Templar

As you are no doubt aware, the Knights Templar have become a peculiarly popular trope in fiction, as a sort of super-conspiracy theory; as Eco notes in Foucault's Pendulum, the kooks, the ones locked into a psychosis of resemblances, always end up talking about the Templars. The Templars, or the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, were the first Christian military order; as a religious order, Templars took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and were supposed to live lives of piety as any monk would. (The Templar Rule, in fact, was an adaptation of the Cistercian adaptation of the Rule of Benedict. This original Cistercian influence, incidentally, is why Templars wear white -- Cistercian habits were white, and the Templars just took a version of that habit and added a red cross to it, to indicate their crusader's vow.) They were soldiers, however, who were supposed never to surrender. Their original purpose was to protect pilgrims and the Christian presence in the Holy Land. Pilgrimmage was at times, and particularly in the Holy Land, a dangerous venture; the Church worried about the safety of pilgrims through a good portion of the Middle Ages. So when in 1118 Hugues de Payens and eight companions offered their services, there was certainly a demand.

Knights in the battlefield, monks in the chapel. Something more perfectly calculated to fascinate the medieval mind could hardly be conceived. They received privileges, money, land; they found recruitment easy. Its wealth, one of the major elements in the legend that attracts the kooks, became a thing of legend. And other military orders, the most famous of which was the Order of the Kights of St. John of Jeruselm, more popularly known as the Knights Hospitaller, founded by Blessed Gerard Thom, who ran and guarded hospitals and hospices for pilgrims (and tended to have an Augustinian rather than a Cistercian tone).

The Templars came to a terrible end -- another reason they attract crazy people. On October 13, 1307, King Philip of France had all the Templars arrested and interviewed, or, rather, tortured, in order to collect confessions about Templar rites of initiation. Since these rites were conducted secretly, there was no open evidence against any accusation that the enemies of the order might make up; and since confessions were collected by torture, evidence for any made-up accusation could easily be fabricated. Pope Clement V vigorously protested, and declared the proceedings null and void; but with the confessions in hand, Philip was able to convince the Pope to conduct a separate ecclesiastical inquiry, which, of course, investigated the order not just in France, but throughout the world. The inquiry found that the knights of the order, for the most part, were innocent of any charges, and that there was no evidence that the order itself embraced any heresy. The question of whether the Templars should continue as an order sanctioned by the Church was brought before the General Council of Vienne in 1311; the great majority of the conciliar fathers did not wish to condemn the order, but because of the scandal, they felt that something had to be done. To avoid actually condemning the order, it was deemed best simply to dissolve, not as punishment, but as a matter of prudence. According to Clement:

The majority of the cardinals and of those elected by the council, a proportion of more than four-fifths, have thought it better, more expedient and advantageous for God's honour and for the preservation of the christian faith, also for the aid of the holy Land and many other valid reasons, to suppress the order by way of ordinance and provision of the apostolic see, assigning the property to the use for which it was intended. Provision is also to be made for the members of the order who are still alive. This way has been found preferable to that of safeguarding the right of defence with the consequent postponement of judgment on the order. We observe also that in other cases the Roman church has suppressed other important orders for reasons of far less gravity than those mentioned above, with no fault on the part of the brethren. Therefore, with a sad heart, not by definitive sentence, but by apostolic provision or ordinance, we suppress, with the approval of the sacred council, the order of Templars, and its rule, habit and name, by an inviolable and perpetual decree, and we entirely forbid that anyone from now on enter the order, or receive or wear its habit, or presume to behave as a Templar. If anyone acts otherwise, he incurs automatic excommunication.

One of the things I've always been puzzled about is why the Hospitallers aren't as big a part of the conspiracy story as the Templars. After all, the Hospitallers were major rivals of the Templars; on the dissolution of the Templar order, they received Templar property; and, unlike the Templars, they still exist. But that's perhaps the whole point; the Order of Malta does excellent charity work, but it doesn't look like the sort of organization that is running the world behind the scenes. Templar nonexistence functions like the version of Templar secrecy. Templar secrecy allowed the order's enemies to make up anything they pleased and pin it on the order; Templar nonexistence allows the kooks to do the same.

