Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts
Saturday, October 1, 2011
2:48 AM
Dum praeliarétur Míchael Archángelus cum dracóne, audíta est vox dicéntium: Salus Deo nostro. Allelúia.
There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone...for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened, they came to deeper understanding, increased in unison and harmony.
And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed...
Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts, and devices, if he will. But I will sit and heaken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song...'
Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men...And amid all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces...Ilúvatar chose a place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therin, then many of the most mighty among them bent all their thought and their desire towards that place...And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur...And he feigned...that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar...But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men..to be a master over other wills.
But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor...And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here no less than thou.'
Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts, and devices, if he will. But I will sit and heaken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song...'
Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men...And amid all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces...Ilúvatar chose a place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therin, then many of the most mighty among them bent all their thought and their desire towards that place...And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur...And he feigned...that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar...But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men..to be a master over other wills.
But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor...And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here no less than thou.'
J.R.R. Tolkien, Silmarillon: Ainulindalë
Was Tolkien--whilst uttering the truth of a creed that is several millennia old--correct about the interest that non-material beings take in the affairs of man?
Seventeen years ago, after waking from a dream with eyes moistened in feverish distress, I could not go back to sleep. I thought of waking up someone to talk to, but my sisters sleeping peacefully in the other beds beside me would not have understood my troubles. I thought of Momma and Daddy, but I was the only child in my family that had never returned to my parents' bed after physically outgrowing it. What a strange thing it would be to go back to them at ten years of age. So I lay, clutching the quilt and looking up through the cracks of the blinds covering the window by my bed. The moon was peering down at me, looking very much like a reaper's sickle.
Seventeen years ago, after waking from a dream with eyes moistened in feverish distress, I could not go back to sleep. I thought of waking up someone to talk to, but my sisters sleeping peacefully in the other beds beside me would not have understood my troubles. I thought of Momma and Daddy, but I was the only child in my family that had never returned to my parents' bed after physically outgrowing it. What a strange thing it would be to go back to them at ten years of age. So I lay, clutching the quilt and looking up through the cracks of the blinds covering the window by my bed. The moon was peering down at me, looking very much like a reaper's sickle.
I began pondering whether the Grim Reaper was holy or evil. Though I perceived his duty as morbid, was he not merely a servant? When Scrooge had pleaded with the frightening spectre of Christmas Future, he had said: 'Good Spirit, your nature intercedes for me and pities me...'
Does it? I asked the moon. I thought of the dream again. Earlier that day I had been watching a science programme, likely merely to enjoy the beautiful images of space they afforded. However, I had listened to the staid, learned men on the show as well, and their talk of black holes had made its mark. This final stage of a star's life impressed upon me so vividly, that that night I dreamt I had been floated within and without the cosmos, hand in hand with some being (at first, I thought my guardian angel), that took me to the event horizon of a dead star that was slowly swallowing up the universe into its compressed nothingness.
I had tried to look away, but the guide clamped its hand about my jaw and forced me to stare as everything spindled comically into the black hole. To see such once majestic things as stars and planets stretched to resemble a wet, flopping noodle made the image more repugnant. The creature with me, who had grown morally ambiguous, did not speak. I did not know if it enjoyed the display or not. There was no voice at all, but if the emotions pressing upon me from the void had been vocalized, they would have run thus:
...never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die...
'Ah, no!' I at last said tearfully, and turned away. I felt myself in bed again, real tears in my eyes and with the consciousness that I had spoken aloud.
As I lay fretting, staring at the indigo of space through the pale blinds and the black lace of tree branches, I thought of the factual scientists so indifferently propounding on these scenarios. They were wrong. Whatever was wise or erudite about the sages speaking on such matters, they had no right to be calm in the face of the destruction of things that were. In spite of their ambitions, they ought to have known they could never reduce existence to the amoral system of rules that had no greater interest in men than in the barbs of a sparrow's wing.
