Stand fast, therefore, in these things, and follow the example of the Lord, being firm and unchangeable in the faith, loving the brotherhood, and being attached to one another, joined together in the truth, exhibiting the meekness of the Lord in your intercourse with one another, and despising no one. When you can do good, defer it not, because "alms delivers from death." Be all of you subject one to another, "having your conduct blameless among the Gentiles," that ye may both receive praise for your good works, and the Lord may not be blasphemed through you. But woe to him by whom the name of the Lord is blasphemed! Teach, therefore, sobriety to all, and manifest it also in your own conduct.
St. Polycarp, Letter to the Philippians (first half of the second century)
Strictly speaking, the Letter to the Philippians is less a letter than a treatise on virtue. The other extant texts associated with Polycarp are (1) the Letter from the Church of Smyrna on the Martyrdom of Polycarp, which was written probably in the third quarter of the second century, assuming that the traditional date for Polycarp's death (155/156) is more or less right; and (2) the earlier Letter to Polycarp from Ignatius of Antioch (St. Ignatius was martyred in the first quarter of the second century). As with all ancient texts, our certainty that these are genuine and dated properly is less than perfect; but while the evidence is very limited, it tends to favor authenticity and the traditional dates, thus making texts like these important for understanding something of the beliefs and interactions of second-century Christian communities. Plus, as I've said before, I think there is good reason to think the Letter to the Philippians, as well as the Clementine and Ignatian letters, to be inspired (albeit not in a canonical way -- canonical inspiration has to do with the way the Church is inspired to use the text).
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Diminishing and Non-Diminishing Qualifications
Consider the following two inferences:
(1) The car is rubber with respect to its tires; therefore the car is rubber.
(2) The man is blond with respect to his hair; therefore the man is blond.
The first is obviously a bad inference (assuming we are not understanding the conclusion in a peculiarly restricted way); while the second is obviously a good inference. The difference between the two has to do with the nature of the qualification. The qualification in the first is what we can call a 'diminishing qualification'; the qualification in the second is what we can call a 'non-diminishing qualification'. Diminishing qualifications make the inference from the qualified version ('The car is rubber with respect to its tires') to the unqualified version ('The car is rubber') illegitimate, because the qualification 'diminishes' or restricts what would otherwise be the natural application of the predicate. In a non-diminishing qualification, however, the qualification doesn't restrict the natural application of the predicate. 'With respect to his hair' clarifies, perhaps, the way in which a man is blond; but it does not restrict the way in which a man is blond.
This distinction between diminishing and non-diminishing qualifications has relevance to the analysis of reduplicative propositions. The failure to make the distinction is also at the heart of a number of sophisms.
(1) The car is rubber with respect to its tires; therefore the car is rubber.
(2) The man is blond with respect to his hair; therefore the man is blond.
The first is obviously a bad inference (assuming we are not understanding the conclusion in a peculiarly restricted way); while the second is obviously a good inference. The difference between the two has to do with the nature of the qualification. The qualification in the first is what we can call a 'diminishing qualification'; the qualification in the second is what we can call a 'non-diminishing qualification'. Diminishing qualifications make the inference from the qualified version ('The car is rubber with respect to its tires') to the unqualified version ('The car is rubber') illegitimate, because the qualification 'diminishes' or restricts what would otherwise be the natural application of the predicate. In a non-diminishing qualification, however, the qualification doesn't restrict the natural application of the predicate. 'With respect to his hair' clarifies, perhaps, the way in which a man is blond; but it does not restrict the way in which a man is blond.
This distinction between diminishing and non-diminishing qualifications has relevance to the analysis of reduplicative propositions. The failure to make the distinction is also at the heart of a number of sophisms.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
On Treating Women Better than Men are Treated
One of the weaknesses in Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex is that it often makes it sound as if the primary thing were to treat women as men are treated. The reason this is a weakness is that, looking around at the world, men aren't really treated that well. Indeed, you can't appreciate just how terribly women are treated unless you see just how poorly men are treated, and see the scandal that women often don't even have the very limited advantages of most men. However, sometimes Beauvoir shows recognition of this problem, particularly when her socialism comes to the fore, as in this passage on working-class women:
[Beauvoir, The Second Sex (Parshley tr.) p. 680]
And this, I think, close to the point: it's not enough to treat women as men are treated now; both women and men need to be treated better than men are treated now. In many cases it is more clearly crucial in the case of women; and as an interim measure, the goal of equalization is quite reasonable. But equalization is a means, not an end, because we should not stop moral progress at mere equality. People can equally be treated badly; and this is just not good enough.
