Adam and I have been having an interesting discussion over email about this question. I'm just going to go ahead and post our whole email thread so far. Those few who are still reading this site, I'd love to get your thoughts. (I know I haven't posted anything for a long time, but I haven't forgotten about the Agora!) Joey: I just saw this meetup on a group that I'm subscribed to in D.C. (though I've never been to one of their actual meetings). Anyway, it reminded me of our conversation, and I thought you would find it interesting. It sounds like a great subject to discuss. My initial thought is that there is no such thing as a "professional philosopher" -- there are professional teachers of philosophy, or historians of philosophy. But one can be a "philosopher," a lover of wisdom, in any occupation. Philosophy is a way of life, a way of approaching life, rather than an occupation. I thought the list they gave of the day jobs of all those famous philosophers was pretty intriguing. http://www.meetup.com/MarylandSocratesCafe/events/67044132/?a=ea1_grp&rv=ea1Adam: Very interesting topic. I agree with you that there is no such thing as a "professional philosopher" in the sense that someone can be a lawyer or a doctor. Of course, as you said, there are still plenty of people who make a living writing and teaching philosophy. I guess I have also become skeptical of the whole enterprise of philosophy as a way of life. The word 'philosophy' means different things to different people at different times, so I am not even clear what a philosopher is and how such a person would approach life differently than any other person. For example, an analytic philosophy professor will surely approach life differently than a follower of new age spirituality, but both might considers themselves 'philosophers'. I can tell you how Socrates may have approached life (can we even know this?) or how Kant approached life, but I can't tell you how a philosopher should approach life. In fact, I am not certain that philosophers (if such people exist) have any special access to "truth" or "wisdom" over physicists, economists, or any other type of scientist. Anyways, if one has religion, it is not clear to me why one needs philosophy (at least modern philosophy). Catholics might adhere to Aquinas's systematic theology, but even Aquinas considered himself a theologian over a philosopher and never thought that one could solely be a philosopher. I still think that it is important to study philosophy for historical reasons, but it is not clear to me why it should be elevated to a status higher than any other subject. Joey:Adam, all good points. I think this is something that calls for an in-person discussion. But to respond to your thought about whether "philosophers" are even different from other people and whether "philosophy" constitutes a different way of approaching the world, I still hold that it does. Of course, it depends on how you define philosophy. If I define it as "the most fundamental or all-encompassing level of inquiry," though, then I can definitely make the cases that some people are much more "philosophical" than others. Perhaps there is no decisive marker that shows some people to be philosophers and others not to be; rather, there is a spectrum of "more philosophical" and "less philosophical" people. I would say the more interested a person is in finding out the ultimate truths about reality, the more philosophical a person is. A philosophical person is necessarily very thoughtful and very curious; he continually questions his own assumptions and those of others, and pursues lines of reasoning to their broadest application. These are all necessary qualities of a philosophical person, but not sufficient, because one can have all these qualities but still have no interest in the most fundamental level of inquiry. For instance, someone can be very thoughtful, curious, and questioning when it comes to economics, but not interested at all in pursuing this questioning to the most fundamental level. I think there is a hierarchy of different levels of inquiry--maybe not a hierarchy in terms of value, but a hierarchy in terms of abstraction. I think philosophy basically comes down to metaphysics and epistemology--the most abstract level of inquiry, or what I have been calling the most "fundamental" level of inquiry. (Theology is also bound to metaphysics--they are essentially the same discipline. That's what Aristotle believed. So in that sense, I agree with Aquinas that one cannot be solely a philosopher. I think the philosopher is always, by definition, a theologian. Even an atheist philosopher is making pronouncements about the divine--namely, that there is no such thing--so, he is a kind of theologian.) In this sense, yes, both a New Age spiritualist and an analytic philosophy professor can certainly be called philosophers. One may be an amateur and one may be a specialist, but they are both engaging with the ultimate questions about the nature of reality. This, however, brings up an interesting question: Is "questioning" a defining feature of being a philosopher? In other words, once someone has made up his or her mind and stops questioning, is he or she no longer a philosopher? You could make an pretty good argument that, to the extent that a person closes herself off from questioning, she is no longer a philosopher. However, that doesn't mean a philosophical person can never make up her mind about anything. If a long process of questioning and investigation leads her what she believes is a solid position, she might commit to that position, at least until further evidence comes to light that would give her reason to question it again. However, if she is truly a philosophical person, she will continue questioning, just she will have moved on to different questions. If a person completely closes himself off from all questioning at the most fundamental levels and forbids himself to ever think about metaphysics and epistemology ever again, then that person is basically forbidding himself from philosophizing. So, it's not that philosophers have special access to truth that economists or scientists don't have--it's that they're investigating a different level of truth. Economists and scientists, if they turn their mind to that realm, can be philosophers, too. However, if they have never studied philosophy, they will probably not be able to think about such things with as much facility as those who have. (On the other hand, sometimes the minds of those who have studied philosophy become muddled by the things they have read, so paradoxically, the amateur philosopher can sometimes have insights that the well-versed philosopher is unable to see. I think this comes about mainly when the well-versed philosopher attributes too much reality to mere words, forgetting that words are only symbols for something