Let the empirical scientists be content with their theories reigning 'for the most part', for they shall never obtain the dominion of 'always.' That is a leap of intuition, yes, but one that most of the world have made. The reason is simple: there can be no evil actions without an actor, and the presence of so much evil in the world--moral and physical--demands the existence of agents, for only creatures with volition are not bound absolutely by laws. Hence, there will never be a science of their deeds. Any attempt at such a discipline would itself be superstition.
Now superstition in the literal sense is never wrong. It is but 'standing over a thing in awe and amazement.' Even if the premise of scientism--that all can be reduced to an inanimate, empirical cause--were correct, the mind of man will likely never achieve that exalted state of knowledge. Dana Scully may say, 'Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it,' but that is a statement of faith, not reason, and even if it is true, it is not true simply. The sage and the peasant both do many things in a certain only because those methods have worked in the past. There need not be any rational synthesis to justify their procedures. They stand in awe of the forces of the created world and often find themselves more likely to rely on precedent than pure logic.
And David consulted the Lord: Shall I go up against the Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hands? He answered: Go not up against them, but fetch a compass behind them, and thou shalt come upon them over against the pear trees. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of the pear trees, then shalt thou join battle ( II Samuel V:23-24)
The above is but one of many instances where a spiritual agent acts upon the material order, in this case, after God's own design. It is almost maddening if one concedes that angels are (based upon the teachings of the Church Fathers) the direct operators of the universe. That must be why men most directly exposed to the physical elements--e.g., sailors and farmers--are often so superstitious. Long acquaintance with mysterious cause and devastating effect has served to humble them rather than puff them up. Their empirical experience has also occasionally shown them that things may behave not merely unpredictably, but even contrary to natural laws.
...never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die...
'Ah, no!' I at last said tearfully, and turned away. I felt myself in bed again, real tears in my eyes and with the consciousness that I had spoken aloud.
As I lay fretting, staring at the indigo of space through the pale blinds and the black lace of tree branches, I thought of the factual scientists so indifferently propounding on these scenarios. They were wrong. Whatever was wise or erudite about the sages speaking on such matters, they had no right to be calm in the face of the destruction of things that were. In spite of their ambitions, they ought to have known they could never reduce existence to the amoral system of rules that had no greater interest in men than in the barbs of a sparrow's wing.
Let the empirical scientists be content with their theories reigning 'for the most part', for they shall never obtain the dominion of 'always.' That is a leap of intuition, yes, but one that most of the world have made. The reason is simple: there can be no evil actions without an actor, and the presence of so much evil in the world--moral and physical--demands the existence of agents, for only creatures with volition are not bound absolutely by laws. Hence, there will never be a science of their deeds. Any attempt at such a discipline would itself be superstition.
Now superstition in the literal sense is never wrong. It is but 'standing over a thing in awe and amazement.' Even if the premise of scientism--that all can be reduced to an inanimate, empirical cause--were correct, the mind of man will likely never achieve that exalted state of knowledge. Dana Scully may say, 'Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it,' but that is a statement of faith, not reason, and even if it is true, it is not true simply. The sage and the peasant both do many things in a certain only because those methods have worked in the past. There need not be any rational synthesis to justify their procedures. They stand in awe of the forces of the created world and often find themselves more likely to rely on precedent than pure logic.
And David consulted the Lord: Shall I go up against the Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hands? He answered: Go not up against them, but fetch a compass behind them, and thou shalt come upon them over against the pear trees. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of the pear trees, then shalt thou join battle ( II Samuel V:23-24)
The above is but one of many instances where a spiritual agent acts upon the material order, in this case, after God's own design. It is almost maddening if one concedes that angels are (based upon the teachings of the Church Fathers) the direct operators of the universe. That must be why men most directly exposed to the physical elements--e.g., sailors and farmers--are often so superstitious. Long acquaintance with mysterious cause and devastating effect has served to humble them rather than puff them up. Their empirical experience has also occasionally shown them that things may behave not merely unpredictably, but even contrary to natural laws.
