If one merely opens ones eyes, the absurdity of the workplace, the inanity of it, is a situation-of-living characterized by insufferable temptation. And what is this temptation? Why the temptation to either conform or despair. To conform is to say, after getting a glimpse of things, “There is a good reason,” and to shut one’s eyes again and allow oneself to accept what is as what should be and ought to be. To despair is to open one’s eyes in the workplace and refuse to shut them again. To despair is to take it all in, to brace oneself against the blast of it and stand full-on into its force. At first there is courage: I am standing, my eyes are open, I am taking it in. Then there is a wrestling with the truth of what confronts you, and then, usually, there is depair. This despair is, given the context “workplace,” marxist in ideology and hostile, even angry, frustration in the impotence that, though aware, you can do nothing about it. The philosopher Michel Foucault /foo-KOH/ describes this latter option as such:
Humanity does not gradually progress from combat to combat until it arrives at universal reciprocity, where the rule of law finally replaces warfare; humanity installs each of its violences in a system of rules and thus proceeds from domination to domination. This relationship of domination is no more a "relationship" than a place where it occurs is a place; and, precisely for this reason, it is fixed, throughout its history, in rituals, in meticulous procedures that impose rights and obligations. It establishes marks of its power and engraves memories on things and even on bodies. Although there is resistance by those at the margins of these power structures, there is no escape from these structures, no possibility of leaving them to move to a different kind … those who exist at the margins, those who lie at the margins of philosophical and social power structures, can only seek to create their own histories, to define their own space, to resist the power structures merely by existing outside of them. (The [Michel] Foucault Reader. (Pantheon Books, 1984))
When one begins working as I did, at 15, one assumes that managers and other “adults” around you are appropriate to their jobs. They had a degree or had risen through the ranks so that there was a rightness that allowed them to rise above their peers. Only later, when one grows up a little, it occurs to you the naivete of this presumption.
Perhaps it is the day when you are made to answer for going to the bathroom. Or, perhaps it is the day you realize that you haven’t seen a raise in years, but your company can’t shut up about how much money it is making. It could be something as minor as realizing that the office doesn’t throw a party for your birthday, or at your child’s birth or whatever, but, amazingly enough, they are happy to use company funds to do so for management and they expect you to join in and contribute funds (a portion of your salary) toward the adulation of your betters! Business is full of a thousand little paper-cuts to the soul. And, over time, these little bloodlettings – the death of every cherished youthful idealism, of imagination and all the higher impulses of human living – they tempt. With each one you open your eyes, and there it is: do you accept the message? Do you accept the opinion of the ruling class? Or, do you despair and become a marxist? The so-called death of marxist ideology with the fall of the Soviet Union and other communist powers means nothing. It was this same class, the one acting demure at the onanistic office party, that was at the reigns of those powers. That man or woman “leading” the meeting, talking yap yap yap like they know something only because they are prettier than everyone else at the office, that’s one of those that supposedly gave it a try, right? Which is better for this class, that they profit from Marx's self-examination or that they “disprove” the whole thing and get on to the business of celebrating each other?
There is only one way of escaping these two equally unpleasant options: to take one’s value from the cross of Christ. Only the gospel of Christ can save one from being ground up between the battling gears of capitalism and marxism. Christ does not call us “consumers” or workers. He takes authority over the so-called authority structures of the world system, with its corresponding messages of value and meaning. He has already passed judgment on them and on his people, and has called one anathema and the other his children. The responsibility of the Christian, then, is to resist these messages, and to work within the invisible webs of these awful, soul-destroying relationships, as small pinpoints of hope, of value, of peace, of reconciliation, of love.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
Western / Islamic differences in reading
The Goethe Institute in Cairo invited German and Islamic intellectuals to participate in a discussion in the Egyptian desert oasis of Bahareyya in mid February. As Markus Meßling's report shows, there were substantial differences between the two parties: "It became clear that fundamentally different concepts underlie what it means to understand. Whereas from a European philological standpoint, reading always represents an active process from which even the Bible is not exempt, on the Egyptian side the reading of the Koran means passive comprehension of a manifest truth." ~ Frankfurter Rundschau, 05.03.2005
Note the difference, please. Both parties, represented by Western & Islamic scholars, desire to understand a body of sacred texts. Yet, both approach this goal very differently. The former see understanding as an active process (do you hear the shades of the Enlightenment?), the latter are open, receptive and submissive to the text. The former interrogate the text, the latter wait upon the text. This, in a nutshell, encapsulates the hermeneutical argument going on presently in the West. Deconstructionism has interrogated the text for a long time and has come away deciding that we can never know. So-called "pre-modern" methods of reading, however, were very much as is described of the Islamic scholars. The Bible interrogated, not the other way round.