else. So, this is kind of a Wittgensteinian critique of academic/professional philosophy.) Hm. Well, I wasn't intending to write an essay, but I couldn't help myself. I'm sure there is much more to be said on this subject, and I bet you have your own responses to what I have just said. I think I might post this on the Agora, actually. No one has posted there for a while. Do you mind if I post the whole email conversation? Adam:Thanks for your thoughts. I don't mind if you post our conversation on Agora. Very briefly- I used to hold, more or less, the view you outlined below. It strikes me as basically an Aristotelian conception of the sciences. Recently my view has been more influenced by W.V. Quine, Donald Davidson, Hilary Putnam, and Richard Rorty. I have become less sure that there can be such a thing as a higher or more fundamental level of inquiry. While the concerns of the philosopher are certainly more abstract and general than other sciences, these differences come from how we use language when discussing philosophical concerns, but might not correspond to any real differences in kind. So, the notion that philosophers investigate a special level of truth might just be a fiction arising from our misuse of language. I have no problem with the study of metaphysics and epistemology per se. What I have a problem with is when philosophers claim that they have objective and ahistorical access to metaphysical and epistemological truths. These 'truths'--if 'truth' is even the right word--strike me more as the guiding principles, or presuppositions, of the lower forms of scientific inquiry. So philosophy may still still be a 'higher level' of inquiry in that it investigates the heuristic principles and assumptions of lower forms, it cannot establish those principles on an objective footing. The most it can do is clarify how we think about and conceive of the world in our current forms of inquiry at this particular point in history. I know these thoughts are rather inchoate. I hope to write a better 'argument' this week. "Quite generally, Quine holds that philosophical concerns are typically more abstract and more general than those of other disciplines, but that these differences are a matter of emphasis and degree; there is no sharp difference in kind. Philosophy has no special vantage point, no special method, no special access to truth. Here we have the crucial idea of Quine's naturalism, discussed in the previous section. " Joey:Hm. I don't think we're disagreeing here. I'm not saying that philosophers have any objective and ahistorical access to metaphysical and epistemological truth. I don't think any educated person really believes that that's possible anymore. Nor am I saying that the philosopher investigates some "special level" of truth that is closed off to others. I think I would agree with Quine that while philosophy is more abstract and general than other disciplines, this is a difference in degree rather than a difference in kind. That's kind of what I was saying when I said that people are either "more philosophical" or "less philosophical"--there are differences in degrees among people, but it's not necessarily a difference in kind. I think the more philosophical people are the ones who, in thinking about their chosen discipline (or about anything, really), pursue the lines of reasoning as far back as they can go, which means that they end up thinking about the guiding principles or presuppositions of the discipline at hand. So for them, everything always really comes back to those guiding principles and presuppositions. The philosopher, then, is a person who is more concerned with these basic assumptions and the relationships among the different disciplines based on these assumptions, rather than being concerned with the more particular, nuanced arguments going on within each particular field. At the end of your last email you admit that "philosophy may still still be a 'higher level' of inquiry in that it investigates the heuristic principles and assumptions of lower forms," although "it cannot establish those principles on an objective footing." That seems like you're saying philosophy is different in kind from the other disciplines, the "lower forms" that it is investigating. It seems that you want to preserve philosophy's special status with regard to the other disciplines (being the discipline that overlooks them all), while also being careful to state that philosophy has no objective footing, either. I think I would agree with that.
How have I not heard of this guy before? Nicolás Gómez Dávila ("Don Colacho") was a 20th-century Colombian thinker and little-known author who very much seems like our kind of guy. Read his bio here. He is best known for his collection of Pascal-style "Aphorisms" which I recently encountered for the first time. They include thoughts like the following: #2,982 In their childish and vain attempt to attract the people, the modern clergy give socialist programs the function of being schemes for putting the Beatitudes into effect. The trick behind it consists in reducing to a collective structure external to the individual an ethical behavior that, unless it is individual and internal, is nothing. The modern clergy preach, in other words, that there is a social reform capable of wiping out the consequences of sin. From which one can deduce the pointlessness of redemption through Christ. and #2,967 No one is more insufferable than a man who does not suspect, once in a while, that he might not be right. Enjoy,LC
Hey guys, just came across this lengthy article (more like an essay, really) that picks apart the small but growing "Classical Education" movement, including the Great Books movement. I thought it was pretty interesting, and most of her criticisms are valid, I think, although I don't agree with everything she says. Note that her critiques of "classical education," and especially of the Great Books curriculum, only seems to apply to grade school; she doesn't talk about high school and beyond, so I think that in high school and definitely in college, a Great Books education is still one of the best educations around. Also note that she is a libertarian who explicitly bases her educational philosophy on Ayn Rand's philosophy, although this philosophy in turn is based on Aristotle. http://www.theobjectivestandard.com/issues/2007-summer/false-promise-classical-education.asp
-Joey
If Notre Dame is Catholic Disneyland, then Lent is like Catholic training for the marathon. Lent is a serious time of reflection, a time of intense emotion, blah, blah, yada, yada. You've all heard it before. Lent is a time of repentance and forgiveness. Today's reading at my school Mass was Matthew 5:20-26. Go and make peace without your neighbor before offering your gift at the altar. Fun fact: that's why we exchange the sign of peace before the Eucharist!