Here the learned may shake their heads. Why is men so anthropocentric? Why would beings of such incredible understanding and power be so engrossed with the affairs of one world? With the actions of fragile, fallibe creatures that eat, sweat, and defecate? It seems beneath their dignity, as if they were like those bored Greek gods that could not even let the Achaeans, Argives, and Danaans have a footrace on the plains of Ilium without interfering.
However, the learned who espouse such a view seem not to have noticed they are asking a question regarding motive. They ignore the fact that motives belong only to individuals and they may be enmeshed with all sorts of forces outside the realm of logic: 'The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.'
Have we, as children of men, not stood on peaked mountain balds, inhaling the rarefied air around us until we were giddy with its thinness? Or have we not gazed with heartbreak on radiant sunsets illuminating slender lunar crescents? Have we not occasionally wandered from the common path of the forest into a mossy glen embued with a fae mist? Whatever form the natural raptures we have known took, we have had them. And what did we want in those places of such transcendent splendour? Did we not want the wind, the peaks, the sun, the colours, or even the moss to speak to us? To feel some return of our love from the beloved object? What would have delighted us more than if a nymph or god were to arise from the essence of these things and offer us some acknowledgement? Aye, as beautiful as inanimate things are, sentient things shall always be best.
Angels know that even better than we do, and are less likely to prefer a mountain to man for its bulk than man is himself:
...And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...
Or as Chesterton put it: 'One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.' The will of the stupidest, shallowest human being is more interesting than the wheel of the universe.
It should not surprise us then how the Church has taught us to approach the Prince of the Heavenly Host, as our tender guardian, rather than a demanding sergeant frowning on our material limitations. In the Old Rite, his name comes third in the Public Confession. At the end of Mass, his prayer immediately follows Our Lady's. His dominion holds over clement hospitals as well as militant hosts. Why?
Angels, we must remember, are individuated according to function. What is their function? Their intellectual grasp of God, whether it is employed to praise or to blaspheme. When the mighty seraphim, the Bearer of Light, set himself up as equal to God, the first being to denounce this outrageous pride was the one defined by his humility and awe. He was the seraphim who rose up and, naming himself, thundered:
That is his thought; that is his being. It is only reasonable that this eternal person takes the greatest interest in how his battle against Satan plays out in temporal affairs, and being so humble, will not scorn the war on any scale. He shall certainly not remain inactive where his nemesis is prowling.
It should not surprise us then how the Church has taught us to approach the Prince of the Heavenly Host, as our tender guardian, rather than a demanding sergeant frowning on our material limitations. In the Old Rite, his name comes third in the Public Confession. At the end of Mass, his prayer immediately follows Our Lady's. His dominion holds over clement hospitals as well as militant hosts. Why?
Angels, we must remember, are individuated according to function. What is their function? Their intellectual grasp of God, whether it is employed to praise or to blaspheme. When the mighty seraphim, the Bearer of Light, set himself up as equal to God, the first being to denounce this outrageous pride was the one defined by his humility and awe. He was the seraphim who rose up and, naming himself, thundered:
'Mi ke El?'
Who is like God?
Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto prćsídium. Ímperet ílli Déus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, prínceps milítić cɶléstis, Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in múndo, divína virtúte, in inférnum detrúde.
Ámen
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Friday, June 3, 2011
This will be an essay in which I intend to invest a great deal of thought, and as I am swamped with school paperwork, it will come in phases. There are things I need to re-read, visuals I must contemplate, and perhaps surveys to conduct. In any case, I need to think about it.
The idea came as I prepared for work this morning. I had stopped for a moment after dressing to survey what I was wearing. I generally perform the standard 'head, shoulders, knees, and toes' test when purchasing a garment and then never give it another thought, but I had bought this white, tiered skirt in a rather dim shop, and I was having second thoughts in the light of day.
