He watched his terrible, terrible bourbon decrease. He followed its progress with that of the waning calendar. No new nectar could be afforded until December had left him to January's embrace. Another three ounces, another day. When he slowed down his indulgence time itself slowed down, a tortured dream, a Dantean foil.
It was really nothing short of pathetic, seeing that a bottle of god-forsaken OLD HEAVEN HILL only costs $9.99 (well, and your soul and your sense of taste).
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Opinion 126: My daughter the Muse
Watching my baby lately it's become clear to me that it is really quite difficult to pick up and place in your view the very thing on which you are sitting. This lesson has, I think, endless ramifications in the intellectual sphere.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Opinion 125: Nicholson's Burden
Seems I've been duped (by the wonderful man pictured above) into writing my senior paper on some aspect or another of Gregory Nazianzus' autobiographical poetry. I've picked up Father McGuckin's fine biography of Gregory once more, finding again this lovely poem (a poem, by the way, which is inexplicably double-spaced, in spite of my best efforts):"St Gregory Nazianzen"
Of all the ancients,
You I think I could live with,
(some of the time)
comfortable in you
like an old coat
sagged and fraying in the back,
(its pockets drooping with important nothings
like string, an manuscripts of poems)
perfect for watching you off your guard,
rambling round your country garden,
planting roses, not turnips,
contrary to the manual
for a sensible monk;
master of the maybe;
anxious they might take you up all wrong;
shaking your first at the Emperor,
(once he had turned the corner
out of sight);
every foray into speech
a costed regret.
Your heart was like a spider's silk
swingling wildly at the slighest breeze,
too tender for this tumbling world
of mountebanks, and quacks, and gobs,
but tuned to hear the distant voices
of the singing stars
and marvel at the mercy of it all
-John McGuckin
1996
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Opinion 124: mea culpa
Really a cruel post for Christmas (opinion 123). I apologize to all the good-natured spirits who rightfully took umbrage at my assualt. Truly, there are only two topics worthy of derision on the day of the Lord's birth: Satan and Herod. Yet they are not so easy as targets, being that they don't put on contemporary worship services come Christmas eve. Nor do they wear big beige sweaters.
Why do I get the sense in so many large American conservative church services that, given the right circumstances and some sort of get-out-of-jail-free card, the singing and hand-raising could very easily and quite quickly turn into an orgy?
But I digress...
Why do I get the sense in so many large American conservative church services that, given the right circumstances and some sort of get-out-of-jail-free card, the singing and hand-raising could very easily and quite quickly turn into an orgy?
But I digress...
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Opinion 123:Traditions
Christmas Eve services at the fam's e-free church: a yearly exercise in aesthetic humiliation.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Opinion 122
Ah, winter break! How like an angel of heaven you appear to me now, promising peace and rest where none were expected. Joy! Joy I say! In the highest and lowest places of the earth! A child has been born and this man has thereby laid his pen and ink down. Ah, hallowed cove of irresponsibility. Ah, splendid arena of money-making, gift-receiving and feasting! Ah, drinks now already imbibed and those waiting their imbibing! Sweet, hallowed tree in our corner. Am I numb in mind, am I snookered? Have you just spoken to me? Oh, nature's home-residing guest, what have you said? Speak oh fir, speak oh needles, richly ornamented and somehow coming alive, alive. Oh, nutcracker! What riches will you, having broken off hard and shallow shells, provide? Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! Dare I say that not since Bethlehem has a Christmas been so important, so life-saving. I do dare! And I say! Ah, foolish words from a man in love with his foolishness! Come now wrapped delights! Come now terrible, terrible songs, sweet only in abstraction. Hark! Hark! Ah, the bed - the warm and tender holiday rest. Oh feast of sleep! Oh feast of slumber! Sleep, now baby, do not stir! Take as your example that holy child who wept not (or so we are told in some inane tune or another). Follow his lead, child, follow! Thy father has a hard time now under sweet and heavy slumber, induced by the heavenly nectar of Kentucky! Hark! Make way! This pilgrim is drifting down, down, upon the floor! Hark! No room in the end? Heavens, no, he just couldn't find his room. The floor will do! This is a season of humility, of caves and caverns and festive taverns, flitting birds of snow and feather, warm sugar cookies, frigid weather, ancient tales hard to believe, deficits and receipts hard to conceive, car rides, far rides, build us a snow slide, heaven showers its gifts!
Opinion 121: a pessimistic historian
"Never surely did more terrible calamities of the Roman People, or evidence more conclusive, prove that the gods take no thought for our happiness, but only for our punishment."
-From Tacitus' Histories
-From Tacitus' Histories
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Opinion 120: Good Lord, its Tacitus
*I can't get the damn footnotes to work automatically. You'll have to scroll down, dear reader.
Great Reversions: A Closer Look at Tacitus’ Opening Remarks (Annales I)
Urbem Romam a principio reges habuere. Tacitus opens his Annales with something of a blunt reminder. In spite of the fact that the very word “king” remained a taboo in polite Roman society, the idea of Roman monarchy begins his annalistic project. For Rome had been ruled by kings “from the beginning” (a principio) (1.1)[1]. And now, with over a hundred years having passed since Augustus had returned Rome to the rule of one, Tacitus is making an unpleasant suggestion: a great reversion has happened. The Roman Republic, it seems, was merely an unexpected swerving from the norm. As Katherine Clarke has written, “…Tacitus saw monarchy as the basis of power; like Appian, he found it possible to compress the whole history of the Republic into a few sentences before returning to Rome in its natural monarchical state” (Clarke 85). Kingship, as far as Tacitus could tell, was at the heart of what it meant to rule in Rome, a city which had now come full circle. Yet history never repeats itself exactly. Rome knew a king again (though of course he was never named as such), yet times had changed. There were new challenges and new disasters. There were also difficulties unique for the historian. These too are specifically noted by Tacitus in his opening remarks. Here he speaks of a time not nearly as far removed, a time mere decades in the past in which wicked emperors had been foolish enough to cause the distortion of history, which was then “falsified on account of fear” (ob metum falsae) (1.10). Tacitus, beginning his own work, seeks to avoid a second reversion to this previous state of censorship. As we work our way through Tacitus’ introduction, we shall see these two reversions at play, both immediately and in later books, particularly in they key historiographical passages of Annales IV.
“From the beginning kings had ruled the city of Rome; Lucius Brutus put in place liberty and the consulship” (…libertatem et consulatum L Brutus institutit) (1.1-2). Tacitus follows his monarchical reminder with an immediate turn: liberty and the elected office of the consulship were set up, or instituted – they had not come naturally. His readers, no doubt, are quite aware that this libertas and the office of the consulatus are in their own age not what they had been under Brutus. For liberty, in Tacitus’ age, was under the cool moderation of the principate, and the consulate was an office of honor, not action. Tacitus’ next turn, moreover, adds a nuanced depth to his theses. We are told of the brevity of despotic rule in the Republican era. Dictatorships were held, when necessary, only “for a time” (ad tempus) (1.2), nor was the office of the decimvir “beyond two years” (ultra biennium), nor did the consular jurisdiction of military tribunals “have strength for long” (diu valuit) (1.2-3). Prior despotisms, like those of Cinna and Sulla, were “not extended” (non longa) (1.4). With these expressions of temporality Tacitus produces for his readers an image of fluidity. Here was a lively and active arena of change, change which nevertheless led to the strength of the Republic. This description is in great contrast to the stagnant state which Tacitus describes in Annales VI. There, after again reminding his readers of the motion and growth of the past, he writes of his own imperial topic, a work, “constrained and inglorious: a peace wholly unmoved or modestly provoked, the state of a sad city” (nobis in arto et inglorius labor: immota quippe aut modice lacessita pax, maestae urbis res) (IV.32.2.1-2). Tacitus is here, right from the beginning, implying that his task will not be one of describing the rapid movements of a lively State, but rather of wading through the sorrowful (and at times pathetic) details of a depressed regime. Rome, having come full circle, is loosing steam.
Yet Tacitus’ portrayal is nothing if not nuanced[2]. He briefly mentions Pompeius and Crassus, men whose names were enough to recall their stories into the minds of Tacitus’ readers. Then he moves on, explaining Augustus, “who, when all were worn out by civil strife, accepted power under the name of ‘princeps’” (qui cuncta discordiis civilibus fessa nomine principis sub imperium incepit) (1.5-6). Here Rome’s freedom has led to Rome’s exhaustion. This it not merely an observation that too much volatility leads to chaos; it is a hint at what Tacitus makes more explicit later in his work: Republics don’t last. Again returning to Tacitus’ supremely important digression in Annales IV, we find Tacitus musing on the nature of human government. He explains, “For the people or the elites or individual men rule all nations and cities” (nam cunctas nationes et urbes populus aut primores aut singuli regunt) (IV.33.1.1-2). An obvious statement, to be sure, but Tacitus does not leave it at that. He continues, “A form of state chosen and brought together from all three [types of rule] is easier praised than produced, and even if it is produced, by no means is it able to exist for long” (delecta ex iis et conflata rei publicae forma laudari facilius quam evenire, vel, si evenit, haud diutruna esse potest) (IV.33.1.2-3). This is a bold statement in light of the Republican ideals which had once made Rome so great, to which even in the time of the principate lip-service was given. Tacitus is a pessimist. A reversion to monarchy, he implies, was not only likely- it was inevitable.
At this point Tacitus begins to change his topic. He gives a nod to the historians of old, reminding his readers that the dramatic events of the past are well-recorded and easily accessible (and were at any rate already common knowledge). His is a new task. Yet even this admission is not without a veiled insinuation. Tacitus states that the prosperous and disastrous events of the past were those of the “old Roman people” (veteris populi Romani) (1.6). These old Roman people are spoken of in such a way as to mark a clear distinction between them and the “new” Roman people living now under the principate. A clear division has occurred; an age divides Rome from Rome. It is no surprise then, to find numerous examples throughout Tacitus’ Annales of the slow passing away of the remnant of good old Roman men. Tacitus will go on throughout the Annales to paint two sides of a chasm: on one stand most of the populus vetus Romani. But a few of their number stand on the other side, making their way through the difficult terrain of a new Rome and slowly going extinct. The chasm between them is nothing other than the principate.
