Giftmas

As much as I like that we have an entire holiday season (Advent-the Christmas season) to celebrate the miraculous birth of the Word Incarnate, I can honestly say that I have always been a bit of a "Scrooge" when it comes to Christmas. It isn't because of the emphasis on the birth, and it isn't because of the family. It is only partly because of the endless Christmas music being played right after Thanksgiving, the store ads encouraging everyone to buy, the crowds at shopping centers and the high running emotions of everyone else. These things don't bother me as much as one particular thing: the gift exchange.
The reason why I always dread the gifts is simple: It's not really a system of giving. For one thing, often times we get what we expect. We ask for certain things, thereby, what we receive is not truly a gift, but rather is the fulfillment of a request. I ask friends for favors from time to time, and if a friend fulfills this, I don't really understand the fulfillment of a request to be on the level of gift, but more closely related to the level of promise fulfillment.
This leads to the second point. Gift exchange is exactly that: it's an exchange. I hope to get something good from those whom I am close to who have more resources. Likewise, I have to give according to my own resources. However, I am expected to give to those who give to me and I, in turn, expect a gift from those to whom I give presents. Furthermore, though I fully intend to spend something appropriate to my means, I feel guilty if my gift does not approximate the value of the received gift, and likewise the giver feels slighted. This can lead to the exact opposite goal of Christmas, which ought to bring people together, rather than create rifts within them. For this reason, Christmas gift exchange is even more emotionally and socially disruptive than is birthday gift exchange, in which one person receives with no expectation to provide similar gifts.
Third, the gifts almost always are expected to be some material possession. The children need to have the brand new toy advertised on cartoons. Adult friends may expect a fine wine or liquor, or perhaps jewelry. The gift's worth is measured not in the uniqueness, or the emotional worth, but rather the economic worth. A six-pack of beer that I brewed might be nice, but ONLY if my brew itself turned out well. A handmade piece of furniture, or art is only a "good" gift if it measures up to my expectation of aesthetic appeal. If I write you a poem, it better be framed, or published. Even these gifts, however, have more appeal to them than a gift of time. If I swear a few hours of my time to you to talk or fish or see a movie, this is not considered an adequate gift, though, in all reality, this gift improves the relationship much more than does a shiny new computer, car or television.
For this reason, gift giving functions more as an economy than as gift. Jacques Derrida speaks of the "economy of gift" an economy of giving and taking. However, he argues, the true gift is the one that can not be returned.
I agree with this. Gifts, as gifts, are not given as a sort of promissory note for something of equal value. They are not vouchers guaranteeing future gifts. This mindset, this "economics of giving" mentality creates for us a selfish social system. What kind of gift are we giving if we expect a return? Are we merely making an investment? And, if so, what is our purpose in giving the gift? We say we give gifts to each other on Christmas to commemorate Jesus' life. Sometimes we use the rationale of the gifts of the Magi, other times we compare our gifts to Jesus' gift of life (or death, to use Derrida's words). What did the Magi receive for their gifts? Certainly it wasn't eternal life, for that was given to all of humanity. What did Jesus receive for His gift? He received death! How can we expect gifts if we say we are celebrating the Incarnation?
Gift giving is strange in this way, especially in contemporary Western society. In some cultures, like certain Asian cultures and the ancient Greeks, gifts were given from a patron to the object of his affection. The wealthier, more established men or women would shower their disciples with gifts, with no expectation of return, for the mentor would probably pass on before he could be repaid. In certain Native American cultures, gifts were given as a sign of respect, and those who received them only accepted them if she deemed them worthy of her. While this fosters a sort of tributary system, the receiving party never expected to repay the gift, and thus it was, in ways, a true gift. In other cultures, gift exchange demonstrates who has the dominant position in a relationship. Whoever gives the greater gift is the more powerful and the other person is indebted, though will not pay the debt off with another gift.
While these three examples don't necessarily demonstrate what Derrida and I mean by gift, they do represent the purpose of gift much better than does the Western style of giving. For one thing, in these systems gifts are not expected. Thus, the gift itself comes as a surprise and is not a request, nor an expectation. Second, the gifts are not meant to be repayment or to equalize parties. This is important because the relationship develops a sort of dependence quality to it. The parties are loyal to each other because one feels indebted to the other, and the other is loyal out of respect for the loyalty received. In the Western system, we try to achieve independent equilibrium, maintaining that we owe nothing to anyone and preventing true relational bonding. Third, if a gift of a certain value is not expected, the gift does not have to take the form of something financially quantifiable. I can freely give you unique advice. You can freely take time you would otherwise not to spend time with me. He can devote his weekend to making sure things go well for her on an important occasion. We already do these things, but we don't consider them gifts because we have become caught up in the notion that gift must entail retail value.
Derrida's definition of gift, then, is something that cannot be repaid, something that cannot be expected or requested and cannot be thanked. It must either be anonymous or circumstances must make it impossible for the donor to receive recognition. It cannot be out of request, otherwise it is merely fulfillment of promise and thus functions more contractually than beneficently. It must be of some nature that the receiver cannot make restitution, otherwise it is merely purchase or trade.
Jesus tells us not to give for recognition (Matthew 6:1). Those who "blow a trumpet" or otherwise make a scene of their donation do so only to gain something. It is not a true gift. It is an exchange for fame, patronage, favorable recognition or legacy. Those who "do alms in secret," on the other hand, don't receive earthly reward. Of course, the verse states that God will reward those who do alms which sets up the problematic situation of doing alms to get in heaven (read: Indulgences), however, the moral theologian realizes that while the Scripture states that God will reward those who do "invisible alms" the truly beneficent person will do alms out of a sense of the good and not for some Karmic reward. The point is not whether we receive God's blessings openly but rather that we learn to enjoy giving without recognition.
Jesus also tells us when we have banquets to invite those who cannot ever hope to repay (the poor and the handicapped) (Luke 14:13). Once again, there is the promise of some sort of supernatural reparation, but, once again, the point here is not that we receive some great reward in Paradise. Rather, the point is that we ought to have those who can never repay us owe us. This is not to lord it over them, but rather, it is to teach us not to require the repayment of everything. We give to those who cannot repay us because it is no longer a gift if we have been repaid for it.
Jesus, as a gift Himself, represents the way in which gifts do NOT need to be financially estimable. "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son" (John 3:16). What monetary value is the crucifixion of Jesus? How does one calculate salvation? Is there a special box on our tax forms for the gift of Grace? One cannot put a price tag on a human life, especially if that life happens to be God become man. Thus, we see that God demonstrates this gift form best of all, for no amount of money can be equivalent to the gift of Jesus.
We see in Jesus, then, the ultimate, and true, gift. In Jesus' death, He gave us something that He could receive no personal recognition for. While we now venerate and worship Jesus, we cannot personally thank Him, and even as he hung on the cross, he received not so much as an expression of gratitude. Rather, he received scorn and abuse from most, and, at best, the weeping and wailing of a few. He also gave us something we can never pay back the "gift of death." Jesus died for us, and we cannot, in turn, die for Jesus in the same way. Jesus' death provides for us. The best we can do, in turn, is to die in His name, though it does nothing personally for Him, for He is already saved and is already risen (however, in the case of the martyrs, if it comes down to dying for Him and denying Him, much theology suggests right relation with Christ requires not denying Him). Finally, as previously mentioned, there is no monetary value one can fix for the Passion, death and resurrection.
Thus, if I might leave but one thing with you for this Christmas season, and indeed, for all year around, it's that the true meaning of Christmas is not found in the manger, nor the jolly red-suited saint and especially not in the public exchange of items of equal value. Rather, the true meaning of Christmas lies in Christ's ultimate gift for us, a gift of death and life, a gift that we can never repay and a gift that we can never thank Him enough for.

