Evolution Controversy -- What?
31/03/11 21:29 Filed in: Human Nature
I’m afraid, I don’t get the evolution controversy. God created the earth and the whole universe, from the simplest superstring to the greatest nebula to the hottest galaxy. He may have even created an unlimited number of universes, as scientists seem to think today that multiple universes exist. In all of this creating, God made the human person -- homo sapiens sapiens. He gave homo sapiens some things they share with other creatures and some things they do particularly better or only by themselves: speech, advanced reasoning, art, philosophy and science. We are closer to God than any other created material being (except, perhaps, elves, as Peter Kreeft argues). The fact that we evolved from the same evolutionary line as the great apes cannot and does not lessen who we are.
I am not sure, then, why people are still fighting the evolution wars, as this post reports about schools in Tennessee. A bill was proposed that would allow an instructor to teach whatever her beliefs were about science or evolution despite the fact that it has no scientific backing -- as in the case of creationism or intelligent design. Why would we allow our children to be taught something that is not true or to be taught that what is true is not true?
It must be because we believe science threatens our dignity. What nonsense!
Imagine you are an artist and you paint, and you’ve created an oeuvre of hundreds of paintings. Do you love all of them equally? Did you invest more energy in some than you did in others? Do you not have one or two that, when a guest comes over, you say -- this is my favorite. They all came from the same pallet. They all came from the same colors. In fact, some painting evolved from other ones -- you modified lines, concentrated on particular themes, highlighted various elements. Does this make the painting any the less valuable?
Just the contrary.
But, as I said, I really don’t understand the hot air.
I am not sure, then, why people are still fighting the evolution wars, as this post reports about schools in Tennessee. A bill was proposed that would allow an instructor to teach whatever her beliefs were about science or evolution despite the fact that it has no scientific backing -- as in the case of creationism or intelligent design. Why would we allow our children to be taught something that is not true or to be taught that what is true is not true?
It must be because we believe science threatens our dignity. What nonsense!
Imagine you are an artist and you paint, and you’ve created an oeuvre of hundreds of paintings. Do you love all of them equally? Did you invest more energy in some than you did in others? Do you not have one or two that, when a guest comes over, you say -- this is my favorite. They all came from the same pallet. They all came from the same colors. In fact, some painting evolved from other ones -- you modified lines, concentrated on particular themes, highlighted various elements. Does this make the painting any the less valuable?
Just the contrary.
But, as I said, I really don’t understand the hot air.
Comments
Living Water
27/03/11 17:03 Filed in: sunday reflections
Water. Clear, cool, refreshing. Neccessary.
Life.
The Israelites wandering in the desert know that water is life. We often do not because it is so available to us, and many of us drink our water in disguised forms: soft drinks, lemonade, beer. But underneath it all is water.
Notice, from the first reading Exodus what is happening. The Israelites have just been rescued from slavery. They are lost in the desert, thirsty. They complain: why did you bring us out of Egypt if only to die here in this desert.
Are we ever like that? Why did you do this to me, Lord? Many times, our questions aren’t about material things. Sometimes we just question whether God is even with us, just as the Israelites did at Massah and Meribah. Part of this story is about faith, and we recognize that in both the second reading and the gospel. Paul tells us that we are justified by faith, and through faith, we receive grace from God. Now we may boast in the hope of the glory of God. Do we boast in that hope? Now, during this lenten season, is the time to ask that question. What is our hope? What is God’s glory?
It is the resurrection toward which we are reaching.
For Jesus reveals Himself in the gospel passage. He is the Christ! But what is Christ to you and me? We are not Israelites. We are like the Samaritan woman. This story at the well that Jacob built after he fought the angel brings the three readings together. Once more, God provided the Israelites with a source of life: this well. Once more, it was a contest between human faith and God. Jesus transfigures this story, now. For He comes to the Samaritan woman and says,
“If you knew the gift of God
and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink, ‘
you would have asked him
and he would have given you living water.”
Jesus offers us living water so that we will never be thirsty. He offers us eternal life. That is our hope in the Glory of God. Notice, also, that in offering Himself to the Samaritan woman, Jesus offers Himself to all of humanity. A time is coming when the true believer will worship neither on the mountain nor in Jerusalem. They will worship in truth and in Spirit.
We get a taste of what that worship is in the rest of the passage: it is reaping where we have not sown. In working to bring about the kingdom of God, we will worship together with Jesus, with God, in truth and Spirit. What is the nature of that work?
Feed the hungry
Clothe the naked
House the homeless
Or, love thy neighbor -- the Samaritan and the Jew and all people -- as you love yourself.
Life.
The Israelites wandering in the desert know that water is life. We often do not because it is so available to us, and many of us drink our water in disguised forms: soft drinks, lemonade, beer. But underneath it all is water.
Notice, from the first reading Exodus what is happening. The Israelites have just been rescued from slavery. They are lost in the desert, thirsty. They complain: why did you bring us out of Egypt if only to die here in this desert.