With this grave reminder, Tacitus turns to his second great introductory theme. With it, he is no longer pointing out a Roman reversion to the distant and primordial past, but rather warning his readers to guard themselves against the temptations of reverting to a more recent practice, namely foolish censorship. He starts by admitting that even up to the times of Augustus, “graceful characters” (decora ingenia) were not lacking to describe his rule (1.8). Yet such talents did not last. He explains that eventually “hindered by a swelling servility” (gliscente adulatione deterrentur) (1.8-9), their craft lost its strength. Yet servility to Augustus was only the start of a long historiographical descent into darkness. Its great plummet was to come after Augustus’ death. Tacitus continues, “The affairs of Tiberius and Caius and Claudius and Nero, while these men themselves were flourishing, were falsified on account of fear, and after they had died, were controlled/sedated/feigned [3] by fresh hatreds” (Tiberii Gaique et Claudii ac Neronis res florentibus ipsis ob metum falsae, postquam occiderant recentibus odiis compositae sunt)(1.10). We know, of course, that Tacitus will not leave this claim unsubstantiated. Again in Annales IV we find Tacitus philosophizing first on the nature of his craft (dangers included) and then offering us the ill-fated historian Cremutius Cordus as evidence.
In what is disguised as an aside, an editorial musing, Tacitus makes his case. After positing that critics of ancient history are few and far between, he turns his attention to the contrasting present. “But the descendents remain of those who, while Tiberius was ruling, endured punishment or disgraces. And even if the families themselves should be now extinct, you will find those, who on account of their similar behavior, reckon that alien crimes are being imputed to them” (at multorum, qui Tiberio regente poenam vel infamias subiere, posteri manent; utque familiae ipsae iam extinctae sint, reperies qui ob similitudinem morum aliena malefacta sibi obiectari putent) (IV.33.4.1-5). Tacitus then increases the potency of this veiled reference to his contemporary readers (those who are at least potentially hostile to his efforts), by the story of Cremetius Cordus himself. The re-telling, of course, concludes with Tacitus’ own moralizing: those that try to stomp out the truth to hide their evil will only end up more evil in the eyes history. Censorship is a futile task.
We see then, that the ending of Tacitus’ opening passage in Annales I is the conclusion of an act of authorial apophasis. Tacitus has just hinted at the failure of prior historians, and in doing so he has given a tacit warning of his own intention to set the record straight, even – I would venture – if his task becomes a threatened one. But he immediately brushes this unpleasant topic aside, as if it were irrelevant. “Thus my plan is to share a little about Augustus and his final acts” he claims, “And then about the principate of Tiberius and other things” (inde consilium mihi pauca de Augusto et extrema tradere, mox Tiberii principatum et cetera). This will be done "without bitterness or party spirit (sine ira et studio) of which he himself is far from (procul) (1.12). It is easy to picture a Tacitus grinning sardonically as he summarizes what will be such a dirty and potentially dangerous work with such sterile and optimistic words.
Tacitus opens his Annales with a concern for reversions. He claims immediately that the city of Rome has reverted to its original state. Furthermore, he quietly yet firmly pushes against any attempts to revert to the censorship under which his historian predecessors suffered. It is true, of course, that we do not know for sure which princeps Tacitus himself was writing under. Nor do we know the precise conditions of censorship and control that either Nerva or Trajan held over literature. Yet throughout the Annales we can be sure of Tacitus’ view of his own task, the seeds of which lie in his opening remarks. These reversions, of course, are linked the ultimate reversion – the one most fascinating and fertile for Tacitus as an author. This is the reversion from nobility into savagery, from honesty into deceit, namely, the reversion from good to evil [4]. Tacitus’ brief introduction is pregnant with all these themes, each teased out as his long narrative continues.
1- All quotes are from Annales Liber I unless otherwise noted. All translations from the Latin are my own.
2-Too nuanced, really. Which reminds me offhand of my favorite little footnote, found in Lukac’s At the End of an Age: “Sheridan on Gibbon: ‘Luminous? I meant voluminous’”. But I digress.
3-I have chosen to provide three definitions of the adjective “compositus”, as all three seem capable of fitting well into Tacitus’ opinion concerning the untrustworthiness of his predecessor’s histories.
4-And indeed, we can justifiably call this an actual “reversion” and not just a “getting worse”, inasmuch as one can picture in classical education the human animal becoming the “rational animal”, and then, through vice, returning merely to an animalistic state.
Works Cited
Clarke, Katherine. “In arto et inglorius labor: Tacitus’ Anti-history”. Proceedings of the British Academy. 114. 83-103. Print.
Tacitus Annales Liber I, 1.1-12
Vrbem Romam a principio reges habuere; libertatem et consulatum L. Brutus instituit. dictaturae ad tempus sumebantur; neque decemviralis potestas ultra biennium, neque tribunorum militum consulare ius diu valuit. non Cinnae, non Sullae longa dominatio; et Pompei Crassique potentia cito in Caesarem, Lepidi atque Antonii arma in Augustum cessere, qui cuncta discordiis civilibus fessa nomine principis sub imperium accepit. sed veteris populi Romani prospera vel adversa claris scriptoribus memorata sunt; temporibusque Augusti dicendis non defuere decora ingenia, donec gliscente adulatione deterrerentur. Tiberii Gaique et Claudii ac Neronis res florentibus ipsis ob metum falsae, postquam occiderant recentibus odiis compositae sunt. inde consilium mihi pauca de Augusto et extrema tradere, mox Tiberii principatum et cetera, sine ira et studio, quorum causas procul habeo.
Great Reversions: A Closer Look at Tacitus’ Opening Remarks (Annales I)
Urbem Romam a principio reges habuere. Tacitus opens his Annales with something of a blunt reminder. In spite of the fact that the very word “king” remained a taboo in polite Roman society, the idea of Roman monarchy begins his annalistic project. For Rome had been ruled by kings “from the beginning” (a principio) (1.1)[1]. And now, with over a hundred years having passed since Augustus had returned Rome to the rule of one, Tacitus is making an unpleasant suggestion: a great reversion has happened. The Roman Republic, it seems, was merely an unexpected swerving from the norm. As Katherine Clarke has written, “…Tacitus saw monarchy as the basis of power; like Appian, he found it possible to compress the whole history of the Republic into a few sentences before returning to Rome in its natural monarchical state” (Clarke 85). Kingship, as far as Tacitus could tell, was at the heart of what it meant to rule in Rome, a city which had now come full circle. Yet history never repeats itself exactly. Rome knew a king again (though of course he was never named as such), yet times had changed. There were new challenges and new disasters. There were also difficulties unique for the historian. These too are specifically noted by Tacitus in his opening remarks. Here he speaks of a time not nearly as far removed, a time mere decades in the past in which wicked emperors had been foolish enough to cause the distortion of history, which was then “falsified on account of fear” (ob metum falsae) (1.10). Tacitus, beginning his own work, seeks to avoid a second reversion to this previous state of censorship. As we work our way through Tacitus’ introduction, we shall see these two reversions at play, both immediately and in later books, particularly in they key historiographical passages of Annales IV.
“From the beginning kings had ruled the city of Rome; Lucius Brutus put in place liberty and the consulship” (…libertatem et consulatum L Brutus institutit) (1.1-2). Tacitus follows his monarchical reminder with an immediate turn: liberty and the elected office of the consulship were set up, or instituted – they had not come naturally. His readers, no doubt, are quite aware that this libertas and the office of the consulatus are in their own age not what they had been under Brutus. For liberty, in Tacitus’ age, was under the cool moderation of the principate, and the consulate was an office of honor, not action. Tacitus’ next turn, moreover, adds a nuanced depth to his theses. We are told of the brevity of despotic rule in the Republican era. Dictatorships were held, when necessary, only “for a time” (ad tempus) (1.2), nor was the office of the decimvir “beyond two years” (ultra biennium), nor did the consular jurisdiction of military tribunals “have strength for long” (diu valuit) (1.2-3). Prior despotisms, like those of Cinna and Sulla, were “not extended” (non longa) (1.4). With these expressions of temporality Tacitus produces for his readers an image of fluidity. Here was a lively and active arena of change, change which nevertheless led to the strength of the Republic. This description is in great contrast to the stagnant state which Tacitus describes in Annales VI. There, after again reminding his readers of the motion and growth of the past, he writes of his own imperial topic, a work, “constrained and inglorious: a peace wholly unmoved or modestly provoked, the state of a sad city” (nobis in arto et inglorius labor: immota quippe aut modice lacessita pax, maestae urbis res) (IV.32.2.1-2). Tacitus is here, right from the beginning, implying that his task will not be one of describing the rapid movements of a lively State, but rather of wading through the sorrowful (and at times pathetic) details of a depressed regime. Rome, having come full circle, is loosing steam.
Yet Tacitus’ portrayal is nothing if not nuanced[2]. He briefly mentions Pompeius and Crassus, men whose names were enough to recall their stories into the minds of Tacitus’ readers. Then he moves on, explaining Augustus, “who, when all were worn out by civil strife, accepted power under the name of ‘princeps’” (qui cuncta discordiis civilibus fessa nomine principis sub imperium incepit) (1.5-6). Here Rome’s freedom has led to Rome’s exhaustion. This it not merely an observation that too much volatility leads to chaos; it is a hint at what Tacitus makes more explicit later in his work: Republics don’t last. Again returning to Tacitus’ supremely important digression in Annales IV, we find Tacitus musing on the nature of human government. He explains, “For the people or the elites or individual men rule all nations and cities” (nam cunctas nationes et urbes populus aut primores aut singuli regunt) (IV.33.1.1-2). An obvious statement, to be sure, but Tacitus does not leave it at that. He continues, “A form of state chosen and brought together from all three [types of rule] is easier praised than produced, and even if it is produced, by no means is it able to exist for long” (delecta ex iis et conflata rei publicae forma laudari facilius quam evenire, vel, si evenit, haud diutruna esse potest) (IV.33.1.2-3). This is a bold statement in light of the Republican ideals which had once made Rome so great, to which even in the time of the principate lip-service was given. Tacitus is a pessimist. A reversion to monarchy, he implies, was not only likely- it was inevitable.
At this point Tacitus begins to change his topic. He gives a nod to the historians of old, reminding his readers that the dramatic events of the past are well-recorded and easily accessible (and were at any rate already common knowledge). His is a new task. Yet even this admission is not without a veiled insinuation. Tacitus states that the prosperous and disastrous events of the past were those of the “old Roman people” (veteris populi Romani) (1.6). These old Roman people are spoken of in such a way as to mark a clear distinction between them and the “new” Roman people living now under the principate. A clear division has occurred; an age divides Rome from Rome. It is no surprise then, to find numerous examples throughout Tacitus’ Annales of the slow passing away of the remnant of good old Roman men. Tacitus will go on throughout the Annales to paint two sides of a chasm: on one stand most of the populus vetus Romani. But a few of their number stand on the other side, making their way through the difficult terrain of a new Rome and slowly going extinct. The chasm between them is nothing other than the principate.
