Most permalinks are still bad. Apologies.

Links to other blogs (left margin) will follow.

Posts for 2004 and 2005 are now accessible through the archives on the right.

Recall that horrid place, at (2005/01/26),

``You know well what a horrid place is prayer.
Coax us into this holy line of battered men'' ??

Try reading Godric . He spent 40 years gallivanting around, then retreated to a hovel on the Wear near Durham and spent 65 years in prayer. Fairly racy, and baudy, for a story about a man on his knees. Reginald's biography of him is truly pious. Buechner's imagination in recovering the truth of the man from Reginald's efforts to clean it up is quite amazing.

Page 131, Godric recounts escapades of the local acolytes. Reminds me of the legend of St. Bartholomew's, Livermore, when sometime in the 1960s, the acolytes put Scotch in the wine cruets; and in the middle of a mass, what could the celebrant or the eucharistic ministers do?

Remi Brague, Eccentric Culture: A Theory of Western Civilization.

A very simple thesis, with a lot of rich detail accompanying it.

The Latin West has always thought itself secondary in culture, and doubly so: The Romans thought that for culture, you had to go someplace else, namely Greece. And the Christian West, that for religion, you had to go someplace else, namely to the Bible, most of which is from Hebrew sources.

The result was a graced secondarity, not a graceless inferiority or an other-ignoring superiority. This is the root of the West's perpetual interest in, and value of, other cultures.

The pivotal crisis was in the second century, when the Church decided, against Marcion, to keep the inherited Hebrew scripture in its entirely.

The Greek East viewed the Greek literature as its patrimony, and took it for granted. Islam translated what it wanted and ignored the rest, content with its own superiority.

This turned up in a google search for stuff about Paul Ricoeur. The links will take you to Adrian Remodo, blogger in Lagonoy, Bikol, in Camarines Sur province in the Philippines, in the southeast of Luzon. You get to see pictures of Remodo beating his noggin on a copy of Scheler's Ressentiment. My admiration -- when I was 25, I couldn't do that. The link to Kristian Cordero will take you to his poetry and Cordero's parish, St. Anthony of Padua, which appears to be at least 423 years old.

The latest issue of The American Interest has ``Between Relativism and Fundamentalism,'' by Peter Berger. Beyond what is available of the text on the magazine's web-site, Berger observes that modernity has meant ``a gigantic shift in the human condition from one of fate to one of choice'' (p. 12, left column). This is to observe that the Exodus, an exodus from nature into history in the third millenium BCE, that is, an exodus from fatedness to the openness and choices of living in history, has been thrust on most everybody today.

He continues, a bit later: ``For many people, at least in the early stage of the process, this change is experienced as a great liberation -- as indeed it is. But especially after a while, it may be experienced as a burden from which one wants to be freed.'' The Israelites complained to Moses in the wilderness, ``were there not graves enough in Egypt, that you had to bring us out here, into the desert, to die?'' (Exodus 14:11, loosely.) Berger continues: ``There ensues an often desperate quest for certainty, and where there is a demand, someone will proffer a supply. This is where the fundamentalists come in'' (p. 12, right column). ``Come and join us, and we will give you certainty as to what to believe, how to live, and who you are'' (p. 13, right column).

Berger dissents from the (nihilistic) relativism that seems to be the origin of this mess, but does not offer much in the way of non-``fundamentalist'' remedies.

A Jewish friend once remarked to me about the coming together of many ethnic traditions in the Exodus and before, with all their gods, that the only thing they could agree on was the legal matter in the Torah. The rest was irreconcilable, and was fused together only by a narrative that assimilated all the gods into one, and made all the tribes relatives of one another. We have yet to hammer out a new legal code of what is acceptable in society and what is not.

Even more, we have no theory of pluralism, nor for living with the openness of history, nor for why some choices are better than others. That work remains to be done.

But as far as it goes, Berger's article is quite helpful.

Here is the full text of the Pope's remarks that elicited such a furore in the Islamic world. I've not read them yet, and cannot comment. From the comments I do hear from friends, the Pope's main interest was not really centered on violence in the name of religion, but that question will have to wait a few days.

