Remembering Father Rene McGraw: The monk who inspired a Tanzanian politician

BY January Makamba

Today marks two years since the passing of Father Rene McGraw OSB, a Benedictine monk, who was my teacher, friend and mentor at St John’s University, a Catholic university in Minnesota, USA, where I was privileged to graduate from.

Father Rene easily makes the list of people who have had a positive influence in my life. He was thoroughly grounded in his Catholic faith but was generous and ecumenical in sharing its blessings. Always donning a toothy smile, he was a tough but thoughtful teacher and caring mentor. Clad in black Benedictine Monk Habit (robe), he carried a saintly demeanor in actions and interactions. Father Rene kept memory of birthdays and important anniversaries of his former and current students, and you would be sure to receive a very thoughtful note from him on your important day.

Father Rene taught me philosophy, introducing me to Heidegger and Levinas (masters of phenomenology – his favorite study), Nietzsche, Camus, Hannah Arendt and many other greats. He also taught me a very important lesson that I try to carry up to this day: the moral imperative of judging through evidence.

It started with a discussion in moral philosophy class, where we debated about what underpins moral behaviors and values. Part of my argument in class was derived from the central thesis of one of the books he assigned to us: morality begins with our relationship with those who are different from us – in culture, religion, gender, political belief, and so forth. I argued that every day, in every single moment, consciously or subconsciously, we sit in judgement of others – always consequentially, if not to them, to peace in our hearts. And this judgement is tinted by our moral/ethical posture. And I argued that there has got to be an ethic that clarifies this tint that guides this judgement to bend its arch towards truth and justice. We then debated as to whether it mattered that this ethic is universal or contextual, religious or secular, and how it is applied, because this has in many cases been a source of conflict.

A week or so after our class discussion, Father Rene wrote and shared with me an unpublished paper roughly titled “towards justice, via truth, aided by evidence”. It was a thoughtful and beautifully-written paper: theological, philosophical and jurisprudential. It drew lessons from a number of key figures, most notably Saint Thomas Aquinas. I read it a number of times to fully grasp the lessons. Then we had a discussion about it.

The main themes of his paper were: firstly, the ideal society is one that is just, justice is carried by truth, truth is discerned through evidence; secondly, we wreck the moral uprightness of society when we sit in judgement of others without following the path of truth and evidence; thirdly, the moral rot is inescapable if we are inconsiderate of the evidence when we judge. This is a simplification. The paper was much deeper.

Evidence is so crucial to judgement such that even God, omniscience as He is, on the Day of Judgement, will bring in the Book of Deeds, basically a collection of evidence, as He dispenses justice, tempered, of course, with His infinite mercy.

Evidence is so crucial to justice such that there is an entire jurisprudence of evidence. And the sensitivity and importance of evidence is such that even mishandling of its chain of custody can destroy its credibility. Miscarriage of justice, more often than not, is midwifed by faulty or non-existence of evidence.

Father Rene taught me that you can be forgiven in believing anyone on, say, the right time to plant maize, but the affection for your father is not sufficient for you to believe him when he tells you that your neighbor is evil, if his word is only what you have.

According to Father Rene, borrowing heavily from the Canons, a judgement requires moral certainty, and this certainty must come from proofs, which are derived from evidence, which must be weighed conscientiously. His point here is that when we sit in judgement of others, we must have moral certainty about the matter – not a hunch, not a suspicion, not a word from a friend. This is a very high standard, and deliberately so because the corrosive impact of stillborn justice requires it. The second point is that evidence requires not a casual, but conscientious consideration.

What of those with belief that they have been wrongly judged? An instinctive response is to harbor resentment and/or seek vindication. But history is replete with examples of how patience has been the salvation of the persecuted. Patience doesn’t mean inaction to better the world, to correct a wrong, or to advance truth. Patience is faith in eternal judgement, which is immutably just. At this impermanent place, a tragedy is not the imperfection of its justice. The tragedy would be not to make use of the inevitable injuries of this place for spiritual growth and character building.

Today, two years after his passing I remember Father Rene fondly as a teacher who gave me confidence and belief to be free of worries, who elevated my intellectual curiosity, who made me read texts that I would otherwise not encounter. He introduced me to Summa Theologica, Thomas Aquinas' greatest work. In it, he elevates evidence not just as an instrument in the aid of human judgement but also a “reflection of divine order”. This is not small. Since then, I have always asked for evidence and data in decision-making. And I have always expected the same from others. He made me read Emmanuel Levinas’ Totality and Infinity: Essays on Exteriority, the most difficult book I ever encountered. In it, I found inspiration for public service.

I pray that he continues to rest in eternal peace.