Nihilism vs Mysticism (revisited)

This piece probably should have been written in September or October at the latest. Two months ago, a 35 year-old man dressed in all white on Yom Kippur, walked up the stairs of Harvard Memorial Church shot himself in the temple with a silver revolver in front of a group of tourists. This, however, was not some sort of spectacle or art piece. It was, in fact, a statement, but it was a statement that concluded his 1905 page Magnum Opus, a book he entitled Suicide Note. Essentially, the piece is a Nihilistic anthem, an explanation of why the world is absurd and why life is not worth living.
I find myself resonating with his words. I feel he found a truth. In that, I admire him. However, what I find tragic is not that he felt this way, but that while he found a truth, he did not find the truth.
The truth he found was follows thusly. He argued that if all value systems (moral theories, philosophies and religions) are equally plausible, than none have precedence. If none have precedence, then all are equally right, and just as equally wrong. If all have equal value to them, then there is no single truth and every attempt to explain life worth is just as wrong as any other. If this is the case, then life has no real inherent value. Thus, there is no value in actually living and the only truth comes in not living.
I find his reasoning and his logic completely valid. However, where he and I would differ is that I reject his first claim. I don't think all value systems are equal. As a Catholic and as a Theologian, I think that some (particularly Christian theologies) have more precedence over others. Thus, my argument for the value of human life stems from a Christian understanding of life, salvation, faith, hope, the eschaton and God's Providence.
Both his position and mine are very controversial positions to take today. Very few people today would agree with him in saying that human life is devoid of intrinsic value, but similarly, the upper echelon of society would also reject my premise that human value lies in our relation to God. The sister of Mitchell Heisman, the suicide, said that had she known her brother was intending to commit suicide, she would have tried to convince him otherwise. She would have tried to convince him to make his own value for life. This is a position I find that many people take up today. She went on to admit, however, that he probably knew she would do that and thus never told her. Heisman's choice was not made because nobody had tried to convince him to make value of his life. Rather, it was the ultimate realization that making value for oneself is lying. This would be well for many, but his goal was to find truth, and accepting a lie for truth would not have satisfied him. He had come to the critical Nihilism vs Mysticism moment, and found that the competition of differing mysticisms left him with only the choice of abject Nihilism.
At this point, I would like to try to reconstruct how it is that a position like Heisman's becomes possible in our modern culture as well as how his sister's position becomes socially acceptable though logically absurd.
Heisman noted the pluralism of value systems. In our post-Reformation, post-Enlightenment, globalized society, there is almost no end to the value systems appropriated by people around us. In Medieval Europe, all were Catholics, with the exception of the Jews who were relegated to a lower status in society. Even post-Reformation, regions generally remained homogenous with a sect rather than accepting multiple religions in the region. Today, in large cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles we often encounter on a daily basis people who are Protestant, Orthodox, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and even Taoist. People follow Kant's Universal Law or Utilitarianism. There is no end to the systems one can follow, including agnosticism and atheism, arguably non-systems (which, in itself, makes them systems, though not very systematic).
Furthermore, our society has lost the original sense of value. In place of quality, quantity has become the norm. Rather than speaking of inherency or universality, we have changed our view point to an emphasis on quantity and empiricism. Post-Enlightenment thought has led us to value not only what can be empirically proven, but what is popular. This Age of Democracy that we live in insists that something is right because we say it is. While I have decried the risk in place in this thinking in the last couple pieces, it should suffice to say that today we often think that something can only actually said to be right if there is unanimity, or at least something close to that.
At this point, we have enough to understand the situation. With value pluralism being a reality in our culture as well as the divergence of opinion and adherence to different systems, we wind up in a relativistic culture. The relativistic culture makes the following claim: "There are many ways that people follow for understanding value in their life. A definitive acceptance or rejection of a system would show that it is wrong. Very few systems are widely rejected (such as Satanism or extreme fundamentalism) and very few systems are widely accepted (such as patriotism and rights-based morality), thus most cannot be shown to be either resoundingly right nor resoundingly wrong. Thus, most have equal plausibility and their acceptance or rejection is a matter of mere personal preference."
Many people today live by a credo that mimics or mirrors the previously set out philosophy. Generally, it is the excuse adhered to for doing whatever somebody wishes to do. The excuse is that he or she did not see the act as wrong and the fact that someone else does is merely a matter of the value systems they both accept and reject. This eliminates universal right and wrong except in extreme cases (such as rape, and murder). However, this is a bad ethic. No good (not in the sense of morally good but in the sense of reasonable or rational) ethicist has ever taken a relativist stance, not even the antichristian Friedrich Nietzsche. "Pure relativism" is a sham, a cop-out for hedonism. It is the new opiate of the people--an seemingly rational philosophy that allows people to do what they please with no dire consequence.
Heisman realized that relativism is a sham. Perhaps we might declare him one of the few pure relativists. He plainly saw that if all systems have equally viable claims to truth, then there is no real truth and life has no real value except for a lie. The tragedy of Mitchell Hesiman was not that he did not understand the value of life as much as it was that he understood what few other relativists have the courage to admit--that if all is equal, then all is valueless.
This, then, is where I assert the value of Christianity. Though this is deserving of an entire apologetic, suffice it to say for now that even this claim is a difficult one to make. The Catholic Church, since Vatican II, has tried to acknowledge the inherent value of other value systems, but at the same time it has always maintained that it solely has claim to predominance. One might ask, "What gives you the right?" The simple answer to that is that someone NEEDS to claim that right. A look at apologetics, including Ss Thomas Aquinas and Augustine and Blessed John Cardinal Newman, will answer this question better than I can or will, but the point is that IF no one does claim the right, then, rationally, logically, we are forced to make the same tragic conclusion that Mitchell Heisman made.