Are we ever like that? Why did you do this to me, Lord? Many times, our questions aren’t about material things. Sometimes we just question whether God is even with us, just as the Israelites did at Massah and Meribah. Part of this story is about faith, and we recognize that in both the second reading and the gospel. Paul tells us that we are justified by faith, and through faith, we receive grace from God. Now we may boast in the hope of the glory of God. Do we boast in that hope? Now, during this lenten season, is the time to ask that question. What is our hope? What is God’s glory?
It is the resurrection toward which we are reaching.
For Jesus reveals Himself in the gospel passage. He is the Christ! But what is Christ to you and me? We are not Israelites. We are like the Samaritan woman. This story at the well that Jacob built after he fought the angel brings the three readings together. Once more, God provided the Israelites with a source of life: this well. Once more, it was a contest between human faith and God. Jesus transfigures this story, now. For He comes to the Samaritan woman and says,
“If you knew the gift of God
and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink, ‘
you would have asked him
and he would have given you living water.”
Jesus offers us living water so that we will never be thirsty. He offers us eternal life. That is our hope in the Glory of God. Notice, also, that in offering Himself to the Samaritan woman, Jesus offers Himself to all of humanity. A time is coming when the true believer will worship neither on the mountain nor in Jerusalem. They will worship in truth and in Spirit.
We get a taste of what that worship is in the rest of the passage: it is reaping where we have not sown. In working to bring about the kingdom of God, we will worship together with Jesus, with God, in truth and Spirit. What is the nature of that work?
Feed the hungry
Clothe the naked
House the homeless
Or, love thy neighbor -- the Samaritan and the Jew and all people -- as you love yourself.
Ruddick, Mothering and Nature
23/03/11 15:35 Filed in: Human Nature
The NY Times reports that Sara Ruddick died on Sunday 20 March 2011. Ruddick wrote a book, “Maternal Thinking: Toward a Politics of Peace.” In this book, she defended the idea that being a mother involved developing specific ways of seeing the world, of responding to the world, and specific virtues.
Her argument should come as no surprise to those who think from an Aristotelian perspective or who talk about practices. When we engage in practices, we are forming ourselves. As we play chess, for example, we develop more analytic and spatio-pattern recognition skills. Developing these skills can only affect the way we see the world. Ruddick’s argument is that, in mothering, the person develops ways of seeing the world that make them less likely to engage in violence.
Importantly, she notes that mother is not a gender-specific. As the NY Time quotes: ““Anyone who commits her or himself to responding to children’s demands, and makes the work of response a considerable part of her or his life, is a mother,””
I think this is important to keep in mind. Mothering -- relating to the world as a responding, caring parent -- is something we can all do. I write this in part because of rereading John Paul II’s Laborem Exercens -- On Human Labor -- yesterday. I’ve praised and defended Catholic Social Teaching often, and I teach a class on Catholic Social Teaching. One of the problems with the teaching, however, is its insistence, as stated by JP II, that “women have their own work” or that there is a “work specific to women.” Now, admittedly, JP II defends the idea that women are owed the same rights and respect as everyone else. Yet, he also contends that employment should be designed to allow women to perform those duties special to her.
Of course, JP II is saying that women have special work as mothers that is based on their gender. They were created to be mothers. Ruddick contends that is not so.
As a father, I have to side with Ruddick here. Women do, in fact, do biological things I cannot do, and we know scientifically that breast-feeding is much healthier for the baby. Yet, men have just as much right and duty to care for the child in the same way that women do. This duty includes feeding and changing children. It also included developing those ways of seeing the world that Ruddick identifies as “mothering.”
And perhaps, if we recognize mothering as something men have a responsibility for, we can develop in men the same aversion to violence that Ruddick believes female mothers gain from the practice of mothering.
Her argument should come as no surprise to those who think from an Aristotelian perspective or who talk about practices. When we engage in practices, we are forming ourselves. As we play chess, for example, we develop more analytic and spatio-pattern recognition skills. Developing these skills can only affect the way we see the world. Ruddick’s argument is that, in mothering, the person develops ways of seeing the world that make them less likely to engage in violence.
Importantly, she notes that mother is not a gender-specific. As the NY Time quotes: ““Anyone who commits her or himself to responding to children’s demands, and makes the work of response a considerable part of her or his life, is a mother,””
I think this is important to keep in mind. Mothering -- relating to the world as a responding, caring parent -- is something we can all do. I write this in part because of rereading John Paul II’s Laborem Exercens -- On Human Labor -- yesterday. I’ve praised and defended Catholic Social Teaching often, and I teach a class on Catholic Social Teaching. One of the problems with the teaching, however, is its insistence, as stated by JP II, that “women have their own work” or that there is a “work specific to women.” Now, admittedly, JP II defends the idea that women are owed the same rights and respect as everyone else. Yet, he also contends that employment should be designed to allow women to perform those duties special to her.
Of course, JP II is saying that women have special work as mothers that is based on their gender. They were created to be mothers. Ruddick contends that is not so.
As a father, I have to side with Ruddick here. Women do, in fact, do biological things I cannot do, and we know scientifically that breast-feeding is much healthier for the baby. Yet, men have just as much right and duty to care for the child in the same way that women do. This duty includes feeding and changing children. It also included developing those ways of seeing the world that Ruddick identifies as “mothering.”