UPDATE: After some discussion, Pensans has convinced me that the claim that the inquiry found "that the knights of the order, for the most part, were innocent of any charges" is probably too strong and certainly not sufficiently nuanced.

Sympathy for the Oliphaunt

I wanted to continue my series on Hume's Dialogues,but I'm too tired to say much tonight. However, you like Tolkien and haven't read the post on Sympathy for the Oliphaunt at "Fido the Yak", you should.

Truthlikeness

Reading the Truthlikeness entry in the SEP, which is a good summary of the common views on verisimilitude, it struck me that all of these views gloss truthlike as 'like the truth'. Thus saying P is truthlike is to say that P is like the truth T which we are, as it were, trying to get at in talking about P in the first place. But surely there's another, better way of glossing it, namely, that truthlike is 'like truth', i.e., it may or may not be true, but it is as if it were, it has characteristics making it resemble truth. This is why Academic skeptics can accept the verisimilar: to say that P is truthlike you don't have to know that it is like T in particular. (And why Augustine can reply to the Academics that saying P is truthlike is only possible if you know what features go with some truth, even if not the particular truth in question, so as to be able to say that P is like it in some way.)

Interposition

In discussing the Filioque, it's often forgotten that there are in fact more than one possible Filioquist view. I was reminded of this in particular when reading Michael Liccione's post on the Filioque, which I haven't had a chance to discuss yet. Like Mike, I hold DMF -- the monarchy of the Father. Like Mike, I am a Filioquist. I even agree with a great deal of what he says in laying out his own account. However, there are a number of differences between my view of the Filioque and Mike's. For instance, I think his claim that on his account "it can also be said that the Son is begotten ex Patri spirituque," if true (I'm actually not convinced it is), would be a reductio ad absurdum of the account. For another example, I am in wholehearted agreement with CP, or at least the only reasonable and genuinely Cappodocian version of it: every real divine property must either be individual or common to all three. Unlike Mike, I don't think this is negotiable; and unlike Mike, I don't think, when properly understood, it causes any problems. And the reason, I think, is fairly clear; on my view of the Filioque, the Holy Spirit is God in his own right, with regard to possessing the essence; the Holy Spirit is from the Father alone with regard to His hypostasis; and the Holy Spirit is from the Father and the Son notionally. This requires some explanation. But I want to start with CP.

The only argument from CP that any Filioquist need bother with at all is the one begun by Photios; other arguments, to the extent that they can be taken seriously at all, are only versions of this. And the argument, as found in the Mystagogy, is this: Aside from the distinctively characteristic properties of the persons, whenever some property is truly possessed by distinct persons, the property shared by those persons is referred to the nature (this is, more or less, CP; I think it best not to quibble about precise formulations, because they all have to be understood a particular way in order to be consistent with things that are definitely orthodox, anyway, as we shall see). Therefore if we attribute to the Son a property distinctive of the Father, the logical consequence is to completely resolve the Father's person into the nature, extirpating the Principle of the Godhead.

Now, I think this argument is sound. I think it misses the point, since the Filioque doesn't attribute to the Son a property distinctive of the Father. But I think it's right, and identifies a point that any adequate exposition of the doctrine of Filioque must take into account. But the governing principle of the argument, or CP (in some version or other), is tricky to interpret, because while I think it's right, we must be careful as to how we understand 'shared properties'. For some properties are shared naturally and some notionally, and the two are not the same.