Chaos, Anarchy, and the contemporary world

It occurs to me that the term "Anarchy" has become synonymous with "wrongful disorder." It is seen not as simple disorder, the result of which can be something grand such as the American Revolution (certainly disorder) or struggles for civil rights. Rather, "Anarchy" is viewed as being inherently pernicious--it has been given an ontological polemical attribute. Other words that have such distinction are "defamation," "murder," and "robbery"--words which, as part of their definition, imply that they are wrong.
It is my contention, however, that 1) anarchy is not inherently wrong 2) what we often mean by "Anarchy" is "chaos," 3) this polemical label is, in large part, a product of our modern age and 4) finally, I would like to explain why anarchy might not be too bad.
What I would like to clarify first is what "Anarchy" means. A common definition is "lack of government" or rather "lack of order." This latter definition is certainly false. It is easy to understand "Anarchy" as lack of order since the prefix "a" in Greek often means "no" (such as Atheist, and Apathy) and "arch" often means "government" (monARCH, oligARCH). I would like to note, however that "arch" does not mean "crat" (theoCRAT, demoCRAT, aristoCRAT), which rightly means "ruling." Anarchy does not imply no ruling feature or sensibility, rather it means no central body determining what one does. In its purest form, anarchy means what democracy tries to mean, that is the people decide. In its most adulterated form, it means something like chaos.
Before I get to that part, however, let me first explain the position of a right-minded anarchist. The pure anarchist is not a deviant bent on the destruction of all society and culture. Early anarchists were often affiliated with Marxism, though not all have been. Essentially, the anarchist feels that the government is more interested in self-preservation and self-furthering than it is with the people. It follows the mantra "power corrupts" and the pure anarchist understands why Communism failed in the Soviet Union--because the party forgot the people it had originally promised to save. In this way, the anarchist is often more of a realist. He knows that campaign promises are idle talk and that as much as politicians discuss how to help the poor, they deliberate twice as much about increasing their own salaries and spend countless hours on the road fund-raising in order to maintain their position of prominence. In this way, many Americans today would agree with the original position of the anarchist, however, they disagree where the anarchist decides that having no government to lord over the people is better. This will be addressed more later on.
We often think of anarchy as "chaos" because we understand government as bringing about order. When we think "Anarchy" we think of a number of scenarios 1) the lawlessness of the French Revolution (or even the Soviet Revolution), 2) primeval tribal warfare and 3) post-apocalyptic social Darwinism. If we look at these three examples, we'll see why what we mean is chaos and not really anarchy. In example one, we need to realize that though, technically, revolution is a state of anarchy (because there is, quite literally, no one governing), it is only a transitional state. In the example of the French Revolution, the most gruesome and ghastliest part of the Revolution was the Reign of Terror, which was not anarchy in the least, but rather tyranny. In the second example, we ought to realize that establishing one's society is not really anarchy, and that tribal warfare has not really gone away. Rather, instead of killing a few men with bows and arrows, our advanced government has given us the ability to kill hundreds of thousands at an instant, which leads us to the third case. This, once again, is the crow magnon sense of anarchy. People inevitably in science-fiction, resort to forming tribes once again and the struggle to survive is only a primordial drive (that we still have today). In the first situation, what we fear is that the wrong people will seize power, so we wish to hold on to a government which we have a sort of control over (however Democracy should not be considered to be infallible, as the National Socialist Party was popularly elected in Germany). In the last two examples, what we are afraid of is a lack of resources necessary for survival. In a very real way, this is what a lot of human drama is still about today and people are shot on the streets of Boston, New York and Los Angeles everyday for resources. What we are really afraid of is the utter chaos of the Reign of Terror and the utter chaos of instability of resources.
Now, it must be understood that anarchy has been feared for literally thousands of years. One only needs to read the Book of Judges in the Bible, which most scholars date to pre-exilic Israel (around 800 BC), wherein the lack of a governing body ultimately resorts to the lawlessness of a community gang raping a man's wife, and the resulting near-genocide of the tribe of Benjamin (Judges 19-21). However, though society has had this polemic against lack of governance, it must also be remembered that the rest of the Old Testament (TeNaK) warns against the abuse of power of kings.
The modern polemic against anarchy, as near as I can tell, begins with the writings of Hobbes, realistically. Thomas Hobbes wrote that people were inherently evil and needed government to protect them from themselves. This thought has been very influential in political science. Even his contemporary, John Locke, who took a much more moderate and optimistic approach, stated that though people were probably good, government was meant to serve the people. What is often forgotten, however, is that he also advocated revolution when the government fails (a very influential position for the Founding Fathers). Since Hobbes and Locke, governments have attained enough power to incur the nationalism that created the First World War, per Hobbes, and have been subject to many coups and revolutions, per Locke. In America, however, the note has been Nationalism since early on. Even when many states sought to reassert their own power in the War of Northern Aggression, the Union was reunited with the result of even greater governmental authority as well as the beneficial result of the end of chattel slavery. During the World Wars and the Cold War Era, patriotism was of utmost importance, and loyalty to the government we have was absolutely demanded. Even as the situation became more acceptable to be critical of the government, we had the events of September 11, 2001, which brought back the need for a strong national ethos. So it has been that ever since the late 1860s dissent has not been an acceptable option in this country.
Part of this has been the very propaganda spread by our own government, and much of this has been reinforced by national emergencies. Worrying about the invasion of the Japanese, the Russians or the Terrorists brings with it a certain amount of need for security, found in our government. Here Hobbes and Locke are proven right, and their position of anti-anarchy is only more strengthened. Being "unAmerican" has at times (possibly even today) been tantamount to being a cannibal or a Satanist.
Furthermore, the image of anarchists has been tainted by the counter-culturalists. The Sex Pistols' song "Anarchy in the U.K." became, for years, the anthem by which "punks" and other subversive, non-conformists rallied under. The chant "Anarchy" has been lifted high in punk concerts and other events which the more established and sophisticated of the populace see as pernicious and uncouth. Thus, since the 1970s, the very notion of anarchy has been taken up by those who incur a negative reaction from much of the population while at the same time being demonized by Cold War Era nationalism.
Finally, I would like to make my claim for the virtues (if I might be so bold) to be found in anarchy. Some of my favorite anarchists include Dorothy Day, Ammon Hennacy, and Daniel Berrigan. All of these people have been involved in the Catholic Worker Movement, a movement which seeks to eliminate poverty, sees the inherent worth of people, and stands against violence. None of these people ought to be considered the antichrist. I would argue the contrary. Dorothy Day was one of the founders of the movement and many have called for her canonization since she died in 1985. Ammon Hennacy, though he left the Church, picketed with the migrant workers in the 60s, often worked manual labor, put his two daughters through college, and took care of many of the poor in Salt Lake City for ten years. Daniel Berrigan, though most controversial, was a priest, and worked hard to fight war (often at the cost of damaging property) as well as set up his fair share of Houses of Hospitality. All of these people were for order, all of them were for discipline, but none of them were for the abuses that they saw the government bringing.
Additionally, looking at a few things government has done for us is in part helpful. With the exception of World War II, none of the major wars we have been involved in over the last 100 years have been necessary. We lost Vietnam, we're still in Afghanistan, we defended Saddam Hussein then ten years later deposed him and were involved in a war only about national pride (World War I). Additionally, even though health care has recently been re-evaluated, there is still no "public option." Roads are in disrepair and families are starving while congress men and women have multiple homes. People who are normally friends get in heated, and sometimes friendship damaging, arguments about why one thinks the president is doing a good job but the other disagrees. Politicians spend time that could be used to combat real issues campaigning. Congress itself votes along party lines, not on conscience lines, effectively creating a veritable deadlock. Since the development of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles, and especially both our and the Soviet Union's stockpiling of them, we now have to face the very real threat that we could all very well die at a moment's notice. Tax cuts to the rich ensure that they get richer while the Middle Class and the poor have to bear the brunt of that burden.
Now try to imagine a world of anarchy. Without inserting the notion of chaos let me define: You will live according to your conscience, and you will do what's in your best interest. We often think that government dictates our morality, but the truth is that it does not. The rules that we agree with, we follow. If speed limits were an issue of morality (which they are, in reality), we would be a lot more hesitant to speed. The real place we get our morality is from those we most closely associate with--our parents, church leaders, other relatives and friends. If we break the law, it is likely because "we hang out with the wrong friends." If we are polite drivers, it is likely because our parents or teachers taught us to be polite. If we take care of the poor, it might be because a sermon had a great influence on us.
Government, in reality, does two things: 1) it enforces a certain brand of morality through the law and 2) it trivializes morality by making it an issue of punishment. Without government, we would not have these. In the first place, our idea of morality would be different. We wouldn't think that allowing people from a certain region come move near us because of opportunity constituted a grave injustice, nor would we think that taking care of the poor and elderly is solved by our paying taxes. We would have to come to grips with a new, more pure, brand of morality--one that transcends the legalism of politics. Secondly, we would have to follow morality for new reasons. We would not shoplift, not because we are afraid of being caught and being arrested but because we feel inherently it is wrong, or that we would not like that to happen to us, or that God would not like it. The speed we would drive would not be determined by our sense of whether we could avoid being pulled over, but rather by what we thought was safe. In short, we would live morally because we found some greater reason in doing it (whether it is religious, deontological, happiness or fairness).
For a more practical example, let us examine murder. It is easy to say that without government, everyone would go about killing other people. To begin with, this happens already. Furthermore, one of the excuses for using the death penalty is that it has deterrent force. Were this the case, after the first or second, or even third person was killed for murder, there would be no more executions. Unfortunately, the truth is that we still do execute people, that people still do commit murder. Death Penalty is no more of a deterrent than is life in prison. On top of this, people don't kill others for the same reason they don't violate all sorts of other moral codes. Either they think life itself is sacred, or they are afraid that someone will take vengeance, or they fear the judgment of God, or they just think that it's wrong. Government does not determine right or wrong, it simply determines legal and illegal.
To conclude, in a world of legalism and government, right is determined by numbers. We win a war if we lose fewer people than we need to. We adjust laws if a certain amount of people die. Our lives are merely a number that has no real significance by itself. In an anarchistic society, persons can truly be appreciated for who they are. We follow the Golden Rule. We adhere to Natural Law. We take care of people for who they are AND we don't have to worry about the threat of nuclear devastation or of paying the salaries of people whose concerns are not our own.