Indeed, to my way of thinking, the Bible is read according to "levels of permission." One reads as one is given permission to read by the text itself. The text will guide the reader deeper into itself, as long as one waits in contemplative and expectant silence (hesuchia) upon the text itself. Not that this is always a slow process, familiarity and custom quickens the pace of understanding.
Note the difference, please. Both parties, represented by Western & Islamic scholars, desire to understand a body of sacred texts. Yet, both approach this goal very differently. The former see understanding as an active process (do you hear the shades of the Enlightenment?), the latter are open, receptive and submissive to the text. The former interrogate the text, the latter wait upon the text. This, in a nutshell, encapsulates the hermeneutical argument going on presently in the West. Deconstructionism has interrogated the text for a long time and has come away deciding that we can never know. So-called "pre-modern" methods of reading, however, were very much as is described of the Islamic scholars. The Bible interrogated, not the other way round.
Indeed, to my way of thinking, the Bible is read according to "levels of permission." One reads as one is given permission to read by the text itself. The text will guide the reader deeper into itself, as long as one waits in contemplative and expectant silence (hesuchia) upon the text itself. Not that this is always a slow process, familiarity and custom quickens the pace of understanding.
Goal Clarification
When is the last time you clarified your goals? Every so often, I realize that I've wandered into a foggy place and need to get my bearings again. This weekend was a wake-up: time to clarify goals. Most of the time, to be honest, I feel very much like a man swimming against a great current: the daily "to do," the moods of others, the demands of prior commitments, the dictates of the body: flotsam and jetsam hurled against the drowning consciousness by the tsunami of time.
Certainly, I'm convinced that a disciplined life, lived with clear goals and embracing beloved simplicity, would be a better life. I'm convinced it would be better for me and for my family. Yet, the fickelness of my nature, even as it desires this, is then swept up to that other thing. I'm like that guy in C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters who, beginning to consider the state of his soul, is put off the scent by lunch.
Today, though, today I have found some resolve in the bottom of a pocket. Perhaps it is the growing lightness of every day, or God's mercy, or the clutching and "golluming" of fleshly desperation (probably all and more), but today I am resolved to remember my goals. To seek them out, to state them, to share them. To say, "There they are," and turn my harried bark according to their stars.
Is goal-setting a sin? Is this putting too much faith in one's own abilities? Is this buying into our "over-achievement" culture and its soul-killing definitions of success? Answer: it can be. Like everything else in life, there is danger involved in goal setting. Goals can be idols. Therefore, one must always remember the first commandment. One must remember that life is lived in the presence of God, who is the real governor of our days. Goal setting is not a sinful process if one remembers that it is but a human process, and subject, then, to human limitations.
Certainly, I'm convinced that a disciplined life, lived with clear goals and embracing beloved simplicity, would be a better life. I'm convinced it would be better for me and for my family. Yet, the fickelness of my nature, even as it desires this, is then swept up to that other thing. I'm like that guy in C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters who, beginning to consider the state of his soul, is put off the scent by lunch.
Today, though, today I have found some resolve in the bottom of a pocket. Perhaps it is the growing lightness of every day, or God's mercy, or the clutching and "golluming" of fleshly desperation (probably all and more), but today I am resolved to remember my goals. To seek them out, to state them, to share them. To say, "There they are," and turn my harried bark according to their stars.
Is goal-setting a sin? Is this putting too much faith in one's own abilities? Is this buying into our "over-achievement" culture and its soul-killing definitions of success? Answer: it can be. Like everything else in life, there is danger involved in goal setting. Goals can be idols. Therefore, one must always remember the first commandment. One must remember that life is lived in the presence of God, who is the real governor of our days. Goal setting is not a sinful process if one remembers that it is but a human process, and subject, then, to human limitations.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Friday, March 04, 2005
sugaring time
Kara went sugaring yesterday in Ipswich (something I have always wanted to do). She came back too tired to talk about it. The best we could understand, she wore a "shirt" (probably an apron) that looked like a tree, and that "only a drop" of sap came out of the tap. She did, however, enjoy tasting syrup later that day, and we made pancakes for dinner. Her pancake was liberally drizzled with Vermont maple syrup.