In this reading, Jesus tells us not to be angry with our brothers and sisters. That is INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT. I might say almost impossible for us to follow. There are going to be some downright jerks in this world, and everyone has experienced those people who irk you to no end. The two of you are like oil and water. You just can't stand that person. Yet Jesus tells us if you got beef with someone, go and make nice then you can come into my Father's house.
Okay, so here's the problem. What if you want to make nice with a person and they don't want to? What if they're not playing by your Catholic rules? What if you are ready to forgive them and they don't think they've done anything wrong to be forgiven? Can you really forgive someone who doesn't want to be forgiven? I honestly don't think you can. Maybe you can let go of that grudge and "get over it," but where does that leave us?
So how do you deal with those people that just piss you off to no end and you're forced to be in close proximity to them? It's driving me nuts. Anyone else feel this way?
-Conor
Start at 0:30 to see the end of a loving relationship because of differences in conceptions of happiness and love. One cannot "set up a rival good to God's" in an attempt to find happiness on Earth.
Recently I wrote a piece advising women to take care when looking for their Mr. Darcy either in the online world or real world. Truth is stranger than fiction and this case is no exception. Searching for one’s soul mate requires extreme patience, hope and grace. Men and women have different and unique roles to play, and we have to be understanding and loving to each other in order to build beautiful and lasting friendships, relationships, and marriages. This article is addressed to the men, to the would-be Darcys who are searching, as ever, for their Elizabeth Bennets to tame and love them. To you I speak with hesitation and caution, since I cannot relate to your experiences or struggles, but I do think I have some valuable advice that you may find useful. My first missive for you is – be open to love. I cannot emphasize this enough. Women are delicate, mysterious creatures, as wont to be open with their hearts as they are to guard them. They must be protected and cherished, receptacles of your love, for they are the mothers of your children, the loving and supporting wives that you desire and need. They are, in short, your key to sainthood. Love us, cherish us, let us into your hearts. We will be here to stay. Unfortunately the advent of the sexual revolution threw all notions of separate gender roles and traditional protocol for dating and marriage out with the bathwater. The upheaval that spread among public morality, societal norms, politics, and even music and art was reflected in the way men and women began to relate to one another. No longer was sex sacred; it became as casual as a handshake or kiss on the cheek upon meeting. C.S. Lewis was right to say, “Don’t throw incense on the marriage bed,” but this bed is indeed holy and worthy of respect and worship. It houses a blessed sacrament, a wedding gift from God to newly married couples that merits a sort of holy hush when spoken of or thought about. Public animosity towards anything to do with the Church, what she allows – and what is forbidden – became so strong that it was abandoned altogether. “Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried,” Lewis reminds us. We are physical creatures, are we not? We crave the emotional bond that sex provides. . . but wouldn’t it be nice if we could have the pleasure without the responsibility? The advent of the pill and widespread usage of condoms made this irresponsibility not the exception but the norm. Women were expected to “be in control” of their fertility – again, a sin of pride against God that it is our plan and not His that is to be implemented. Just as we choose which vegetable to buy at the grocery store for supper, we can choose when and how we bear children. Children thus became not a gift but a burden; an outcome to be avoided at all costs until one’s career settled down, one’s traveling shoes were left by the bed well-worn, on our time instead of God’s. This enormous shift in the morality of marriage and children warped the way men and women meet and court. In a sense, it produced a selfish “me” generation, where men were stuck in an arrested development while women gained increasing levels of power and influence in the working world. It became perfectly acceptable for the woman to ask a man out, pay for dinner, even propose marriage. I am no stranger to authentic feminism and the exhilarating power of modern woman, but essentially this allowed the men to remain boys during “the chase” – no longer did a man have to risk his pride and heart in tentatively asking a woman out. That was now the woman’s prerogative. If a woman can open a door for herself and sustain herself on a comfortable income, why should she not risk her own heart in pursuing a man she is interested in? Thus the arrival of the “man-eater syndrome,” of cougars and women that reek of the husband hunting smell. The simple answer is that women are fashioned differently than men. Theological arguments aside for the moment, women are prone to wear their hearts on their sleeves, being too open and emotionally available and forgetting to “guard their hearts.” A woman’s rejection by a man wounds her far more than a man being passed over. Why? Women are made to receive love, not to give it. Even our biological systems reflect this; the woman’s uterus is the chalice in which she receives her husband’s organ during sexual intercourse. Her arms are open, her heart is ready to be held and protected, her body fits