And perhaps, if we recognize mothering as something men have a responsibility for, we can develop in men the same aversion to violence that Ruddick believes female mothers gain from the practice of mothering.
Call to Listen
20/03/11 18:51 Filed in: sunday reflections
On the one hand, the readings for today seem fairly straightforward. In the first reading from Genesis, God makes a covenant with Abram. In this covenant, he says he will make Abram the father of a nation and make Abram’s name a great name. Further, all communities will find blessings in Abram. Then, in the second reading, Paul warns us that God has called us according to His plan, not according to ours. Therefore, we must bear our burdens for the Gospel with the strength that God gives us. God has called us to a holy life through grace. Finally, we read the story of the Transfiguration in the Gospel. Jesus takes three disciples on a hilltop to pray. While praying, they see Jesus transformed, as like the sun, and he is speaking with Moses and Elijah. Then, God speaks: “This is my beloved son; listen to him.”
If we are called to holiness, we hear a call God gave to Abram centuries ago. Yet, clearly we see that human beings answer that call according to their own will, not according to God. This simple reading should give pause to anyone who dare thinks they understand God’s word and to anyone who would condemn others for not living the way they want. For we should be humble, the way that Peter and the apostles were humble before Christ’s transfiguration. Thus, God tells us, Jesus, His Son, is the one to whom we should listen, not ourselves. Humility means listening to God.
On the other hand, a deeper meaning remains for us in these readings. Peter offers to make three tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Then God speaks, and the disciples fall prostrate. What happens next?
Jesus touches Peter on the shoulder. “Rise, and do not be afraid.” Jesus does not command them to go out and do anything. Rather, He affirms them: Rise, and do not be afraid. Jesus responds to the fear that Peter and the others show.
I’m afraid. Afraid that the beliefs I have are not right; afraid that my ego gets in the way of my faith; afraid that I do my will rather than God’s. Yet, what this gospel is telling us is to have faith. God calls us. He has called us since the time of Abram. He calls us to His will, not ours. We must rise to meet that call, but we must do so humbly, not with pride or fear.
We should be cautious here. We should remember that fear drove Anakin Skywalker to become Darth Vader. Fear can drive us to many things; has driven our Church to do many things: fear of scandal; fear of loss of parishioners; fear that some one’s soul would be damned. Fear can lead us away from God.
What, then, can we do? It’s very simple. Listen. ““This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”” God does not tell us to do anything but listen to Jesus. Perhaps that is the answer here. If we are afraid of answering God’s call according to our own will, then we only need listen. If we are afraid, we only need listen. Thus, Jesus cautions his disciples as they come down the mountain. “Do not tell this vision to anyone until the Son of Man has risen from the dead.” And perhaps, when we tell it, we should remember that we only tell it, and then we calm peoples fears, and we listen.
If we are called to holiness, we hear a call God gave to Abram centuries ago. Yet, clearly we see that human beings answer that call according to their own will, not according to God. This simple reading should give pause to anyone who dare thinks they understand God’s word and to anyone who would condemn others for not living the way they want. For we should be humble, the way that Peter and the apostles were humble before Christ’s transfiguration. Thus, God tells us, Jesus, His Son, is the one to whom we should listen, not ourselves. Humility means listening to God.
On the other hand, a deeper meaning remains for us in these readings. Peter offers to make three tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Then God speaks, and the disciples fall prostrate. What happens next?
Jesus touches Peter on the shoulder. “Rise, and do not be afraid.” Jesus does not command them to go out and do anything. Rather, He affirms them: Rise, and do not be afraid. Jesus responds to the fear that Peter and the others show.
I’m afraid. Afraid that the beliefs I have are not right; afraid that my ego gets in the way of my faith; afraid that I do my will rather than God’s. Yet, what this gospel is telling us is to have faith. God calls us. He has called us since the time of Abram. He calls us to His will, not ours. We must rise to meet that call, but we must do so humbly, not with pride or fear.
We should be cautious here. We should remember that fear drove Anakin Skywalker to become Darth Vader. Fear can drive us to many things; has driven our Church to do many things: fear of scandal; fear of loss of parishioners; fear that some one’s soul would be damned. Fear can lead us away from God.
What, then, can we do? It’s very simple. Listen. ““This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”” God does not tell us to do anything but listen to Jesus. Perhaps that is the answer here. If we are afraid of answering God’s call according to our own will, then we only need listen. If we are afraid, we only need listen. Thus, Jesus cautions his disciples as they come down the mountain. “Do not tell this vision to anyone until the Son of Man has risen from the dead.” And perhaps, when we tell it, we should remember that we only tell it, and then we calm peoples fears, and we listen.
Underwater Houses and Self-Reliance
15/03/11 16:30 Filed in: Popular Culture
In a post from the American Heritage Foundation about American exceptionalism, I found this little line:
All of these American ideals––political freedom and autonomy, citizen independence and self-reliance, limited government, religion, patriotism, and nationalist autonomy backed up by vigorous military power—comprise American exceptionalism.