As Gregory of Nyssa points out it is impossible to distinguish the Persons except in respect of cause and of the cause. Thus, the Father and the Son are one in nature, and so cannot be distinguished by nature. The only way to distinguish them is by mode of existence or subsistence in that nature, i.e.: that the Son does not exist without generation, nor the Father by generation. And thus we distinguish the persons only in this way: the Father is the origin or principle, the Son is of the origin, and the Spirit is of the origin by interposition of the Son, where 'interposition' is understood to preserve his unique characteristic as the one and only begotten, despite the Spirit's also being of the origin. (It should perhaps be pointed out that Gregory's point can't be handled by the standard responses based on the essence/energies distinction, because he explicitly distinguishes the point being discussed from the essence and energies.)

But one might argue in this way. When St. Gregory makes a distinction in 'of the cause', distinguishing between (1) that which is of the cause and (2) that which is of the cause by interposition of (1), is he not assigning a property that is neither individual nor common to all? For it seems to be shared by the Spirit and the Son, and not by the Father. And the answer, I think, is clearly not. The reason is that 'of the cause' is a single description for both the Son and the Holy Spirit; but it doesn't follow from this that it posits a single property, unless we have an understanding of the term 'property' that is so expansive that even a slight difference in description would make a new property. In fact, in one phrase 'of the cause' or 'from the Father' posits two distinct properties, which is why it is susceptible of further distinction into one that is of the cause as only-begotten and another that is of the cause but by interposition.

Conversely, when I say the Father is that from which the Spirit proceeds and that by which the Son is begotten, these two descriptions, 'that from which the Spirit proceeds' and 'that by which the Son is begotten' do not indicate two distinctive properties in the Father, as if He were two people, the Origin of Procession and the Origin of the Son. In fact, the two descriptions are both incomplete and imperfect characterizations of the one distinctive property of the Father. The reason this is the converse of the point I just made about descriptions like 'from the Father' is that the reason we have to allow these descriptions, which describe two persons distinctly from another, is that they are necessary to an orthodox description of the third's distinctive property. To say that both the Son and the Spirit are from the Father is an indirect way of describing the Father's distinctive property as origin or unbegotten fontal plenitude. If we could not describe both the Son and the Spirit by this one description, 'from the Father', we would be logically committed to denying that the Father is the Principle of Godhead. Thus it is possible and, indeed, necessary, to have descriptions or notions shared by two persons and not by the third.

As I've already pointed out, though, these two-person descriptions or notions do not identify a single distinctive property, nor do they do anything more in this regard than preserve the distinctive property of the third person. They are orthodox, though -- indeed, they are necessary to orthodoxy -- and any version of CP must be understood in a way so as not to rule them out. Let those who have a problem with that take it up with the Cappadocian Fathers.

Another way to think of it is to think of it in St. Basil's terms, taking the special distinctive of the Spirit to be inseparably apprehended with the Son so as to be known "after and together with" the Son. This inseparable apprehension is in fact extremely important. Anyone who thinks they are indicating the Father are implicitly also indicating the Son from the Father and the Spirit from the Father through the Son; or they are not indicating the Father at all. Likewise, anyone who indicates the Son is indicating also the Father from whom the Son is and the Spirit who proceeds from the Father through and together with the Son, so as to be known after and together with the Son. And likewise, anyone who indicates the Holy Spirit is indicating also the Father from whom He proceeds and the Son with whom He is inseparable adjoined. We could just as easily say that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and rests with the Son, or dwells in the Son.

Thus the question of the Filioque boils down to this: whether it is a legitimate two-person notion, or, in other words, whether it is, as understood by the West, a reasonably decent description of the way in which the Spirit is inseparably apprehended with the Son, and the Son with the Father. To say that the Spirit is from the Father and the Son is as much to say that the Father is together-with-the-Son in the procession of the Spirit, just as to say "Paul and Silvanus" is as much to say "Paul-with-Silvanus". This is why there is only one spiration; the spiration is always from the Father; but the Son is with the Father in the Spirit's being breathed forth by the Father, and thus distinctively interposes without detriment to the Spirit's full Godhead. The Son, on the other hand, is in being begotten together-with-the-Spirit from the Father(not begotten from the Father and the Spirit), and together-with-the-Father in the Spirit's proceeding, as the only-begotten who has the same Spirit as His Father.