in the groove of the man as they lie in bed on a Sunday morning holding each other. To use biological terms, the hormonal balance of women is a delicate spectrum of alternatively preparing for fertility and adjusting her behavior to either encourage or postpone it. The release of oxytocin – the powerful hormone that literally bonds the woman to the man during any kind of sexual contact, or the mother to her child once she gives birth – is far greater than the release in the man’s body. I would add that women secrete progesterone monthly in the second part of the cycle after ovulation (releasing an egg) which is solely intended to receive an embryo in utero and sustain the placenta for 6 -10 weeks until HCG kicks in. Therefore each month, from an evolutionary point of view, women are geared towards receiving a child (again men do not have this at all – no monthly progesterone since they lack a uterus). My Catholic friends always roll their eyes when I bring up this evolutionary argument, but the man is, deep down, wired to “spread his seed,” while the woman has the nesting instinct as soon as she becomes sexually mature. It is futile to reject this in light of the “Wonder Woman” phenomenon; it is what it is, and it’s better to accept it – and its implications for gender relations – rather than insist on the artificial equality of men and women. We are different. We have different roles. We don’t “parent”: we “mother” and “father” our children. Our capacity for love is unique, and that is a beautiful thing, not something to be bemoaned or swept aside. And so to the men out there, I say one last thing. Pursue women. Risk your heart. Be chivalrous and kind. Revive traditional notions of the chase and relationships, and eventually marriage. No matter how adamantly we may insist on going Dutch for dinner, or refuse gifts on St. Valentine’s Day, deep down we do want and need your protection and frequent expressions of your love for us. First and foremost we are children of God, and we imitate His love for us in our love for each other, be it friendships or marriage. That’s the way we were created by our Father, so if you seek her heart, you must seek God first. There is a beautiful image in one of Lewis’ novels in which he pictures the man and woman both looking towards God as they go through life. On their joint journey towards God, they become closer to each other; as they fall away from God’s grace, they part ways. Looking out to the same conception of the good – how to live life in what the renowned philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre calls “narrative unity” – unites us and provides the sustenance on which we maintain our marriages, friendships, and methods of child-rearing. This is why it is so important to have similar beliefs. It becomes much easier to agree on how to raise children, what traditions to pass on, what to forbid, how to explain the “why” questions that children raise other than the infuriating parental explanation of “because I said so.” Praying together, eating together, playing together: this is the recipe for a happy and holy marriage and a family that stays together in a sacred bond of unconditional love. And so if you desire the woman of your dreams, don’t search for her in bars. Join a weekly Catholic fellowship. Go to Adoration at your local parish. Become part of a Jane Austen book club with your sister’s friends. In future you may even go to “agape restaurants,” a brilliant idea coined by Alain de Botton in his recent novel Religion for Atheists in which strangers gather in restaurants intended for discussion of the important things in life – like virtue, struggles in our pursuit of it, and how we see human nature and our role in the universe. You will eventually find her, for she is looking for you, too. Perhaps in a different way than you, but it is nevertheless complementary. You may be lucky enough to find her matching key to unlock that beautiful enchanted garden in which to nurture marriage that lasts a lifetime. Octavia is Assistant Director of Operations at The Witherspoon Institute in Princeton, NJ. This piece is a follow-up to her previous article on women and online dating and searching virtually for Mr. Darcy. She is seriously reconsidering her dream to enter academic philosophy and become a journalist in DC in the future. Contact her with questions or comments at [email protected].
" You know that point in your life whenyou realize the house you grew up in...isn't really your home anymore.All of a sudden, even though you havesome place where you put your shit...that idea of home is gone.I still feel at homein my house.You'll see one day when you move out.Just sorta happens one day, and it's gone.You feel like youcan never get it back.It's like you feel homesickfor a place that doesn't even exist.Maybe it's likethis rite of passage, you know?You won't ever have that feeling again untilyou create a new idea of home for yourself.You know, for... For your kids.For the family you start.It's like a cycleor something.I don't know. But I missthe idea of it, you know?Maybe that's allfamily really is.A group of people that missthe same imaginary place.Maybe."
That quote from Garden State got me thinking. We are all at different points in our lives. Some of us are still living at home (no shame in that at all) and others now have "a place they can call their own" - whatever that means. For most of us, up until we were 18 we had a pretty good idea of what home was. Home was the place where Mom and/or Dad and/or siblings were. The place where you had your own room (or maybe you shared it) where you could put your own things. The place where you had dinner almost every night. It gave you a sense of security and belonging.