The Modern Pantheon

In an age where "atheism" for once actually means the denial of a theos, of a god, and where people proudly where the moniker, it seems self evident that either one worships a god or doesn't. Of course, the question becomes exacerbated when people ask "Which god? The Christian god? The Jewish god? Allah? One of the Muslim gods?" And while the discussion of monotheism, deism, pantheism, is an interesting subject, that is not the subject of this post.
I do, however, need to treat of pantheism, at least briefly. I was informed some weeks ago by a friend that her husband considers himself a pantheist--that is, seeing God in everything, and everything in God. This is not pantheism, in the traditional sense, but rather universalism. My fear is that people do use "pantheism" in this way, or to say "worshiping all gods," a sort of religious relativistic pluralism. By pantheism, I mean the term that is related to the word "pantheon." By pantheism, I wish to mean worshiping all the approved gods. The pantheon of Rome, for example, included Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, but it also included the Emperor, and even, according to Acts 17:23, to a certain extent the god of monotheism. These were all culturally and religiously acceptable gods to worship. By religiously, I mean that the official religion of Rome allowed that one could pray to any and all of these gods (at certain times, it was necessary, as with the martyrs not praying to the emperor). The concept of worshiping approved gods will be central to this post.
In contemporary culture, one may rightly belong to a specific religion, say Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sheikism, Taoism, Shamanism or any other worshiping body one might know of, and we consider this all fine and well. In America, especially, we say that one has a right, and it is a Constitutionally given right. However, there are still a significant number of people who do not consider themselves "religious." This list includes the skeptics, the atheists, the agnostics, the non-active believers, the "spiritualists," the "mystics," the Nihilists, the scientistic, et cetera. While these people may state that they don't participate in worship of a deity, my argument is that they do, and in fact, they often one of the following gods of the modern, or perhaps Post Modern, pantheon.
The first god I wish to mention is the god of mysticism. This is the god of divination, psychics, omens, good luck charms, astrology, and other quasi-mystical things. This correlates to the god Hermes or Mercury in the Greco-Roman pantheons. Today, we don't consider this god to be an actual anthropomorphic deity, but rest assured, many of us do believe in it. For the sake of the post, we'll call her Lady Luck. This is the goddess whom we think magically makes things work. "I didn't wear my lucky socks, that's why the Irish lost!" The realistic correlation of a pair of smelly socks and an entire football team winning is absurd, but we often posit such bad fortunes to our lack of properly divining. "A stranger smiled at me, that must mean I'll do well on my test." Another example of non-correlative, though perhaps coincidental happenings. I shall not beleaguer the issue, but I hope the point is clear.
Similarly, we consort her twin sister, Lady Fate. This is how "true loves" find each other. It isn't a matter of compatibility or openness to another person, but "the forces of the universe" bring it together. Lady Fate is considered to be a stronger deity than her sister, and is attributed with "if it's meant to be, it will be." There is a sense, tied with her, that we are incapable of forging our own experiences or controlling them. She is associated with Stoic-like people, the unambitious, and those who want follow Lady Fate. One might think of the Muses or the Fates (or the Norns if you follow Norse mythology).
Next we have the god of Chaos. The position of Chaos is randomness, unintelligibility, meaninglessness, Nihilism, disruption, the void, confusion, depression et cetera. This god may have the most followers up till now (though one should not pretend he cannot worship more than one of these deities). The Post Modern age has given rise to paintings, literature, philosophy, cinema, television, sculptures, music and many other media that pay homage to Chaos. The Existentialists hinted at him, but many atheists and agnostics also follow him. The Nihilists especially follow him. The main thing that this god conveys is a sense of confusion at meaning and a loss of hope for reality. One might think of any number of gods of Chaos from ancient pantheons: Loki, Hades, Pluto, and others.
In opposition to this god, we have the god of scientific certitude. Scientism is the position that many skeptics take up, claiming that nothing but what can be positively proven is worth talking about. There is no value to anything that cannot be quantitatively measured. This god, additionally, often exhibits a very jealous quality, demanding absolute adherence. Note well, though, that scientists may be Christian or Jew or Muslim, but they will not grant Science their religious devotion. Their is an ironic quality of this god, however, in that often it demands adherence to principles that have not yet been proven. I don't mean the Big Bang or Evolution, but rather String Theory, Multiple Universe Theory, and, of course, time travel. The only equivalent I might think of is Athena, though this analogy is incomplete since Athenian wisdom is not the same as Post-Enlightenment science.
Additionally, we have the goddess of Materialism. This goddess is worshiped by capitalists, economists, aesthetes, the rich and famous, and business men and women. Her rewards are the most apparent. Devotion to her brings real material wealth. One may devote her life to learning to make money, with priestess-like devotion, and so long as she's a worthy priestess, she will be richly rewarded. Priest-like discipline, found in investment bankers and stock brokers, brings its rewards, and if the market goes badly, it's likely that the goddess needs to be appeased. This consumerist god has no parallel in the ancient world, as capitalism is a modern phenomenon.
Then comes the god of Excess. This is the Bacchic god of college students, the famous and scandalous, alcoholics, narcotics, gluttons, and any other hedonistic devotee. Parties are the common form of worship, and those (I consider myself one of them, to my detriment) who follow this cult find themselves looking for chances to worship as often as possible. Often, devotion to this god causes disruption of family, legal consequences and humiliation. This god is the obvious parallel of Bacchus and Dionysus.
Finally comes the god of Patriotism. This god has more voice than any other god does. This is the god that tells us that the interest of the United States comes before our ability to help any other country. This is the god that tells us that if we do not support the war, we hate our troops. This is the god who tells us that if we don't vote, we have no voice to protest. His adherents are legion. And the worst part is that this god claims more adherents to other faiths, such as Christianity, Judaism and Islam, encouraging them to confuse their country obligations with their religious duties. The phrase "In God we trust" on our currency, for example, is an example of how Patriotism has overcome our Christian, Jewish, or Muslim sensibilities to tell us that being a Christian and a Patriot are synonymous. This god says civil disobedience, pacifism, and protest are all despicable, and that no good Christian should ever do so. This is the god of propaganda. This is the god of politics. This is the god of "American tradition." This is the most noxious worship, as it defines all our other practices. Consider, for example, the Messianic way people thought of President Obama's election, though as a president he has really done about average. This is not an attack on him, but rather a question of the idolization of political figures and national pride.
This concludes the pantheon. While we might not actually profess faith in any of these "gods," nor pray to them, we do pay homage to them (in the form of wearing symbols, devoting our careers to them, and other practices of religious devotion). There are undoubtedly more gods the average American, or simply Westerner pays devotion to, without thinking about. This is simply a brief summary. And while for an atheist or agnostic, devotion to these gods might be fine, if we consider ourselves monotheists, we need to seriously re-evaluate the religious devotion we pay to various things. As a Catholic, for example, if the United States declared war on the Vatican, what would my reaction be? Rather than trying to discern God's will, am I trying to divine, to find omens or just trust that the stars will align just right for me? Do I spend time trying to earn money at the cost of anything I hold sacred?
Perhaps the problem with the new pantheism arises from the rise of Christendom. After all, early Christians had to consider their faith in life and death terms, but what do we sacrifice for it today? Or do we rather offer up sacrifices to things other than what we profess to believe?

Democracy and Truth

A common mistake people make these days is to suppose if the majority supposes X, then X must be true. A more common mistake people make is that since the majority has supported various different things over the years, then there is no truth.
The first of these two mistaken positions is what some, including Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, have called "The Tyranny of the Majority." This is a complex issue that ought to be fleshed out to a certain extent. To begin with, there are times when the most vocal become the easiest to follow. Those who are not settled upon a position are the easiest to sway and often strong rhetoric and heavy appeal to the ethos of people helps win over favor. This is precisely how the Roman Republic became the Roman Empire. Other times, the majority can be steered in a certain way. For example, in the last election, the majority of Americans were unhappy with the way politics had been decided two years ago. With a little crafty rhetoric, the Republican Party was able to win over Americans who two years ago had been won over by the rhetoric of the Democratic Party. Finally, the majority can be swayed to support something that honestly resonates with their emotions, but may not be completely right. Post World War I Germans were unhappy because of the terrible way in which the Wiemar Republic had handled the economic disaster, but their support for the National Socialist Party was very misplaced.
Because of this sociological phenomenon, repeated through history, the reigning voice of the majority cannot be viewed as fully true. Very few rationally-minded people today would support NAZIs, chattel slavery, female genital manipulation or witch hunts. Yet at some point in history, each of these had been the opinion of the majority, or at least, a certain stratus construed to be the majority.
It might be tempting to take an historical view and suggest that if these realities were morally true, morally right, options at the time, then perhaps all morality is is a relative function of the people. Thus, there is no "moral truth" or "moral rectitude." This is a very appealing approach and many contemporary philosophers and many more intellectually advanced persons have supported this notion. The problem is that in the most extreme form, this supports all manner of atrocities. If the moral laws we support are mere conventions, what is there to prevent me from killing people, or conning elderly ladies out of their money, or vandalizing property?
Let me quickly demonstrate an irony of this position. Many people, Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins among them, support the claim of relativism. However, they both are quick to point the accusing finger at the Catholic Church for sexual abuse. While I myself support the claim that having sexual relations with small children is absolutely egregious, I could never consider myself relativist because of that. If it is egregious, on what grounds is it? The fact that we find it disgusting suggests either that we have been culturally conditioned to think this, or that it is objectively wrong. If we are conditioned, we cannot honestly say this is wrong. We say that cultures who practice cannibalism or clitoridectomies are in error, not because we think that our cultures are completely different, but because we think they share similar core values. If child sex abuse is objectively wrong, we cannot maintain a strictly relativistic standpoint.
Here is the point. As we become more enlightened (a word I am hesitant to use), we find more and more things to be objectively wrong. Genocide, sexual abuse, discrimination, torture and other acts we consider to be wrong. Yet our own culture has supported some of these, and some cultures still do. The fact is that we consider our views to be superior because of the long debates, philosophical treatises, theological teachings, and emotions to be correct. We still claim that bad things happen in our own culture, that we have more work to do and that there is still much we don't understand, but practically speaking, we don't support a relativist standpoint. Cultures evolve, and we hope, they evolve in such a way that they grow closer to the truth.
Consider the following: a hundred years ago, women were fighting for voting rights in the United States. Fifty years ago, African Americans were. Today, homosexual couples are fighting for the right to marry. Our culture is growing to a more perfect understanding of what it is to be human, and, we hope, growing into truth. Truth is not changing. Few would say that chattel slavery in early American history was morally upright. Few else would say that what the NAZIs did was permissible.
So we have to understand two things: One is that there is truth, and we're hopefully getting nearer and nearer to it. The second is that we must be careful to learn what truth is rather than necessarily supporting the voice of the majority. If we ignore the first principle, we cannot grow into a better society. If we ignore the second, we might be deceived into growing into a worse society.

