Mr. Robert Hickson passed away in 2023, though it seems so long ago...
In a little while, I'll reveal some personal thoughts about my brother Vietnam veteran and a short note that I received from his dear wife, Maike.
But for now, I would like to direct your attention to an article written by Br. Andre Marie at www.catholicism.org (see here): Dr. Robert Hickson and the ‘Order of God’
I'll post the entire article for your consideration: "The following is the introduction I was asked to write for the final collection of essays by our late friend and collaborator, Dr. Robert Hickson: Ordo Dei, Collected Essays of Dr. Robert Hickson.
A GOOD art critic can point to the finished work of a master and explain how the skillful application of certain techniques render thus and such an effect in a given medium—say, oil on canvas. Those unlettered in the art might stand back and admire the final product as a “pretty picture,” but the true connoisseur understands something of how the artist accomplishes the effect and thereby experiences a deeper meeting of the mind with the master. He can thus savor and relish the truth, the beauty, and the goodness conveyed by the artist. There is a silent dialogue—in the old sense of that much abused word—between the painter and the attentive viewer.
As the raw material of a literary artist, words can be employed in a similar way. When used well—assuming the truth of the underlying message—their effect is not only true, but also good and beautiful. Contrariwise, just as the revolutionary artist can communicate his malevolent ideology or corrosive agenda through the provocations of modernist art, so, too, the cunning revolutionary writer or speaker can alternatively dim, distract, or colonize the minds of those who encounter his craft.
The essays contained in this volume are the expressions of a “critic” of the linguistic arts and an accomplished professor of the same; they help his reader to relish the words of true masters of language and of Catholic thought (Belloc, Chesterton, Waugh, Bernanos, Pieper, and others). Such a contribution is valuable as it assists the reader in gaining insights he might otherwise not have into the genius of these great authors. At the same time, thanks to our critic and professor, the thought of these greats is applied to more contemporary problems, shedding some much needed light on the issues of our own day.
Dr. Robert Hickson loved words. Those of us who knew him can vouch for this fact. Yet, Robert was not a man who loved words more than that thing which it is the purpose of words to convey: the truth. A classicist who studied and taught Greek and Latin letters, Robert relished the words attributed to Saint Bernard of Clairvaux: Cui sapiunt omnia prout sunt, hic est vere sapiens (“He is truly wise who savors all things just as they are.”) He would point out that the Latin word for wisdom has for its root—as can be seen in this very passage from Saint Bernard—the verb, sapere “to relish.”
Relishing words—true words, good words, eloquently stated words—was not Robert’s pastime but his profession; it was even, to use the term broadly, his vocation.
And a Christian vocation it was. The Second Person of the Holy Trinity is in eternity the Divine Logos. When, in order to save Man, He mercifully deigned to take upon Himself our dimensions, to breathe our air, to experience our limits, He became, in Mary’s womb, the Incarnate Logos. The eternally uttered Word of the Father became Man and spoke to us in human words. Viewed in the light of Christian Revelation, words can be—to use a vivid expression of Hilaire Belloc’s that Robert helps us savor in this book—“Sacramental Things”; that is, words can be things which mediate life to us—not only life, but, as Robert would no doubt like to add, “more abundant life.”
If the wise man savors things just as they are, if he relishes reality as it is, this does not mean that he can define everything (as the good logician knows) or explain with empirical precision why everything is exactly the way it is (as the good metaphysician knows). Robert had not only studied letters, but also philosophy and theology, and not just as a dabbler. He could wax eloquent on Odysseus’ being tied to the mast of his ship in The Odyssey and then pivot to a discussion of haecceitas as the principle of individuation in the ontology of Blessed Duns Scotus. A more nimble mind I don’t think I ever encountered. But the real point I am getting at here, in my own less-than-nimble way, is that any thinker worthy of that name must have a large space for mystery in his thought, and this Robert did indeed have in his expansive mental landscape.
To cite the sturdy prose of Robert’s beloved Belloc once more (and you will get plenty of it in the pages ahead!): “One of the main marks of stupidity is the impatient rejection of mystery; one of the first marks of good judgment, combined with good reasoning power, is the appetite for examining mystery.”
“Examining mystery” was one of Robert’s favorite things to do. On that point, I don’t think he would mind if I quote my own mentor, Brother Francis Maluf:
"Father Leonard Feeney said once that mysteries are not things about which we can know nothing but things about which we cannot know everything, precisely because there is so much to be known [emphasis mine]. Tides, for example, are a problem, but the sea is a mystery. Making a living is frequently a problem to man, but life itself is always a mystery.
Now the world is alive with such mysteries, and they occur as frequently in the order of nature as they do in the order of grace. We look at the sky and say; what is this apparently limitless expansion of the blue? Is it infinite or is it finite? Is it thoroughly full, or is it partly empty? Is space a substance or is it an accident? Or is it perhaps a figment of the mind? Is it changing or is it changeless? And how about time; where is the past and what is the future? What is even the very actual present, the evasive now, which, as soon as you grasp it, has already slipped away and is no more! Birth and death, food and growth, thought, love, and even sleep; all these are mysteries in the natural order which parallel the mysteries of the faith and prepare the mind for the message of revelation. The early philosophers called them problems, but we are entitled to change their labels and call them mysteries, having seen so many ages of thinkers throughout history try to sound their depths. (“The Problem of Change: A Mystery of the Natural Order”)
Robert would examine the mystery that lay behind such words as the calamitous “power without grace” that Evelyn Waugh put on the lips of Saint Helena, or the lovely “fresh supernatural Beatitude” that George Bernanos puts in the mouth of the eponymous curé in his Diary of a Country Priest: “Blessed be he who has saved a child’s heart from despair,” words Robert could rarely say without becoming emotional (and which, I am given to understand, will grace his headstone in Dillwyn, Virginia).