With this grave reminder, Tacitus turns to his second great introductory theme. With it, he is no longer pointing out a Roman reversion to the distant and primordial past, but rather warning his readers to guard themselves against the temptations of reverting to a more recent practice, namely foolish censorship. He starts by admitting that even up to the times of Augustus, “graceful characters” (decora ingenia) were not lacking to describe his rule (1.8). Yet such talents did not last. He explains that eventually “hindered by a swelling servility” (gliscente adulatione deterrentur) (1.8-9), their craft lost its strength. Yet servility to Augustus was only the start of a long historiographical descent into darkness. Its great plummet was to come after Augustus’ death. Tacitus continues, “The affairs of Tiberius and Caius and Claudius and Nero, while these men themselves were flourishing, were falsified on account of fear, and after they had died, were controlled/sedated/feigned [3] by fresh hatreds” (Tiberii Gaique et Claudii ac Neronis res florentibus ipsis ob metum falsae, postquam occiderant recentibus odiis compositae sunt)(1.10). We know, of course, that Tacitus will not leave this claim unsubstantiated. Again in Annales IV we find Tacitus philosophizing first on the nature of his craft (dangers included) and then offering us the ill-fated historian Cremutius Cordus as evidence.
In what is disguised as an aside, an editorial musing, Tacitus makes his case. After positing that critics of ancient history are few and far between, he turns his attention to the contrasting present. “But the descendents remain of those who, while Tiberius was ruling, endured punishment or disgraces. And even if the families themselves should be now extinct, you will find those, who on account of their similar behavior, reckon that alien crimes are being imputed to them” (at multorum, qui Tiberio regente poenam vel infamias subiere, posteri manent; utque familiae ipsae iam extinctae sint, reperies qui ob similitudinem morum aliena malefacta sibi obiectari putent) (IV.33.4.1-5). Tacitus then increases the potency of this veiled reference to his contemporary readers (those who are at least potentially hostile to his efforts), by the story of Cremetius Cordus himself. The re-telling, of course, concludes with Tacitus’ own moralizing: those that try to stomp out the truth to hide their evil will only end up more evil in the eyes history. Censorship is a futile task.
We see then, that the ending of Tacitus’ opening passage in Annales I is the conclusion of an act of authorial apophasis. Tacitus has just hinted at the failure of prior historians, and in doing so he has given a tacit warning of his own intention to set the record straight, even – I would venture – if his task becomes a threatened one. But he immediately brushes this unpleasant topic aside, as if it were irrelevant. “Thus my plan is to share a little about Augustus and his final acts” he claims, “And then about the principate of Tiberius and other things” (inde consilium mihi pauca de Augusto et extrema tradere, mox Tiberii principatum et cetera). This will be done "without bitterness or party spirit (sine ira et studio) of which he himself is far from (procul) (1.12). It is easy to picture a Tacitus grinning sardonically as he summarizes what will be such a dirty and potentially dangerous work with such sterile and optimistic words.
Tacitus opens his Annales with a concern for reversions. He claims immediately that the city of Rome has reverted to its original state. Furthermore, he quietly yet firmly pushes against any attempts to revert to the censorship under which his historian predecessors suffered. It is true, of course, that we do not know for sure which princeps Tacitus himself was writing under. Nor do we know the precise conditions of censorship and control that either Nerva or Trajan held over literature. Yet throughout the Annales we can be sure of Tacitus’ view of his own task, the seeds of which lie in his opening remarks. These reversions, of course, are linked the ultimate reversion – the one most fascinating and fertile for Tacitus as an author. This is the reversion from nobility into savagery, from honesty into deceit, namely, the reversion from good to evil [4]. Tacitus’ brief introduction is pregnant with all these themes, each teased out as his long narrative continues.
1- All quotes are from Annales Liber I unless otherwise noted. All translations from the Latin are my own.
2-Too nuanced, really. Which reminds me offhand of my favorite little footnote, found in Lukac’s At the End of an Age: “Sheridan on Gibbon: ‘Luminous? I meant voluminous’”. But I digress.
3-I have chosen to provide three definitions of the adjective “compositus”, as all three seem capable of fitting well into Tacitus’ opinion concerning the untrustworthiness of his predecessor’s histories.
4-And indeed, we can justifiably call this an actual “reversion” and not just a “getting worse”, inasmuch as one can picture in classical education the human animal becoming the “rational animal”, and then, through vice, returning merely to an animalistic state.
Works Cited
Clarke, Katherine. “In arto et inglorius labor: Tacitus’ Anti-history”. Proceedings of the British Academy. 114. 83-103. Print.
Tacitus Annales Liber I, 1.1-12
Vrbem Romam a principio reges habuere; libertatem et consulatum L. Brutus instituit. dictaturae ad tempus sumebantur; neque decemviralis potestas ultra biennium, neque tribunorum militum consulare ius diu valuit. non Cinnae, non Sullae longa dominatio; et Pompei Crassique potentia cito in Caesarem, Lepidi atque Antonii arma in Augustum cessere, qui cuncta discordiis civilibus fessa nomine principis sub imperium accepit. sed veteris populi Romani prospera vel adversa claris scriptoribus memorata sunt; temporibusque Augusti dicendis non defuere decora ingenia, donec gliscente adulatione deterrerentur. Tiberii Gaique et Claudii ac Neronis res florentibus ipsis ob metum falsae, postquam occiderant recentibus odiis compositae sunt. inde consilium mihi pauca de Augusto et extrema tradere, mox Tiberii principatum et cetera, sine ira et studio, quorum causas procul habeo.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Opinion 119: the type of nonsense kids write in schools
Odyssean aspects in Fight Club
Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club chronicles the hope of homecoming in a fantastic world of violence and uncanny illusion. It is tale insane and unbelievable, which nevertheless has a concreteness and reality to it which captivates and convinces. It is here, in this absurd mix of the everyday and the bizarre, of phantasmal illusions and very real wounds, that one finds its universal themes. These aspects mark its kinship with Homer’s Odyssey. This comes, of course, as no surprise. For the Odyssey itself is for us the prototype of all adventure stories; it is moreover the story of identity par excellence. With an open imagination then, we will be able to find Homer’s story in Palahniuk’s. Here are tales of battle and masculinity. Here we find a fantastic journey home, filled with erotic temptations and divine frustrations.
Masculinity and Violence
The first vital link between the Odyssey and Fight Club is, paradoxically, the great divide which separates them. It is a divide of values and cultures; it is a divide between men and boys. It is this gap, this absence, which compels Fight Club’s characters. “We have no great war,” declares a disgusted Tyler Durden. He asks a blunt question, out of place for a decadent and technocratic time and age: “How much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight?” These are awkward questions of desperation. These are questions of a culture violently sundered from its heritage by an apathetic embrace of non-violence (or, more precisely, the “off-shoring” of violence – the late heritage of professional soldiery and digital fantasies). Homer’s age stands in distinct contrast. For Homer, a man’s reputation is not made by the mere acquisition of wealth and property (though indeed these were marks great men), but the battles waged by each man which justified his acquisitions. A man’s κλέος, his renown, was found in strength of shield and spear. Western man’s avoidance of this conflict produces the pathetic and self-mocking tone Fight Club’s unnamed Narrator takes while examining his life: Ikea catalogues, a decent wardrobe, a respectable job…and no real Life. The real quest of the film’s men, even in their ignorance, are the faraway fields of Ilion and the unexpected gift of Life found only in embrace of Death. Finding his concrete battlefield and the age-old heritage of violence reborn in a basement, the Narrator confesses: “You weren’t alive anywhere like you were there.”
A Strange Journey Home
Through the course of the film it becomes clear that our unnamed Narrator is engaged in a most bizarre and dangerous journey home. His home of course, is his identity. His journey is filled with fantastic images, the wily feminine, and much sorrow. For the unnamed Narrator too is a “Nobody”. This name (or lack thereof) links him with Odysseus’ crafty twist on his own name in the cave of the Cyclops. Both confess a lack of selfhood. Odysseus, his name so easily morphed both into “Nobody” (οὐδείς), and “To Sorrow” (ὀδύσσομαι), is a man losing his very self inasmuch as he has lost his home. His struggles to return are a purgatory of unbelievable challenges and mythical foes. The Narrator’s desire to die on one of his many meaningless airplane journeys reminds us of Odysseus’ confessions that it would have been better for him to have fallen on the fields of Troy than to be constantly batted about a world away from his true home. The Narrator’s “tour” of weeping reminds us of Odysseus’ many tears, always “eating out the heart” within him. Yet there is a deeper connection, a more ambiguous turn. For the Narrator, inasmuch he realizes that he is not himself and that he is not home, is also in some way greatly enlivened by and attracted to the strange world that he has found himself in. Tyler Durden is not the whole truth about him, yet he is some part of the truth about him. His “other” world is a world dangerous and strange, to be sure, but it is also a world of strength and eroticism, a world of vitality. In like manner Odysseus’ journey is one of the temptations of “the other”. For he is a glorious man in Circe’s bed and a man with the hope of divine life on Kalypso’s island. The latter, indeed, is Odysseus’ great challenge: should he stay and remain with the other, embracing even immortality? Or should he return home and remain a mere mortal? The choice between two lives and the lies and truths which both lives contain is one perpetually present to in both stories.
A Cast of Homeric Characters
In this existential journey home, the film’s Narrator is not alone. His companions play key roles in his decisions, each taking on a role (or roles) which remind us of the Odyssean nature of his travels. In many ways, Tyler himself is the craftiness and cunning of Odysseus. He brings out of our Narrator’s psyche the wiliness needed to survive and grow in a bizarre and dangerous world. Yet Tyler Durden is also an Athena figure, mentoring the Narrator much as the grey-eyed goddess did Telemachos. For Tyler teaches the Narrator what it takes to be man. Tyler teaches the Narrator how to become Odysseus, how to find his father, who is symbolically his true life and masculinity.
Marla, the only important female character throughout Fight Club, plays multiple roles as well. She is in some part the Narrator’s Poseidon. She is the wrathful foil, interrupting the Narrator’s attempts at wholeness and homecoming. Her presence in the Narrator’s self-help groups is one of spite. She is keeping the Narrator from returning home. Yet she is more than this. She represents, in light of our comparison, all the feminine dangers that Odysseus and our Narrator are forced to face. Here she is the ugly feminine: she is a vile and disgusting Harpie (portrayed multiple times in her own drug-riddled filth, we are reminded with Marla of the disgust with which Homer describes these foul flying creatures). She is a Siren too. Mara’s beauty and charm are irresistible, hiding at first glance the utter destructiveness which the feminine can bring. In this destructiveness she is the film’s Scylla and Charybdis: feminine monstrosities which, despite a hero’s best effort, cannot be avoided. In the end, however, Mara is the Narrator’s Penelope. She is his home and life and his hope for some sort of normalcy.