As with all things white, there was the problem of transparency. The layers under the skirt were sufficient, but they did not reach all the way to the hemline, and though they were long enough for a skirt I would wear all on its own, it made me wonder whether there were something teasing or immodest about the first ten diaphanous inches.
'Jansenist, Puritan, Extremist, Manichean, Pharisee, Shiite, etc.' and other such epithets reverberated in the memory of my ears, as I recalled the words of men and women, friends and foes, whom I know and have known. I may have winced, but even though the rebukes of majority are arresting, they do not have much impact on a monarchist.
I began trying to disect the matter rationally, when logic gave up the task and ceded to intuition. 'Oh, puh-lease!' (my intuition normally adopts the voice of my sister, Maggie) 'There are girls out there with their hemlines ending a few inches below their hips. What makes you so special as to attact attention with what you're wearing?' Now that reasoning I could not combat, and I actually trotted out the door giggling at myself and the problem I had posed.
Two particular troubles came to revisit me later though. The first was the fact that I knew too few people (and most of them via books) that took a middle position on the issue of modest. The second, that I was and am not sure that I even occupy the middle.
Unlike the subjects of my other ruminations, this issue is actually a lot of bother to revisit, and I don't savour the idea of writing about something I should have in hand after twenty-seven years on this Earth. Yet, as I consider how separated I have been from others, due in part to the way I dress, or how fervently I have sought to please those whom I respected over those whom I wished to befriend, I am interested to know if I have made the right decision, or if I have made myself a bit ridiculous for ideals that priests and philosophers would have quickly forgone if they had been practical women or had known the social price.
I was engaged in a debate on the subject of dignity in dress recently--by those who claim belief in modesty, too. It is rather typical that my side was taken by no other party, but this time I had hoped the case would be different and that at least this one other soul would take my part. Well, suffice it to say that this did not happen, and as a woman, I was
disappointed. As a rational animal, I was also dissatisfied with the emotional arguments employed against my position. After all, if emotions had the last say, why would mine be any less infallible?
To those that are interested, I promise the following chapters will not be so sticky with personal references as this post, and I will exercise more discipline. Still, a personal preface seemed necessary this once, especially as I hope no one takes the forthcoming argument personally.
The idea came as I prepared for work this morning. I had stopped for a moment after dressing to survey what I was wearing. I generally perform the standard 'head, shoulders, knees, and toes' test when purchasing a garment and then never give it another thought, but I had bought this white, tiered skirt in a rather dim shop, and I was having second thoughts in the light of day.
As with all things white, there was the problem of transparency. The layers under the skirt were sufficient, but they did not reach all the way to the hemline, and though they were long enough for a skirt I would wear all on its own, it made me wonder whether there were something teasing or immodest about the first ten diaphanous inches.
'Jansenist, Puritan, Extremist, Manichean, Pharisee, Shiite, etc.' and other such epithets reverberated in the memory of my ears, as I recalled the words of men and women, friends and foes, whom I know and have known. I may have winced, but even though the rebukes of majority are arresting, they do not have much impact on a monarchist.
I began trying to disect the matter rationally, when logic gave up the task and ceded to intuition. 'Oh, puh-lease!' (my intuition normally adopts the voice of my sister, Maggie) 'There are girls out there with their hemlines ending a few inches below their hips. What makes you so special as to attact attention with what you're wearing?' Now that reasoning I could not combat, and I actually trotted out the door giggling at myself and the problem I had posed.
Two particular troubles came to revisit me later though. The first was the fact that I knew too few people (and most of them via books) that took a middle position on the issue of modest. The second, that I was and am not sure that I even occupy the middle.
Unlike the subjects of my other ruminations, this issue is actually a lot of bother to revisit, and I don't savour the idea of writing about something I should have in hand after twenty-seven years on this Earth. Yet, as I consider how separated I have been from others, due in part to the way I dress, or how fervently I have sought to please those whom I respected over those whom I wished to befriend, I am interested to know if I have made the right decision, or if I have made myself a bit ridiculous for ideals that priests and philosophers would have quickly forgone if they had been practical women or had known the social price.