Overkill

Today I heard something quite strange on the news. President Obama and Premier Putin are discussing a new START (STrategic Arms Reduction Treaty) in order to improve the general safety of the world. I've been glancing over the treaty, and it really doesn't look all that drastic. It allows both the United States 1550 total nuclear warheads (a piece), 800 ICBM and SLBM launchers, and 700 deployed ICBM and SLBM launchers and bombers. The treaty is also supposed to require both countries to disclose the locations of their nuclear weapons.
This, in and of itself, would not be too noteworthy. Granted, one might comment that the fact that nuclear weapons are still around is scary, but because of the history of the world, I think it is not that interesting.
However, what I do find a bit intimidating is that this is a REDUCTION. Current estimates show that the US has over 10,000 nuclear weapons, and Russia has over 15,000. We may be planning on dropping down to a few thousand, but are we really fixing things?
Consider the following: when the first atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, it killed about 350,000 people. Bombs today are usually about twenty times as powerful. A bomb dropped on New York City would most likely kill the majority of the 9 million people there, and would cause long term effects (radiation poisoning and cancer) for the rest. Bombs sent to just New York, LA, Chicago, Boston and Washington would kill off about a tenth of the nation (five bombs). Think what 1550 could do.
We've tried to distance ourselves from the Mutual Assured Destruction doctrine of the 50s and 60s, but we still cling to it. There is no possibly beneficial reason for having such great stockpiles of such malicious weapons. 1550 nuclear warheads would do just as much damage as 15000 (or, in the 70s, as many as 25000). It seems to me that even possession of nuclear stockpiles is a bad idea. As many satires and social commentaries of the Cold War taught us, the idea of MAD falls apart once situations get heated. Rather than turning to negotiation tactics, the fear is that hot heads and short tempers in moments of crisis would lead to the (rather easy) result of launching a few hundred or thousand nuclear weapons.
Generals and war tacticians told us that the threat of mutual destruction was the deterrent. Of course, this idea of "deterrence" is similar to the half-baked idea that executing criminals deters people from committing heinous crimes. Of course, crime rates have not really dropped since the death penalty was reinstated in 1985, and executions have actually risen. The main point is that the threat of violence does not really deter violence.
Terry Eagleton, a renowned literature critic and defender of theism, said once that if one nation launches weapons against the other, the other one has no duty to launch back, but in fact has an ethical duty to not retaliate. Destruction of all mankind is a dire price to pay in order to "get back." Simply because one country is obliterated, this does not mean that the ethical thing to do is to erradicate the second. Genocide is not an ethically viable option. So the threat of mutual destruction even proves to be a grossly unethical proposition.
But the truly, absolutely scariest thing is that this treaty is facing some controversy in congress. Republicans are loath to ratify the bill because, many of them argue, it will reduce our nuclear capability. It baffles me that we would elect men and women who would take such a position. I find it disconcerting and utterly nauseating that our fears would not be that we have too many nuclear weapons.
And then, many of these representatives have the nerve to call themselves Christians. Jesus, the man who said, "I a man strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the left also," and "Love your enemy. Do good to those who despitefully use you." How can someone claim to follow this teaching but still hold on to the idea of Mutual Assured Destruction? How can we, as American people, settle for such a slap in the face of decency?

Iures mores non est

I've been thinking a lot lately about ethics (no surprise, especially because in a month I'll be in classes for my MTS in Christian Ethics (Not counting down or anything).
What has struck me as fascinating is A) the prevalence of Emotivism expressed by even a lot of people I know, and B) the all-to frequent confusion between jurisprudence and ethics.
To let me clear up, first of all, something being legal does not make it ethical, conversely, even if something is ethical, it is not always legal.
To be sure, laws are supposed to be based on ethics. It matters little what sort of ethics (Buddhist, Christian, Judaic, Islamic, Judaeo-Islamic-Christian ethics or what-have-you). All that is clear is that laws are based on ethics (hence, why certain countries have laws that parallel predominant religions' guidelines as well as differences in these countries correlating to this). Thus, we see laws related strongly to religious faith and ethical theories.
However, often times laws stray away from their ethical origins. Such situations include traffic laws, which, though they have life-protecting influences, are not based off of any acknowledge ethical code (some, such as yielding and stopping laws may, but speed limits are often arbitrary).
On a similar note, what is ethical is often illegal. For example, in the nineteenth century in the United States, slavery was legal, and rescuing people from slavery was illegal.
So the fact remains that there are many laws which don't reflect any ethical principle, as there are many ethical principles which don't factor into the law-making process. So, even though the legal system is predominantly based on ethics, it does not submit completely to ethical scrutiny. Similarly, ethical principles often escape or are ignored utterly in the legal process.
St Augustine taught that any law which does not follow truth and ethics is no true law. Thus, a so-called law, whether civil or religious, if it does not stand up to ethical criticism, is not a law that can be enforced, in good conscience.
Nietzsche, as well, in "Genealogy of Morals" (though, admittedly a controversial work) pointed out that what he saw as bad ethics, had affected the development of laws and were thus, (in his view of ethics) a result of bad ethical practices and ignored true ethics.
One might wonder how something like this comes about. The most obvious answer is that people who function as law-makers are motivated by the same things as regular people: money, power, love, salvation, etc. However, the ability to gain more power is easier in a ruling position, and, as the saying goes, "power corrupts." Thus, oftener than not, rulers and law-makers often cater to interests specific to themselves, which go against common ethical sense.
Because of this fact, Thomas Hobbes wrote that in situations in which the people's best interests are not being served, the people are obligated to remove the government. While I am not advocating any drastic measures, what I do mean is that one must not confuse ethics with laws. Often times what's ethical may not be legal, or vice versa. However, you have an ethical duty to follow the ethical over the legal, every time.

Qui bono si Deum esse?

I have lately been contemplating a question about God and God's existence. I have not been contemplating whether or not God exists, but rather whether or not it matters if God exists. This train of though has been fueled by my constant interaction with Agnostics/Atheists as well as reflections on Pascal, Feuerbach, Heidegger and Dostoevsky.
To begin with, one must first understand how exactly this question is different than "Does God exist?" For starters, this question is not changed by the actual answer to that question, but the answer that we personally give this question does affect whether or not we think that it matters. Secondly, this question is a much more advanced one than the previous, and if one contemplates the latter rather than the former, he will achieve a greater understanding of not only human nature, but also the mechanics of religion, philosophy, and especially ethics.
To answer the question, we must ask what many cultured critics of our time have come near, but few have ever really grasped. We must ask the merits of the current system of beliefs across the globe and what would be the alternate (ie, if religions and philosophies of today were non-existent, what would be the effect?). Many critics proclaim boldly that religion is a blight and that humanity would be much better without it. Many state that religions provide faulty ethics and a faulty reasoning for accomplishing ethics. Many attribute the majority of conflicts to religious differences. So, to ask whether it matters if there is a God is to directly focus on these accusations and the overall consequences of siding one way or another.
Let us first remember that religions have been around for a very long time. Where there have not been "religions," there have been philosophies. This is still true today. The men and women who decry organized religion often ally themselves with some form of a philosophy, though we often don't recognize it since they are not preaching in the agora. Thus, they are still holding onto a set of beliefs. However, rather than asserting divine knowledge they assert some other principle, logic, for example, or scientific discovery, or simple observation or something else. Often, these people fail in similar ways to the fundamentalists and extremists of religion, and don't quite follow the tenets of their beliefs, but this will be addressed later.
As far as ethics go, one has to realize that our sense of ethics is, very much, derived from our culture and our religions and philosophies. In fact, to attack religion full on for it's ethics causes a logical contradiction. For most people who condemn the ethics of religions must take a morally relativistic stance, considering by their own words they don't stand behind a specific creed or guided set of principles, yet in this same stance, they cannot take a position against such sets of principles without betraying the single ethical idea of relativism, namely that nothing is wrong. However, it is also the case that to attack religion for its use of eschatology as a way to moderate ethics is also to take a stance more on religion's turf than one realizes. For the idea that "virtue ought to be done for the sake of virtue" is an Aristotelian idea, an idea which in the West was translated by one St Thomas Aquinas, patron saint of philosophers, theologians, universities and students. Even its promulgation today was a result of Catholic scholars in the early twentieth century returning to Thomistic Philosophy. Thus, even in condemning religion for eschatology, critics must borrow from religion to do this.
To think of all conflicts as arising from religion is plain ignorant. I have stated my reasons for thinking this way before, and to save space, I will simply state that many conflicts, especially wars in the previous 300 years, have had no religious component whatsoever, and those which did, were wars that were specifically twisted in order to appeal to the religious of an area. Wars have been fought for millenia.
So now that I've addressed several criticisms against the idea of the existence of God, or at least religion, I shall try to answer the main question of this post. It seems to me that it does not matter whether or not God exists. For if God truly does exist, then a lot of people have been right about a lot of different things. However, if God does not truly exist, then our sense of ethics, our ideas of compassion, etc, are pointless and nullified since it all amounts to nothing in the end, yet it still provides those who live religious lives a sense of fulfillment and happiness. Nietzsche said that Christian ethics were made up and derived, but he admired how effectively they worked, even so much that "the great politicians of Germany, brutes and terrible men, call themselves Christian." Feurbach himself saw that Christianity, though he had no faith in it, provided a means for relieving alienation that people feel, a way to feel real love and give us an ultimate example in Jesus for us to follow. Heidegger saw the lack of faith that humanity was experiencing and the consequent loss of humanity and famously said (as I have quoted multiple times) "Only a god can save us."
Though Pascal often gets a bad reputation from cultured critics, and is highly misinterpreted even among theists, his so-called "wager" lays out a fairly summary argument for the case. If there is a God, then righteous and virtuous behavior (and most certainly belief) can only do one good in the hereafter. If there is no God, and we cease to exist with death, then Christian living can do no harm to us.
Of course, Pascal was a notorious Jansenist who believed God would be angry at sinners. The average Christian, and especially Catholic, of today would not share the same sentiments as Blaise Pascal. Furthermore, the issue is even further complicated with globalization and the knowledge of other religions and their doctrines, practices and ethics. This, however, is a much different question from whether or not God exists, as well as whether it matters. The reality is that living a life that is truly in line with what one's faith teaches them is not only good in the sense of Christian and most modern understanding of good, but is also the easiest way to promote peace and unity.

