If you haven't been keeping up with it, you should read some of the "campaigning" at Catholic Ragemonkey. One of the priests who runs it has been (really) nominated to the Council of Priests, so the website has been doing a (fictitious) campaign spoofing the political campaigning, Democrat and Republican, that has been going on. Some of it is hilarious. It's this sort of thing that got them a link on my sidebar!
A Journey Through Time has a chilling tale of how we narrowly avoided nuclear war in 1983 through the actions of a Soviet officer. The blog has, meanwhile, been nominated to BlogsCanada's Top Blogs list; Congrats!
A must-read post at Early Modern Notes on "Carnival and the Carnivalesque," asking the interesting question, "Is there something carnivalesque about blogging as a whole?"
Joy to the heart of anyone in philosophy, The Little Professor notes that the students in her Victorian literature survey course usually have at least a vague notion of what Plato's allegory of the cave is about.
The New York Times Online has an article on some of Canada's many, many border disputes. But the reporter needs to learn how to say "Inuit" rather than "Eskimo". And there are no such things (the article is ambiguous) as "Eskimo Rangers"; there are Canadian Rangers who are Inuit.
And yes, I will be writing something more substantial later....
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Thought for the Day
If you're not making a fool of yourself wrestling with big, difficult issues...
...you're making a fool of yourself too easily!
...you're making a fool of yourself too easily!
Monday, August 30, 2004
Oportet Filium Hominis Die Tertia Resurgere
The late Richard Taylor has an essay, written for a general audience, on 'myths and mysteries' (thanks to Ektopos for the link). He rightly notes that the Resurrection is essential to Christianity, but then goes on to say:
Setting aside the obvious falsity of "move about much as if nothing had happened to him", the question obviously arises, 'It is an absurdity in virtue of what?' We need something a bit more specific than saying it "violates the most basic certainties of reason and common knowledge". Which basic certainties? The dead become dust and ashes, and do not rise. Yes, that's generally the case; this does not tell us whether, given the right cause or causes, there might be an exception. Lady Mary Shepherd would go to town on Taylor, as she did on Hume in similar circumstances. We cannot rule out effects on the basis of their generally not being effected, but only on the basis of there being no cause adequate for them. It is not even inconceivable that with sufficient scientific knowledge doctors could make the dead rise. God forbid, and it might turn out to be physically impossible for reasons we do not yet have in hand, but it is not inconceivable. This would not be the sort of resurrection we Christians attribute to Christ, because it is clear from the accounts that His resurrection was not a mere reversal of the processes of corruption (hence the falsity of the phrase noted above); but merely repeating the sentence "The dead do not rise" no more proves that they cannot than repeating the sentence "The sun always rises" proves that the earth will comfortably orbit the sun for all eternity, come what may. One might as well say that no one can fly from Toronto to London because "men do not have wings". The real issue is not what usually happens, but what causes are involved. And, indeed, it would not be exaggerating to say that the point of the Resurrection is what Cause is involved.
(The title of this post, by the way, is taken from Luke 24:7, Vulgate.)
Of course this presents an overwhelming problem for thoughtful and sophisticated persons, for the doctrine of the resurrection, literally understood, is an absurdity. That a man, three days dead, might be revived, to mingle again with the living, talk to them, and move about much as if nothing had happened to him, violates the most basic certainties of reason and common knowledge. The dead become dust and ashes. They do not rise.
Setting aside the obvious falsity of "move about much as if nothing had happened to him", the question obviously arises, 'It is an absurdity in virtue of what?' We need something a bit more specific than saying it "violates the most basic certainties of reason and common knowledge". Which basic certainties? The dead become dust and ashes, and do not rise. Yes, that's generally the case; this does not tell us whether, given the right cause or causes, there might be an exception. Lady Mary Shepherd would go to town on Taylor, as she did on Hume in similar circumstances. We cannot rule out effects on the basis of their generally not being effected, but only on the basis of there being no cause adequate for them. It is not even inconceivable that with sufficient scientific knowledge doctors could make the dead rise. God forbid, and it might turn out to be physically impossible for reasons we do not yet have in hand, but it is not inconceivable. This would not be the sort of resurrection we Christians attribute to Christ, because it is clear from the accounts that His resurrection was not a mere reversal of the processes of corruption (hence the falsity of the phrase noted above); but merely repeating the sentence "The dead do not rise" no more proves that they cannot than repeating the sentence "The sun always rises" proves that the earth will comfortably orbit the sun for all eternity, come what may. One might as well say that no one can fly from Toronto to London because "men do not have wings". The real issue is not what usually happens, but what causes are involved. And, indeed, it would not be exaggerating to say that the point of the Resurrection is what Cause is involved.