Here is a report of the Howard government's ``reading the riot act to the imams'' in Australia:

 
The Howard Government's multicultural spokesman, 
Andrew Robb, yesterday told an audience of 100 imams 
who address Australia's mosques that 
these were tough times requiring great personal resolve.
Mr Robb also called on them to shun a victim mentality 
that branded any criticism as discrimination.

"We live in a world of terrorism where evil acts 
are being regularly perpetrated in the name of your faith," 
Mr Robb said at the Sydney conference.

"And because it is your faith that is being 
invoked as justification
for these evil acts, it is your problem.

"You can't wish it away, or ignore it, 
just because it has been caused by others.

"Instead, speak up and condemn terrorism, 
defend your role in the way of life 
that we all share here in Australia."

It's about time someone talked some sense.

This link to a story in the Daily Mail was posted on Instapundit, news that the Pope has apparently fired George Coyne, SJ, as head of the Vatican Observatory, because the Pope did not agree with Coyne's opposition to Intelligent Design creationism. The news is reported somewhat differently at Catholic News, without mention of Intelligent Design. Father Coyne is 73, of a retirement age, so there may or may not be controversy here. There is more commentary here.

Father Coyne protested when Cardinal Schoenborn published in favor of Intelligent Design, a year or so ago. Ted Peters and Martinez Hewlett commented here.

More interesting comment here, with background on Fr. Funes, George Coyne's successor at the VO.

In my highly opinionated opinion, the concepts pertinent to disentangling evolutionary biology from Christian theology don't work the way that ID proponents think they do, but that is an argument far too long for a blog post. It was the subject of Where, Now, O Biologists, Is Your Theory? Intelligent Design as Naturalism By Other Means (Cover photo here )

More: A blog entry here indicates that this was not a firing, but merely normal retirement:

As a long-standing member of the Board of the Vatican Observatory
Foundation, and even longer-term friend of Fr. Coyne, I can assure
readers that the appointment of his successor, Fr. Funes, is part of
normal succession planning which the Board has been discussing for
several years. After a well-deserved sabbatical, Fr.Coyne will
continue his association with the Observatory and the Foundation,
assisting the Board and Fr. Funes.

 Charles Currie, S.J.    Aug 23, 03:23 PM 

This came to me on the Society of Christian Philosophers listserv:

Professor D. Z. Phillips, who died on 25 July 2006, enjoyed a long  
and distinguished academic career spanning four decades at The  
University of Wales, Swansea, where he was Professor Emeritus, and  
Director of the Rush Rhees Archives.   He also held the Danforth  
Chair in Philosophy of Religion at Claremont Graduate University,  
California.
             From 1959 until 1961, he was Minister of Fabian Bay  
Congregational Church, Swansea. Phillips began his academic career at  
Queen s College, Dundee, in 1961, before joining the University  
College of North Wales, Bangor in 1963.  He became a lecturer at  
Swansea in 1965, and a Professor of Philosophy in 1971. In 1982, he  
became Dean of the Faculty of Arts, until 1985, and he was Vice- 
Principal from 1989 until 1992.  In 1996 he became the Rush Rhees  
Professor Emeritus in the Department of Philosophy, a position he  
held until his death.
             Phillips gave many endowed lectures during his academic career  
including the Cardinal Mercier Lectures (Leuven), Marett Lecture  
(Oxford), Riddell Lectures (Newcastle), McMartin Lectures (Ottawa),  
Hintz Lecture (Tucson), the Aquinas Lecture (Oxford), and Vonhoff  
Lectures (Groningen).
             His research interests were in the areas of philosophy of  
religion, ethics, philosophy and literature, and Wittgenstein.  His  
best known works, from over 20 books, include: Faith and  
Philosophical Enquiry, The Concept of Prayer, Religion without  
Explanation, and Faith after Foundationalism.
             Professor Phillips leaves a wife, Monica, and three sons,  
Steffan, Rhys, and Aled, and four grandchildren, Ceri, Bethan, Sian  
and Emyr.

I remember when I first met DZ, in an elevator in a hotel near Cal State Fullerton for a regional AAR meeting. He had said something, and someone else said, ``Oh, you're English?'' He replied in the negative, and after she tried Scottish and Irish, he had to sheepishly say, ``Welsh.'' He could sing -- I think that's a tradition in Wales -- as he demonstrated at an after-dinner amateur hour at that meeting. And despite his somewhat dry philosophical caution in his critical response to the pronounced rationalism of English analytic philosophy of religion, he was quite capable of enjoying himself, life, and the people around him. He is missed, and the world is poorer without him.

