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.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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.
Lastly, I will be presenting that same research at the end of the month at an undergraduates conference.
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