Just before that, I heard on the radio that 20% of home foreclosures in the US are strategic ones: that is, even though the home owner has the capability to make the payments, they make the financial decision to walk away from a home that’s under water -- one on which they owe more than the home is valued at.
I thought about what this meant with respect to the idea of self-reliance. Yet, I was not thinking about how these people failed in self-reliance. Rather, I had in mind the way that the notion of self-reliance in fact keeps people in a situation which is financially untenable. Why?
We have an idea in America, broadcast on the movie screen over and over again, of the “man” who has “true grit” and is able to pull himself up by his boot straps. He is reliant -- no matter the cost to him, he will not fail in his obligations freely taken. This person is independent and autonomous in the strict meaning of the term: that is, the person is a law unto himself. AS my reference to Ture Grit shows, this idea applies to women as much as man, for the true hero of that book and movie is Mattie Ross, not Rooster Cogburn.
It is this idea that makes Americans pay untold prices to fulfill their obligations.
Yet, as America has evolved with the rise of capitalism, we’ve seen that corporations lack any notion of self-reliance. The corporate bail-out is only one example of such lack. In the case of under water houses, banks bear no costs and everyday citizens, who were most often swindled by a swift sales talk, bear the cost, while banks and others walk away stashing money away.
Why should the one least able to bear the burden be the sole one to bear it?
While self-reliance is a wonderful, bold idea, it is unrealistic in practice. Mattie would not have survived had it not been for Cogburn and Le Beouff. Our society cannot survive without a secure middle class of home owners. And banks could not survive except as free-riders on the backs of the rest of us.
I do not deny that people ought to honor their obligations. Rather, I suggest that honoring obligations must occur within a social milieu that makes the honoring of obligations a reasonable thing to do, rather than an irrational act in an irrational system.
All of these American ideals––political freedom and autonomy, citizen independence and self-reliance, limited government, religion, patriotism, and nationalist autonomy backed up by vigorous military power—comprise American exceptionalism.
Just before that, I heard on the radio that 20% of home foreclosures in the US are strategic ones: that is, even though the home owner has the capability to make the payments, they make the financial decision to walk away from a home that’s under water -- one on which they owe more than the home is valued at.
I thought about what this meant with respect to the idea of self-reliance. Yet, I was not thinking about how these people failed in self-reliance. Rather, I had in mind the way that the notion of self-reliance in fact keeps people in a situation which is financially untenable. Why?
We have an idea in America, broadcast on the movie screen over and over again, of the “man” who has “true grit” and is able to pull himself up by his boot straps. He is reliant -- no matter the cost to him, he will not fail in his obligations freely taken. This person is independent and autonomous in the strict meaning of the term: that is, the person is a law unto himself. AS my reference to Ture Grit shows, this idea applies to women as much as man, for the true hero of that book and movie is Mattie Ross, not Rooster Cogburn.
It is this idea that makes Americans pay untold prices to fulfill their obligations.
Yet, as America has evolved with the rise of capitalism, we’ve seen that corporations lack any notion of self-reliance. The corporate bail-out is only one example of such lack. In the case of under water houses, banks bear no costs and everyday citizens, who were most often swindled by a swift sales talk, bear the cost, while banks and others walk away stashing money away.
Why should the one least able to bear the burden be the sole one to bear it?
While self-reliance is a wonderful, bold idea, it is unrealistic in practice. Mattie would not have survived had it not been for Cogburn and Le Beouff. Our society cannot survive without a secure middle class of home owners. And banks could not survive except as free-riders on the backs of the rest of us.
I do not deny that people ought to honor their obligations. Rather, I suggest that honoring obligations must occur within a social milieu that makes the honoring of obligations a reasonable thing to do, rather than an irrational act in an irrational system.
Time
14/03/11 22:23 Filed in: Human Nature
What is time?
St. Augustine said of this topic, “If you don’t ask me, I know, but if you ask me, I don’t know.” Time is that fickle or slippery, or however you want to think of it.
In the United States, we must all think of it today. Over the weekend, we sprung forward, setting our clocks ahead for daylight savings time. That means, we lost an hour of sleep, unless we were smart enough to go to sleep an hour earlier. Me? Well, not only was I not smart enough to go to sleep an hour earlier, I took a one-night job working karaoke, which kept me up several hours later.
The loss of sleep is a physical experience.
But there’s also a mental experience as well. I’m well aware right now that the clock reports it being an hour later than at the same relative time last week. Yet, that remains at the surface level of our experience. We also experience time as part of living. We have the past that shaped us, and the future that holds promise for us. In our modern, fast-paced industrial lives, we struggle to hold on to the now. Ask lovers and parents or someone who has lost a loved one what “now” means.
Of the philosophers who’ve spoken about time, Augustine and Heidegger prove the most insightful. Augustine, after much speculation, concluded that time is a mental experience. His understanding would fit well with Einstein’s relativity theory. Our experience of time, while objective in many ways, proves relative to where we are in space. We cannot speak of “time” per se, but must speak of time-space.