Themes which cannot die
Chuck Palahniuk’s film embraces and transforms themes key not just to Classical literature, but to all subsequent Western literature itself. His is the story of a hero who does not know who he is, but who through great challenges must find himself and discover again a home. His journeys are filled with the fantastic and the horrific. His struggles are as much about his own identity as they are about the world around him. Homer’s story of Odysseus’ homecoming is a story of self-identity, both for the wandering father Odysseus and the wary son, Telemachos. It is a story of the importance of combat, the necessity of comradery and the dangers and attractions of the feminine. These things are, so to speak, invincible and ever-present in all subsequent Western literature. Fight Club is no exception, re-telling these ancient stories and re-threading them, twisting and molding them to produce a thoroughly modern epic of identity.
Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club chronicles the hope of homecoming in a fantastic world of violence and uncanny illusion. It is tale insane and unbelievable, which nevertheless has a concreteness and reality to it which captivates and convinces. It is here, in this absurd mix of the everyday and the bizarre, of phantasmal illusions and very real wounds, that one finds its universal themes. These aspects mark its kinship with Homer’s Odyssey. This comes, of course, as no surprise. For the Odyssey itself is for us the prototype of all adventure stories; it is moreover the story of identity par excellence. With an open imagination then, we will be able to find Homer’s story in Palahniuk’s. Here are tales of battle and masculinity. Here we find a fantastic journey home, filled with erotic temptations and divine frustrations.
Masculinity and Violence
The first vital link between the Odyssey and Fight Club is, paradoxically, the great divide which separates them. It is a divide of values and cultures; it is a divide between men and boys. It is this gap, this absence, which compels Fight Club’s characters. “We have no great war,” declares a disgusted Tyler Durden. He asks a blunt question, out of place for a decadent and technocratic time and age: “How much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight?” These are awkward questions of desperation. These are questions of a culture violently sundered from its heritage by an apathetic embrace of non-violence (or, more precisely, the “off-shoring” of violence – the late heritage of professional soldiery and digital fantasies). Homer’s age stands in distinct contrast. For Homer, a man’s reputation is not made by the mere acquisition of wealth and property (though indeed these were marks great men), but the battles waged by each man which justified his acquisitions. A man’s κλέος, his renown, was found in strength of shield and spear. Western man’s avoidance of this conflict produces the pathetic and self-mocking tone Fight Club’s unnamed Narrator takes while examining his life: Ikea catalogues, a decent wardrobe, a respectable job…and no real Life. The real quest of the film’s men, even in their ignorance, are the faraway fields of Ilion and the unexpected gift of Life found only in embrace of Death. Finding his concrete battlefield and the age-old heritage of violence reborn in a basement, the Narrator confesses: “You weren’t alive anywhere like you were there.”
A Strange Journey Home
Through the course of the film it becomes clear that our unnamed Narrator is engaged in a most bizarre and dangerous journey home. His home of course, is his identity. His journey is filled with fantastic images, the wily feminine, and much sorrow. For the unnamed Narrator too is a “Nobody”. This name (or lack thereof) links him with Odysseus’ crafty twist on his own name in the cave of the Cyclops. Both confess a lack of selfhood. Odysseus, his name so easily morphed both into “Nobody” (οὐδείς), and “To Sorrow” (ὀδύσσομαι), is a man losing his very self inasmuch as he has lost his home. His struggles to return are a purgatory of unbelievable challenges and mythical foes. The Narrator’s desire to die on one of his many meaningless airplane journeys reminds us of Odysseus’ confessions that it would have been better for him to have fallen on the fields of Troy than to be constantly batted about a world away from his true home. The Narrator’s “tour” of weeping reminds us of Odysseus’ many tears, always “eating out the heart” within him. Yet there is a deeper connection, a more ambiguous turn. For the Narrator, inasmuch he realizes that he is not himself and that he is not home, is also in some way greatly enlivened by and attracted to the strange world that he has found himself in. Tyler Durden is not the whole truth about him, yet he is some part of the truth about him. His “other” world is a world dangerous and strange, to be sure, but it is also a world of strength and eroticism, a world of vitality. In like manner Odysseus’ journey is one of the temptations of “the other”. For he is a glorious man in Circe’s bed and a man with the hope of divine life on Kalypso’s island. The latter, indeed, is Odysseus’ great challenge: should he stay and remain with the other, embracing even immortality? Or should he return home and remain a mere mortal? The choice between two lives and the lies and truths which both lives contain is one perpetually present to in both stories.
A Cast of Homeric Characters
In this existential journey home, the film’s Narrator is not alone. His companions play key roles in his decisions, each taking on a role (or roles) which remind us of the Odyssean nature of his travels. In many ways, Tyler himself is the craftiness and cunning of Odysseus. He brings out of our Narrator’s psyche the wiliness needed to survive and grow in a bizarre and dangerous world. Yet Tyler Durden is also an Athena figure, mentoring the Narrator much as the grey-eyed goddess did Telemachos. For Tyler teaches the Narrator what it takes to be man. Tyler teaches the Narrator how to become Odysseus, how to find his father, who is symbolically his true life and masculinity.
Marla, the only important female character throughout Fight Club, plays multiple roles as well. She is in some part the Narrator’s Poseidon. She is the wrathful foil, interrupting the Narrator’s attempts at wholeness and homecoming. Her presence in the Narrator’s self-help groups is one of spite. She is keeping the Narrator from returning home. Yet she is more than this. She represents, in light of our comparison, all the feminine dangers that Odysseus and our Narrator are forced to face. Here she is the ugly feminine: she is a vile and disgusting Harpie (portrayed multiple times in her own drug-riddled filth, we are reminded with Marla of the disgust with which Homer describes these foul flying creatures). She is a Siren too. Mara’s beauty and charm are irresistible, hiding at first glance the utter destructiveness which the feminine can bring. In this destructiveness she is the film’s Scylla and Charybdis: feminine monstrosities which, despite a hero’s best effort, cannot be avoided. In the end, however, Mara is the Narrator’s Penelope. She is his home and life and his hope for some sort of normalcy.
Themes which cannot die
Chuck Palahniuk’s film embraces and transforms themes key not just to Classical literature, but to all subsequent Western literature itself. His is the story of a hero who does not know who he is, but who through great challenges must find himself and discover again a home. His journeys are filled with the fantastic and the horrific. His struggles are as much about his own identity as they are about the world around him. Homer’s story of Odysseus’ homecoming is a story of self-identity, both for the wandering father Odysseus and the wary son, Telemachos. It is a story of the importance of combat, the necessity of comradery and the dangers and attractions of the feminine. These things are, so to speak, invincible and ever-present in all subsequent Western literature. Fight Club is no exception, re-telling these ancient stories and re-threading them, twisting and molding them to produce a thoroughly modern epic of identity.
Opinion 118
Choosing one of the Republican candidates is akin to choosing which seven year old you want to baby-sit your house full of nine year olds. Or should we just leave the spoiled and lethargic fourteen year old in charge?
Opinion 117
This semester: too much booze, smokes and Tacitus. Not enough sleep.
Yet, I started to take a liking to Plato.
Yet, I started to take a liking to Plato.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Opinion 116
Often while reading Being and Time, I think that Heidegger is spending his entire book just getting ready to say something.
Other times I think that Heidegger is simply stating the obvious in the most obtuse and unobvious fashion hitherto contrived.
Other times er sheint mir, ein Genie zu sein.
Other times I think that Heidegger is simply stating the obvious in the most obtuse and unobvious fashion hitherto contrived.
Other times er sheint mir, ein Genie zu sein.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Opinion 113
Two things to rely on: God's invicible mercy and forgivness.
One thing never to rely on: Your own ability to improve yourself.
One thing to rely on: A full flask.
One thing never to rely on: Good behavior with a flask.
One thing to rely on: Your ability to write a long paper quickly, especially when it is straightaway due.
One thing never to rely on: That this paper will be good, or even decent, or readable.
One thing never to rely on: Your own ability to improve yourself.
One thing to rely on: A full flask.
One thing never to rely on: Good behavior with a flask.
One thing to rely on: Your ability to write a long paper quickly, especially when it is straightaway due.
One thing never to rely on: That this paper will be good, or even decent, or readable.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Opinion 107
Paul Roche's translations of Euripides are a sorry affair, sorry for both men and their unfortunate readers. They leave you embarrassed for Roche and uninterested in Euripides. Never have I so appreciated the brevity of Euripides' works.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Opinion 106
The Romans punished parricide by sewing the guilty into a sack with a rooster, a serpent, a dog and a monkey, and then throwing that unfortunate bundle into the sea.
Opinion 105
He looked at the glass of whiskey on the counter with the same look a puppy gives his master when he needs to go outside. Ah, but whiskey is a harsh master!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Opinion 104
Plato and American Oligarchy
Polemarchus: And what kind of constitution would you call oligarchy?
Socrates: The constitution based on a property assessment, in which the rich rule, and the poor man has no share in ruling.
Polemarchus: What is it like?
Socrates: The treasure house filled with gold, which each possesses, destroys the constitution. First, they find ways of spending money for themselves, then they stretch the laws relating to this, then they and their wives disobey the laws altogether....from there they proceed further into money-making, and the more they value it, the less they value virtue. Or aren't virtue and wealth so opposed that if they were set on scales, they'd always incline in opposite directions?
Polemarchus: That's right.
Socrates: So when wealth and the wealthy are valued or honored in a city, virtue and good people are valued less....Then, in the end, victory-loving and honor-loving men become lovers of making money, or money-lovers. And they praise and admire wealthy people and appoint them as rulers, while they dishonour poor ones....what would happen if someone were to choose the captains of ships by their wealth, refusing to entrust the ship to a poor person even if he was a better captain?
Polemarchus: They would make a poor voyage of it.
(Later on) Socrates:...of necessity it isn't one city but two - one of the poor and one of the rich - living in the same place and always plotting against one another.
--------
I've edited down a rather large discussion towards the end of Plato's Republic concerning a state's decline into oligarchy. A few thoughts:
-First, an American cannot but think of America's current political mess. Particularly the fact that at this point, only the rich are allowed to pilot the ship, despite the fact that, by and large, they appear to be hopeless idiots.
-One would have to disagree, however, with Socrates' last statement, namely that they poor and rich are "always plotting against one another". Let's be honest: the poor in these United States don't plot against the rich, rather they sloppily and often mindlessly plot to become rich, or at least to imitate some of the marks of the rich. In this case, the rich have completely neutered the poor by producing from them hopeless imitation rather than righteous indignation.
