishes between seeking truth and our incessant desire to “keep informed” through the press. Unsurprisingly, she quotes Kierkegaard often, whose struggle with the press often led him to great despair. In “Truth or Charity?” Alice shares what she despises most, “dictatorial relativism,” which aims at unity at the expense of truth. She describes it by quoting from Plato’s “Laws” that “men prefer themselves to the truth” (61). Accordingly, this kind of dictatorial relativism is impossible in theory and quite absurd in practice, especially when contrasted with the intimate connection between truth and love found in Christianity. To be truthful without charity is certainly poisonous, but to be charitable without truth is just too cheap an alternative. Alice’s dispute with relativism was not always pejorative but empowered her to defend the philosophical merits of objectivity more earnestly. Her students often revered her for her robust view of objectivity that did not come across as mean-spirited, dull, or even overtly religious, as she resolved not to explicitly bring her Roman Catholicism into her philosophy classroom (159).
A further theme evident in Alice’s essays and the testimonials about her is the importance of gratitude. In “The Joy of Being Indebted,” she challenges us to celebrate the “joyful discovery” that we are bankrupt toward God (56), and suggests that many of us prefer to be self-made rather than indebted to others because of our allergic aversion to gratitude (57). Alice even wonders whether ingratitude should have been included among the seven capital sins, as it is quite evident in all of them, like pride. Many testimonials refer to the deep kindness and gratitude she lived with and shared with others. We might expect no less from someone who gave a talk on her ninetieth birthday entitled “Gratitude as the Key to Happiness” (149).
It should be evident that this work cannot be reduced to a particular genre. At its core, it is a collection of wisdom from a woman who lived her Catholic faith to the fullest and how others remembered her. This could be considered a drawback, as some ideas are redundant, and we would be hard-pressed to find any serious critiques in a work that includes personal testimonials of remembrance. Yet, in our postmodern world, Christians may recognize something in such an approach that can be useful for engaging others. When arguments for God’s existence fall on deaf ears or objectivity has been undermined, it can still be meaningful to share a powerful story, especially one that involves a special person. The desire for truth may wane, but the power of truth communicated in love remains. As this work shows, such stories invite us into something beyond ourselves, a union with a Love that knows no bounds, or what Alice might call “a remnant of paradise.”