(The title of this post, by the way, is taken from Luke 24:7, Vulgate.)
Early Modern Europe and Chinese Philosophy
I have recently been reading Malebranche's Dialogue Between a Christian Philosopher and a Chinese Philosopher, and it has started me thinking about the interaction between European philosophy and Chinese philosophy in the early modern period. Leibniz also has a work concerned with clarifying the relation between European and Chinese philosophy; these sorts of works were largely intended to supplement the efforts of Jesuit missionaries in China.
This is one of several areas in our understanding of early modern philosophy that need development. We need more work on a) the sort of information on which the characterizations of Chinese philosophy, as found in Malebranche, Leibniz, and others, are based; b) the extent to which such materials were actually used in China, if such materials were used, and in what way; c) influences of Chinese thought on European thought, both through correct understandings and misunderstandings (e.g., Leibniz's linked his development of binary arithmetic with his (mis)understanding of the I Ching); d) influences of European thought on Chinese thought.
Sharon at Early Modern Notes has assembled some useful links relevant to the general background here.
For some general background with great pictures, see here.
For texts on the important Chinese Rites dispute, see here. The background of this controversy is presented here (this is a great article).
Here is a selection from Leibniz in which he discusses China. Apparently there is a book recently published on
Leibniz's interest in China; I'll have to put it on my reading list. Albert Ribas has a discussion on the interconnections between Leibniz's Discourse on the Natural Theology of the Chinese and the better-known Leibniz-Clarke debate. (I'll have to look more closely at what can be found on-line and put up a post at H.L.)
This is one of several areas in our understanding of early modern philosophy that need development. We need more work on a) the sort of information on which the characterizations of Chinese philosophy, as found in Malebranche, Leibniz, and others, are based; b) the extent to which such materials were actually used in China, if such materials were used, and in what way; c) influences of Chinese thought on European thought, both through correct understandings and misunderstandings (e.g., Leibniz's linked his development of binary arithmetic with his (mis)understanding of the I Ching); d) influences of European thought on Chinese thought.
Sharon at Early Modern Notes has assembled some useful links relevant to the general background here.
For some general background with great pictures, see here.
For texts on the important Chinese Rites dispute, see here. The background of this controversy is presented here (this is a great article).
Here is a selection from Leibniz in which he discusses China. Apparently there is a book recently published on
Leibniz's interest in China; I'll have to put it on my reading list. Albert Ribas has a discussion on the interconnections between Leibniz's Discourse on the Natural Theology of the Chinese and the better-known Leibniz-Clarke debate. (I'll have to look more closely at what can be found on-line and put up a post at H.L.)
Sunday, August 29, 2004
On the Unreasonable Rejections of Views that Could Be Reasonably Rejected
May I rant a moment?
One of the things that irritates me to high heaven as I do my work in the history of early modern philosophy is the unreasonable rejection of views that could be reasonably rejected.
Case in point: Nobody accepts Malebranche's Vision-in-God thesis. Fine; but if you ask them why they don't, it's usually hard to find any genuinely relevant (or even coherent) answer. When they do put together an objection, it's often so lame that, if one were to take it as a serious objection, we would have to start thinking there is something to Malebranche's view after all. If you do history of philosophy, you find many such cases; people reject it, not because they have good reason, but because -- well, why? Perhaps just because it sounds weird? Many of these positions do admit of a reasonable rejection; but people have often not done the work required to make their rejection a reasonable one.
Legitimate criticism is difficult. Dashing off an answer will never quite work....
(If I sound a little bit cranky in this post, part of it is that the person behind me in the computer lab is BANGING on the keyboard and making it difficult for me to think as I continue my revisions. Part of it is that all the criticisms of Malebranche in the literature are either based on rather obvious misinterpretations or are merely gestural. This is frustrating when you're writing on the subject and so have to deal with these half-formed, and sometimes half-baked, arguments. Toss me a real argument, why don't you!)
End of rant.
One of the things that irritates me to high heaven as I do my work in the history of early modern philosophy is the unreasonable rejection of views that could be reasonably rejected.
Case in point: Nobody accepts Malebranche's Vision-in-God thesis. Fine; but if you ask them why they don't, it's usually hard to find any genuinely relevant (or even coherent) answer. When they do put together an objection, it's often so lame that, if one were to take it as a serious objection, we would have to start thinking there is something to Malebranche's view after all. If you do history of philosophy, you find many such cases; people reject it, not because they have good reason, but because -- well, why? Perhaps just because it sounds weird? Many of these positions do admit of a reasonable rejection; but people have often not done the work required to make their rejection a reasonable one.
