Fr. Bernard-Marie de Chivré, O.P.

Young men, think of me as a veteran wanting to tell you a secret. I can tell by looking at you that no one has ever told you what I'm going to say. Granted, you know how to wear the Boy Scout bandana and the khaki shorts, how to hike and how to camp. But do you know where your "Boy Scouts" began? It is something with which you need to concern yourself, especially since it is something the Boy Scouts no longer care to think about. The various new "methods" of your Boy Scouts--all excellent for a youth club perhaps--have killed the spirit of the Boys Scouts, this is, the spirit which went beyond methods. That "spirit" was the spirit of a danger which at one time was dominated by your promise.

Listen to me closely. It all began in 1920 in the aftermath of World War I. Long before you, men had died by the millions, some merely boys. Their strength sapped away as they held out for four years of winter and sweltering heat. In my country they were called the "Unwashed," the "Shaggy Soldiers."¹ All around mothers were in tears, families were left with nothing, and the country bled dry by sacrifice and privation.

In the midst of all this, there were some frightening symptoms. Scoundrels of all kinds tried to make money off soldiers' common graves. One such scoundrel dug up my brother's body, dead two years since May 1918, put it in the coffin meant for bringing the war-dead back to their hometown, and showed up at our house to make a grisly offer: "If you want it, you'll have to give me five more bucks than we had agreed upon." I kept my mother from coming close. She knelt a hundred yards away praying her rosary. I was 17 years old and, yes, I knew danger.

And then there are the memories of my younger brothers, all of us breathing in the same danger that our elder brothers had lived through for those years. None of us had even two pennies to rub together to start our lives in the world.

It didn't take any of us long to learn, however, that these dangers were good for us and that we had to discover activities to keep them alive, turning them into a law of honor binding us to those who had gone before us. We needed a danger, not a method.

A danger lived in our own flesh.

"The Scout is pure in his words and his actions."

A danger for our selfishness.

"The Scout is a brother of every other Scout."

A danger for our adolescent whims.

"The duty of the Scout begins in his own home."

A danger for our conscience.

"The Scout is proud of his faith."

A danger in the service of our country.

"The Scout is a son of his fatherland."

Well, my young friends, a danger is not something you learn with "methods"; it is something you live in the day-by-day of immolated existence, bound by no other vow than that of your Catholic baptism, carried all the way to the danger of dying for it out of faithfulness and hidden heroism.

Danger is the commerce between God and the ones made in His image. It is a perpetual engagement of honor to stand and deliver every time we are called upon to prove the love of a dangerous Law--the Law to maintain and preserve the Catholic Faith.

Most probably, you do not know that scouting was born out of the admiration of your founder, Baron General Baden Powell, for the courage of young army men placed at the service of danger and victory under his obedience. The recollections of these brave young men by General Powell inspired him to prove that scouting could offer a training ground for generosity in the face of danger, a formation to conquer oneself. Boy scouting was a code of honor effecting soul, heart, conscience, and virtue, shaking off all of that apathetic self-centeredness and irrational superficiality common among boys. The General wished to breathe into them a courageous spirit without using any so-called "method" besides the constant call to duty through a Scout's Law in honor of God, country, and family. This was to be initiated through a Scout's Promise officially made before a chaplain and the troop leaders who would stand witness of the moral dangers to which the Law and the Promise committed the Boy Scout, with the help of God. Baron General Baden Powell was a deep believer in God. He once said to Canon Cornette, the chaplain of my Boy Scouts troop to whom we had given the nickname "Old Wolf": "Father Chaplain, my best troops in the whole world are your Catholic troops."

All in all, this kind of scouting has vanished, despite the uniform, as a result of the influence brought to bear by the enriched middle class. It has been killed by its betrayals of camps modernized to the point of comfort, of seeking a kind of snobbery in sports and performances, and of trying to copy the campaigns of political parties--none of which have anything to do with a boy's coming face to face with the courage to risk his own skin.

Boy Scouts used to be responsible for taking on dangers in honor of Christ, proclaiming Him, studying Him, receiving Him on their lips, and offering Him the space of life contained in any and every danger be it physical, moral, or intellectual. Scouting was at the service of the dangers of the conscience (of which the young no longer want to hear about). Yet, you young men wear a uniform that cries out for the danger of conquering the day instead of compromising according to the order of the day. You wear a uniform that incites the dangers of succumbing to the reproaches of human respect, but you conquer by obedience to the Scout's Law.

Oh, young men, seek to honor your baptism! Are you friends to the dangers of a life awaiting your triumph, waiting to be aligned with the life of Calvary all the way to its resurrection? If so, it is your turn to prove those noble decisions and noble examples. All the rest is really a waste of time.

Fr. Bernard-Marie de Chivre, O.P. (say: Sheave-ray) was ordained in 1930. He was an ardent Thomist, student of Scripture, retreat master, and friend of Archbishop Lefebvre. He died in 1984. Originally published as "Ohe garcon, toi qui doutes!" in Le Scoutisme, collection of conferences by the Rev. Fr. Bernard-Marie de Chivre (Touraine: Micro-Edition, 2007), pp. 51-53.

1 Translator's note: Nicknames given to the French soldiers of World War I.