But then we went off to college and we made a temporary new home. We lodged in dormitories and off-campus housing, but we still told friends that we were going "back home" for breaks. And now we are living in the "real world" and are tasked with making a new home for ourselves. I can't speak for y'all, but I can say that the house in New York that I grew up in for 17 years doesn't feel like home to me anymore. It feels like a place that has lots of memories and a place where I can put my personal belongings, but it doesn't feel like my home.
Now I live with five other people in a house that has been lived in since the 1950's. All of us will be out of the house in less than two years. But home is more than a house. A home is a place where you feel welcomed and safe, where you feel like you belong. I was having a conversation with the renowned philosopher Laura Lindsley about this. I said to her that every state you live in leaves an indelible mark on you, much like every friend you have. She replied that while that may be true, there is that one friend who impacts you more than others. So is the one state/house/physical place that impacts you the most your home?
Discuss.
-Conor
It is not ground-breaking to observe that online dating has become increasingly popular in the past five years or so. Given that the average age at first marriage is 28 for men and 26 for women in a 2009 survey, more and more people find themselves single late into their twenties and early thirties. In fact, a recent study by the University of Rochester reported that online dating is now the second most likely way to meet one’s spouse (behind meeting through a friend). Why? After a certain point, wading through thousands of The Single Catholic Girl’s Tips on Dating and How to Stay Sane While Single in Your Twenties, putting up with yet another blind date from a well-meaning friend, and coming home to an empty apartment after work, all you can do to is throw up your hands, buy a cute puppy to dote on and lock up for business. So, how are you supposed to be single and sane? Is online dating a last resort, or is there some legitimacy to developing emotional intimacy online without creating a profile out of sheer hopelessness? For reference, I am a (naïve) twenty-something, and have been on two dates through the common dating site, Catholic Match. One was in his late twenties, and the other mid-thirties. Both dates were, well, uninspiring. From what I could gather in a few hours at a basketball game or dinner, both men had solid principles yet solicited the general response of, “He was nice, but. . . .” How could this have possibly happened, given their attractive, sparkling, intriguing online profiles? The simple answer is this: the internet warps both your identity and time. You can spend hours crafting a well-thought out and witty email that somehow conveys your playful nature yet commitment to the life of the mind, your deep faith yet interest in the small things of daily life, and that the fact that you love Beethoven doesn’t prevent you from jamming to David Guetta in the car with the windows rolled down. Face-to-face, you are forced to be more authentic – and rightfully so. As a dear friend once told me, you can’t white-out the parts you don’t like about yourself, and bold-face your strengths -- almost like a potter re-shaping clay to produce a beautiful work of art. There are the awkward pauses, unwitting food-in-your-teeth snafus, and half-hearted refusals for him to pay for dinner as a traditional formality (and judgments if he actually makes you pay). That’s life: it’s messy and full of savory moments. To use a current buzzword, relationships should be “organic.” They should develop bottom-up as each of you slowly but surely come to know one another, and make memories together so you can fondly say, “Remember that time when we. . . .” Anyone can have fun on a Friday night -- it’s intriguing and thrilling -- but it’s going to Mass and brunch together on Sunday morning that make or break a relationship. You’ll have unsure moments, of course, but it makes the ride much more exciting and fulfilling. Love is grace: neither is offered to us freeze-dried. The instant, microwaveable, buy-now-pay-later convenience that modernity has accustomed us to simply cannot cross over into our expectations of relationships, or faith for that matter. Struggling with the call to assimilate daily to Christ requires perseverance, hope, and humility, difficult virtues to acquire. Similarly, if you find yourself disappointed with your relationships, having trouble finding Mr. Darcy -- whether online, through a friend, or at Mass -- don’t be discouraged and lose faith that he will find you. (Although, it’s always good to remind ourselves that Mr. Darcy is a fictional character!) The frustrating part is that it is not on our time but on God’s, and it behooves us to remember the Marian fiat: “Lord, let it be done to me according to Thy word.” These simple, humbling words strike at the very heart of human pride and impatience. Even if we occasionally fall or succumb to temptation from time to time, it’s all part of being imperfect creatures, albeit lovingly fashioned by our Creator in His image. So you fail: welcome to the human race. As Samuel Beckett once quipped, “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” As a final note, I can’t help thinking of a striking Lenten reflection in college by Msgr. Michael Heintz that profoundly changed the way I view relationships and the intense call to be Catholic in a secular, topsy-turvy world that assaults faith at every opportunity. The author writes, “Slow progress over time is what we should be looking for. . . . And so if you're struggling, don't lose heart and don't give up. . . . [A]s Thomas Aquinas is said to have taught, ‘it is far better to limp along the right road than to run headlong down the wrong one.’” “Limping towards God,” limping as you love, limping as you search for Truth – these are the journeys worth sticking to with dedication and heart. Love is unlikely to be found deliberately or as a result of your hard work. There are, of course, the occasional stories of Catholic Match marriages, of love affairs that bloom online, but more often than not, your experience with virtual love will stick to the rule, not the exception. Love will come in its own time, regardless of how much you may want it. (Sorry, girls.) To paraphrase my father, the way to accept that harsh truth without completely abandoning hope of a happy marriage is summed up in this simple equation: Happiness = Reality - Expectations. This is not to imply low standards or expectations, but merely urges us to recall that we are all imperfectly yet earnestly trying to live life trying to find Truth and happiness in the hope for heaven in the life to come. Don’t lose heart, and keep trying – with patience and faith, you’ll find him. Whether in a chatroom discussing the Star of the Sea or at a party where you both reach for the Chex Mix, he’ll one day be there. And if you’re really lucky, he will come to cherish, love, and better you that you may fulfill your inner potential to follow Him and become a saint. Octavia Ratiu is a recent graduate from the University of Notre Dame. She is the Assistant Director of Operations at The Witherspoon Institute in Princeton, NJ. She can either be found on Catholic Match or out meeting new interesting people in the real world. Contact Octavia at [email protected].
