Verbosity as a tragedy

If there's one thing I cannot stand about theologians, it's how removed they often are from ordinary life. On one level, it's easy to see that the priest, who is taken care of financially by the diocese, who is not married, who spends all day studying theology and whose every move is checked and instructed by the Church, cannot truly relate to most of his parish on many levels. But this is a topic for another day and, perhaps another rant (as a theology student, it can be extremely frustrating knowing that there's no money to be made in theology, so while I put myself in debt there's no financial pay-off while people in religious orders often get tuition and living expenses covered).
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?

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.

Artificial Selection

I wonder if it crosses any body else's mind how far from nature humanity has strayed. I don't mean to say that we violate our basic instincts, but it is peculiar to note how certain characteristics found in the animal kingdom have been abandoned in our own species.
For example, clothing. It is peculiar enough that we adorn ourselves with artificial skin (but this can be attributed to the relative little amount of hair that we have and our ability to manipulate our surroundings to suit ourselves), but it is even more so that the style of our garb has changed so much. We always portray ancient man as wearing animal skins in unflattering fashions, a style which would ideally simply function as utility, and not as ornamentation. However, today, so many of our fashions serve so little purpose usefully, (such as high heels), but they work as natural attractive features.
Similarly, we've gone from emphasizing being well-fed to being nearly emaciated. We have gone from having normal-looking skin to considering excessively burned skin to be beautiful. I highly doubt that we would ever see a dog or a lizard voluntarily take on a diet to lose weight, or bask in the sun only in order to darken its color.
Of course there are a million other different examples of our deviation: procreation, recreation, relaxation, shelter, tool manipulation, commercial advancement, lack of survivability skills, and the increase of the importance of healthcare in order to prevent otherwise naturally occurring deaths.
It seems that there is good reason why we often differentiate between what is "natural" and what is "man-made" or "artificial." Man is, as the zoologists and biologists reassure us, an animal, but we are one that is so unique that we often don't consider ourselves as such. Over against the animal kingdom, we have a highly developed sense of morality, intelligence, and discipline, while we have very little stress on instinct, and base impulses.
Perhaps this is why the first chapter of Genesis states that we are made in the image of God. For if there is a God, what other shape could He be other than that of the one animal that is able to even comprehend the idea of a god?
Additionally, I think the reason why we have such strong faith is obvious at this point: every animal fulfills basic instincts for the sole purpose of furthering the species and balancing the ecological niche. Mankind has far surpassed the ability to "simply survive" and must therefore seek out a new purpose. So we find faith in God as a viable focus.
According to Aristotle and MacIntyre, mankind moves towards a specific purpose or goal. This is said in reference to our human ethics and morals. I think that in combination with the above stated conclusion, it is safe to assume as well that mankind's focus and goals are not truly in furthering the species, but rather in fulfilling our duty to a superior being.
Whether or not this seems accurate, it is also important to keep in mind that the human, though defined in Aquinas' time as the rational animal, in his normal life does not interact with the ecosystem as an animal normally would. We act as removed entities, independent of our specific ecological niche and place in the food chain.
In this, the 150th aniversary of Darwin's famous expedition, it seems quite applicable to note that despite our animal natures, we also have transcended the limitations and laws that bind every other creature in nature. Our destiny is not among the swine, but perhaps among the stars.

Mysticism or Nihilism

I guess I could copy and paste verbatim what I wrote on facebook on this subject, but that was about a year ago and my thoughts have expanded a little bit.
We live in a very morally relativistic society. We always hear and in fact are usually guilty of saying things such as "Well, that's just your opinion." In our minds, what we think is right or wrong is not a system of absolutes. And, in fact, often times we view moral rectitude as a matter of politics.
However, it is a logical contradiction to state that everything is relative, morally speaking. For, if this is the case, then it is also necessarily the case that morals are null and void. There is no constraint in morals, and thus, the laws that govern society and are supposed to protect us are nothing more than a few people in Washington's ideas of what morality is. Thus, it would not be morally wrong to kill one's neighbor, cheat on one's wife, steal someone else's property or gain anything at the cost of someone else, as long as it was done in such a way that the person performing the action thought he was in the right.
This leads us to a Nietzschean point of view. Once again, whatever we do is part of our will to power. Nothing that we do is "evil" since "evil" is an invention of those who feel contempt for others. This leads to the ever popular idea of "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."
Here's where everything comes to a head. If our moral actions are relative, than there is no consequence for anything after we die. Thus it can also be deduced that there is no afterlife, and that this is all there is. This is where the Existentialists get their strength, but also where they fail to fully follow through with their logic.
If everything we do has no bearing on what happens to us after we die, than there is no significant difference, in terms of post-mortality, on how it affects us. Since the universe is billions of years old, and will continue to exist for billions of years, and we live for generally a maximum of a hundred years, it is obvious that our lives count for probably no more than a billionth of the time of the universe. And since right now there are six billion people alive on this planet, the impact we make in that one billionth of the universe's time is probably only a six billionth. Thus in the grand scheme of things, whatever we do, in all likeliness, amounts to no more than a pentillionth of any kind of significance on this planet. If there are other populated planets in the universe, than it is even less. Thus we see, that if we have no future to look forward to, it's not a matter of "living it up" because there is nothing to live up. If we can look past the noses on our faces, we will not only realize that our time here is extremely finite, but the space that we occupy, in terms of the universe, is infinitismal. And, if current scientific thought is correct, our universe, which was born of the big bang, will eventually collapse, and a new universe wil be born, continuing a cycle of infinite temporality.
Therefore, if there is nothing to look forward to, we, ourselves, are nothing. The question of morality becomes one that has no purpose, since we ourselves serve no purpose and occupy a space and time unimaginable to comprehend. We cannot fathom how insignificant we are.
On the other hand, it might be the case that everything matters. Perhaps there is a glorious afterlife for us if we live according to what is right. In that case, there must needs be a set of defined morals and ethics, otherwise how would there be any kind of reckoning after we die? If there is some form of an afterlife, than it is most likely that every single action we perform has some significance, and that every action we fail to perform has some consequence. In this model, we find ourselves with the possibility of some great reward, but at the cost of moral rectitude instead of moral ambiguity.
It is difficult to acknowledge that we live in a world of extremes, but we often over-estimate the true gray area of the world. One cannot be a follower of Christ if some great teaching of Jesus is completely ignored. One can also not be a physicist if he considers natual laws to be "relative." In our modern world-view, we have come to scoff at those who think of scientific discoveries as "relative" but we still believe that relativism can be present in ethics, philosophy and theology. It used to be the case that philosophers would compete over whose ideas were correct and whose view of virtues was right. Men would argue in the marketplace about who they followed and why they thought the other person's views were skewed. Now we live in a world where the idea of "live and let live" is prevalent.