Heidegger notes that we experience being-toward-time. For me, the best way to understand this concept is through Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot. Asimov tells the story of a thinking robot who undergoes a procedure that will make him die. The robot has search for a long time for what will make him human. He realizes, in the end, that it must be the experience that death comes; that he has only a short time to carry out his purpose on earth. That captures, I think, Heidegger’s understanding of being-toward-time. Our lives, our experiences, are shaped by a notion of time that gives importance to time, in way that non-human animals and robots cannot understand time.
Even God cannot understand time. He has no being-toward-time. It’s a logical impossibility, for God is eternal, which Max Scheler points out, means He cannot experience a before and after. Augustine and St. Thomas understood this.
The other side of that coin, though, is that we -- human beings -- are beings of time. It’s part of our humanity. Which is why, when you finish reading this post, you might ask yourself: was that a waste of time?
St. Augustine said of this topic, “If you don’t ask me, I know, but if you ask me, I don’t know.” Time is that fickle or slippery, or however you want to think of it.
In the United States, we must all think of it today. Over the weekend, we sprung forward, setting our clocks ahead for daylight savings time. That means, we lost an hour of sleep, unless we were smart enough to go to sleep an hour earlier. Me? Well, not only was I not smart enough to go to sleep an hour earlier, I took a one-night job working karaoke, which kept me up several hours later.
The loss of sleep is a physical experience.
But there’s also a mental experience as well. I’m well aware right now that the clock reports it being an hour later than at the same relative time last week. Yet, that remains at the surface level of our experience. We also experience time as part of living. We have the past that shaped us, and the future that holds promise for us. In our modern, fast-paced industrial lives, we struggle to hold on to the now. Ask lovers and parents or someone who has lost a loved one what “now” means.
Of the philosophers who’ve spoken about time, Augustine and Heidegger prove the most insightful. Augustine, after much speculation, concluded that time is a mental experience. His understanding would fit well with Einstein’s relativity theory. Our experience of time, while objective in many ways, proves relative to where we are in space. We cannot speak of “time” per se, but must speak of time-space.
Heidegger notes that we experience being-toward-time. For me, the best way to understand this concept is through Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot. Asimov tells the story of a thinking robot who undergoes a procedure that will make him die. The robot has search for a long time for what will make him human. He realizes, in the end, that it must be the experience that death comes; that he has only a short time to carry out his purpose on earth. That captures, I think, Heidegger’s understanding of being-toward-time. Our lives, our experiences, are shaped by a notion of time that gives importance to time, in way that non-human animals and robots cannot understand time.
Even God cannot understand time. He has no being-toward-time. It’s a logical impossibility, for God is eternal, which Max Scheler points out, means He cannot experience a before and after. Augustine and St. Thomas understood this.
The other side of that coin, though, is that we -- human beings -- are beings of time. It’s part of our humanity. Which is why, when you finish reading this post, you might ask yourself: was that a waste of time?
Original Sin, Social Justice, and Mercy
12/03/11 19:54 Filed in: sunday reflections
You can read a story like this, about how Governor Walker has allowed lobbyist into the capital but not allowed everyday citizens and how he has given hundreds of millions in tax cuts while cutting billions from programs that serve the citizens and fall into the traditional lines of classical liberalism in America: democrat or republican. But if you read that story alongside the Church readings for the first Sunday of Lent, you might want to resist that move.
Stealing from the poor -- whether by the government or by corporations -- is taking the devil up on his third temptation to Christ.
Then the devil took him up to a very high mountain,
and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence,
and he said to him, "All these I shall give to you,
if you will prostrate yourself and worship me.”
It is to eat from the tree in the Garden of Eden, when human beings broke from God and broke from each other. Remember. Eve and Adam turned against each other as soon as they ate from the tree: blaming each for their sin.
If we are to return to the Garden of Eden and return to God, we must join together. We must absolutely and resolutely resist the forces that divide us into us and them -- into public employees and private employees, into union members and non-union members, into immigrants and citizens, into Hispanics and caucasians.
Religion is “tying back together.” Our first task as Catholics is to tie ourselves back together as human beings and as a community.
Stealing from the poor -- whether by the government or by corporations -- is taking the devil up on his third temptation to Christ.
Then the devil took him up to a very high mountain,
and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in their magnificence,
and he said to him, "All these I shall give to you,
if you will prostrate yourself and worship me.”
It is to eat from the tree in the Garden of Eden, when human beings broke from God and broke from each other. Remember. Eve and Adam turned against each other as soon as they ate from the tree: blaming each for their sin.
If we are to return to the Garden of Eden and return to God, we must join together. We must absolutely and resolutely resist the forces that divide us into us and them -- into public employees and private employees, into union members and non-union members, into immigrants and citizens, into Hispanics and caucasians.
Religion is “tying back together.” Our first task as Catholics is to tie ourselves back together as human beings and as a community.
Lent and Human Nature
09/03/11 20:22 Filed in: Human Nature
Today marks Ash Wednesday for most Christian denominations. In the Roman Catholic Church, parishioners attend a special mass in which the priest marks their foreheads with a cross made from ashes. Then, for the next forty days, Catholics sacrifice things they love and also attempt to change behaviors, moving from bad behaviors to good or incorporating more good behaviors into their lives.