Nobody has posted since before Christmas? C'mon, people, we're slacking! (Myself included.) But maybe this pensée that I composed last night in my journal will get the fire crackling a bit again:
I am beginning to realize that the related questions of religion, philosophy and political theory are not going to let go of me anytime soon. The more I see and hear and read and think on these things, the more I realize how little I truly know. PLS lit the fire under me and gave me the foundational habits of critical thinking, but more and more now I realize that it was only the beginning—one three-year long intro to what should be a lifelong project. I cannot make ultimate decisions now; I am only now starting out on a lifelong voyage of exploration (if you will excuse the cliché. It was good enough for T. S. Eliot, anyhow. If "Old men should be explorers," how much more so should young men be explorers?). While PLS gave me what can be seen as the operating system, the apparatus for thinking, more and more I feel my lack of particular, concrete, fact-based knowledge, especially historical knowledge—the material to be run through the apparatus, the actual data to be processed. While it is probably true that no such particular, historically-based knowledge can by itself decide any of the ultimate questions of theology and philosophy, it still seems helpful and even necessary to have this kind of knowledge. It is essential when formulating a worldview that it at least make honest use of all the facts, although of course the facts might be inserted into a variety of different frameworks of interpretation. At any rate, for the time being I will make my decisions as I must, in the messy, half-rational, half-emotional/intuitive/unconscious way in which important decisions are almost always (if not always) made. But what I'm trying to say here is this: I'M NOT FINISHED YET. What this means in practical terms, I haven't quite worked out yet. Just one thing is certain: THIS IS NOT OVER YET. In fact, it may be just beginning. And I would invite anyone of good will and good faith to take my hand and join me in this exploratory quest, which perhaps never ends until the day we die. Just do this one thing for me: Avoid the foregone conclusion like the plague. We're too young yet to finalize, to solidify, to ossify (if there ever really is an age when that's okay). Stay fluid, PLS. Keep it loose; keep it tight.
-JMK
Many of us could give a number of reasons for our faith. These range from the deeply personal, like a conversion experience a la Tolstoy in William James, to the logical approach Sheldon Vanauken describes in A Severe Mercy where he assents rationally to Christian doctrine without any actual feeling of faith, without making the "leap of faith" that Kierkegaard describes. I remember once defending Catholicism to a skeptical atheist on the grounds of its survival in the face of nearly impossible odds. "Think of it," I'd urged as I paraphrased Pentecost, "11 uneducated blue-collar laborers running around claiming they'd found God! Who would have listened?" without - I argued - the impetus of grace. These reasons are all very well and good. Today it is not-quite Christmas, and so I think it is appropriate to share some of the recent feelings I've had towards Christ. In Brideshead Revisited, the following dialogue caught my attention: “Is it [Catholicism] nonsense? I wish it were. It sometimes sounds terribly sensible to me.” "But, my dear Sebastian, you can't seriously believe it all." "Can't I?" "I mean about Christmas and the star and the three kings and the ox and the ass." "Oh yes, I believe that. It's a lovely idea." "But you can't believe things because they're a lovely idea." "But I do. That's how I believe." It is a lovely idea, indeed, to arrange a manger scene and show kings and mighty spirits bowing to the innocence of a baby. A lovely idea, too, that we selfish small-souled people could turn our right cheek to someone who had struck our left. That we could bless - or even be - the meek, the humble peace-makers. That we would place others before ourselves; love our enemies; give our cloak to the one who had asked for our shirt; and cease to be Scrooges, even briefly. How often do we do these things? Not very, perhaps, and with the feast of Christmas arriving tomorrow it's a timely moment to re-read the Sermon on the Mount, arguably the most beautiful and utopian ideal for humanity that has ever been envisioned. As Chesterton said, "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried." This leads me, then, to a short passage from The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis that has somewhat defined my faith of late. It is Puddleglum addressing the evil queen as she tries to convince the protagonists that no "over-world" exists, but only her own dark, underground kingdom. Aslan is the Christ-figure in the books: "One word, Ma’am . . .One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst of things and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things–trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just four babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can, even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think, but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say." And so goes our faith to an extent. It is a lovely, beautiful, often-untried idea. It seems so improbable, so impractical, so old in the midst of modernity. But that Sermon on the Mount, and the personality and vision of Christ expressed in the Gospels, remain among the most objectively beautiful passages ever written. Remain among the most compelling worldviews ever made. And - with a nod to Pascal and his wager - I am going to live as much like a Christian as I can, even if there isn't any Christ or Heaven or Hell (although I believe that there is). It's not a question, sometimes, of the truth of my faith or of my feeling secure in it. It is a question of exquisite beauty, and this our faith possesses abundantly. Merry Christmas and God bless us, everyone! -LC