Pride

"Proud to be an American," "The power of pride," "school pride," "gay pride," "national pride," "I'm proud of you," etc. The word pride, and it's variation proud, are often thrown about in colloquial conversation, as if something laudatory. We use the word pride often to describe something that we see as praiseworthy, such as when we say "I am proud of you," of "I am proud that..." However, I have come to the conclusion that either we greatly equivocate with the word "pride" or else we don't understand the true nature of the word pride.
For the sake of having something to write, I will assume that pride is often glossed over as being something more benign than it is. St Augustine, in the City of God, describes pride as the first sin, occurring almost simultaneously with creation (the full explanation takes care of the "God creating evil dilemma). Pride is also described as being the mother of all sins and the greatest of all sins by him.
Augustine's definition of pride was simply, "putting oneself before God." By this he means that in any instance, whether it be honor, devotion or service, we render to ourselves before we render to God, the universe, or else our fellow humans.
Later on, St Thomas Aquinas would list his "Seven Deadly Sins," a list of what he conceived to be the most vicious sins. The list includes several instances of pride, especially vanity. By applying Augustine's definition, we realize that not only vanity, but also at least gluttony, lust, sloth, greed and envy are also applicable, since they all depend on one putting himself above others.
Jesus says that the greatest commandment is to "Love God with all your heart, and the second is like unto it, thou shalt love your neighbor as yourself." Thus we can see that the commandment of Jesus Himself is a direct opposite to the demand of pride. If we love God with all our hearts, and our neighbors as ourselves, we no longer have the desire to put ourselves above either one of them.
But aside from theological talk, I must make a personal confession. I have found for myself that the time when I am the absolute most miserable is when I think I am not getting what is due to me. Whenever I get self-centered I never find myself being satisfied, but rather, being upset at what I have been given and what I perceive that I am missing.
On the contrary, the rare occasions where I find myself being generous, charitable and humble, I find myself more happy than any other time.
I have also noticed this quality in a lot of my family and friends. They're never happy when they think about themselves and what they think they ought to have. I've seen plenty of family torn apart because rather than loving people for who they are, they prefer to try to impose their own personality upon others. I have seen friends grow apart when one has had to call the other to reckoning and the other, in his or her own pride, has been loath to do so, or to admit that he or she does not have the ability to repay the debt.
Truly, pride is the most divisive vice there is. If there is a more destructive sin, I don't know what it could be.
Thus we're stuck in a bit of a contradiction. When we think of ourselves as being all-important, we exhibit hubris, one of the ugly heads of pride. However, it is against our nature and our experience to think in terms of anything besides ourselves. Thus, we get a plethora of philosophies and theologies that try to combat this problem. Even the scientifically based proposition that since humans are a relatively young species, on an infinitesimally small sphere in the vast universe, we are nothing, is itself based on a philosophy not unlike Nihilism. Platonism, Stoicism, and Aristotelianism all try to deal with overcoming the problem of pride, but they all also stop short of their mark, in that they are unable to show what else we should venerate (Platonism and Aristotelianism both advocate philosophy, but does not philosophy serve the needs of man? Stoicism takes the Nihilistic approach).
Theologies, on the other hand, get closer to dealing with this problem. Paganistic rites have always maintained that the gods need appeasing in order to take care of our problems, thus, in order to actually help ourselves, we need to do homage and sacrifice to them. Buddhism and Hinduism maintain that since we are reincarnated after death, we must respect all animals in order to bring about good Karma and to show respect to those which may be our ancestors. Zen teaches that the universe is nothingness, thus, one must only learn to respect the emptiness of the universe.
Monotheism, on the other hand, proposes that there IS a God, and that this God does have power over all things. There are various strains among the Judaism, Christianity and Islam which maintain that it is necessary to try to win God's favor, and thus, supplication and humility must be shown to God in order for blessings to be poured out to theists.
Christianity, specifically the versions of it that I find more orthodox, realizes, with a sort of Nihilistic understanding, that there can be no true prayer but, "Thy will be done." If God is omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent, then our supplications will not sway God unless God specifically wants our supplication. Furthermore, if bad things happen to us, they are likely, "God's will," or in other words, a lot of times out of our hands to do change.
It is important to note, however that Christianity should not become nor be confused with stoicism, wherein the highest virtue is apathy and the virtuous man realizes that he cannot avoid all the things that happen to him in life. Christianity believes that in the end, the way a man lives his life will affect his eternal destiny. Thus, a man may not have control over some of the good and bad things that happen to him, but he can decide how to respond to them, and he can demonstrate by his faith and (to me, more importantly) his ethics that he is a good person. Thus, he must pay homage to God first of all, for the good Christian understands that he is truly nothing, that God is everything, and that without the intervention of God Incarnate he is damned, but he also knows he must live a Christian life or he loses all of that.
In my estimation, the reason why this theology is superior is because it puts humanity necessarily in debt to God for something God has already done and that man must try to earn back. There is nothing like servitude to bring about a humble and pride-less attitude.

Longe Vite Bohemia!!

So I've realized that among the anti-theists, there seems to be a running theme. It is the theme of Bohemianism. For those out there who may not know what Bohemianism is, or who want my personal definition (by which definition Bohemianism will hereafter (I've been working at a law firm too long) will be defined) then I would say that Bohemianism is a sensual, carnal, Epicurean way of life. In short, it is satisfying the wild, whimsical tastes of the flesh on the basis that "it isn't doing anybody harm who doesn't want it."
This is the lifestyle of excess, the lifestyle of rebellion, the lifestyle of the sensualists. All is fair as long as it doesn't infringe on another's rights. Promiscuous sexual activity with consenting parties is fine, laudatory remarks about the base and carnal are the norm, wealth and indulgence to excess are permitted and discipline is frowned upon. This is not the stated position of such men as Dawkins, and Hitchens, but when there views are evaluated, one realizes they are as guilty of "moral relativism" as anybody, a stance which leads them to make comments that support a Bohemian lifestyle.
The irony of the Bohemian lifestyle is that though it is presented as the position of the sophisticated ant eh erudite, it has no philosophical standing, and, when rationally evaluated, falls apart under the smallest scrutiny. Consider the following: Alasdair MacIntyre, in After Virtue, states plainly that one finds the answers to morality in either Nietzsche or Aristotle. In other words, we are teleological creatures, as Aristotle says, or we are driven by the will to power, as Nietzsche says.
In my opinion, however, the analysis is easier. It boils down, in my mind, to a system of Nihilism or Mysticism. Either it is a mystical experience, and everything that we see, experience and do, has some form, some purpose and some grounding. This position holds up for more than a strictly Christian or mono-theistic standpoint. The average Buddhist, for example, would see the harmony, and the Taoist would support the idea of nature providing a cosmic balance. Ecologists as well tell us of the necessity for each specific organism to provide a necessary role for the specific ecosystem.
On the other hand, what is our role in the universe? The planet earth occupies an infinitesimally small part of the universe, and our lives are equally insignificant as far as overall effect and lifespan. In the words of Camus, like Sisyphus, all we can do is learn to love the rock. If not everything has some greater cosmic significance, than it can't be that any of it really does, otherwise it is a matter of arbitration, of imperfect judgment on our parts.
I, for my part, fall on the side of mysticism. I believe that there is harmony and purpose to all that is. For this reason, I cannot see the sense in the Bohemian lifestyle. While it is true that one must live in such a way that his life does not harm someone else in his actions, it is also true that his actions can inadvertently harm others. Engaging in debaucherous behaviors might not have immediately damaging repercussions, but they certainly do have an affect. The Bohemian can say, for all he is worth, that his actions have no far-reaching consequences, but the fact remains that the values he has retained are derived from the Christian/Islamic/Judaic/Buddhist/Hindu/Taoist society he is rejecting. He has picked and chosen his values. And for that reason, without religion his position would either be based on Confucius and Socrates or Nietzsche and Sartre.
But rather than taking these positions, he has hybridized Christianity with the things he does not like about it. For this reason, he has declared that Christianity is a blight, because it does not fit his standard, one which, he ought to admit, is arbitrary and only right based on a relativistic understanding of no positions being actually right. For this reason, the Bohemian is ridiculus (yes, the Latin spelling, not the English) when he declares religion to be the great evil, and when his position is scrutinized boils down to pure rhetoric and fails to withstand the gauntlet of rationality. Thus, it is more or less the antithesis of men such as Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh--it takes an opposite stance, but it is no better as far as being a reasonable position to hold.