Belatedly, watching Israel doing its best to eliminate Hezbollah: Much of the criticism has been self-righteous and selective, effectively condemning Israel for defending itself. We are told that Lebanon and its civilians are ``innocent'': I'm sorry, but when you host terrorists, when you allow terrorists to hide behind your civilians, when your civilians willingly shelter terrorists, when your army announces that it will side with Hezbollah against Israel, you have only yourself to blame.

Even the Vatican is reported to have fallen for this ruse; a stance that is disappointing for this Catholic, to say the least.

When I watched the Lord of the Rings DVDs, I enjoyed them greatly, despite my frustrations with the omissions and deviations from the books. It seemed to me that the movies are just action movies, albeit very good action movies (as one would expect, with plot and characters rented from the Tolkien estate).

The books are not about action but about food, poetry, and hospitality. And about a moral challenge of much more subtlety than the movie can show; at least with the talents of Peter Jackson and his actors. One lesson of the books is that when faced with great moral challenges, you will get help from surprisingly many people who offer you hospitality along your way. But it would seem that making a movie about food, poetry, and hospitality is impossible.

Not so! Babette's Feast is a counter-example. The movie is set in a pious hamlet in rural western Denmark. Babette, a refugee from France, is a mere kitchen servant, but she wins the lottery and with the winnings puts on a feast in honor of the birthday of the deceased pastor. In the process, the piety of the Danes is shown to be open to improvement. (Danes seem to be extremely hard on themselves w/r/t their own spirituality! The Curmudgeon of Copenhagen can stand as witness.)

In any case, the film is precisely about food, poetry (albeit in small quantities, hymns), and hospitality. It can be done, with good acting.

Here's an example of how character in the book was changed into action in the movie, and it happens in a hospitality scene, albeit one where the guest is not entirely welcome. In The Two Towers, When Gandalf persuades Theoden King of Rohan to put aside his enfeeblement by Grima Wormtongue, the spy from Saruman, there are no special effects, no magic. In the movie, the scene is transformed into a New Testament healing miracle, an exorcism, very magical: the demon of Saruman is driven out of Theoden, visibly.

Filming the scene as it is in the book would have required acting of Shakespearean ability.

But how droll it is that Peter Jackson figured that his audiences would understand a NT healing miracle easily but would have trouble with the real character change in the book.

The public understands euthanasia quite well, as we can see from a TV show of nearly 20 years ago: Rumpole, in the episode ( ``Rumpole and the Quality of Life'' (1988)), unravels a murder in the following circumstances:

Sir Daniel Derwent, rich and famous painter
Lady Perdita Derwent, the wife
	charged with the murder on circumstantial evidence
	(planted in her room, as it later turns out)
Helen Derwent, daughter of the artist by an earlier marriage
Barbara Derwent, the mother of the artist.

The artist turns up dead of an overdose of diamorphine, which he was taking for some serious medical condition. But he was up and painting earlier in the day.

He has left everything in his will to his wife, but, as it comes out under cross-examination, he has also already provided handsomely for his daughter and mother. It looks as if the young wife killed him for the money; but if she is convicted, she will get none of what she would soon have inherited anyway, and it will all go to the mother and daughter instead. Rumpole suspects the mother and daughter, but suggests suicide at trial, not having enough proof of murder. He points out sufficient possibilities other than what the prosecution claims, and the wife/client is acquitted. (Rumpole's clients don't always get off; just usually.)

In the hallway outside the courtroom waiting for the verdict after closing arguments, Rumpole sits down next to the mother, who is knitting. She is a member of the Across the River Society, which promotes euthanasia; Rumpole has suspected euthanasia.

Rumpole asks, ''You are a member of the Across the River Society, aren't you?''

She dodges the question and says of her son the artist, ``He couldn't paint anymore. He wouldn't want to live if he couldn't paint.''

Rumpole: ``Are you sure?''

Mother: ``Oh, absolutely positive. It was for the best.''