To return to St. Photios, who is undoubtedly a saint and a God-graced theologian, but who will ever be to the West what St. Augustine is to the East: that is, a stone against which those of us who are neither saints nor God-graced theologians dash ourselves if we get too haughty. As I said, I think Photios's argument, at least in some version of it, is sound. However, I think that we Filioquists and St. Photios have been separated from each other not by any shadow of heterdoxy but by the shadow of Babel's legacy. It is right to say that properties that are not distinctive are natural; if it is understood not to require us to reject two-person descriptions like 'from the Father'. But the Filioque is such a description. It is right to say that attributing the distinctive property of the Father to the Son makes the Father an attribute of the nature and not a person. But the Filioque as presented by II Lyons and Florence does not do this. The argument contributes nothing to the dispute, at least at this point in time. If there remains an insuperable disagreement, it is elsewhere.

Not as Wounds but as Worships

Yesterday the Anglicans celebrated the memorial for Julian of Norwich, and I missed it, so here's a selection from her Revelations:

By contrition we are made clean, by compassion we are made ready, and by true longing toward God we are made worthy. These are three means, as I understand, whereby that all souls come to heaven: that is to say, that have been sinners in earth and shall be saved: for by these three medicines it behoveth that every soul be healed. Though the soul be healed, his wounds are seen afore God,—not as wounds but as worships. And so on the contrary-wise, as we be punished here with sorrow and penance, we shall be rewarded in heaven by the courteous love of our Lord God Almighty, who willeth that none that come there lose his travail in any degree. For He holdeth sin as sorrow and pain to His lovers, to whom He assigneth no blame, for love. The meed that we shall receive shall not be little, but it shall be high, glorious, and worshipful. And so shall shame be turned to worship and more joy.

Isaiah the Prophet

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two they covered their face, with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And they called to each other: "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory."

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am lost! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts."

Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send and who will go for us?"

And I said, "Here I am. Send me!"

[Isaiah 6:1-8]

Quandary

From Sally Haslanger's Changing the Ideology and Culture of Philosophy: Not by Reason (Alone) (PDF):

My point here is that I don’t think we need to scratch our heads and wonder what on earth is going on that keeps women out of philosophy. In my experience it is very hard to find a place in philosophy that isn’t actively hostile towards women and minorities, or at least assumes that a successful philosopher should look and act like a (traditional, white) man. And most women and minorities who are sufficiently qualified to get into grad school in philosophy have choices. They don’t have to put up with this mistreatment. Many who recognize that something about choices is relevant have "explained" to me that women choose not to go into philosophy because they have other options that pay better or have more prestige. This may be true for some, but this doesn’t sound like the women I know who have quit philosophy (and it sounds a lot more like the men I know who have quit). Women, I believe, want a good working environment with mutual respect. And philosophy, mostly, doesn’t offer that.

Very sad, but in even my limited experience too true. The saddest part about it, though, is that most of the people who are the problem don't recognize what they are doing. They don't have sufficient discipline for the self-examination that would be required. If confronted many of them would insist that they treat women as equals.

What is needed is something like what is implied in Haslanger's paper: an active, thorough, and rigorous investigation to identify those aspects of the culture and institutions of academic philosophy that are discouraging bright and qualified women in this way; and an active, thorough, and rigorous fixing of those flaws. Unfortunately, I don't think this is likely to happen; there are too many people entirely consumed by polishing up their next paper to step back and see the more cancerous tendencies of certain aspects of the profession, and too many people who are the problem but would never let themselves see it. It's a problem whose solution I don't really know. And I don't think anyone really does, since the only solutions on the table require mass conversion of academic professionals to a perspective they largely won't even acknowledge. And that's the worrying thing about it. To have serious change, are we really going to have to work for generations so that people die off and new blood can be moved, baby step by baby step, to the point of seeing what should already be obvious?