-Of course, we must also admit that Socrates is describing a descent into oligarchy from aristocracy. His ideal city is not a democracy, nor is it some Marxist utopia (though it does share a few common threads). This actually seems somewhat fitting as far as the States are concerned, as without a doubt the founders of this nation considered themselves to be and actually were the aristocracy of the thirteen colonies. These were educated, land-owning men who read their Classics and knew they were in the upper crust. This begs the question as to whether aristocracy can ever not slide into oligarchy. Clearly in our case it has.
Polemarchus: And what kind of constitution would you call oligarchy?
Socrates: The constitution based on a property assessment, in which the rich rule, and the poor man has no share in ruling.
Polemarchus: What is it like?
Socrates: The treasure house filled with gold, which each possesses, destroys the constitution. First, they find ways of spending money for themselves, then they stretch the laws relating to this, then they and their wives disobey the laws altogether....from there they proceed further into money-making, and the more they value it, the less they value virtue. Or aren't virtue and wealth so opposed that if they were set on scales, they'd always incline in opposite directions?
Polemarchus: That's right.
Socrates: So when wealth and the wealthy are valued or honored in a city, virtue and good people are valued less....Then, in the end, victory-loving and honor-loving men become lovers of making money, or money-lovers. And they praise and admire wealthy people and appoint them as rulers, while they dishonour poor ones....what would happen if someone were to choose the captains of ships by their wealth, refusing to entrust the ship to a poor person even if he was a better captain?
Polemarchus: They would make a poor voyage of it.
(Later on) Socrates:...of necessity it isn't one city but two - one of the poor and one of the rich - living in the same place and always plotting against one another.
--------
I've edited down a rather large discussion towards the end of Plato's Republic concerning a state's decline into oligarchy. A few thoughts:
-First, an American cannot but think of America's current political mess. Particularly the fact that at this point, only the rich are allowed to pilot the ship, despite the fact that, by and large, they appear to be hopeless idiots.
-One would have to disagree, however, with Socrates' last statement, namely that they poor and rich are "always plotting against one another". Let's be honest: the poor in these United States don't plot against the rich, rather they sloppily and often mindlessly plot to become rich, or at least to imitate some of the marks of the rich. In this case, the rich have completely neutered the poor by producing from them hopeless imitation rather than righteous indignation.
-Of course, we must also admit that Socrates is describing a descent into oligarchy from aristocracy. His ideal city is not a democracy, nor is it some Marxist utopia (though it does share a few common threads). This actually seems somewhat fitting as far as the States are concerned, as without a doubt the founders of this nation considered themselves to be and actually were the aristocracy of the thirteen colonies. These were educated, land-owning men who read their Classics and knew they were in the upper crust. This begs the question as to whether aristocracy can ever not slide into oligarchy. Clearly in our case it has.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Opinion 103
A Prayer for Today:
Good Lord,
I'm tired
I'm going to die
Lord, remember that I had good intentions
Okay, sometimes I had good intentions
Good Lord,
I'm tired
I'm going to die
Lord, remember that I had good intentions
Okay, sometimes I had good intentions
Friday, October 14, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Opinion 100
It is the battle against self-deceit that is a special vocation for the religious person. For we very easily establish an idea of God in our minds, and it spawns many, many phantasies, erroneous notions, solipsistic arguments and miserable binds. The religious person, perhaps very particularly in these age and culture, spends most of his time talking to the various idols which his mind has spawned, and obeying the edicts which these idols have ordained. Good Lord, he is talking to himself.
It is important and helpful to remember that the truth - the way things really are - is what the religious person is or should be after. The truth, however, is not a religious possession. If is is truth at all, it is reality, it is how things are when viewed with clarity and sobriety. If we run from anything that is true out of fear for protecting the religious, we do ourselves a great disservice.
Prayer should always be an exercise in quieting down. The truth, by God's grace, will involve love. It will also scare the shit out of us, and most likely we will have to die if we hope to have it emerge from our lives.
It is important and helpful to remember that the truth - the way things really are - is what the religious person is or should be after. The truth, however, is not a religious possession. If is is truth at all, it is reality, it is how things are when viewed with clarity and sobriety. If we run from anything that is true out of fear for protecting the religious, we do ourselves a great disservice.
Prayer should always be an exercise in quieting down. The truth, by God's grace, will involve love. It will also scare the shit out of us, and most likely we will have to die if we hope to have it emerge from our lives.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Opinion 99
School is back in session; I begin what I hope to be (please God, please) the last year of my bachelor's degree. The freshman are now nine years younger than I. As far as I can tell, all of them are biology or neuroscience majors. Let that chilling fact be its own condemnation.
The weather has cooled and there is at night a distinct autumn smell. Our tomatoes - many not yet ripened - hang on the vine in fear.
The summer has come and gone at an almost incomprehensible pace. What a free fall! We picked up a child somewhere during the plummeting. She is doing well.
There are many things a man does in his life for no discernible reason, which take too long and which ultimately do not bring about any discernible profit. Wie wenn man Sein und Zeit liest. Aber was kann ich tun? Mein Geist wandert wo er will, und ich muss ihm folgen.
A true spirituality begins when all sentimentality has been abandoned. Also: if you cannot tell the truth, you will never escape pettiness.
The weather has cooled and there is at night a distinct autumn smell. Our tomatoes - many not yet ripened - hang on the vine in fear.
The summer has come and gone at an almost incomprehensible pace. What a free fall! We picked up a child somewhere during the plummeting. She is doing well.
There are many things a man does in his life for no discernible reason, which take too long and which ultimately do not bring about any discernible profit. Wie wenn man Sein und Zeit liest. Aber was kann ich tun? Mein Geist wandert wo er will, und ich muss ihm folgen.
A true spirituality begins when all sentimentality has been abandoned. Also: if you cannot tell the truth, you will never escape pettiness.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Opinion 97
More from Wittgenstein:
In philosophy the winner of the race is the one who can run most slowly. Or: the one who gets there last.
The truth can be spoken only by someone who is already at home in it; not by someone who still lives in falsehood and reaches out from falsehood towards truth on just one occasion.
Often it is only very slightly more disagreeable to tell the truth than to lie; about as difficult as drinking bitter rather than sweet coffee; and yet I still have a strong inclination to lie.
In philosophy the winner of the race is the one who can run most slowly. Or: the one who gets there last.
The truth can be spoken only by someone who is already at home in it; not by someone who still lives in falsehood and reaches out from falsehood towards truth on just one occasion.
Often it is only very slightly more disagreeable to tell the truth than to lie; about as difficult as drinking bitter rather than sweet coffee; and yet I still have a strong inclination to lie.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Opinion 96
I was thinking as I rode home the other night about all the little treasures one has in his or her life, about the connections and events, and even the traditions that somehow or another mean the world to a person. They are usually not particularly significant, as far as any "historical significance" is concerned. They are quiet things. A special look, one's garden, strange and hazy memories from a childhood - these make one's whole life. But when these are analyzed outside of their context they don't seem to add up to much.
It seems that life is so fragile, so fraught with the potential for mis-communion, that we are given to cherish with such zealousness the little bit of harmony that we can find. Many unconscious hours go into a few minutes of peace.
It is important to realize that those around us are experiencing the same thing. It is very easy to get bored quickly with the stories and fascinations of others. They seem so blasé , trite even, or just irrelevant. We forget that for the other, these little trivialities might very well be the web that binds their entire life to some sense of meaning. We forget how fragile our significances, mocking others for such insignificance.
Some sense of meaning, some odd appropriation of truth - these things are hard to come by! I am here not talking about the truth of intellectual assent. Rather, it is the truth of quiet tradition, of unspoken action, the truth of instinct in its best and most holy incarnation, it is these that our lives are actually built around. Quite exhausted, however, by our own tenuous footing, we lack the energy and insight to see those little hovels of meaning (for surely they are hovels, though we meant to build towers) in which our neighbors live.
It seems that life is so fragile, so fraught with the potential for mis-communion, that we are given to cherish with such zealousness the little bit of harmony that we can find. Many unconscious hours go into a few minutes of peace.
It is important to realize that those around us are experiencing the same thing. It is very easy to get bored quickly with the stories and fascinations of others. They seem so blasé , trite even, or just irrelevant. We forget that for the other, these little trivialities might very well be the web that binds their entire life to some sense of meaning. We forget how fragile our significances, mocking others for such insignificance.
Some sense of meaning, some odd appropriation of truth - these things are hard to come by! I am here not talking about the truth of intellectual assent. Rather, it is the truth of quiet tradition, of unspoken action, the truth of instinct in its best and most holy incarnation, it is these that our lives are actually built around. Quite exhausted, however, by our own tenuous footing, we lack the energy and insight to see those little hovels of meaning (for surely they are hovels, though we meant to build towers) in which our neighbors live.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Opinion 95
Three interesting thoughts on religion from Wittgenstein:
In religion every level of devoutness must have its appropriate form of expression which has no sense at a lower level. This doctrine, which means something at a higher level, is null and void for someone who is still at the lower level; he can only understand it wrongly and so these words are not valid for such a person.
For instance, at my level the Pauline doctrine of predestination is ugly nonsense, irreligiousness. Hence it is not suitable for me, since the only use I could make of the picture I am offered would be a wrong one. If it is a good and godly picture, then it is so for someone at a quite different level, who must use it in his life in a way completely different from anything that would be possible for me.
A Lutheresque sentiment
People are religious to the extent that they believe themselves to be not so much imperfect, as ill.
Any man who is half-way decent will think himself extremely imperfect, but a religious man thinks himself wretched.
Finally,
God may say to me: 'I am judging you out of your own mouth. Your own actions have made you shudder with disgust when you have seen other people do them.'
In religion every level of devoutness must have its appropriate form of expression which has no sense at a lower level. This doctrine, which means something at a higher level, is null and void for someone who is still at the lower level; he can only understand it wrongly and so these words are not valid for such a person.
For instance, at my level the Pauline doctrine of predestination is ugly nonsense, irreligiousness. Hence it is not suitable for me, since the only use I could make of the picture I am offered would be a wrong one. If it is a good and godly picture, then it is so for someone at a quite different level, who must use it in his life in a way completely different from anything that would be possible for me.
A Lutheresque sentiment
People are religious to the extent that they believe themselves to be not so much imperfect, as ill.
Any man who is half-way decent will think himself extremely imperfect, but a religious man thinks himself wretched.
Finally,
God may say to me: 'I am judging you out of your own mouth. Your own actions have made you shudder with disgust when you have seen other people do them.'
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Opinion 94
The man who conscientiously finds a trash receptacle for each of his properly extinguished cigarettes has never really smoked.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Opinion 89
Every age suffers from the tendency to conclude that it has reached a stage of final and decisive knowledge. Among our age's certitudes:
1) That the scientific method is the sole means for sure and conclusive knowledge.
2) That being "of age" and giving one's "consensus" are the only two categories for the legitimate or even "moral" use of one's genitalia.