We must not lose sight of those facts which make the question of woman's labor a complex one. An important and thoughtful woman recently made a study of the women in the Renault factories; she states that they would prefer to stay in the home rather than work in the factory. There is no doubt that they get economic independence only as members of a class which is economically oppressed; and, on the other hand, their jobs at the factory do not relieve them of housekeeping burdens. If they had been asked to choose between forty hours of work a week in the factory and forty hours of work a week in the home, they would doubtless have furnished quite different answers. And perhaps they would cheerfully accept both jobs, if as factory workers they were to be integrated in a world that would be theirs, in the development of which they would joyfully and proudly share.
[Beauvoir, The Second Sex (Parshley tr.) p. 680]
And this, I think, close to the point: it's not enough to treat women as men are treated now; both women and men need to be treated better than men are treated now. In many cases it is more clearly crucial in the case of women; and as an interim measure, the goal of equalization is quite reasonable. But equalization is a means, not an end, because we should not stop moral progress at mere equality. People can equally be treated badly; and this is just not good enough.
Aquinas on Individuation of Separate Substances
Thomas Aquinas's theory of individuation is often misunderstood. Aquinas does hold that the principle of individuation for material things is matter, but (contrary to what seems to be a common belief) this is not his whole account of individuation. The following passages from the De Unitate (Chapter V) clarify things a bit.
Nor is it true to say that every number is caused by matter, for then Aristotle would have inquired in vain after the number of separated substances. For Aristotle says in Book Five of the Metaphysics that `many' is said not only numerically but specifically and generically. Nor is it true that separate substance is not singular and individuated, otherwise it would have no operation, since acts belong only to singulars, as the Philosopher says; hence he argues against Plato in Book Seven of the Metaphysics that if the Idea is separate, it will not be predicated of many, nor will it be definable any more than other individuals which are unique in their species, like the sun and moon. Matter is the principle of individuation in material things insofar as matter is not shareable by many, since it is the first subject not existing in another. Hence Aristotle says that if the Idea were separate "it would be something, that is, an individual, which it would be impossible to predicate of many."
Separate substances, therefore, are individual and singular, but they are individuated not by matter but by this: that it is not their nature to exist in another and consequently to be participated in by many. From which it follows that if any form is of a nature to be participated in by something, such that it be the act of some matter, it can be individuated and multiplied by comparison with matter. It has already been shown above that the intellect is a power of the soul which is the act of the body. Therefore in many bodies there are many souls and in many souls there are many intellectual powers, that is, intellects. Nor does it follow from this that the intellect is a material power, as has been shown.
Nor is it true to say that every number is caused by matter, for then Aristotle would have inquired in vain after the number of separated substances. For Aristotle says in Book Five of the Metaphysics that `many' is said not only numerically but specifically and generically. Nor is it true that separate substance is not singular and individuated, otherwise it would have no operation, since acts belong only to singulars, as the Philosopher says; hence he argues against Plato in Book Seven of the Metaphysics that if the Idea is separate, it will not be predicated of many, nor will it be definable any more than other individuals which are unique in their species, like the sun and moon. Matter is the principle of individuation in material things insofar as matter is not shareable by many, since it is the first subject not existing in another. Hence Aristotle says that if the Idea were separate "it would be something, that is, an individual, which it would be impossible to predicate of many."
Separate substances, therefore, are individual and singular, but they are individuated not by matter but by this: that it is not their nature to exist in another and consequently to be participated in by many. From which it follows that if any form is of a nature to be participated in by something, such that it be the act of some matter, it can be individuated and multiplied by comparison with matter. It has already been shown above that the intellect is a power of the soul which is the act of the body. Therefore in many bodies there are many souls and in many souls there are many intellectual powers, that is, intellects. Nor does it follow from this that the intellect is a material power, as has been shown.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Jesuitical
Opus Dei must be the new Society of Jesus. I laughed at this post and thread at "The Curt Jester." The Jesuits once did this sort of thing. Are the Jesuits in a ruthless and invincible conspiracy to control Western civilization? Well, if they aren't, then why not learn about them so you won't be mistaken? And if they are, why fight them when you can join them?