 So one of my beloved mentors in this world is my high school history teacher, Dr. Christopher Colvin -- Yale-educated, intellectually cynical, curmudgeonly, beret-wearing, moustached, die-hard atheist extraordinaire. It is to Colvin that I owe my first introduction to the "life of the mind," and without his pushing me to think more, broader, deeper in high school, I most likely would have ended up majoring in Biology at UChicago. Yuck. Here he is, albeit sans moustache.
Anyway, he and I have remained in touch, and get coffee (now drinks) every time I am home. Most of our tete-a-tetes involve me word-chundering about my pseudo-dramatic life, and him commenting snarkily while shaking his head or furrowing his bushy 'stache. When I went through my I'm-trying-to-be-a-daily-Mass-mantilla-wearing-conservative-Catholic-so-I-can't-party-or-remotely-enjoy-life, he just looked at me and grumbled, "Ratiu, you're pigging out at the conservative Catholic trough." So. I think that will suffice for an introduction, and put his comments on my thesis below in context. I emailed him my thesis -- "T.S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens: Supreme Being or Supreme Fiction?" -- the day after I turned it in (at 3:55, 5 minutes before the deadline, of course), but he hasn't commented on it until now. Below is the email he sent me, and I was pleasantly surprised by how detailed his remarks were and flattered that a Renaissance man with a PhD in philosophy from Yale would be so intrigued by a college student's rather slipshod and hastily composed paper. I hope that his comments stir up some conversation on the blog, as he brings up my favorite topic to gripe about -- moderrrrrnity -- but cloaks it in a much more sophisticated light than I ever did. Reading his thoughts has really made me re-think how I view modernity, and perhaps, perhaps, distance myself from a fully MacIntyrean criticism toward a more reserved acceptance of the world for what it is, without falling either into naive nostalgia or cynical post-post-post modernism. Will keep you updated...I'm still starry-eyed for ol' Alasdair! A few notes about your paper. Read them when you are in a more settled mood. I am sorry it took me so long to get to it, but it was a rewarding read. Thanks for the Wallace Stevens. I had been ardent about “Sunday Morning” when a fellow boarding school student showed it to me, but had lost touch with Stevens thereafter. So I found the discussion of him, his ideas and his poetry, both informative and interesting. The paper is a point-counterpoint composition with Stevens setting the themes and Eliot providing the melody. I think the paper gets a bit cantankerous with Eliot, caricaturing him and using him as a club against the “usual suspects” (“scorn”, “disdain”, “rabid” etc.). I would never have let you write, “a time when hordes of intellectuals were rebelling against secular society.” An impossible phrase in every respect. The sort of thing you would expect my persona “Colvin” to say in a history class. Similarly, there is the claim that Eliot is the first since Dante to innovate a poetry of devotion. What of his beloved John Donne? Not to mention a host of poets between the 13th and 20th centuries (or was that six century period really barren of religious poets?). Or the reactionary if somewhat plausible (in the 1920’s) quote from the old possum sneering at would-be critics of religion, or even more the unfunny, in fact vulgar, sneer against lazy “ordinary people.” I think Obama rather more Christian when in his Pennsylvania speech he characterized “those who cling to guns and religion” and took seriously their anxieties and principles. I should cite you Robert E. Lee on how one, as a gentleman, never plays the status card because, as a Christian, one never has that or any status. I must say I was amused by the “time warp” of the paper’s intellectual setting. The variously figured contrasts of Nietzschean “Death of God”/modernity/spiritual loss vs. crisis of modernity/spiritual nostalgia/Eliotean piety and snobbery takes me back to the world of my professors, the world of the 50’s and 60’s. (I cannot recommend too highly for this, “The Disinherited Mind” by Erich Heller, whom I revered at Northwestern.) Your paper seems to take its bearings from those provincial times – for I do think the several modernist “narratives” of art and intellectual life that flourished in the 20th century (and yours is one of them) were rather more provincial than other seasons of history – which are, of course, also provincial. Succinctly put: “people think history begins with their grandparents (Nietzsche).” It is now also less surprising to me that you might have had a “crisis of faith”, caught up as you were in this peculiar