Number two of course can not really be verified by number one. No age is without its absurdities.
1) That the scientific method is the sole means for sure and conclusive knowledge.
2) That being "of age" and giving one's "consensus" are the only two categories for the legitimate or even "moral" use of one's genitalia.
Number two of course can not really be verified by number one. No age is without its absurdities.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Opinion 88
Is our modern age special? Well, it is certainly different in many ways than the ages that have come before. But is it more difficult? It is harder for a soul to be saved in our modern age? Only God knows this.
It is true that many of us have a harsh reaction to the sicknesses of the modern age. But we do not know and perhaps cannot know what it was like to have a reaction to the sicknesses of previous ages.
We often look to the past with longing and to the future with despair. The present is for us an itching. Whatever the justification for our longings and despairing, the itching of the present for us is a sign not necessarily of their sickness, but of our sickness.
It is impossible for us to get out of our own times. It is perhaps also not possible for us to remove ourselves from the sins of our time. There is a tremendous momentum in an age that sweeps us along, uncaring of our opinions of its course and manner.
All critics are absurd. We sit in foreign-made shorts and shirt, drinking Kentucky bourbon while listening to Indie music, reading Goethe and staring at nice religious icons. Our kin are at the computer and our littlest kin sleep in alien garb. We are all clowns.
And maybe this is it. Maybe, contrary to the whole tone of this writing, if we were to diagnose one of the specific maladies of the modern age, it would be this: that is has made clowns out of all of us. And then, with the door of diagnosis breached, we might say that this is the very purpose of the modern age: to teach us that we are all asses.
My friend's father, a California Republican, heavy drinker, husband in his life to three women, Evangelical/The Secret reader, loser of many jobs, aimless and aware of it, confessed recently to his son: "I think I am one of God's jokes." It was not meant to be cute. It was a confession that life really didn't go as it should have. It was a confession that human beings are stunted and immature - yet aged in the fact that they can see this and name it.
Then again, our misbehaviour in this age, our murder and destruction, should lead us to be cautious in chalking up this age to humour. It would be cruel of a god to use millions of death as an object lesson.
It is true that many of us have a harsh reaction to the sicknesses of the modern age. But we do not know and perhaps cannot know what it was like to have a reaction to the sicknesses of previous ages.
We often look to the past with longing and to the future with despair. The present is for us an itching. Whatever the justification for our longings and despairing, the itching of the present for us is a sign not necessarily of their sickness, but of our sickness.
It is impossible for us to get out of our own times. It is perhaps also not possible for us to remove ourselves from the sins of our time. There is a tremendous momentum in an age that sweeps us along, uncaring of our opinions of its course and manner.
All critics are absurd. We sit in foreign-made shorts and shirt, drinking Kentucky bourbon while listening to Indie music, reading Goethe and staring at nice religious icons. Our kin are at the computer and our littlest kin sleep in alien garb. We are all clowns.
And maybe this is it. Maybe, contrary to the whole tone of this writing, if we were to diagnose one of the specific maladies of the modern age, it would be this: that is has made clowns out of all of us. And then, with the door of diagnosis breached, we might say that this is the very purpose of the modern age: to teach us that we are all asses.
My friend's father, a California Republican, heavy drinker, husband in his life to three women, Evangelical/The Secret reader, loser of many jobs, aimless and aware of it, confessed recently to his son: "I think I am one of God's jokes." It was not meant to be cute. It was a confession that life really didn't go as it should have. It was a confession that human beings are stunted and immature - yet aged in the fact that they can see this and name it.
Then again, our misbehaviour in this age, our murder and destruction, should lead us to be cautious in chalking up this age to humour. It would be cruel of a god to use millions of death as an object lesson.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Opinion 86
It was also sweet to see that Mr. Cain was concerned that all religious folk make sure they are loyal to the Constitution first, their religion, second. Yes, I know I know. He was talking about Muslims. Christians don't have a loyalty problem.
Opinion 85: The Republican Debate
We've got to "keep America the hope of the Earth". Yes. The Lord Christ just doesn't really cut it, does he?
Opinion 84
One wonders if it would be better for the battle against homosexuality to be lost in society quickly and decidedly. Then orthodox church's could get back to the business of what they do best: preaching Christ crucified, and could stop wasting resources on fighting a losing battle (often fought in a way that alienates everyone, leads to sick self-righteousness, and creates a special "class" of sinners - Samaritans as it were - that get the shit kicked out of them from the pulpit). As a pastor told me, "the church has always had homosexuals in it and always will. Where else would they go? Every group finds something in Christ compelling, something worthy of worship." I mean, let's be honest: if its not the gays, its the muslims, if its not the muslims, its the socialists...it just keeps going. The Church does not have enemies of flesh and blood. When it tries to, it becomes its own enemy. The faithful will retain the teachings of eternal life. It might not be easy, but it will last. But how much time must we waste and how many must we scape-goat along the way?
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Opinion 83
My daughter is set to be baptized come Sunday. I told her this morning that she has a mere four days left to live as a pagan and that she might do well focus on getting it out of her system. All she does now, of course, is eat, defecate and vomit. I expect most of that to end after her run-in with the laver of regeneration.
I've not yet gotten the heart to tell her that she cannot have milk on Wednesdays and Fridays.
I've not yet gotten the heart to tell her that she cannot have milk on Wednesdays and Fridays.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Opinion 82
Have you ever contemplated the strange sin of fantasizing your own funeral? It feels so satisfying, even for a moment, to consider just how much you'll be missed, and just how remarkable folks will come to realize you were. Of course, you have to be dead to get the praise. What a queer combination of pride and despair.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Opinion 81
It was 1:30 in the morning. He sat on the porch, drinking Hamm's and reading The Scholastic Analysis of Usury, asking himself how it was that his life had come to this.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Opinion 80
We must as Christians learn to live in the new digital reality. Much human potential for good thought and all-around goodness is being traded for the new magic. I shouldn't even say "is being traded", rather it has been traded. It is too late to go back. The barbarians are at the gate. The Turks have sacked Constantinople. Digital goths and heathens are run amok. Dark ages are upon us, lit up by tiny flashing lights. And we Christians were among the throng that opened the gates from within, welcoming the hoards of Thought-Stoppers. We even thought these digital savages could be used by us to our own religious ends. We'd convert the heathen, employ them in our armies, pillage old villages with new warriors, etc. Indeed, they have been used by us to our religious ends with great gusto, though God knows our religious ends and his religious ends rarely meet.
So we must learn to live in an age where people are willingly and enthusiastically making themselves stupider. We are giving away patience. We are casting off thoughtfulness. We have tossed slowness of speech overboard, bored as we were by its voice. We Christians and those around us have become and will continue to be less able, less clear and less human. The City has crumbled. Move on.
So we must learn to live in an age where people are willingly and enthusiastically making themselves stupider. We are giving away patience. We are casting off thoughtfulness. We have tossed slowness of speech overboard, bored as we were by its voice. We Christians and those around us have become and will continue to be less able, less clear and less human. The City has crumbled. Move on.
Opinion 79
Me: Boss, you've got some things going for you and all, but you treat your employees like shit. I quit.
Boss: No, stay. I am sorry. And it's not my fault, really.
Me: Apology accepted but I am still going.
The destined conversation occurred this morning.
Opinion: there are better and worse options, but no good options.
Boss: No, stay. I am sorry. And it's not my fault, really.
Me: Apology accepted but I am still going.
The destined conversation occurred this morning.
Opinion: there are better and worse options, but no good options.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Opinion 78
The last few pages of A Canticle for Leibowitz: yikes, don't read them on your ten minute work break. Or be ready to explain to your co-workers the sudden turn to weepiness.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Opinion 76
On one of the Christian radio stations yesterday: "I remember when television programming started. Each station would come on the air with prayer and devotions. There was no nudity or partial-nudity. No profanity. No inappropriate sexual stuff. Not even an idea of homosexuality, no scenes of sodomy. And the bad guys wore black hats and the good guys wore white".
Followed by a lament that secular programming has led to the downfall of the power of the church in America.
Really, an exercise in completing missing the point. When a group of people has collectively decided to sit down and regularly receive "entertainment" in a passive manner, the content of that entertainment is only an afterthought. The human has already been sold; the door has been opened and culture has walked out - it doesn't much matter what walks in thereafter.
Followed by a lament that secular programming has led to the downfall of the power of the church in America.
Really, an exercise in completing missing the point. When a group of people has collectively decided to sit down and regularly receive "entertainment" in a passive manner, the content of that entertainment is only an afterthought. The human has already been sold; the door has been opened and culture has walked out - it doesn't much matter what walks in thereafter.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Opinion 75
It's the abstraction of big, national economic problems that make them almost impossible to solve. Like sleepily attempting to run in a dream and being confounded by its impossibility, trying to understand the modern technobabble that has run off with economics leads mostly to blinking eyes and a desire to be find a new subject. I suppose its not just economics, though. Wars for "freedom" involving no one we really know and costing the average American nothing (at least not immediately) also suffer from the same hazy fog of abstraction. General vague feelings evoked at words like "equality" or the "American dream" create a fuzzy feeling and then we look down to see who texted us and the thought sweetly slips away.
It's hard to believe anything anymore. I mean believe, not just "feel". I know a lot of people who feel a whole lot about ______ (if its my generation, its the "environment" and "GLBT rights"; if its those on the right, its the "free market" or "exceptionalism"), but these feelings are just vague self-reinforcing road signs, giving the impression and all the accompanying comfort that one is on the right path. But in day to day life it is not these things that drive a person. It is, rather, the desire to just get the hell out of the office by five, or to make it to the bar before happy hour ends, or to keep the social networks updated, or to get enough to buy a new phone because a new phone is just gonna make the whole thing easier, really - trust me (some of these desires, of course, are more noble than others).
What is this vague and gray, sticky and slow block, this thought-aborting malaise? Again I go back to dreams, where one can't seem to raise one's head, or open the door that really needs to be open. Actions are slowly and inexplicably whisked away. We lower our heads and bow to slumber.
What is it? Who the hell knows. It's something straight from the devil to be sure. I received a letter from Comcast the other day, assuring me that their wondrous machines could provide me and mine with "the entertainment services you deserve". Good Lord! Entertainment services I deserve? First and foremost, what the hell are we doing talking about "entertainment services?" It reminds me of the fact that so much of economy has shifted from manufacturing to the service and entertainment industries respectively. We don't make stuff no more (except for lattes, of course), we just buy stuff and get ourselves entertained. And yet this new reality is no longer shocking (was it ever? is the devil too subtle? does he fly under all our radars?). No, it is so prevalent we don't even notice it. We assume entertainment is something owed, something "deserved". And as much as I hoped that upon opening that envelope, the services revealed of which I assuredly deserved would include a monkey and an accordion...