Legitimate criticism is difficult. Dashing off an answer will never quite work....
(If I sound a little bit cranky in this post, part of it is that the person behind me in the computer lab is BANGING on the keyboard and making it difficult for me to think as I continue my revisions. Part of it is that all the criticisms of Malebranche in the literature are either based on rather obvious misinterpretations or are merely gestural. This is frustrating when you're writing on the subject and so have to deal with these half-formed, and sometimes half-baked, arguments. Toss me a real argument, why don't you!)
End of rant.
Google Babble
Google's dadaistic free association for Siris, as portrayed by Google Talk:
Siris Syndrome Foundation is the World and more. information about the World and the World and more. information for Kids. games and other Voices. from the World and more.
Curious, I put in the names of several other weblogs, of which the best were:
Early Modern Notes is a new feature that will allow you to search for a Vacation in the heart of the matter, by the End of the WORLD. as we Know it....
(sounds about right, don't you think?)
All Day Permanent Red is the fourth installment in the series. is the perfect solution for the on- the- go supplement to the USB specification, Rev. and did did did not Did. too! did not did too. did not did too....
(what series, I wonder?)
The Elfin Ethicist is my property under copyright. Everyone has the right to Children. Boards of Canada. Music has the Right to Children. Boards of Canada. Music has the Right to Children....
(is it just me or is there something a bit sinister about Google's intentions here?)
Hmmm. But beware! The results can be quite distressing, as when I typed in Houyhnhnm Land:
Houyhnhnm Land is now in the fire! Service College Moreton- in Marsh, Gloucestershire GL5 RH did did did did did did did did....
Heavens! In the fire and in Gloucestershire, no less!
Siris Syndrome Foundation is the World and more. information about the World and the World and more. information for Kids. games and other Voices. from the World and more.
Curious, I put in the names of several other weblogs, of which the best were:
Early Modern Notes is a new feature that will allow you to search for a Vacation in the heart of the matter, by the End of the WORLD. as we Know it....
(sounds about right, don't you think?)
All Day Permanent Red is the fourth installment in the series. is the perfect solution for the on- the- go supplement to the USB specification, Rev. and did did did not Did. too! did not did too. did not did too....
(what series, I wonder?)
The Elfin Ethicist is my property under copyright. Everyone has the right to Children. Boards of Canada. Music has the Right to Children. Boards of Canada. Music has the Right to Children....
(is it just me or is there something a bit sinister about Google's intentions here?)
Hmmm. But beware! The results can be quite distressing, as when I typed in Houyhnhnm Land:
Houyhnhnm Land is now in the fire! Service College Moreton- in Marsh, Gloucestershire GL5 RH did did did did did did did did....
Heavens! In the fire and in Gloucestershire, no less!
Aridity and Consolation
I started this late last night when I should have been sleeping, and finished it this afternoon. The last stanza is a bit weaker than it should be, but for the most part I think it comes together well.
The Flood, the Phoenix, and the Hind
I walked one day, a wanderer amid the trees,
singing out a song, the sun all hid from view
but the air hot, and no whisper in the leaves
nor breeze to blow like balm that heals the wound,
and came I on a course that cut through sandy stone,
once widened by water as it wandered home,
but dry with dust, undamp, like ancient bone,
remembering ancient mists and moisture long ago.
And it seemed that I could see in the silence of the wood
a phoenix, fireborn, that flew from bough to bough,
that sought the stream long slain by drought of old,
and, coming to the course, did cry so soft and low
the angels would all weep and echo it in dreams,
and hardly had my hearing found heaven in those strains
than dropped the phoenix dead by drought unhealed by stream,
and, finished, lightly fell, its fire stripped of glow.
Then, herald of all hope, a hind of silver-white,
brought with bitter haste by the baying of the hounds,
valiant with the force one feels in moonlit nights,
leaped beneath the laurel whose leaves were on it crowned,
and, taken by the dogs, it died and knew no more,
and, broken in its bone, blood on the forest floor,
it sank like sunset, thrice solemn in its woe,
which had lately been alive, but at last was overthrown.
Then I wept, and from my eyes the water fled in grief;
the salt it bore of sorrow, and sadness in my pain,
in gravest ruining it rained upon the leaves,
and newly did I mourn that marvels as I had seen
should die in death, no dawn at all in sight;
overcome, I greatly cried for the coming of the night,
and breath with sorrow bittered, I broke with sob and sigh:
my love, and it alone, alive did now remain.