vortex of reactionary modernism. This is no criticism of your work or interpretation (or of your crisis). If it is a criticism, it is of your professors who either set this framework for you (because it is deeply reassuring to conservative Catholics? -- which it is) or did not challenge you to mover either forward or backward in history to gain some perspective on the era’s excessive self-dramatization. The binaries I suggested above break down rather quickly. Nietzsche is far more of a profound critic of modernism than its celebrant, despairing of its nihilism. Eliot is modernism personified, indeed he (& new criticism, which is old 18th century Cambridge Platonism) was one of the essential straw men that post-modernism used to define itself in the 70’s. But then, as you have it, Eliot criticizes modern individualism in the spirit of the 20’s and 30’s when this was certainly the tune of nationalism, communism, and fascism, all of whom promoted some form of “collectivism” against “individualism.” I think your American conservative friends would be very surprised to find you advocating a collectivism of “tradition.” It is so confusing! Indeed, pomos ran afoul of their own “post” status when it became clear that iconic modernists (Eliot, Picasso, Hemingway, Bauhaus) were already “post-modern” before the pomos. Dang! Post-toasted! On the other hand, by sweating through the research and writing of your treatise, you have acquired a sophisticated depth to appreciate much of 20th century art, literature, and intellectual debates. That is not to be sneezed at. Nor is it to be taken as settled. My two exhortations would be to continue to explore poetry and thought to gain perspective – forward and/or backward from the “crisis of modernity;” and (b), most important, try to avoid the historicizing hysteria of this framework (crisis this and crisis that) – it’s just lamentations over ephemerality: “But is there any comfort to be found? Man is in love and loves what vanishes, What more is there to say? (Yeats.) There is too much nostalgia (for the church!) in conservative Catholicism, but be a Roman Catholic, not an ultra-montanist.
Quick update on my end: I got offered a job at the Witherspoon Institute in Princeton yesterday morning, and I move up there the end of January after taking a week-long road trip to DC (March for Life!), Philly (to see Fabio, of course), NYC, and Boston. My official title is "Research Intern," and my first project is to compile the forthcoming Stem Cell report, a joint effort by The New Atlantis and the Witherspoon Council on the Integrity of Science and Ethics. This report is targeted at students in the medical and life science professions, but I think all of you would be very interested to read it (and contribute to it through me!). I am thrilled to be paid -- an exorbitant salary for most college grads! -- to read and write about the intersection of technology, science, and ethics. And generally to be in Princeton. In addition to this job, I will be attending lectures and conferences in the area (NYC, Princeton, Philly, DC), traveling to the ND medical ethics conference in March, and also working on an informal yet rigorous research program in moral philosophy and bioethics with Professor Robert George -- the emperor of the conservative Catholic mafia. The purpose is to "get my feet wet" and focus my interest in bioethics in order to pursue it on a PhD level. In the meantime, I am applying to MPhil programs at Oxford/Cambridge, and possibly a post-bacc in classics at Penn that might be necessary if I want to dabble in virtue ethics (I'd have to read Aristotle and Plato and Aquinas in Greek and Latin). Annnd if I have any time leftover, I want to "shadow" my would-be husband Fabio's older brother, Tiberio, who is an internal medicine resident at St. Luke's in NYC just to keep the MD route open. Who knows, I very well might end up going back to medical school after/if I get my PhD in order to just be a MD/PhD boss and fulfill my dreams of pretension. In whatever free time, I'd like to do some introspection and reading/writing on my own, maybe some poetry. I'm really into hot yoga (90 degree room, 60% humidity), and I'm re-reading the Tao te Ching and starting Sun Tzu's The Art of War. My brother Victor quotes it all the time, and to shut me up sometimes he will calmly say, "Better a dagger in the dark, than a thousand swords at dawn." This is all to say that I have a few job offers still in my lap that I think some of you would be interested in. I don't want to lay them all out here, but they are spread all over -- Phoenix, DC, New Orleans, and Wilmington, DE. If you are job searching and would like an "in" to any of these places, I could definitely pull some strings to help a fellow PLSer out! Call my unemployed ass anytime, and I'd be happy to talk! Alright, better get back to watching White Christmas and getting ready for our siiiiick annual Christmas party that I invited you all to on Facebook! I wish wish you could come, but fret not, I'll make sure to keep the wine in the fridge. In the spirit of my official leave from school, I'll post both " Gap Yah" and Avicii's new single, "Fuck School, Let's Party." And just to be obnoxious and a bit misogynistic, " Shit Girls Say." Tavs-out! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! "God bless us, every one." :)
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