A Little Lesson on Prudence
28th Sunday of the Year
Listen to this homily here.
Whether you’ve been in college for seven weeks or seven semesters, I hope you’ve figured out that you won’t learn everything you’re going to learn here in the classroom. The classroom will equip you with a whole lot of knowledge. But college isn’t only a time for learning about things, it’s also—and I would argue more importantly—a time of learning about yourself, specifically, learning how to master yourself. The art of self-mastery is one that takes our entire lives to get right, but for most, college is where it begins.
Now, I’ll admit, this is one place where my experience differs from yours. Because I went to college seminary, I had people in my life responsible for guiding me in my quest to understand and gain control over myself. Each year I had to write formal goals and objectives for myself. I was held accountable to them and at the end of the year was evaluated on how well I did, or didn’t do, meeting them. I didn’t always appreciate it at the time, but in hindsight I’m grateful for how that structure helped me grow—like a trellis that supports a growing vine.
In your life as ‘normal’ college students, you’ll have to take your self-mastery more in your own hands than I did, and your accountability will come from your friends and peers. But I do want to help, in two ways. First, I’m more than happy to meet with anyone who wants to work on anything in the virtue department. Whether you’re struggling with pride or greed, lust or envy, or attachments to destructive things, behaviors, or people—I’m here for it.
Second, this evening I want to give you a little lesson on one of the four foundational virtues that’s, let’s say, part of the ‘core’ for any program of self-mastery. These four virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—are called the cardinal virtues. The word ‘cardinal’ means ‘hinge’ because these are the four hinges on which the whole door of the moral life hangs. I want to talk tonight about prudence, because we heard King Solomon pray in the first reading for it: “I prayed, and prudence was given me… I preferred her to scepter and throne, and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her…” And for a King to say that, prudence must be awfully special.
So, what is the virtue of prudence? Prudence is defined as “the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason.” That means we let our minds and not our passions govern our decision making.
A couple of years ago I was in Colorado and a couple of friends and I hiked to the summit of a 12,000-foot mountain. On the way down from the top, the trail was steep and narrow and the rocks were loose, so I decided to take my time and go down on my butt to make sure I wouldn’t fall. My friends, by the way, walked down the mountain just fine; but I, on the other hand, didn’t have the strength to stand without my knees buckling. What I want to say is that prudence looks different for each person: the experienced trail runner blitzing down a technical trail with ease is no less prudent than the out-of-shape day-hiker sliding down the trail like a geriatric crab. In both cases, prudence is right reason applied to action.
Now, it’s easy enough to say “the prudent thing is the right thing,” but how do we know what the right thing is in the first place? It would take much more than a 10-minute homily to give you a full exposition on how to arrive at a prudent decision, but here’s a little intro.
Saint Thomas Aquinas teaches that prudence needs three things.
The first is good counsel. Counsel means asking others what they think. Good counsel means asking good people who have good perspective on the situation what they think. In practice, when you have a decision in front of you to make, to the extent that you’re able, you should consult with others about the right course of action. This requires us to be humble and docile and set out on a quest of discovery to figure out what we should do. I think about the friends I call when I need advice on something. I’m not just asking because you’re my friend but because I think you have insight and perspective that will help me figure out what I think about this issue. At this stage in your life, you might not have a wealth of those friends around you at all times—but you do have plenty of people on this campus who are older and wiser and whose job is to help you grow. Seek them out!
After good counsel, the second thing Saint Thomas says we need to make a prudent decision is common sense. We have to know, basically, how things in the world work. Counsel can make up some of the difference, but there’s really no substitute for having common sense for ourselves. Saint Thomas says common sense is about knowing the laws and the exceptions that govern the world. You have to know that that rock, with that shape, sitting at that angle, is going to move or not move if you put your foot on it. Some people are born with more common sense than others, but we acquire more of it by getting out there and taking risks. We grow from our experiences, and if we never have any experiences, we’ll never grow. Using common sense in making a prudent decision means asking, “What do I think will happen if I do this?” A good friend of mine teaches third grade and she routinely tells her students, “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” So for the third grader, and so for us.
The third part of a prudent decision is actually doing it. Saint Thomas says that if you figure out what’s prudent but don’t act on it you aren’t prudent at all. If you know what the right thing is, you’re under an obligation to do it. Remember what the most basic definition of sin is: doing what you’re not supposed to do, or not doing what you’re supposed to do. All the time people stop short of this third move. They’re afraid of putting any real skin in the game—and it’s always their loss. Prudence means that you will sometimes, even often, have to do things you’re not comfortable with; but the only way to become comfortable with something is by doing it, over and over and over again.
So, be prudent: take counsel, think it through, and get it done. Rinse, repeat, and you’re on your way toward virtue.
But here’s the kicker. You can be an expert in prudence and all the other virtues too. You can apply right reason to action all day, every day. But one day, Jesus is going to come along and ask you to do something with your life that’s going to appear completely unreasonable, imprudent, foolish—like a risk you’ve been trained to never take. He will speak to you in these or similar words: “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor.” And unless you believe that he is the Son of God, you won’t follow him. You’ll go away like the rich—and probably prudent—young man. But faith in Christ, for which there is no substitute, will tell you that true prudence—right reason applied to action—is always and only ever found in doing what Christ requires of you. So, work on prudence. Strive for virtue. But ground it all in your relationship with Christ. For human beings, the life to which he calls us is impossible, “but not for God. All things are possible for God.”
Homily preached October 13, 2024 at Mount St. Mary’s University.