The traditions and practices we engage in say something about our conceptions of human nature. Lent makes little sense if we don’t first believe that human beings are fallen creatures or, at least, that we fall occasionally. Nor does it makes sense if we aren’t redeemable in part through out actions. In many ways, the actions Catholics and Christians unertake during Lent recognize the truth of Aristotelian virtue theory -- that we can become more virtuous by consciously changing our behavior. Such an understanding of human behavior entails some modicum of free choice on our part.
The tradition of Lent, then, reveals a rather complex and sophisticated view of human nature. It recognizes our free choice in determining what kind of characters we have (virtuous or vicious) and the need for human beings to renew themselves occasionally. Such renewal begins with a recognition of our failings and our frailties. It cannot end there, though, and in many ways people corrupt Lent by forgetting that we can change and, moreover, that Easter represents, not only the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, but our own resurrection. Fundamentally, Lent is hope. If we only sacrifice and do not actively pursue avenues of expansion of ourselves, we’ve really missed what Lent is about and, more importantly, what Easter is about. In recognizing that Easter is the most important Holy Day of the year, we can come to grasp that Hope rises up in our future because we allow God to form us as the best persons we can possibly be.
May your Lent be filled with hope and renewal and may God bless us with the Grace we need to change our lives for the better -- to change who we are for the better.
The traditions and practices we engage in say something about our conceptions of human nature. Lent makes little sense if we don’t first believe that human beings are fallen creatures or, at least, that we fall occasionally. Nor does it makes sense if we aren’t redeemable in part through out actions. In many ways, the actions Catholics and Christians unertake during Lent recognize the truth of Aristotelian virtue theory -- that we can become more virtuous by consciously changing our behavior. Such an understanding of human behavior entails some modicum of free choice on our part.
The tradition of Lent, then, reveals a rather complex and sophisticated view of human nature. It recognizes our free choice in determining what kind of characters we have (virtuous or vicious) and the need for human beings to renew themselves occasionally. Such renewal begins with a recognition of our failings and our frailties. It cannot end there, though, and in many ways people corrupt Lent by forgetting that we can change and, moreover, that Easter represents, not only the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, but our own resurrection. Fundamentally, Lent is hope. If we only sacrifice and do not actively pursue avenues of expansion of ourselves, we’ve really missed what Lent is about and, more importantly, what Easter is about. In recognizing that Easter is the most important Holy Day of the year, we can come to grasp that Hope rises up in our future because we allow God to form us as the best persons we can possibly be.
May your Lent be filled with hope and renewal and may God bless us with the Grace we need to change our lives for the better -- to change who we are for the better.
Bodies: Somatic and Cultural
07/03/11 22:49 Filed in: Human Nature
In the very interesting book, Sexing the Body, Anne Fausto-Sterling, a biologist at Brown University in Rhodes Island, examines how bodies are sexed, not just through physical aspects, but also through culture. She argues that “sexuality is a somatic fact created by a cultural effect. She intends this position to avoid the dualisms that plague modern societies and sciences, including biology. For example, some feminists and others have argued that the sex of a body is natural and the gender of a body is constructed by society. Fausto-Sterling is forging a path between these naturalism and social constructionism.
Her approach is clearly on the right track. Bodies exist, but they exist in cultural milieus that interpret them as these kinds of bodies and not those kinds of bodies. Yet, the very moment we begin to make distinctions between these and those, we also frame our discourse which means we exclude certain categories of bodies.
Let’s take something a little less controversial (for some of us, anyway): Pluto. Pluto is a rocky mass circling the sun. Once it was considered a planet, now it is not. My generation will probably always see Pluto as a planet, even if we try not to, while my daughter’s generation might see it as either a planet or not a planet, and the generation after that will never know it as a planet. Human bodies can be similar: we see them as one way or another, and that way of seeing the body can change.
Let’s not think about sexing, for a moment, and think simply about beauty. What makes a beautiful body? Marilyn Monroe was a size 14 which, by the standards of 2011, would be overweight. (See, for example, The Devil Wears Prada.) Yet, someone might contend, you’re talking about values there: beautiful or not. Science talks about facts.
This point is the key, though: facts do not exist in a vacuum for us human beings. They exist within a particular tradition or a particular culture. Most of us would consider the law of gravity a fact, but it’s not. The Newtonian understanding of gravity has been superseded by relativity theory. Fausto-Sterling’s book is trying to explain how human bodies exist in cultural milieus which give them their very identification as bodies, as particular types of bodies.
This point does not mean that there is no truth about the situation. If relativism were true, it wouldn’t matter what science said about gravity or about bodies. Yet, it does matter. We can have a whole discussion about relativism and the position laid out here, but that would extend far beyond this particular post. Relativism, however, is a red herring. The real issue centers around how culture (tradition) frames the way we see the world and what that means for human nature. We are interpretive creatures, which means, at a very basic level, our lives entail providing interpretations of the world and testing them out. It’s in the testing of them that we avoid relativism.
Her approach is clearly on the right track. Bodies exist, but they exist in cultural milieus that interpret them as these kinds of bodies and not those kinds of bodies. Yet, the very moment we begin to make distinctions between these and those, we also frame our discourse which means we exclude certain categories of bodies.