I was engaged in a debate on the subject of dignity in dress recently--by those who claim belief in modesty, too. It is rather typical that my side was taken by no other party, but this time I had hoped the case would be different and that at least this one other soul would take my part. Well, suffice it to say that this did not happen, and as a woman, I was
disappointed. As a rational animal, I was also dissatisfied with the emotional arguments employed against my position. After all, if emotions had the last say, why would mine be any less infallible?To those that are interested, I promise the following chapters will not be so sticky with personal references as this post, and I will exercise more discipline. Still, a personal preface seemed necessary this once, especially as I hope no one takes the forthcoming argument personally.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Liberal: a. Not limited to or by established, traditional, orthodox, or authoritarian attitudes, views, or dogmas; free from bigotry. b. Favouring proposals for reform, open to new ideas for progress, and tolerant of the ideas and behaviour of others; broad-minded.
Note that the first definition implies that while a truly liberal-minded man isn't restricted by old institutions, nor is he obliged to disagree with them. St. Thomas Aquinas said, 'Argument by authority is the weakest, according to Boethius.' (forgive my lame Scholastic humour in thinking that quotation is hysterically funny), yet in spite of his odd way of stating that truth, he followed the principle to the hilt. Every stand St. Thomas took, he fought for. He neither rested on the laurels of other Church Doctors, nor trusted that others would accept his personal interpretation of Scripture as infallible. Hence, the greatness of the Summa is in the angelic Doctor's rational Respondeo, not in the authoritative Sed Contra. So goes the Roman Catholic tradition of a truly liberal education.
In the second definition, one sees that the liberal is he who will vote for reform, not for change of just any kind. Wilberforce was liberal in promoting the end of slavery; it would not be liberal of anyone to now promote its return, just because it would be a change.
Yet, there is a certain party sitting on the Left hand of power which audaciously believes itself entitled to the honour of the term 'liberal'. Why does this adjective suit them? Is it because of their tolerance of others, their freedom from bigotry?
Glancing at 'liberalism' in Christian churches:
11/01/2008
An Anglican bishop for Labrador and eastern Newfoundland called on his priests to disclose any involvement with a breakaway organization led by his predecessor, and do the right thing by resigning, giving up their licences to serve as ministers.
In a letter to parish priests in the diocese last month, Bishop Cyrus Pitman wrote that all ordination licences would be reissued with a mandatory renewing of vows in St. John’s Jan. 21.
The letter leads off by referencing the former diocesan bishop, Donald Harvey of St. John’s , and that his recent actions have “implications for this diocese ..., for the Anglican Church of Canada, and possibly for the wider Anglican community.”
Harvey retired three years ago, and became known for his frustration with what he feels is a liberal agenda in the church, particularly not taking a stand against same-sex blessings. [(http://www.thewesternstar.com/index.cfm?sid=96833&sc=23)]
Forcing a minister to give up his ability to serve as a pastor for agreeing with the former bishop and his church’s immemorial interpretation of Scripture isn’t exactly tolerant, but then this is the same party that believes it is more important to protect a woman’s—and a man’s—right to sexual licence, over a child’s right to life. This repression of religious faith is just one brick in the ‘liberal’ monopolization of one’s freedom. The only resemblance leftists bear to true liberality is that they tend to beat their skulls against the foundations of the eternal, then call it innovation.
The principles of all schools and revolutions age, and it is time for the leftists to see that now they are old. The next reforms will be the overturn of Roe v. Wade, liberty of expression restored for Christians, and the understanding that freedom is the ability to do and say what is true and good, not what is false and licentious. At the turn of the next tide, the new revolutionaries will be authentically liberal.