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to people who aren't in religious orders. One day a priest was visiting one of his parishioners, and, asking about her teenage son, discovered that she was worried about what career he would choose. The priest said he could tell by a simple test. He put on the coffee table a Bible, a wallet, and a bottle of scotch.
"If he chooses the Bible," the priest told her, "that's a sign he's destined for the priesthood. If he chooses the wallet, he's called to be a banker. And if he chooses the bottle of scotch, he's bound to become a bum."
The teenager came in and the priest told him he could have any object on the table. The boy picked up all three.
"Oh no!" the priest shouted. "He's going to be a Jesuit!"
But this is the one you tell to a Jesuit. The Franciscans, the Dominicans, and the Jesuits were having a meeting when suddenly all the lights went out. Without a moment's hesitation, the Franciscans all took out their guitars and began to sing. In the next moment, the Dominicans all stood up and began to preach. In the next moment, the Jesuits all sighed, then went to the basement and replaced the fuse.
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to a Dominican. A Dominican and a Jesuit were arguing about whether the Dominicans or the Jesuits were more favored by God. Finally, they decided that the only one who could settle the matter was God. So they prayed, the heavens opened up, and a piece of paper came fluttering down. When they picked it up, this is what it said,
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to a Franciscan. A Jesuit and a Franciscan were eating a meal together, and after dinner, they treated themselves to leftover pie. Alas, there were only two pieces left, one much larger than the other. Without any hesitation, the Jesuit reached over and took the larger piece.
"St. Francis always taught us to take the lesser piece," the Franciscan said reproachfully.
"And so you have it," the Jesuit replied.
Unless he's good at Latin, in which you tell him this one. A Franciscan and Jesuit were walking in a forest, and the Jesuit noticed that there was an echo. Thinking to play a prank on his companion, the Jesuit shouted out in Latin:
"Quod est Franciscanorum regula?" (What is the rule of the Franciscans?)
And the echo replied:
"Gula, gula, gula." (Gluttony, gluttony, gluttony)
In a heartbeat the Franciscan shouted out:
"Fuitne Judas Jesuita?" (Was Judas a Jesuit?)
And the echo replied:
"Ita, ita, ita." (Yes, yes, yes.)
But this is the Franciscan joke you tell to a Jesuit. A Jesuit and a Franciscan were involved in a car accident. Hurriedly they got out to make sure the other person was OK, each insisting that it was probably his own fault.
Then the Jesuit, very concerned for his fellow religious, said, "You look very badly shaken up. You could probably use a stiff drink." At that he produced a flask, and the Franciscan, who was indeed a bit shaken up, took it gratefully.
"One more and I'm sure you'll be feeling fine," the Jesuit said, and the Franciscan took another. Then the Jesuit took the flask and put it safely away.
"You look a bit shaken up yourself," the Franciscan said. "Are you sure you don't want to take a bit?"
The Jesuit replied, "Oh, I certainly will; but I think I'll wait until after the police arrive."
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to people who aren't in religious orders. One day a priest was visiting one of his parishioners, and, asking about her teenage son, discovered that she was worried about what career he would choose. The priest said he could tell by a simple test. He put on the coffee table a Bible, a wallet, and a bottle of scotch.
"If he chooses the Bible," the priest told her, "that's a sign he's destined for the priesthood. If he chooses the wallet, he's called to be a banker. And if he chooses the bottle of scotch, he's bound to become a bum."
The teenager came in and the priest told him he could have any object on the table. The boy picked up all three.
"Oh no!" the priest shouted. "He's going to be a Jesuit!"
But this is the one you tell to a Jesuit. The Franciscans, the Dominicans, and the Jesuits were having a meeting when suddenly all the lights went out. Without a moment's hesitation, the Franciscans all took out their guitars and began to sing. In the next moment, the Dominicans all stood up and began to preach. In the next moment, the Jesuits all sighed, then went to the basement and replaced the fuse.
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to a Dominican. A Dominican and a Jesuit were arguing about whether the Dominicans or the Jesuits were more favored by God. Finally, they decided that the only one who could settle the matter was God. So they prayed, the heavens opened up, and a piece of paper came fluttering down. When they picked it up, this is what it said,
My children,
Please stop quarreling about such absurd and trivial matters.
Sincerely,
God, O.P.
This is the Jesuit joke you tell to a Franciscan. A Jesuit and a Franciscan were eating a meal together, and after dinner, they treated themselves to leftover pie. Alas, there were only two pieces left, one much larger than the other. Without any hesitation, the Jesuit reached over and took the larger piece.