But wait! one sole whisper, like the wind amid the trees,
did rise and rush, then roar with living force,
and wave, as in war an army like the seas
will arm and rise, did water again the course,
a pouring-out with power; like spring-kissed clouds of rain,
from furthest foreign-land a fountain broke again,
as though the gods of glory with grace, or even whim,
had compassion on the creek, and carved a living source.
So first there broke a flood; then flame did burst to light,
and, fire all around it, the phoenix, winged in gold,
did rise in ruddy glory with rays that blinded sight,
and winged up to heaven, the highest of high roads,
a scion of the sun, with shining in its wings,
so holy in its egress as to humble one who sins,
bring penitent to prayer, inspire seraphim to sing,
more glory in its going than gests and tales have told.
The pooling of the blood from the bitter death of hind
with flood and flame was mingled, and force imbued
into a flowing fire, enveloping with embrace of kind
the carcass of the conquered, and covering it with blood
did wash like aeviternity its weariness away
and death undid, as night undone by day,
and, leaping into life, as long ago it played,
it sped, a shot, a silver flash, through primal wood.
The flood, I saw, was faith; the phoenix charity;
the hind was hope, the herald of new life;
and, filled with seeing vision, a flux of ecstasy,
I saw that what is saved is what is sundered for to die
and brought to burial, to be born anew;
for all grow old, and, ancient, to death must go,
but cycles may be started, and, from being severed through,
new life may live, and spring to wondrous light.
The Flood, the Phoenix, and the Hind
I walked one day, a wanderer amid the trees,
singing out a song, the sun all hid from view
but the air hot, and no whisper in the leaves
nor breeze to blow like balm that heals the wound,
and came I on a course that cut through sandy stone,
once widened by water as it wandered home,
but dry with dust, undamp, like ancient bone,
remembering ancient mists and moisture long ago.
And it seemed that I could see in the silence of the wood
a phoenix, fireborn, that flew from bough to bough,
that sought the stream long slain by drought of old,
and, coming to the course, did cry so soft and low
the angels would all weep and echo it in dreams,
and hardly had my hearing found heaven in those strains
than dropped the phoenix dead by drought unhealed by stream,
and, finished, lightly fell, its fire stripped of glow.
Then, herald of all hope, a hind of silver-white,
brought with bitter haste by the baying of the hounds,
valiant with the force one feels in moonlit nights,
leaped beneath the laurel whose leaves were on it crowned,
and, taken by the dogs, it died and knew no more,
and, broken in its bone, blood on the forest floor,
it sank like sunset, thrice solemn in its woe,
which had lately been alive, but at last was overthrown.
Then I wept, and from my eyes the water fled in grief;
the salt it bore of sorrow, and sadness in my pain,
in gravest ruining it rained upon the leaves,
and newly did I mourn that marvels as I had seen
should die in death, no dawn at all in sight;
overcome, I greatly cried for the coming of the night,
and breath with sorrow bittered, I broke with sob and sigh:
my love, and it alone, alive did now remain.
But wait! one sole whisper, like the wind amid the trees,
did rise and rush, then roar with living force,
and wave, as in war an army like the seas
will arm and rise, did water again the course,
a pouring-out with power; like spring-kissed clouds of rain,
from furthest foreign-land a fountain broke again,
as though the gods of glory with grace, or even whim,
had compassion on the creek, and carved a living source.
So first there broke a flood; then flame did burst to light,
and, fire all around it, the phoenix, winged in gold,
did rise in ruddy glory with rays that blinded sight,
and winged up to heaven, the highest of high roads,
a scion of the sun, with shining in its wings,
so holy in its egress as to humble one who sins,
bring penitent to prayer, inspire seraphim to sing,
more glory in its going than gests and tales have told.
The pooling of the blood from the bitter death of hind
with flood and flame was mingled, and force imbued
into a flowing fire, enveloping with embrace of kind
the carcass of the conquered, and covering it with blood
did wash like aeviternity its weariness away
and death undid, as night undone by day,
and, leaping into life, as long ago it played,
it sped, a shot, a silver flash, through primal wood.
The flood, I saw, was faith; the phoenix charity;
the hind was hope, the herald of new life;
and, filled with seeing vision, a flux of ecstasy,
I saw that what is saved is what is sundered for to die
and brought to burial, to be born anew;
for all grow old, and, ancient, to death must go,
but cycles may be started, and, from being severed through,
new life may live, and spring to wondrous light.
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