The human question

Lately, a lot of people have been asking me why it is that I want to go into moral theology. Many, who are secular, agnostic, atheist, or otherwise disinclined to view religion in a very high light, have balked at the idea.
But as I think about the facts of the way people view the world, it occurs to me that often times I am working on the same problem that philosophers, biologists, psychologists, anthropologists and others are trying to answer: that is, the human question.
The human question is, simply put, what does it mean to be human? The professions I just mentioned define it in their own ways: for an anthropologist, a human is culture and way of life; for a biologist, he's a kind of primate; for a philosopher, she is the ghost in the machine; to the psychologist, a human being is a result of his surroundings and genetics.
The theologian tries to answer the same question, but the theologian sees the answer somehow relating to God. A standard response is something like, human beings are made in the image and likeness of God.
Of course, the question is much deeper than it seems, because the way we answer it defines how we answer other questions like, "What does this mean as far as how we should behave?" and "What does this mean as far as what we should strive for?" and finally, "What does this mean in relation to the rest of the universe?" There are many ways to answer these questions, but from my standpoint, the answers are something like this: "We should behave as if each person we meet is a fellow creation made in God's image, no matter who the person is," "We should strive to better the world around us so that those who are like us, may be afforded the same pleasures that we have been, and that, regardless of whether we think we are saved, we need to work as if we have to earn salvation," and finally, "We are not as great as we think we are, but we are obligated to do as much good to facilitate harmony as we can."
I have a million more thoughts to share on this subject, but seeing as I should head home, I will save them for another post. Until then, suffice it so say that I think that the best answer to the human question is that though we often damn ourselves by our actions to everyone and everything, true, beautiful humanity lies in the capacity we have to do good, to bring our own and others' salvation.

Only a God Can Save us

The famous (though controversial) German atheist philosopher Martin Heidegger once said, with regards to the human condition and the reality of alienation, "Only a god can save us." From a Christian standpoint, this statement seems ironic. An integral part of Christian belief is the doctrine that Jesus is God Incarnate, and that through Jesus we are saved, thus, God has saved us. However, Heidegger was an atheist. This rouses (in my mind at least) interesting questions about atheism and the true condition of humanity.
First, let it be noted that atheism is never simply atheism. Agnosticism can be true agnosticism, but atheism is almost always a rejection of a specific idea of God. One reads in Feurbach, for example, a different idea of atheism than one reads in Nietzsche. Both were compatriots and contemporaries, but Feurbach was raised in a Catholic household while Nietzsche was raised Lutheran. Thus, when they write texts that are profoundly atheistic in nature, one notes a sort of Lutheran or Catholic mentality, whichever the case may be. Thus it is that when a person decides for his or herself that there is no "God" they are almost always rejecting the version of "God" that some religion or another has pitched to them. Often times, the alternative to atheism is not agnosticism but conversion to a different faith. It's very easy for one to say, "I don't believe that there could be an omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient being who resembles a big white man with a big white beard" and either convert or reject theism altogether. Agnosticism, then, is what results when one decides he doesn't have enough information to make a call either way.
This is historically true and we can observe it all the way back to Socrates. Socrates is accused of being an atheist by the Athenians, but Socrates points out that he frequently mentions the "demigod" who directed him. Christians were charged as atheists by emperors such as Nero and Calligula, and now are regarded as the opposite. Heretics in the Church, including the Arians and Manichees have been regarded as atheists as well. Atheism is always contextually based.
The second thing is the state of the human condition. Heidegger was referring, in part, to the advent of new technology and how it's alienating us from ourselves. The piece I quoted from was written in 1969, after the first lunar landing. He was still years away from such technology as the internet and cell phones, and he was worried that we were becoming too alienated.
To show how much of an issue technology really is, one can note that there is much controversy surrounding the internet and it's many corrupt uses. I noted in a piece earlier that due to the anonymous nature of the internet, people have shown a very dark side of their nature. Without going into the nature of many of the different evils abundant, let it suffice to say that in my own opinion the internet has more on it of lesser value than of greater. I know this statement seems a bit of a nonsequitur because I am posting it on the internet, but the fact is that there is some advantage to this technology. Correspondence occurs faster, information can be quicker obtained, and people can exchange ideas better than ever before. However, when weighed against the evils, I am not confident that the goods outweigh. I, like Heidegger, am a bit reluctant to trust that all technology is a betterment for our race.
Take for a second example, the cell phone. While it is useful in contacting people who are not around, it can cause problems when one is interacting face-to-face with someone else. How often do people answer their phones in public, or talk about personal or private matters while walking down the street, with several different people in earshot?
But I digress. The point is that human beings are becoming more and more alienated from each other. Yes, we live in larger cities than ever before, but people are spending more and more time alone and less time with other people. One thing that I think all people, atheist and theist alike, can agree on is that interaction with our fellow human beings is by and large a good thing.
When we get to know other people, we see the human--not the "other"--but the person. We see that other people are like we are. We see that just because somebody is not the same ethnicity, age, sex, sexual orientation or religious creed does not mean that she does not feel the same feelings, think with the same method or have similar aspirations. Everybody wants to be happy. Everybody wants to take care of those they love. Everybody wants to have what they need to live. However, we often go about these things in different ways--ways that lead us to conflict and to de-humanizing people.
Thus, Heidegger thinks that there needs to be some kind of binding force, a god, if you will, who will bring people together. This god will transcend the differences of peoples and overcome what we think separates us.
This is where Heidegger's statement becomes ironic, for in the message of Jesus we see this. Jesus taught all people. He spread the word to sinner and saint alike. He commanded us to do likewise, to welcome the stranger and feed and take care of the hungry and sick. His words "Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it to me," "Do to others as you would have them do to you," and "The second commandment is likewise, you shall love your neighbor as yourself" all show us the way to overcome alienation. One doesn't need to convert the world to his religion to be redeemed with humanity. One doesn't need to convert to another's philosophy either for her to be brought to completion. All we need to do is follow those simple tenets. And then, wouldn't a God have saved us?

Objections to Previous Post

So I promised that I'd provide some objections and my answers, so here I'll try.
Objection 1: If everything is in the past, excepting an infinitesimally small razor edge of time, referred to as the moment of action, or the true present, then what about emotion? How can we experience emotions? How can one "feel happy" or "be depressed" or "become angry" if the moment of action is fleeting and afterward all is past tense?
My reply: I believe that this reflects a misunderstanding of my philosophical proposition. Emotion is experienced in a time period. I am joyful for a few hours, say, or I am sad today and not yesterday. Experiencing emotion is like breathing: at a certain point of time, one is exhaling, and at another, one is inhaling, but simply because the moment of action is currently when I'm exhaling, it doesn't mean that I cannot be exhaling if I'm done moments later. Emotion is experienced over a time period, and, as such, emotions are quickly left behind; left in the past. One reading this might be angry, but as the moment of action moves forward, the anger will assuage, and soon it will be over.
Objection 2: Doesn't this mean that we cannot "be happy?" Does this mean that we are only happy for a limited amount of time, which is quickly left behind?
My reply: In a way, yes. We eventually die, and once we are dead, we cannot be happy, at least not in the way we conceive of happiness now. Yes, I admit that happiness as a theological concept is eternal and not to be passed over, but happiness in this life is limited. Once we are dead, we are no longer happy, in this life. However, we can strive to be happy for the rest of this life. As being an emotion, and as being contextualized in an ever-expanding past, the best we can hope to achieve is a life whose past has been mostly happy. We can be happy as the moment of action continues on, but eventually we die, and our mortal happiness comes to an end.
Objection 3: With no future, can we hope for anything?
My reply: Yes and no. I think that we cannot actually expect anything, as there are constantly new decisions affecting what we can and cannot do and what will or will not happen. Additionally, as the past grows, what we hoped for in the future quickly becomes part of the past.
However, I do think that hope has both theological necessity, and is necessary for maintaining human sanity. We can hope for the Coming of Christ. We can hope for a better world. We can hope to find an eternity of bliss after death. We can hope that all will be made well in the end. There is nothing wrong with this, and, in fact, there are many things right with this. However, these things mostly belong in the abstract future. We cannot expect Christ to come tomorrow. We cannot expect a better world at the end of the year. We cannot expect all will be made well within the next five years. However, we can hope that this will eventually happen, and for this reason, we ought to work to make it so. We ought to work for the world to be a better place. We ought to work to bring justice. We ought to "build the Kingdom in our midst." Hope gives us the motivation to do this. Hope gives us the reason to work for Christ. Hope gives us the happiness that we can experience in this life.
These are about the only objections I can thing of. If you think of another good one. Post it up, and I'll try to answer it.