What is this malaise? Presumably it is the exhaustion of a culture that has just laid on its ass for far too many years. A culture that does not work, a culture that is "entertained", a culture whose gods are celebrities of the most pagan sort. We cannot be but exhausted; we haven't done anything in generations There is no nourishment here, only the opportunity to eat more. No thirst is quenched here, but the cocktail parties are endless. No one believes a damn thing anymore, but we all (God spare my blog in this) have opinions tied to feelings. We like to say things that bring comforting sensations.
The first temptation for men of my sort, is ironic detachment. "The idiotic world is dying- let us drink and chuckle". Let us not condemn these men outright. At least they know something is wrong! And at least they drink whiskey (or they should). Beer drinkers are not allowed to scoff at the world in an ironic fashion.
Secondly, and related to the first option, is the turn to the book. For if one hates what has become of the world, one can learn how it happened, one can find the etiology of the nihilism and then stand triumphant! This, of course, is related to the first temptation, as the knowledge provided through study leads quite often to hopelessness, and then to the irony and then, the cupboard!
I suppose there is also a religious option of a more or less apocalyptic leaning. I mean apocalyptic in the worst sense, the "well this whole place is gonna be gone soon and I'm gonna be sitting pretty with m' Lord up in heaven, so really who cares?!" sense.
There are better sorts of the apocalyptic. Saints have achieved these and my stained hands dare not describe them.
No solution is here offered, my friends. If I had it I would have published it and, assuming on its popularity, I would even now be spending these Late and Waning Days in a big bed of cool cash in front of huge screen of some sort, forgetting and making some fun of it.
I leave you with this encouragement.
It's hard to believe anything anymore. I mean believe, not just "feel". I know a lot of people who feel a whole lot about ______ (if its my generation, its the "environment" and "GLBT rights"; if its those on the right, its the "free market" or "exceptionalism"), but these feelings are just vague self-reinforcing road signs, giving the impression and all the accompanying comfort that one is on the right path. But in day to day life it is not these things that drive a person. It is, rather, the desire to just get the hell out of the office by five, or to make it to the bar before happy hour ends, or to keep the social networks updated, or to get enough to buy a new phone because a new phone is just gonna make the whole thing easier, really - trust me (some of these desires, of course, are more noble than others).
What is this vague and gray, sticky and slow block, this thought-aborting malaise? Again I go back to dreams, where one can't seem to raise one's head, or open the door that really needs to be open. Actions are slowly and inexplicably whisked away. We lower our heads and bow to slumber.
What is it? Who the hell knows. It's something straight from the devil to be sure. I received a letter from Comcast the other day, assuring me that their wondrous machines could provide me and mine with "the entertainment services you deserve". Good Lord! Entertainment services I deserve? First and foremost, what the hell are we doing talking about "entertainment services?" It reminds me of the fact that so much of economy has shifted from manufacturing to the service and entertainment industries respectively. We don't make stuff no more (except for lattes, of course), we just buy stuff and get ourselves entertained. And yet this new reality is no longer shocking (was it ever? is the devil too subtle? does he fly under all our radars?). No, it is so prevalent we don't even notice it. We assume entertainment is something owed, something "deserved". And as much as I hoped that upon opening that envelope, the services revealed of which I assuredly deserved would include a monkey and an accordion...
What is this malaise? Presumably it is the exhaustion of a culture that has just laid on its ass for far too many years. A culture that does not work, a culture that is "entertained", a culture whose gods are celebrities of the most pagan sort. We cannot be but exhausted; we haven't done anything in generations There is no nourishment here, only the opportunity to eat more. No thirst is quenched here, but the cocktail parties are endless. No one believes a damn thing anymore, but we all (God spare my blog in this) have opinions tied to feelings. We like to say things that bring comforting sensations.
The first temptation for men of my sort, is ironic detachment. "The idiotic world is dying- let us drink and chuckle". Let us not condemn these men outright. At least they know something is wrong! And at least they drink whiskey (or they should). Beer drinkers are not allowed to scoff at the world in an ironic fashion.
Secondly, and related to the first option, is the turn to the book. For if one hates what has become of the world, one can learn how it happened, one can find the etiology of the nihilism and then stand triumphant! This, of course, is related to the first temptation, as the knowledge provided through study leads quite often to hopelessness, and then to the irony and then, the cupboard!
I suppose there is also a religious option of a more or less apocalyptic leaning. I mean apocalyptic in the worst sense, the "well this whole place is gonna be gone soon and I'm gonna be sitting pretty with m' Lord up in heaven, so really who cares?!" sense.
There are better sorts of the apocalyptic. Saints have achieved these and my stained hands dare not describe them.
No solution is here offered, my friends. If I had it I would have published it and, assuming on its popularity, I would even now be spending these Late and Waning Days in a big bed of cool cash in front of huge screen of some sort, forgetting and making some fun of it.
I leave you with this encouragement.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Opinion 74
This sentiment is of course cliche, but I've been reminded as of late just how much we religious people love a controversy. Let's be honest: Jesus gets boring after a while. But a good fight, a good fight with the theologically misinformed or just plain infidelic - now that's something worth getting excited about. My God, it makes going to church almost worth it.
OPINION 71
DEBT CEILING LIMIT FUNDING DEFAULT BIPARTISANSHIP DOWNGRADE OF CREDIT RATING
HELP!
DEBT CEILING
HELP!
DEBT CEILING
JOHNBO
EHNEROBAMAREID
DEBT CEILING
Monday, July 25, 2011
Opinion 68
Father said that its not so much about finding the strength within oneself to forgive the other - that's nearly impossible; rather, the trick is learning to see how it is that God and his community can and has forgiven the other. God has given us authority to forgive sins. We, in a way, do best to give that authority back to him, as Christ did, in submission: "Father, forgive them...".
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Opinion 65
Lotta talk going around these parts about conversion in and among different churches. I'm told the man who chooses his religion is acting like a Protestant. Good Lord folks, we're all Protestants now days. The Middle Ages have passed. If one is going to be religious in the West these days, by and large one is going to have to choose. And yes, we choose quite often for reasons incorrect and undignified. Does this really need to be a cause of surprise?
Here's the thing, Christianity itself is a choice. At one time or another, many of us decided to try to follow Christ, or at least to tag along with those who said they were following him. There are two roads, aren't there? and we're told that we must choose one or the other. The Gospel itself demands a Protestant choice, a protest against the nations: stick with the political-religious mainstream or give them the finger and follow a crazed Jew of quite unhopeful prospects.
Let me offer a piece of spiritual advice. As one who has seen the divine light, magnified through the shadows of divine unknowable darkness, as one who has... or rather, who knows a man, whom seven years ago ascended through nine heavens (that's right, nine, not a paltry seven) and saw sights -whether in the body or out of the body he doesn't know- as a man who regularly has had fantastic and freaky looking lightsaber-like lasers shooting out of his hands and who on this account has been forced to purchase gloves, as one, quite honestly, who levitates all the time, hovering even over those damn garage door sensors that won't let you run out of the garage after hitting the "shut" button, as one who is clairvoyant, who even now in his gift of clairvoyance realizes that few will believe him and that these shall perish, as one who is a member of the LAST TRUE APOSTOLIC ORTHODOX CHURCH ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH ,OUTSIDE OF RUSSIA, as one who has distuingished between the essence and the engergies on multiple occasions, even over his morning coffee (fair-trade, for God is just) with SOY milk because IT IS A FASTING SEASON, as a humble man, let me offer this advice: if one's conversion leads to the more serious undertaking of the commands of Jesus, and maybe - miracle upon miracles - actually doing one or two of them before death, then the conversion was worth it.
Here's the thing, Christianity itself is a choice. At one time or another, many of us decided to try to follow Christ, or at least to tag along with those who said they were following him. There are two roads, aren't there? and we're told that we must choose one or the other. The Gospel itself demands a Protestant choice, a protest against the nations: stick with the political-religious mainstream or give them the finger and follow a crazed Jew of quite unhopeful prospects.
Let me offer a piece of spiritual advice. As one who has seen the divine light, magnified through the shadows of divine unknowable darkness, as one who has... or rather, who knows a man, whom seven years ago ascended through nine heavens (that's right, nine, not a paltry seven) and saw sights -whether in the body or out of the body he doesn't know- as a man who regularly has had fantastic and freaky looking lightsaber-like lasers shooting out of his hands and who on this account has been forced to purchase gloves, as one, quite honestly, who levitates all the time, hovering even over those damn garage door sensors that won't let you run out of the garage after hitting the "shut" button, as one who is clairvoyant, who even now in his gift of clairvoyance realizes that few will believe him and that these shall perish, as one who is a member of the LAST TRUE APOSTOLIC ORTHODOX CHURCH ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH ,OUTSIDE OF RUSSIA, as one who has distuingished between the essence and the engergies on multiple occasions, even over his morning coffee (fair-trade, for God is just) with SOY milk because IT IS A FASTING SEASON, as a humble man, let me offer this advice: if one's conversion leads to the more serious undertaking of the commands of Jesus, and maybe - miracle upon miracles - actually doing one or two of them before death, then the conversion was worth it.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Opinion 64
"In the last five months of World War II, American bombing raids killed more than 900,000 Japanese civilians, not counting the casualties from the atomic strikes against Hiroshima and Nagasaki." -Read the rest of the numbers here.
Opinion 63
The heat with its wretched humidity was turning his every thought, every prayer and intention to the idea of cold beer. In this way, he was being led by the fires of Earth to the very fires of Hell.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Opinion 62
The Minnesota Compromise:
"The plan would raise about $700 million by delaying payments to school districts and another $700 million by selling bonds on future tobacco settlement payments."
And this from grown men and women My God! It's like putting out a burning building by dropping a bomb on it.
"The plan would raise about $700 million by delaying payments to school districts and another $700 million by selling bonds on future tobacco settlement payments."
And this from grown men and women My God! It's like putting out a burning building by dropping a bomb on it.
Opinion 61
"Just put your faith in the Market. Invest wisely and let go".
Some advice a nice Catholic lady gave to the faithful today, who were worried about having to worry about their investments.
Some advice a nice Catholic lady gave to the faithful today, who were worried about having to worry about their investments.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Opinion 60
Much of what is discussed in T&ST concerning the transfer of sacred from the church to the state is reminiscent of Cavanaugh's The Myth of Religious Violence, which was published (I believe) last year.
-The discomfort at the thought of someone dying on behalf of their religion ("were they stable?") as opposed to the relative comfort with which we react when someone dies for the state.