"St. Francis always taught us to take the lesser piece," the Franciscan said reproachfully.
"And so you have it," the Jesuit replied.
Unless he's good at Latin, in which you tell him this one. A Franciscan and Jesuit were walking in a forest, and the Jesuit noticed that there was an echo. Thinking to play a prank on his companion, the Jesuit shouted out in Latin:
"Quod est Franciscanorum regula?" (What is the rule of the Franciscans?)
And the echo replied:
"Gula, gula, gula." (Gluttony, gluttony, gluttony)
In a heartbeat the Franciscan shouted out:
"Fuitne Judas Jesuita?" (Was Judas a Jesuit?)
And the echo replied:
"Ita, ita, ita." (Yes, yes, yes.)
But this is the Franciscan joke you tell to a Jesuit. A Jesuit and a Franciscan were involved in a car accident. Hurriedly they got out to make sure the other person was OK, each insisting that it was probably his own fault.
Then the Jesuit, very concerned for his fellow religious, said, "You look very badly shaken up. You could probably use a stiff drink." At that he produced a flask, and the Franciscan, who was indeed a bit shaken up, took it gratefully.
"One more and I'm sure you'll be feeling fine," the Jesuit said, and the Franciscan took another. Then the Jesuit took the flask and put it safely away.
"You look a bit shaken up yourself," the Franciscan said. "Are you sure you don't want to take a bit?"
The Jesuit replied, "Oh, I certainly will; but I think I'll wait until after the police arrive."
The Mercy of Allah
The Internet Archive has a very nice copy of Hilaire Belloc's The Mercy of Allah online (HT: In illo tempore). The Mercy of Allah, a delightful story about a swindling rascal, is a biting satire of capitalism and what might be called 'capitalist piety', i.e., the sort of capitalism that is constantly appealing to its public-spiritedness and generosity.
Pietro Damiani
Today is the feast of a saint who has one of the coolest names in history: Pietro Damiani. It just rolls off the tongue like a party.
Peter Damian (1007-1072) is a Doctor of the Church; he was a well-known instance of a tell-it-like-it-is monk (Benedictine), who spent a great deal of his life attacking abuses (particularly simony and sexual abuses) in the church. His most famous work in this regard was the no-holds-barred Liber Gomorrhianus, which earned him the enmity of more than a few people (and a protest letter from the pope, Leo IX, who liked Damian but thought he went a bit overboard). He was eventually made a cardinal; but the pope of the time, Stephen X, had to threaten him with excommunication to get him to accept it. Every time a new pope came to power he would plead -- or sometimes demand, since he was that sort of person -- to be released from the responsibilities of being a cardinal; but his request was steadfastly refused. He played a major role in the schisms of the time. He is often referred to as the Doctor of Reform and Renewal. He is a terribly stern and severe but occasonally very likable figure in history; a very emblem of the fire of moral purification.
One of his more important and influential works is the treatise De divina omnipotentia. Paul Vincent Spade has translated and placed online selections from that work (PDF). You can also find online a letter from Peter on simony. The Medieval Sourcebook has a small selection from the Liber Gomorrhianus. Also available online is a selection from Peter's Life of St. Romuald of Ravenna
Peter Damian (1007-1072) is a Doctor of the Church; he was a well-known instance of a tell-it-like-it-is monk (Benedictine), who spent a great deal of his life attacking abuses (particularly simony and sexual abuses) in the church. His most famous work in this regard was the no-holds-barred Liber Gomorrhianus, which earned him the enmity of more than a few people (and a protest letter from the pope, Leo IX, who liked Damian but thought he went a bit overboard). He was eventually made a cardinal; but the pope of the time, Stephen X, had to threaten him with excommunication to get him to accept it. Every time a new pope came to power he would plead -- or sometimes demand, since he was that sort of person -- to be released from the responsibilities of being a cardinal; but his request was steadfastly refused. He played a major role in the schisms of the time. He is often referred to as the Doctor of Reform and Renewal. He is a terribly stern and severe but occasonally very likable figure in history; a very emblem of the fire of moral purification.
One of his more important and influential works is the treatise De divina omnipotentia. Paul Vincent Spade has translated and placed online selections from that work (PDF). You can also find online a letter from Peter on simony. The Medieval Sourcebook has a small selection from the Liber Gomorrhianus. Also available online is a selection from Peter's Life of St. Romuald of Ravenna
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)