Let’s take something a little less controversial (for some of us, anyway): Pluto. Pluto is a rocky mass circling the sun. Once it was considered a planet, now it is not. My generation will probably always see Pluto as a planet, even if we try not to, while my daughter’s generation might see it as either a planet or not a planet, and the generation after that will never know it as a planet. Human bodies can be similar: we see them as one way or another, and that way of seeing the body can change.
Let’s not think about sexing, for a moment, and think simply about beauty. What makes a beautiful body? Marilyn Monroe was a size 14 which, by the standards of 2011, would be overweight. (See, for example, The Devil Wears Prada.) Yet, someone might contend, you’re talking about values there: beautiful or not. Science talks about facts.
This point is the key, though: facts do not exist in a vacuum for us human beings. They exist within a particular tradition or a particular culture. Most of us would consider the law of gravity a fact, but it’s not. The Newtonian understanding of gravity has been superseded by relativity theory. Fausto-Sterling’s book is trying to explain how human bodies exist in cultural milieus which give them their very identification as bodies, as particular types of bodies.
This point does not mean that there is no truth about the situation. If relativism were true, it wouldn’t matter what science said about gravity or about bodies. Yet, it does matter. We can have a whole discussion about relativism and the position laid out here, but that would extend far beyond this particular post. Relativism, however, is a red herring. The real issue centers around how culture (tradition) frames the way we see the world and what that means for human nature. We are interpretive creatures, which means, at a very basic level, our lives entail providing interpretations of the world and testing them out. It’s in the testing of them that we avoid relativism.
Unemployment and Wanting Jobs
04/03/11 21:10 Filed in: Human Nature
In a recent conversation with someone I consider a long-time friend and whom I respect, the discussion turned to people expecting the system to give them what they need rather than working for what they need or want. We often hear, especially during times of crisis, that unemployment is due to people being lazy or not wanting to work. They expect the system to pay them for sitting around and watching TV or having babies. I can remember people decrying the welfare queens throughout the 80’s and early 90’s. What I never heard, though, was why someone would want to stay at home with a bunch of crying babies just to avoid work? Note well, I was a registered Republican back then. Something should be said here, of course, about the idea of work and whether work includes taking care of children and the household, but I shall leave that aside for now.
Rather, I want to turn to this set of charts at The Atlantic. They compare the number of people that the Bureau of Labor Statistics counts being unemployed compared to those who want to work but do not count as being unemployed. Noticed that the number of marginalized has grown even when jobs have been added to economy. These are people who for whatever reason cannot find work. As a matter of fact, we know that if people are out of work for a long time, employers mistrust them and think that their lack of work is due to their own unwillingness rather than to the facts about the economy -- surely a poor judgment on the part of the employer.
The question these charts raise will most likely be hidden by the release of the new jobs created in February -- close to 200,000 jobs. Yet the question needs to be asked: why aren’t people who want to work working?
In On the Condition of Labor, Pope Leo XIII wrote that most people want to work. In On the Progress of Peoples, Paul VI wrote that people want “To do more, to learn more, to have more. The popes emphasize what I think is true: people want to work; they want to engage in those activities which they find meaningful and fulfilling. The problem is, as I’ve noted here before, that capitalism undermines those things which truly make us human -- the development of those truly human powers and abilities that define our species.
Which takes me back to that first question: does anyone prefer sitting around a house listening to babies cry? Maybe, but they do so because they find it meaningful work. Others, however, might prefer to get out of the house and pursue some other work but can’t find the work. Which, of course, returns us to the unemployment figures.
These figures are a disgrace to any human culture. They testify to a system or a structure of systems that denies human modes of being to a group of human people -- in this case, somewhere close to 15% of the American population, which does not include those who work part-time and would prefer full-time work.
Of course, some people would prefer to sit on the couch and watch television. I’ve met people like that. That raises other questions, however: why? Here I think we need turn no further than the system we live under. It’s a system that encourages the greatest pursuit of pleasure at the least cost. Sitting on the couch and watching television, if you can get away with it, is not a human way of life, but it is essentially a capitalist way of life.
Unemployment stands as a testament to our depraved way of life. A drop in the numbers only numbs us to that moral reality.
Rather, I want to turn to this set of charts at The Atlantic. They compare the number of people that the Bureau of Labor Statistics counts being unemployed compared to those who want to work but do not count as being unemployed. Noticed that the number of marginalized has grown even when jobs have been added to economy. These are people who for whatever reason cannot find work. As a matter of fact, we know that if people are out of work for a long time, employers mistrust them and think that their lack of work is due to their own unwillingness rather than to the facts about the economy -- surely a poor judgment on the part of the employer.
The question these charts raise will most likely be hidden by the release of the new jobs created in February -- close to 200,000 jobs. Yet the question needs to be asked: why aren’t people who want to work working?
In On the Condition of Labor, Pope Leo XIII wrote that most people want to work. In On the Progress of Peoples, Paul VI wrote that people want “To do more, to learn more, to have more. The popes emphasize what I think is true: people want to work; they want to engage in those activities which they find meaningful and fulfilling. The problem is, as I’ve noted here before, that capitalism undermines those things which truly make us human -- the development of those truly human powers and abilities that define our species.