-A thought experiment: the disgust and sense of atrocity we feel (and rightly so) when someone kills in the name of their religion as opposed to the relative comfort we have at the idea of killing for the state.
-The general opposition: things done for religion are "irrational"; things for the state, "rational".
In general we are much more comfortable with the state. We don't think about it much. Very few of us fret about the state in the same way we fret about "religion". Thus the state in its assumed obviousness ("what else would there be?") gets away, quite literally, with murder.
Here it is frankly: an F-16 will do a much better job of saving your ass than a crucified Jew. The Jerusalem on high is not armed. It offers no protections from the things which we most wish to be protected against. Its sole ruler (not even elected, mind you) is victorious only in light of the defeat of everything we hold dear.
If you are a betting man, bet on the state.
-The discomfort at the thought of someone dying on behalf of their religion ("were they stable?") as opposed to the relative comfort with which we react when someone dies for the state.
-A thought experiment: the disgust and sense of atrocity we feel (and rightly so) when someone kills in the name of their religion as opposed to the relative comfort we have at the idea of killing for the state.
-The general opposition: things done for religion are "irrational"; things for the state, "rational".
In general we are much more comfortable with the state. We don't think about it much. Very few of us fret about the state in the same way we fret about "religion". Thus the state in its assumed obviousness ("what else would there be?") gets away, quite literally, with murder.
Here it is frankly: an F-16 will do a much better job of saving your ass than a crucified Jew. The Jerusalem on high is not armed. It offers no protections from the things which we most wish to be protected against. Its sole ruler (not even elected, mind you) is victorious only in light of the defeat of everything we hold dear.
If you are a betting man, bet on the state.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Opinion 58
Further reflection on T&ST:
The "Free Market" is spoken of by its most vocal proponents (Republican presidential hopefuls and conservative talk show hosts) in tones religious, both in a dogmatic and a charismatic sense. This is its message of hope: the full unleashing of the Free Market, the time to come when regulation and government interference will be done away with, and the Free Market will truly show that it can reinvigorate the nation. Things erring in the world will be set aright. Ma and pa, sitting around their kitchen tables and fretting about their mortgage will suddenly be swept into the great upward motion towards something wealthier and stronger. It is the Idea and the Genius of America. It is America's Gospel, spoken about in quivering anticipatory voices, the vague and ephemeral rock on which all future hopes are placed.
And when confronted with the manifold failures of capitalistic enterprises, it is always the same excuse: well, the market was not really free in this situation. If only x would be allowed to happen, then the Free Market would prove itself. And if a disaster occurs even in a setting where the aforementioned x was allowed to happen, then one will be told that both x and y were really what the Free Market needed to thrive - if only it would have been allowed both! Of course, economics is not a simple art, and a working economy requires many an x and y, yet the suspension of incredulity which one must assent to in order to accommodate every single apologia for the re-occurring failures of the Free Market seems to have no limit.
There is a religious fervor to the defense of the Free Market's doctrines which leads to such bizarre and unthoughtful dead ends that it reminds me in many ways of fundamentalist attempts to fix all the oddities in Scripture, defending them desperately before the standards of MODERN SCIENCE (with its hubristically large caps). The explanations of the inconsistencies in the Gospel become more and more unbelievable and unlikely; the conspiracy theories of hidden scientific evidence that would validate a 7,000 year old earth become more and more elaborate. The defenders of that which really cannot be defended make asses of themselves. And then they carry on.
It is this same bizarro world which many on the Right now live. This transfer of religious fervor and language from things of religion to the market and (in a different but equally important manner, the state) is a most fascinating and terrifying aspect of Modernity. We shall have our gods and sacrifices, we shall have our holy doctrines, nevermind the fact that we are supposedly done being superstitious.
The "Free Market" is spoken of by its most vocal proponents (Republican presidential hopefuls and conservative talk show hosts) in tones religious, both in a dogmatic and a charismatic sense. This is its message of hope: the full unleashing of the Free Market, the time to come when regulation and government interference will be done away with, and the Free Market will truly show that it can reinvigorate the nation. Things erring in the world will be set aright. Ma and pa, sitting around their kitchen tables and fretting about their mortgage will suddenly be swept into the great upward motion towards something wealthier and stronger. It is the Idea and the Genius of America. It is America's Gospel, spoken about in quivering anticipatory voices, the vague and ephemeral rock on which all future hopes are placed.
And when confronted with the manifold failures of capitalistic enterprises, it is always the same excuse: well, the market was not really free in this situation. If only x would be allowed to happen, then the Free Market would prove itself. And if a disaster occurs even in a setting where the aforementioned x was allowed to happen, then one will be told that both x and y were really what the Free Market needed to thrive - if only it would have been allowed both! Of course, economics is not a simple art, and a working economy requires many an x and y, yet the suspension of incredulity which one must assent to in order to accommodate every single apologia for the re-occurring failures of the Free Market seems to have no limit.
There is a religious fervor to the defense of the Free Market's doctrines which leads to such bizarre and unthoughtful dead ends that it reminds me in many ways of fundamentalist attempts to fix all the oddities in Scripture, defending them desperately before the standards of MODERN SCIENCE (with its hubristically large caps). The explanations of the inconsistencies in the Gospel become more and more unbelievable and unlikely; the conspiracy theories of hidden scientific evidence that would validate a 7,000 year old earth become more and more elaborate. The defenders of that which really cannot be defended make asses of themselves. And then they carry on.
It is this same bizarro world which many on the Right now live. This transfer of religious fervor and language from things of religion to the market and (in a different but equally important manner, the state) is a most fascinating and terrifying aspect of Modernity. We shall have our gods and sacrifices, we shall have our holy doctrines, nevermind the fact that we are supposedly done being superstitious.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Opinion 57
"By 1977, they determined, doctors in Seoul were performing 2.75 abortions for every birth -- the highest documented abortion rate in human history."
From this article on sex-selective abortion in Asia, and the Western funding that drove it.
Though I must say, there is a special creepiness in this article stemming from the fact that the author does not so much find moral outrage in the killing of 160 million persons, but in the fact that these killings were an affront to proportion and gender equality. But a good article despite the blaring moral blindness.
From this article on sex-selective abortion in Asia, and the Western funding that drove it.
Though I must say, there is a special creepiness in this article stemming from the fact that the author does not so much find moral outrage in the killing of 160 million persons, but in the fact that these killings were an affront to proportion and gender equality. But a good article despite the blaring moral blindness.
Opinion 56
A striking impression I've received at the beginning of Theology and Social Theory is that of the very set way modernity is popularly explained. The rise of modern is seen as the fruit of the Enlightenment and its love of knowledge and of the human. Yet told from another perspective, a neglected yet undeniably convincing perspective, the rise of modernity is not philanthropia but philmammon and phildynamis (to make up words: the love of capital and the love of power). For the rise of the modern is in historical fact the rise of unbridled capitalism, the rise of the power of the nation-state, and the startling collaboration of the two sans virtue or a virtuous end. Modernity's parents are therefore wealth and power, and the love for these two as an end. If the human, if knowledge and science and the artistic can be used by these two to further themselves, then indeed they are supported and celebrated. But one would be a fool to assume that these are considered worthy of celebration in and of themselves. Not, at least, by the ones calling the shots.
Milbank notes another interesting fact in that the aristocracy threw away their actual weapons and tendency towards engaging in warfare for the "playful agon" of the marketplace. The rich no longer were to fight on fields of battle, but rather in skyscrapers. Waterloo became Wall Street, so to speak. Yet this was not the whole story, for the rich only managed to escape actual combat by the actual combat of the poor. The Wall Streeter or the Senator (and is there now a difference?) was allowed to enjoy playful combat because the young boy from Arkansas was actually being shot at somewhere far away. And yet the proponents of such a system of government and commerce would call it the greatest system for peace and security and wealth that the world had ever seen - and many of the poor on whose backs it was built and by whose blood it was financed believed them, and voted for them and died for them.
Milbank notes another interesting fact in that the aristocracy threw away their actual weapons and tendency towards engaging in warfare for the "playful agon" of the marketplace. The rich no longer were to fight on fields of battle, but rather in skyscrapers. Waterloo became Wall Street, so to speak. Yet this was not the whole story, for the rich only managed to escape actual combat by the actual combat of the poor. The Wall Streeter or the Senator (and is there now a difference?) was allowed to enjoy playful combat because the young boy from Arkansas was actually being shot at somewhere far away. And yet the proponents of such a system of government and commerce would call it the greatest system for peace and security and wealth that the world had ever seen - and many of the poor on whose backs it was built and by whose blood it was financed believed them, and voted for them and died for them.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Opinion 54
Thoughts on the University of Minnesota, after three years:
Some Cons:
The vapidity and lack of intellectual curiosity of the student body.
The same for a healthy share of the faculty.
The vague haziness of an assumed leftism, which works itself out not so much in elegant public defenses of its content but in little nods, sighs, eyes rolled, looks of disgust, etc. It is than unspoken sense that “we’re all on the same side here”. Whose side? Tenure and Obama bumper stickers?
Absurdly large class sizes
Mindless, mindless, mindless mission statements and self-promotions loaded with terrible and technocratic prose.
Some Pros:
A surprisingly efficient financial aid department that doesn’t leave one with a bureaucratically induced headache.
Professors, few though they may be, who are gems.
By and large an aesthetically pleasing campus.
The ability to obtain from time to time interesting speakers who speak interesting speeches on interesting topics – even in the Classics department. Followed, bless God, by free wine and food.
A good library with a large and virgin theology section.
Many bars (all of them, admittedly terrible) close to campus.
And a general sense of camaraderie in the CNES department, due mostly to its small size and oddball denizens.
Obviously the cons and many of the pros are similar to any American university.
Some Cons:
The vapidity and lack of intellectual curiosity of the student body.
The same for a healthy share of the faculty.
The vague haziness of an assumed leftism, which works itself out not so much in elegant public defenses of its content but in little nods, sighs, eyes rolled, looks of disgust, etc. It is than unspoken sense that “we’re all on the same side here”. Whose side? Tenure and Obama bumper stickers?
Absurdly large class sizes
Mindless, mindless, mindless mission statements and self-promotions loaded with terrible and technocratic prose.
Some Pros:
A surprisingly efficient financial aid department that doesn’t leave one with a bureaucratically induced headache.
Professors, few though they may be, who are gems.
By and large an aesthetically pleasing campus.
The ability to obtain from time to time interesting speakers who speak interesting speeches on interesting topics – even in the Classics department. Followed, bless God, by free wine and food.
A good library with a large and virgin theology section.
Many bars (all of them, admittedly terrible) close to campus.
And a general sense of camaraderie in the CNES department, due mostly to its small size and oddball denizens.
Obviously the cons and many of the pros are similar to any American university.
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