Note that the first definition implies that while a truly liberal-minded man isn't restricted by old institutions, nor is he obliged to disagree with them. St. Thomas Aquinas said, 'Argument by authority is the weakest, according to Boethius.' (forgive my lame Scholastic humour in thinking that quotation is hysterically funny), yet in spite of his odd way of stating that truth, he followed the principle to the hilt. Every stand St. Thomas took, he fought for. He neither rested on the laurels of other Church Doctors, nor trusted that others would accept his personal interpretation of Scripture as infallible. Hence, the greatness of the Summa is in the angelic Doctor's rational Respondeo, not in the authoritative Sed Contra. So goes the Roman Catholic tradition of a truly liberal education.
In the second definition, one sees that the liberal is he who will vote for reform, not for change of just any kind. Wilberforce was liberal in promoting the end of slavery; it would not be liberal of anyone to now promote its return, just because it would be a change.
Yet, there is a certain party sitting on the Left hand of power which audaciously believes itself entitled to the honour of the term 'liberal'. Why does this adjective suit them? Is it because of their tolerance of others, their freedom from bigotry?
Glancing at 'liberalism' in Christian churches:
11/01/2008
An Anglican bishop for Labrador and eastern Newfoundland called on his priests to disclose any involvement with a breakaway organization led by his predecessor, and do the right thing by resigning, giving up their licences to serve as ministers.
In a letter to parish priests in the diocese last month, Bishop Cyrus Pitman wrote that all ordination licences would be reissued with a mandatory renewing of vows in St. John’s Jan. 21.
The letter leads off by referencing the former diocesan bishop, Donald Harvey of St. John’s , and that his recent actions have “implications for this diocese ..., for the Anglican Church of Canada, and possibly for the wider Anglican community.”
Harvey retired three years ago, and became known for his frustration with what he feels is a liberal agenda in the church, particularly not taking a stand against same-sex blessings. [(http://www.thewesternstar.com/index.cfm?sid=96833&sc=23)]
Forcing a minister to give up his ability to serve as a pastor for agreeing with the former bishop and his church’s immemorial interpretation of Scripture isn’t exactly tolerant, but then this is the same party that believes it is more important to protect a woman’s—and a man’s—right to sexual licence, over a child’s right to life. This repression of religious faith is just one brick in the ‘liberal’ monopolization of one’s freedom. The only resemblance leftists bear to true liberality is that they tend to beat their skulls against the foundations of the eternal, then call it innovation.
The principles of all schools and revolutions age, and it is time for the leftists to see that now they are old. The next reforms will be the overturn of Roe v. Wade, liberty of expression restored for Christians, and the understanding that freedom is the ability to do and say what is true and good, not what is false and licentious. At the turn of the next tide, the new revolutionaries will be authentically liberal.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Against the swirling materialism of Thales, Anaxagoras, and Anaximander, against the frozen murk of Parmenides and Melissus, arose first Plato’s Socrates, who aimed higher to identify being and who sought reason, not matter, as the means of knowing the world. Wedding Heaven and Earth, he revealed to Timaeus the pattern of the soul, the unity between matter and form. To solve the mystery of knowing—the recognition of the Truth when one heard it—he named the recognition ‘recollection’ of what the soul’s little form remember of the great Forms before its birth in the flesh of man.
All knowing, all being, then descended from that form living within us. And saw without ever seeing a particular dog, without ever defining beauty, one would know it the very first time he saw it. At worst, man’s reasoning but required a little prompting to rise upwards.
Yet, there was a sundering! With his palm toward earth, Aristotle uttered, ‘Amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas - Plato is my friend, but truth is a better friend.’ Forms do make materical creatures to be what they are, but only as one cause amongst four. The matter is just as much a cause, the agent is the other, and the agent’s reason is the ultimate. ‘Forms without matter are nonsense.’ With mind more piercing than adamantine stone, he proceeds to define where Socrates pleaded faith-inspired agnosticism. Recollection becomes the amalgamation of experience.