After putting her to bed, Lynn-nore and I sat down to watch Survivor and go through some stacks. Literally, I, myself, have a good four or five stacks of papers hidden (or not) here and there throughout the apartment. We are all about purge purge purge these days, and so threw a way a ton of material. I discovered that thesis packet which I swore I'd never received -- too late now! There were also a good number of articles on Hans Urs von Balthasar which I need to either file or discard. Oh, dare I forget that Sir Walter Raleigh came through a delivered a copy of Daniel Wallace's Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics for $11!
Lynn-nore and I also decided that I should begin studying for the GRE. Perhaps re-thinking the timing for PhD work is in order. At the moment, the PhD horizon includes Princeton, Duke and Vanderbilt. That's the top-tier.
After putting her to bed, Lynn-nore and I sat down to watch Survivor and go through some stacks. Literally, I, myself, have a good four or five stacks of papers hidden (or not) here and there throughout the apartment. We are all about purge purge purge these days, and so threw a way a ton of material. I discovered that thesis packet which I swore I'd never received -- too late now! There were also a good number of articles on Hans Urs von Balthasar which I need to either file or discard. Oh, dare I forget that Sir Walter Raleigh came through a delivered a copy of Daniel Wallace's Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics for $11!
Lynn-nore and I also decided that I should begin studying for the GRE. Perhaps re-thinking the timing for PhD work is in order. At the moment, the PhD horizon includes Princeton, Duke and Vanderbilt. That's the top-tier.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
phenomenology mine (nisi intellectus ipse)
As difficult as it is, given the sea of tossed opinions which never ceases, one has to come down somewhere. And, having surveyed the options, I must confess that I am altogether smitten with phenomenology /fuh-naah-min-AAH-luh-jee/ as a philosophical method. It doesn't hurt that phenomenology is the largest and most important philosophical movement of the last 100+ years, either. Granted, it may not overcome Immanuel Kant (and actually could presuppose him); nevertheless, without resorting to pure fideistic assertion (where one's only proof is that one believes it to be so), it opens a window out of the iron-trap of empiricism (naturalism). Phenomenology does not make the mistake of forgetting that there are not just things, but persons. We do not simply run into rude objects during the wanderings of our lives, like blind bumper-cars, but consider ourselves, what we are up to, and what is about us. We value. We disregard. We consider, and are subject ourselves to the same such investigations made by other minds (nil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensu, nisi intellectus ipse.)
There are limitations, of course. Phenomenology can serve atheists as well as theists. It is just an instrument of the human mind. And, indeed, because it is so, it cannot ask from above. Phenomenology, as a method, doesn't have a divine point of view. It begins from where we stand; an earth-bound telescope for human eyes. Phenomenological questions are a human way of putting the problem. Its mechanism does not presuppose revealed truth.
Phenomenology is a tool, and, like any tool, one can use it sparingly or ruthlessly. Heretics, fools, the deluded, madmen, saints and scientists all use the same tools: it is in the manner of use that they differ (and suffer that difference.) The scientific method, to use a common example, is a perfectly good tool, yet, when overused, it becomes naturalism. Theology itself, no matter how good its intention, can fall into the same error. It, too, can forget that God is not a thing (das Seiend) among things (die Seiende). Indeed, phenomenology is not theology. It isn't a creed or confession. It doesn't, thus, protect against "the process option" or various Marxist theologies of liberation. It doesn't inoculate against panentheism.
So, what does it do? It does what it is: it is a method, a tradition of problems. It is the sonnet form to the Elizabethan poet. Yes, but what does it do for me? Ah! It allows me to pray with Augustine:
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher. Confessions 1.1 trans. E.B.Pusey; emphases mine.)
There are limitations, of course. Phenomenology can serve atheists as well as theists. It is just an instrument of the human mind. And, indeed, because it is so, it cannot ask from above. Phenomenology, as a method, doesn't have a divine point of view. It begins from where we stand; an earth-bound telescope for human eyes. Phenomenological questions are a human way of putting the problem. Its mechanism does not presuppose revealed truth.
Phenomenology is a tool, and, like any tool, one can use it sparingly or ruthlessly. Heretics, fools, the deluded, madmen, saints and scientists all use the same tools: it is in the manner of use that they differ (and suffer that difference.) The scientific method, to use a common example, is a perfectly good tool, yet, when overused, it becomes naturalism. Theology itself, no matter how good its intention, can fall into the same error. It, too, can forget that God is not a thing (das Seiend) among things (die Seiende). Indeed, phenomenology is not theology. It isn't a creed or confession. It doesn't, thus, protect against "the process option" or various Marxist theologies of liberation. It doesn't inoculate against panentheism.