So, we must ask ourselves, is it a matter of Nihilism, and nothing has any significance, or Mysticism, and everything has a purpose and place?

Of course, answering the question that there is a definite set of morals to which we should adhere does not, by any means, answer as to which ones should be followed. The question of moral rectitude is not one which I can personally define with guaranteed accuracy, nor one that I feel confident that I understand. A quick glance through the newspaper, especially the Editorials, will reveal how complex a question moral rectitude actually is.

Quid Homo?

Several things recently have called me to ponder what it means to be human. Apparently this is Darwin's 200 year birthday and 150 year anniversary of his famous voyage on the HMS Beagle. And President Obama's visit to the Notre Dame campus to deliver a graduation speech called the issue of human life into question. Additionally, certain movies as of recent have made me ponder what it is to be human.
It seems that humans have always pondered our being. The writers of the Bible viewed humans as the culmination of God's creation, even as being in the image of God. Greek philosophers pondered what separates us from the animals via the virtues. The Hindus and Buddhists believed that the human form was the highest form our souls could take and the only one by which we could ascend to Nirvana. Jesus refers to God as our father. Athanasius says we are made in the image and likeness of God. Thomas Aquinas refers to man as the rational animal.
Today the question is even more relevant. Genetic research shows us that we are only separated from apes by a fraction of our DNA pattern. But beyond this, the ethical problems of science denote how we conceive of the human person. Stem cell research is highly controversial. Cloning is taboo and certain medical operations are viewed as wrong.
Despite all the efforts modern scientific thought uses to show that human kind is not special, it is clear that most people don't believe that. It is as Pope John Paul II said when he declared that the Darwinian formula does not account for the sacredness of human kind. We all believe, deep down inside of us, that human beings are something greater than bags of flesh. We strive to accomplish great feats. We seek to demonstrate our individuality, our uniqueness, our special essence that identifies us as being a separate specie of the human genus. We write books, paint portraits, film movies, build towers and monuments. We seek to know everything. We look to the skies and ponder the vastness of space. We look inside of us and ponder the human mind and body. We traverse the oceans, deserts, jungles and plains detailing the vegetation and animals we discover. We markedly separate ourselves from the rest of the animal kingdom by the vast intellectual, emotional, creative and spiritual quests we undertake.
It seems to me that most of humanity has conceived of humans as being composed of at least a soul and a body. The Greeks viewed the highest part of the soul, the Logos, as the part that lived on past life. The Romans viewed the Anima as separate from the Corpus and the Spiritus, and the part that makes us who we are. Christians view the body and soul as parts of a whole person. Buddhists and Hindus view bodies as temporal but our essence as existing afterward. Even today, we speak of perhaps being "spiritual" but not "religious."
Even in our horror we can note how the body and soul are necessary parts of the person. From time immemorial we have been frightened of disembodied spirits. Vampires, on the other hand, are soulless bodies. Other undead, such as Frankenstein's Monster, mummies and zombies are also soulless bodies. In traditional horror (as of late, horror has focused more on the grotesque and disordered rather than on the genuinely unholy) the villain has always been some unholy, fractured human.
However, lately, there seems to have been a question as to whether or not this is legitimate. Alasdair MacIntyre suggests that during the Englightenment we lost the idea of having a purpose, a telos, for our morals. However, the philosophers of that time failed to explain adequately why we would have universal laws. For all the trying, they never fully explained to what end humans are moving. Here I feel the famous pseudo-theologian C. S. Lewis' explanation of a natural law that denotes a God comes into play. All humans have inside of us a something that pushes us toward universal ends. We all have similar morals, similar goals, similar emotions for similar things. We all have souls that guide and direct us.
Thus, I have concluded that the human is not a simple body. We are not merely animals. We are not a rung on the ladder of evolution. We are the culmination of all things. We all have inside of us an essence, a great something that distinguishes us from every other creature. Our minds and thoughts, our drives and inklings, and our very selves are distinct and unique.