Rumpole accuses her of putting the lethal dose of diamorphine in the artist's omelet.

Mother: ``What are you trying to say, Mr. Rumpole?''

Rumpole: ``Oh, nothing complicated; only that you took those ampoules from Nurse Gregson's bag, you knew exactly what they looked like, and you got the contents into your son's food. Then Helen found them, and planted them. [i.e., in the wife's room.] But what I'd like to know is this.''

Mother, in surprise: ``There's something you don't know?!'' (She has continued knitting all the while, without the slightest distress or disturbance.)

Rumpole (with some indignation): ``Did you discuss this sudden decision to take your son's life with him at all? What were his views on the subject?''

Mother: ``There was no need for any discussion. A mother knows, Mr. Rumpole. A mother always knows.''

The scene cuts to the courtroom, where the jury (of course) acquits Rumpole's client, the widow, Lady Derwent.

What the story attests, albeit in fiction, is that the general public understands exactly what is involved in euthanasia: it will be involuntary and done to the victim, not on the basis of what the victim wants and has asked for, but on the basis of what the victim ``would'' want, simply because the perpetrators don't want the discomfort of discussing it with the prospective victim.

But it is their discomfort they wish to avoid, as is well attested already in the Netherlands. And in all probability the public understands that, too, whether they sympathize with the mother or not.

This sort of euthanasia requires only one presupposition for its legitimacy: that it is not only permissible to seek death as a remedy for pains one would rather not bear, but to help another do so. Then when death is defined to be a good that one person can give another, the way is open for euthanasia.

The necessary presupposition is planted by much less than legalizing euthanasia candidly; merely legalizing ``physician-assisted suicide'' will suffice, while piously appearing not to condone euthanasia at all.

In 1988, when the Rumpole episode was shot, the ``implied reader'' viewed euthanasia as murder; today, it is debatable.

A new blog, Brother Mark, notes that ``God is in the house, waiting for a house call,'' and we are embarrassed.

Sounds like things haven't changed much since golden-age Denmark; speaking of embarrassment, look at Kierkegaard, in the Postscript, p. 207-208 of the Swenson and Lowrie translation, about the dapper post-doc who said

``I have not indeed believed, but so much have I honored Christianity that I have employed every hour of my life in pondering it.'' Or suppose that there came one of whom the accuser had to say: ``He has persecuted the Christians,'' and the accused replied, ``Aye, I admit it; Christianity has set my soul aflame, and I have had no other ambition than to root it from the earth, precisely because I perceived its tremendous power.'' Or suppose there came another, of whom the accuser would have to say: ``He has abjured Christianity,'' and the accused replied, ``Aye, it is true; for I saw that Christianity was such a power that if I gave it a little finger it would take the whole man, and I felt that I could not belong to it wholly.'' But then suppose there finally came a dapper Privatdozent with light and nimble steps, who spoke as follows, ``I am not like these three; I have not only believed, but I have even explained Christianity, and shown that as it was expounded by the Apostles and appreciated in the early centuries it was only to a certain degree true; but that now, through the interpretation of speculative philosophy it has become the true truth, whence I must ask for a suitable reward on account of my services to Christianity.'' Which of these four must be regarded as in the most terrible position? It is just possible that Christianity is the truth; suppose that now when its ungrateful children desire to have it declared incompetent, and placed under the guardianship of speculative philosophy, like the Greek poet whose children demanded that the aged parent be placed under a guardian, but who astonished the judges and the people by writing one of his most beautiful tragedies as a sign that he was still in the full possession of his faculties --- suppose that Christianity thus arose with renewed vigor: there would be no one else whose position would become as embarrassing as the position of the Privatdozents.

But perhaps Brother Mark really did have current events on his mind, and my response here is about something that has always troubled me (and not him) --- for SAK's indictment stings me as a philosophical theologian in the tradition that says that theology really does have some obligations of philosophical candor and clarity, even if the chosen philosophy is not ``speculative'' (i.e., the Hegel of Kierkegaard's day). Trying to discharge those obligations always courts SAK's accusations against the post-docs. About current events, my instinct is that of the Catholic bishops in their sensible moments, when they leave current events to well-catechized competent lay people (aka the relevant opinion press, which this blog is not).

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