So, what does it do? It does what it is: it is a method, a tradition of problems. It is the sonnet form to the Elizabethan poet. Yes, but what does it do for me? Ah! It allows me to pray with Augustine:
Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and Thy wisdom infinite. And Thee would man praise; man, but a particle of Thy creation; man, that bears about him his mortality, the witness of his sin, the witness that Thou resistest the proud: yet would man praise Thee; he, but a particle of Thy creation. Thou awakest us to delight in Thy praise; for Thou madest us for Thyself, and our heart is restless, until it repose in Thee. Grant me, Lord, to know and understand which is first, to call on Thee or to praise Thee? and, again, to know Thee or to call on Thee? for who can call on Thee, not knowing Thee? for he that knoweth Thee not, may call on Thee as other than Thou art. Or, is it rather, that we call on Thee that we may know Thee? but how shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe without a preacher? and they that seek the Lord shall praise Him: for they that seek shall find Him, and they that find shall praise Him. I will seek Thee, Lord, by calling on Thee; and will call on Thee, believing in Thee; for to us hast Thou been preached. My faith, Lord, shall call on Thee, which Thou hast given me, wherewith Thou hast inspired me, through the Incarnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of the Preacher. Confessions 1.1 trans. E.B.Pusey; emphases mine.)
Collect of the week
A Collect /KOL-lekt/ is a short, liturgical prayer which "collects" everyone together. We might say it gets everyone on the same page: worship. In revivalist churches (low churches), pastors often pray before delivering the sermon, and worship leaders, too, use prayer in this way: to focus everyone together in worship. They, also, then pray a collect, though johnny-on-the-spot.
Anyway, because I woke up feeling "stretched" and moody, it seems a collect is the only thing for it. So here is the collect for the third week in Lent:
Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Anyway, because I woke up feeling "stretched" and moody, it seems a collect is the only thing for it. So here is the collect for the third week in Lent:
Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Back from Boston
Our trip into Boston for the second-level ultrasound went great! We were releaved and encouraged to see that Caleb is doing great and the pregnancy is exactly as it should be. We were pleasantly surprised to be able to take advantage of some new technology that wasn't around when we were expecting Kara ~ we got to see 3-D images of Caleb! It was awesome to get such a good look at the little guy! At one point he looked like he was doing little body curls, pulling his bottom up and trying to push off the walls around him. It was quite amusing! He gave us a good wave with what looked like five little fingers! Kara came with us and was eager to see him, but then quickly bored of the attraction and became more interested in poking around the room. We also brought Joanna with us, partly for her to enjoy the ultrasound with us and partly for her to be able to sit with Kara when Kara couldn't hold it together any more. One blessing was that the sonogram technicians were really, really nice! Last time we went we were not as fortunate. So, all good news from up here and thank you all for your prayers! Enjoy the pictures! ~Lynn-nore
My First Post
Greetings to everyone! Lynn-nore here! Thom has been encouraging me to attempt to post something here on the blog, so I thought I'd give it a go. As Thom already noted in the post below, our afternoon is to be spent in Boston having a second-level ultrasound. This was initially scheduled as something of a baseline test to get a good look at where everything stands with my NOT-progressing toward labor. When I talked with the scheduling nurse at the midwives' office about the 18-week ultrasound we were supposed to have last week (to get a good look at Caleb), she said - "Oh, let's just bump that up to a second-level ultrasound in Boston and get it all taken care of the same day." The ultrasound last week had actually been cancelled due to snow. Not a lot of snow really, but even in Massachusetts we try to work around the stuff when we can!
I am going to attempt to post three pictures along with this post. One is of my favorite of Kara's artwork of late. It is a giraffe... and a house... no relationship between the two, she just wanted to draw both. The most interesting thing, to me, is how she draws animals. When I was her age and someone said "Lynn-nore, can you draw me a giraffee." I would think about the long neck and a face and know that it had four legs and come up with something. Kara didn't even attempt that. She ran upstairs and got the giraffe from her Little People toys. It's a three-inch rubbery-plastic giraffe. She set it in front of her and looked at it. Decided on perspective, dead-on versus a side shot and drew the giraffe just as it stood before her. I'm going to try to upload a picture of the giraffe as well as Kara's picture of the giraffe. She never ceases to amaze me.