There were many “dark things” that Robert knew about from his government intelligence clearances, things concerning the unethical use of terrifying biological agents and other forms of asymmetrical warfare. He was also deeply disturbed by the subtle and not-so-subtle undermining of the two divine lights of faith and reason he saw in the Church and in academia. He detested the hebetude, that “dullness of mind,” he saw in so many places, including even institutions of higher learning. Still more did he impugn the evagatio mentis or “roaming unrest of spirit” that constitutes the deadly sin of sloth, which he understood not as mere laziness but in the deeper meaning given to it by Saint Thomas and the Church Fathers before him. This roaming unrest of spirit is integral to our techno-narcissistic society that majors in shallow sound-bites and what Robert called “stroboscopic psychobabble,” i.e., verbose, distracting, superficial, and pseudo-intellectual nonsense that conceals more than it reveals, and that, ultimately, evades the truth and dims the conscience.
Bearing the burden of knowledge of dark things and the subtle temptation to discouragement that resulted from the permeating fog of dullness and sloth engulfing so many, Robert thought it necessary to bring to people’s minds the robust “affirmations” that might lead to a “deeper discourse” about those enduring things that really matter. “You capture the language, you capture the culture,” he said. As this works both ways, Robert very much believed that good literature, what he called “imaginative literature,” could be one of those “sacramental things” that will help us to heal our souls and restore some sanity to our culture. For Robert, cultivating the language of great literature was an effective means of affirming truth, beauty, and goodness.
As can all good and useful things, words can be overused. Because he was more of a gourmet of words than a gourmand (in the older, gluttonous, sense of the French word), Robert could be impatient with those who ruined a good conversation by simply talking too much. In his playful way, Robert would accuse such a man of being “inebriated with the exuberance of his own verbosity,” a delightfully ironic turn of phrase which revealed Robert’s lighter side.
And there was a lighter side. Thank God. I once watched Robert stand accused by a good Polish priest of talking too much himself, and being overly critical of the sacred hierarchy, specifically in the person of a certain Polish pontiff. Robert’s response to the virile dressing-down was witty and impish without being irreverent: “Well, Father, you’ve reduced me to an embarrassed silence.” The sudden, self-deprecating irony completely disarmed the good priest, who eventually came to cherish Robert (and the feeling was mutual).
With that, I think I should bring these lines to an end lest I, too, merit a well deserved censure for being prolix. If you profit from this book, be good enough to pray for the repose of the author’s soul, and for the spiritual and temporal good of the family Robert leaves behind. This would be a wonderful expression of the Christian gratitude you will find so movingly praised in these pages."
End of article...
Now, some of my thoughts and interactions I had with my brother veteran -- and teacher!
Note, that Robert and I both served in Vietnam. I had one tour, and he, I believe, had served two tours. I also believe that we were in-country about the same time, regarding our first tour, late 1967 and just about all of 1968.
Even though the branches of our service were different, he, the Army and I the Air Force (police), we both did our respective jobs with diligence and honor...
I remember he once asked me if I had been on any offensive operations, at the time I indicated in the negative. But upon further reflection as indicated on a website togetherweserved.com (I am life-time member), Largest U.S. Air Force Veteran Directory + Service History Archive | Find People You Served With | AirForce.TogetherWeServed.com, I did, or should I say, the jet fighters from our base did. One of the most important was helping the Marines survive the 77-day siege at Khe Sanh (see below).
Whenever we conversed, Robert always showed concern and consideration for my state of mind and soul, especially regarding my time in the war, and how I was handling those things that can never be forgotten or ignored...
After Robert's passing, Kathy and I enrolled the good Doctor in a series of Masses... We notified his dear wife, Maike, and she graciously responded with a thank you note. And she wrote something in the note that nearly brought me to tears: "He always cherished you very much"...
And I him, very much...
Before I end this missive, I want to include a poem I wrote for one of my books -- Tragedy And Triumph At Sun Valley (not available at this time).
To My Brothers:
Side by side we stood,
Black or white, it made no difference.
Catholic, Protestant, Jew or atheist,
I may not have liked you, but I loved you.
Only God can give and only God can take away,
But Charlie took and never gave.
Why did my bunker-mate die, and I live?
To fulfill my dreams but not his?
Yet he is with me always -- in my dreams,
Not wanted there, as I struggle to sleep.
Lord help me to live and not just exist,
Take this burden from my soul.
Have mercy on them that stayed,
Some here, some there.
Arlington is their home now,
As mine will sometime be.
Pray for strength and honor!
Viva Cristo Rey! Bl. Fr. Miguel Pro, Fr. Emil Kapaun and Fr. Vincent Capodanno, pray for us...
St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle...
St. Joseph pray for us...
Gene DeLalla