A Philosophical musing

Bear with me here. I've been doing some philosophizing and I think I've come up with something. I don't know that it's new or unheard of, but I don't know of anyone who has come up with anything quite like it. I have not yet fully developed this philosophy yet, so bear with me (this may come over in a few different posts). I've run this by Alexa, and she followed it, though I didn't fully explain it, so I think there's some factuality to it.
To begin with, let me state that we view time in a completely arbitrary and unrealistic way. We think of time the way we think of space: we can traverse it. However, we often view it as a river, where it's going one way, but given the proper tools (a boat for a river, a time machine for time), we could go against the current. I think that this way of viewing time ignores reality.
There is no future. By this I don't mean that there will not be a May 21, 2010. I mean that there is no such thing as the future, as a reality. It is all potentiality. No one exists in the future, because there is no way we can go into it. If we were in the future, it would be the present. Likewise, if the future is always going to be after the present, there can be no way to reach "the future" because it will always be the present when it is achieved.
In this way, the idea of "future" is merely an abstract concept that we use to define time that has not yet occurred. There will indeed be a May 21, but by the time it is May 21, it is the present, and no longer the future. The future is like what is undiscovered: we can say that it is, but when we realize it, it is no longer a mystery.
Thus, future is an abstract term that we should give no credibility to, especially in regards to traveling to the future or future dwellers traveling to the present.
Secondly, the most true thing about time is that there is an ever expanding past. The past only gets larger and larger. What had been thought to be the future rapidly gets subsumed into the past quicker than one realizes that it is the present. It is currently 2:22 as I look at the clock, and by the time I finish this post, 2:22 will be in the past. Today will be in the past by the time anyone reads this (probably) and by the time I finish talking about this theory of mine, all of this discussion will be in the past.
In fact, all that we know is in the past. Everything we learn, we learned in the past. Everything we experienced was experienced in the fast. Everything that makes us who we are is a product of the past. Our past is really what shapes us.
The scary thing about this is that we cannot prevent the past from expanding. Childhood is in the past, and the only thing we have from it is memories. My time at Notre Dame is in the past, and all I have there is memories. And the past just continues to expand. We cannot freeze it, we cannot prevent it from getting bigger, we cannot even delay its expansion. Before we know it, our entire lives will be in the past.
I just graduated from Notre Dame on Sunday, and as the day went on, I couldn't help but feel alienated that as I was experiencing all these goodbyes, ceremonies, and moments of celebration, they were all rapidly being added to the ever-expanding past. No sooner did I get my diploma than I was already done with that. No sooner was my degree conferred upon me than I was no longer a student. It is not something that can be prevented, delayed or resisted. The past only continues to grow and leaves us only with its memories.
Third. There is a present, but it is infinitesimally small. It is a razor edge. It is the moment of action. Whatever is occurring in present tense, must be occurring at the exact moment of action in order for it to be truly present tense. Thus, I can say I am aging, because that continues to happen at the moment of action, but if I say that I am working now, in no time at all, that is over and it is in the past. The moment of action is like the decimal point that prevents .999 repeating from being 1. It is so small it is undetectable. One cannot measure it in seconds, minutes or hours, because those are only lengths of time that are quickly subsumed into the past. The moment of action exists only on the edge of the ever-expanding past. It creates the past. It takes the abstract future reality and then past reality. This is the only present.
This is about all I have conceived of for now. My next post will probably answer objections to this theory. Thanks for reading.

The Great (?) Debate

Tonight I went to a "debate" about "God" (really it was about religious belief in God) featuring two celebrated figures. One was Christopher Hitchens, Literary Critic and apologetic atheist, and the other was Dinesh D'Souza, Conservative Catholic apologist. While both of them were fairly masterful orators, and quite convincing, I realized as I was watching them that for one thing, neither one of them actually developed a rational basis to strengthen their points, and for another thing, they weren't even talking about the same issue. Hitchens, for all of his seething and hateful rhetoric, seemed to agree whole-heartedly with the majority of Christian ethics, but just had problems with very specific instances of the practice of religion. D'Souza, on the other hand, with all his witty banter, wanted to show how religion was as plausible an explanation of universal phenomena as scientific theory.
This illustrates, in my opinion, the biggest problem with public discussion of any topic. That is, people generally don't generally come from shared assumptions. Had Hitchens made assertions that all religious people were barbaric (during the debate), it's no doubt that many people would have lost respect for his position. Had D'Souza said science was all a crock of bull, he would have been surely ignored by other scholastics. The actual shared assumptions they had were on issues of what was moral, one example which they gave was giving blood. However, from this shared example, it would only be logical that their discussion and debate could grow out of this shared ideology. For example, they could talk about whether or not religion was the proper place to develop these morals. Of course, if that was the case, we would have had a discussion much more philosophical in scope and likely, less entertaining.
However, how often is this the case in our normal lives? Often times we get into disputes, too hot-headed rushing in, while the entire time we are disputing different things. I don't know how many times I have had "arguments" with people when we really had the same ideas or opinions but didn't voice them in the same way. Often times we come to discussions with different points of view that hinder us from having beneficial discussion.
It's these personal biases and experiences that weigh down our conversations. If we are able to strip ourselves of some of our prejudices, we often find that we agree on more than we are at first aware of. What was interesting at the God Debate was what both Hitchens and D'Souza shared. Hitchens, while being an atheist, was more likely to grant a Christian version of ethics over an atheistic, Nietzschean form of morals. Similarly, D'Souza provided a more strictly, rational and faithless account of God. When it comes down to it, they both agreed on what things were tragedies (though they both incorrectly attributed the cause of any great struggle to anything aside from, as Nietzsche so well puts it, "the will to power"), and for the same reasons.
Here we see the real problem: they both argued from the same premises for different conclusions. Hitchens can be summed in this way: the world is evil, and the only solution is to get rid of God. A theist (though not really D'Souza since this was not his apology) can be summed up thusly: evil exists in the world, and the only solution is to follow the commandments of God. The only thing that I can honestly add to the discussion is that if Hitchens truly understood the nature of evil, he would not assert that God does not exist because of it, but rather could only say that God does not exist because of moral relativism.
To sum up, let me just say that it is the hardest thing in the world to have conclusions that follow logically from everything, or to have everything in your life based on a logical, rational understanding. However, through discussion with other people, and keeping an open mind along with a small dose of skepticism, we can understand what is true and what is not.

News

Sorry it's been so long. This isn't going to be a full length piece, just a little blurb. Next year I will be studying theology at Boston College in their School of Theology and Ministry. Also, I am relatively certain some of my research will be published in the periodical Interreligious Insights. I'll put more about that when it comes out.
Lastly, I will be presenting that same research at the end of the month at an undergraduates conference.

A Radical Transformation

"...Thy kingdom come" we find in the middle of arguably the most recognizable prayer in history. "My Kingdom is not of this world" the same figure said towards the end of his life.
But do we really understand what Christ meant by His Kingdom? Augustine gives us a quite lengthy explanation in The City of God. Many theologians since Augustine, including Erasmus and Kierkegaard have also addressed the issue of being a member of this body politic.
The real question, though, is whether or not it should be a body politic. It is obvious in the way that Church was married to state pre-seventeenth century that Christians believed so. Even in the twentieth century thought, Catholicism was seen as needing political affiliation. In the most recent election the issue of abortion, an issue most Catholics see as tied to the Right to Life, was a more key issue to many Catholics voting than real politics.
However, to reiterate, Christ does not say that His Kingdom is of this world. It is NOT a political body. It is not a state nor is it fully realized in any form here. We would like to believe that the Church is the embodiment of Christ's Kingdom on earth. If this is the case, however, then why do we still pray, "Thy kingdom come" during Mass?
No, Christ's Kingdom is not here yet. It is an eschatological reality, not a contemporary one. We cannot expect to see Christ's Kingdom realized on earth yet while we live. However, as we pray for it to come, so we are obligated to work for its coming.
Thus, though His Kingdom is not yet realized, as disciples of Christ we are called to make it realized. In practical application, this means whatever things we imagine Christ's Kingdom as being, we ought to work for. If we are unsure of what this is, the Gospel gives us great insight to this.
Regarding those ostracized by society, do we not read that Jesus ate with the sinners and dwelt with the poor? Concerning distinctions and ranks among ourselves, does not Paul tell us that in Christ there is no longer "bond nor free, woman nor man, Jew nor Gentile but all one body in Christ?" Concerning our ethics does not Jesus present to us in the Beatitudes a basic recipe of Christian life? Blessed are the poor...the meek...the humble...the poor in spirit...the merciful...the peacemakers.
This then is our basic plan. Like any system which people utilize to better themselves, this program takes real application. Rather than simply blessing the poor, we ought to embrace poverty. Rather than defending our harmful distinctions, we ought to embrace our singularity in Christ. Rather than reviling the wicked (and this is often the hardest) we ought to reach out to them.
Verily, the truth of the Gospels is that if we seek to be Christlike we should find no surprise in being ourselves ostracized by those who we think to be our own kind. Christ was warmly accepted by the Samaritans, outcasts of even Judaean life, and Roman officials while hated by the Jewish elite, those whom we walked among and whom he identified himself with. If we follow the example of Christ, then, we should not be surprised to often find ourselves friends of the atheists, Buddhists, Hindus, Jews and Muslims sometimes before other Christians.
This is the critical distinction in Kierkegaard's mind in being a member of Christianity and Christendom. To be truly Christian, one must be ostracized as Christ was; must suffer and find himself abandoned by those from whom he expects support while members of Christendom often inherit privileges in state and society, a position that Christ Himself refused.
Thus, bringing about the Kingdom of God requires us to step out of our comfort zone. "To mourn with those who mourn" and "to be christs for one another" is the calling that St Paul teaches us the Christian is given. "Strait is the gate and narrow is the way that leads to eternal life." It is not an easy call, nor should it be. But this is what it is to be Christian, to be essentially human. We cannot ignore the cries of those who suffer around us simply so we can live in the lap of luxury.