On a cold and clear February morning in 1944, the roar of four-engine heavy bombers filled the skies of central Italy above the Benedictine abbey at Monte Cassino. Wave upon wave of American warplanes lumbered into view as the US Army Air Forces prepared to unleash fire and fury upon the ancient and venerable monastery. High explosive bombs hurtled earthward with an audible whistle; their calamitous detonations shook the ground for miles in every direction. When the hellish pall of dust and smoke cleared, only a titanic rubble heap remained where the magnificent holy place had stood.
The wartime destruction of Monte Cassino abbey remains controversial to this day. St. Benedict himself founded the monastery in the sixth century, but during World War II the Cassino area was transformed into the strongest point of the Gustav Line, a network of fortified positions that the Nazis hoped would halt the Western Allies’ grinding advance northward towards Rome. Although conclusive evidence has never been brought forward, at the time many in the Allied high command believed the Germans had converted the abbey into a fortress. Troop morale was also a consideration; commanders on the ground were aware that “for the tens of thousands of Allied soldiers in the neighborhood…the sacred buildings had become sinister and malevolent.” (Monte Cassino, p. 139)
Among the American airmen who participated in the raid on Cassino was a young radioman and tail gunner named Walter M. Miller, Jr. The regrettable destruction of the abbey turned out to be a pivotal moment of Miller’s life, influencing his postwar conversion to Catholicism as well as shaping the development of his talents as a science fiction writer.
In the 1950s, Miller wrote over thirty stories for the popular sci-fi magazines of the day. In 1959, he published his magnum opus, the novel A Canticle for Leibowitz, which he assembled from three interconnected novellas originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction. In 1961 Canticle won the coveted Hugo Award and is still respected as a science fiction masterpiece and a highly influential example of post-apocalyptic sci-fi. In fact, Catholic novelist Walker Percy declared that Canticle was superior to “the better-known sci-fi futuristic novels, 1984 and Brave New World.” (Signposts in a Strange Land, p. 227)
A Canticle for Leibowitz is unapologetically Catholic in its sensibilities, and its prominent themes include the tension between science and religion, and the role of divine providence in human history. The narrative centers around the Albertian Order of Leibowitz – a fictional religious community (not unlike the Benedictines of Monte Cassino) who dedicate themselves to preserving literacy and scientific knowledge after nuclear war and cultural upheaval destroy twentieth-century civilization.
The Catholic Church survives these disasters, still professing orthodox doctrine, and still under the authority of the Pope (who reigns from the city of New Rome in North America). Catholic readers should not be surprised by this unbroken continuity of the Church. Jesus himself promised to Simon Peter, the chief of the twelve Apostles and the first Pope, that the Church would stand firm until the end of time: “I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18)
As the centuries pass, civilization rebuilds and secular scholars painstakingly begin to rediscover the scientific advances of the twentieth century. This brings them into conflict with the monks of St. Leibowitz, whose task it is to carefully steward this knowledge. As Walker Percy observed, A Canticle for Leibowitz challenges “the Western democratic-technological humanist view” that religion and faith will eventually be rendered obsolete by the relentless forward march of scientific progress. (Signposts in a Strange Land, p. 228)
In a memorable scene from the novel, a scientist named Thon Taddeo expounds upon this worldview, declaiming to the monks of Leibowitz Abbey that “a new prince shall rule. Men of understanding, men of science, shall stand behind his throne, and the universe will come to know his might. His name is Truth, His empire shall encompass the Earth.” (A Canticle for Leibowitz, p. 214) Taddeo’s ideology is scientism, the assertion that empirical science represents the only legitimate path to knowledge and truth. The monks of the Order of St. Leibowitz rightly worry that reason divorced from faith will eventually result in new cataclysms. When advanced technical knowledge is once again wielded by ambitious and unscrupulous men, the errors of the past may be doomed to be repeated.
This seems, indeed, to be the case. The centuries roll on until the year AD 3781. Civilization has come full circle. Computers, atomic weapons, and space flight have all been reinvented. The nations of the world are sliding once again toward nuclear war. Yet the monks of St. Leibowitz understand that, while human beings are free to choose good or evil, God is the Author and Lord of history, and that “the ultimate meaning of history is the unfolding of the Kingdom [of God] and…since nothing is independent of God’s rule, good must ultimately triumph over evil.” (History of the Catholic Church, p. 23)
In the event of nuclear war, the humble and misunderstood monks of Leibowitz Abbey are entrusted by the Vatican with secret plans to preserve the Church on a planet in the Alpha Centauri star system. Thus, the triumph of God’s Church and the first missionary journey of the Gospel to an alien world emerges only through the seeming death of earthly civilization. This theme reflects God’s plan for salvation, for “the ways of the Kingdom are in many respects the reverse of those of human society—triumph emerges only from defeat, suffering is the necessary prerequisite to glory, he who would save his life must lose it, the humble will be exalted.” (Ibid. p. 24)
Despite this hopeful ending, A Canticle for Leibowitz hints at the internal struggles of its author. Walter M. Miller was a man sadly acquainted with the destruction and cruelties wrought by war. For decades he battled the depression and post-traumatic stress inflicted by his combat experiences, struggling to cling on to hope. Tragically, Miller took his own life with a firearm on January 9, 1996. Suicide is a grave evil, but we must also be mindful that we cannot be certain of the eternal destiny of those who commit suicide. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches us that, “We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.” (CCC 2283) We can certainly hope and pray that by the mysterious and awesome power of God’s mercy, after a life scarred by war and broken by sorrow, Walter M. Miller, Jr. is finally at peace.
Sources:
Caddick-Adams, Peter. Monte Cassino: Ten Armies in Hell. Oxford University Press, 2013.
Hitchcock, James. History of the Catholic Church: From the Apostolic Age to the Third Millennium. Ignatius Press, 2012.
Miller, Walter M., Jr. A Canticle for Leibowitz. Bantam, 1961.
Percy, Walker. Signposts in a Strange Land. Picador, 1991.
Thomas J. Salerno
Thomas Salerno is a Catholic author, freelance writer, and podcaster born and raised on Long Island, New York. Among his many passions are dinosaurs, Tolkien's Middle-earth, Star Wars, and superheroes. His writing has been featured in numerous publications including Word on Fire, Aleteia, Amendo, Busted Halo, Catholic World Report, Empty Tomb Project, and Missio Dei. Thomas is the creator and host of the Perilous Realms Podcast and is a contributor to the StarQuest Production Network (SQPN), where he serves as co-host on the Secrets of Movies and TV Shows and the Secrets of Middle-Earth podcasts. Thomas has a bachelor of arts in anthropology from Stony Brook University. You can follow his work on his Substack newsletter thomasjsalerno.substack.com or @Salerno_Thomas on Twitter.