Which takes me back to that first question: does anyone prefer sitting around a house listening to babies cry? Maybe, but they do so because they find it meaningful work. Others, however, might prefer to get out of the house and pursue some other work but can’t find the work. Which, of course, returns us to the unemployment figures.
These figures are a disgrace to any human culture. They testify to a system or a structure of systems that denies human modes of being to a group of human people -- in this case, somewhere close to 15% of the American population, which does not include those who work part-time and would prefer full-time work.
Of course, some people would prefer to sit on the couch and watch television. I’ve met people like that. That raises other questions, however: why? Here I think we need turn no further than the system we live under. It’s a system that encourages the greatest pursuit of pleasure at the least cost. Sitting on the couch and watching television, if you can get away with it, is not a human way of life, but it is essentially a capitalist way of life.
Unemployment stands as a testament to our depraved way of life. A drop in the numbers only numbs us to that moral reality.
Watson's Relevance and Mattering to Us
03/03/11 20:54 Filed in: Popular Culture
In a eductive, My Dear Watson">recent post, I commented on the computer Watson that beat famous Jeopardy champion Ken Jennings. There, I discussed Dreyfus’ argument that computers can never be humans. In a recent editorial, Stanley Fish let Dreyfus speak about Watson.
Dreyfus notes that Watson belongs to a new kind of programming that tries to include responses and learning in the environment rather than strict programming to account for every situation. Yet, even here, Watson shows why computers fail to be like human beings: nothing matters to computers. Thus, Dreyfus writes “The fact is, things are relevant for human beings because at root we are beings for whom things matter. Relevance and mattering are two sides of the same coin.”
This insight helps explain some of our favorite robots in the history of science fiction. Asimov’s robot in I, Robot is concerned about the family he serves. They are relevant to him and they matter to him. Particularly their welfare. This same notion of concern for others is kept, though in a different form, in the Will Smith movie I, Robot. In that movie, the robot is concerned both for his master, who he killed, and also for humanity as a whole.
If we turn our attention to perhaps the most famous robot of all, Data in Star Trek, we can discover another thing that matters to robots: being human. In the original Asimov story and throughout Star Trek: The Next Generation, the principal androids want to be human. In the Asimov story, the robot wants to be human so much, he has himself programmed to die so he can experience death. (Something can be said here about Heidegger and his notion of being towards death, but that will be for another time.) In Star Trek, Data is constantly seeking to be human by having emotions. In both cases, being human matter to the robots/androids. What science fiction reveals, then, is that for a robot to seem human to us, they must be concerned about something -- something must matter to them.
Of course, being relevant and mattering are, in the end, aspects of our bodily existence. The phenomenologist Max Scheler points this out most clearly. Our life drives direct our perception and help shape the world for us. That is, the world matters to us because we have drives that motivate us to act on the world.
The question remains whether the new approach of scientists working in AI (artificial intelligence) can bridge the gap between having no concerns to being embedded in relevance and mattering the way human beings are. Dreyfus seems to see some hope here. I think, on the other hand, that if scientists can make this move, it won’t be a robot or android that we have worked from, but some hybrid of animal/human/computer.
Dreyfus notes that Watson belongs to a new kind of programming that tries to include responses and learning in the environment rather than strict programming to account for every situation. Yet, even here, Watson shows why computers fail to be like human beings: nothing matters to computers. Thus, Dreyfus writes “The fact is, things are relevant for human beings because at root we are beings for whom things matter. Relevance and mattering are two sides of the same coin.”
This insight helps explain some of our favorite robots in the history of science fiction. Asimov’s robot in I, Robot is concerned about the family he serves. They are relevant to him and they matter to him. Particularly their welfare. This same notion of concern for others is kept, though in a different form, in the Will Smith movie I, Robot. In that movie, the robot is concerned both for his master, who he killed, and also for humanity as a whole.
If we turn our attention to perhaps the most famous robot of all, Data in Star Trek, we can discover another thing that matters to robots: being human. In the original Asimov story and throughout Star Trek: The Next Generation, the principal androids want to be human. In the Asimov story, the robot wants to be human so much, he has himself programmed to die so he can experience death. (Something can be said here about Heidegger and his notion of being towards death, but that will be for another time.) In Star Trek, Data is constantly seeking to be human by having emotions. In both cases, being human matter to the robots/androids. What science fiction reveals, then, is that for a robot to seem human to us, they must be concerned about something -- something must matter to them.
Of course, being relevant and mattering are, in the end, aspects of our bodily existence. The phenomenologist Max Scheler points this out most clearly. Our life drives direct our perception and help shape the world for us. That is, the world matters to us because we have drives that motivate us to act on the world.
The question remains whether the new approach of scientists working in AI (artificial intelligence) can bridge the gap between having no concerns to being embedded in relevance and mattering the way human beings are. Dreyfus seems to see some hope here. I think, on the other hand, that if scientists can make this move, it won’t be a robot or android that we have worked from, but some hybrid of animal/human/computer.