Yet, if Aristotle has constructed the skeleton at least of this world’s essence, if his rule has projected every point on the line of time, what of the endpoints? What of that which is beyond this world? The great logician can only imbibe the logos, and the logos is what is, not what was or will be. Before the world and after? Aristotle cannot say.
All knowing, all being, then descended from that form living within us. And saw without ever seeing a particular dog, without ever defining beauty, one would know it the very first time he saw it. At worst, man’s reasoning but required a little prompting to rise upwards.
Yet, there was a sundering! With his palm toward earth, Aristotle uttered, ‘Amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas - Plato is my friend, but truth is a better friend.’ Forms do make materical creatures to be what they are, but only as one cause amongst four. The matter is just as much a cause, the agent is the other, and the agent’s reason is the ultimate. ‘Forms without matter are nonsense.’ With mind more piercing than adamantine stone, he proceeds to define where Socrates pleaded faith-inspired agnosticism. Recollection becomes the amalgamation of experience.
Yet, if Aristotle has constructed the skeleton at least of this world’s essence, if his rule has projected every point on the line of time, what of the endpoints? What of that which is beyond this world? The great logician can only imbibe the logos, and the logos is what is, not what was or will be. Before the world and after? Aristotle cannot say.
You That Sing in the Blackthorn
Tell me you
That sing in the black-thorn
Out of what Mind
Your melody springs.
Is it the World-soul
Throbs like a fountain
Up through the throat
Of an elf with wings?
Five sweet notes
In a golden order,
Out of that deep realm
Quivering through,
Flashed like a phrase
Of light through darkness.
But Who so ordered them?
Tell me, Who?
You whose throats
In the rain drenched orchard
Peal your joys
In a cadenced throng;
You whose wild notes,
Fettered by beauty,
Move like the stars
In a rounded song;
Yours is the breath
But Whose is the measure,
Shaped in an ecstasy
Past all art?
Yours is the spending;
Whose is the treasure?
Yours is the blood-beat;
Whose is the heart?
Minstrels all
That have woven your houses
Of withies and twigs
With a Mind in wrought,
Ye are the shuttles;
But out of what Darkness
Gather your thoughtless
Patterns of thought?
Bright eyes glance
Through your elfin doorways,
Roofed with rushes,
And lined with moss.
Whose are the voiceless
pangs of creation?
Yours is the wild bough:
Whose is the Cross?
Carols of light
From a lovelier kingdom,
Gleams of a music
On earth unheard,
Scattered like dew
By the careless wayside,
Pour through the lifted
Throat of a bird.
by Alfred Noyes
Where does learning begin? When does one begin to be aware of the consist flow of sheer knowing into his soul? Sight, sound, taste, touch—all inescapable ports of vessels that our minds struggle to name and our hearts to love or reject. Or is knowledge not the reaction of experience, but the struggle of the incorporeal soul to remember herself and her true home in the world of sensation around her?
The modern age hates giants. The magnificent man is the inherent proof against democracy, and democracy is all-good. Therefore democracy has always been good (alas, we must be absolutists even in the face of Hegelian relativism), and if it has always been good, there can never have been giants. Thus, to say that Plato and Aristotle divided the worlds of belief between themselves sends up shrieks of denunciation from the modern man. Such a statement is surely the phlegm of Western chauvinism stirred with the obsequious spittle of traditionalism.
Yet, erase the faces of modern thinkers. Forget these two men were far too near to each other to achieve such divergence. Assume not that there could never have been two giants of thought, one with his head touching the dome of the sky, the other with his feet buried in the molten hell of Earth.
The Soul Only Knows: I by Rachel Rudd is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at foolishnessntears.blogspot.com.
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About Me
- Jacobitess
- Warsaw, Poland
- Domine, spero quia mundum vicisti. Lord, I trust that Thou hast overcome the world. Panie, ufam, żeś pokonał świat.