The other pictures I want to post are for all you Star Wars fans out there. This was a little creative endeavor with our friends who came over to watch the Academy Awards. Sir Walter Raleigh and myself entertained ourselves during the Oscars with a little Lego fun I thought I'd share. If I can find new AA batteries for the digital camera, I'll post these ASAP.
Love to everyone and thank you for your prayers! ~Lynn-nore
I am going to attempt to post three pictures along with this post. One is of my favorite of Kara's artwork of late. It is a giraffe... and a house... no relationship between the two, she just wanted to draw both. The most interesting thing, to me, is how she draws animals. When I was her age and someone said "Lynn-nore, can you draw me a giraffee." I would think about the long neck and a face and know that it had four legs and come up with something. Kara didn't even attempt that. She ran upstairs and got the giraffe from her Little People toys. It's a three-inch rubbery-plastic giraffe. She set it in front of her and looked at it. Decided on perspective, dead-on versus a side shot and drew the giraffe just as it stood before her. I'm going to try to upload a picture of the giraffe as well as Kara's picture of the giraffe. She never ceases to amaze me.
The other pictures I want to post are for all you Star Wars fans out there. This was a little creative endeavor with our friends who came over to watch the Academy Awards. Sir Walter Raleigh and myself entertained ourselves during the Oscars with a little Lego fun I thought I'd share. If I can find new AA batteries for the digital camera, I'll post these ASAP.
Love to everyone and thank you for your prayers! ~Lynn-nore
Ultrasounds in Boston
This morning, Lynn-nore (and family) go into Boston for second-level ultrasounds. I had thought this was part of the work-up required by the paranatologist (have I mentioned that?) Yet, turns out, this was something the midwives requested. Today, then, Caleb gets an ultra-examination, and other things are closely watched as well. I hope that Kara can go, because I do not think she's seen an ultrasound, and it will be fun to drive into town. Part of me remembers that there is a possibility of getting some bad news, say that Lynn-nore is progressing. Yet, there's no sense getting panicked before we actually get there.
Last night, Kara receive a reward: a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's. She receive a sticker every time she eats dinner without the usual foolishness. Each one goes on a chart, and when the chart is full, off we go. She was so excited! There was almost no one there, so she really had the place to herself. She had a good time playing skee-ball, and steering the car on my lap on driving games (she likes to watch them wreck.) She also likes to sit with me on a 4-wheeler game, and a water racing game, both of which tilt and rumble and everything. At one point, she picked up the plastic cup of tokens and, laughing gleefully, makes off through the games like an imp, with me chasing after. Oh, she loved that!
Anyway, two points of business.
Lynn-nore said that the Harrises are monitoring our, probably quite fascinating, lives from this board. Hi guys! I think about you everyday! How's things at Marquette?
Second, by clicking on a photo you enlarge it, for you Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, etc. You can then right-click and download it, and then do whatever you like with it.
Last night, Kara receive a reward: a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's. She receive a sticker every time she eats dinner without the usual foolishness. Each one goes on a chart, and when the chart is full, off we go. She was so excited! There was almost no one there, so she really had the place to herself. She had a good time playing skee-ball, and steering the car on my lap on driving games (she likes to watch them wreck.) She also likes to sit with me on a 4-wheeler game, and a water racing game, both of which tilt and rumble and everything. At one point, she picked up the plastic cup of tokens and, laughing gleefully, makes off through the games like an imp, with me chasing after. Oh, she loved that!
Anyway, two points of business.
Lynn-nore said that the Harrises are monitoring our, probably quite fascinating, lives from this board. Hi guys! I think about you everyday! How's things at Marquette?
Second, by clicking on a photo you enlarge it, for you Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, etc. You can then right-click and download it, and then do whatever you like with it.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Snowing in Ipswich
Snowing in Ipswich. Coming out of the medieval front door at Ascension, the snow was a welcome sight, like the grace of God flowing down and gently lighting on my shoulders, my head, my face. Ascending the narrow way between the steep sides between library and hall, I felt a choir singing through the whole, white, swirling purity of the scene. My soul rose against its masculine strength, pealing:
Come, Thou almighty King,
Help us Thy Name to sing,
Help us to praise!
Father all glorious, over all victorious,
Come and reign over us, Ancient of Days!
Back at the office, Lynn-nore called. I received a letter from Hendrickson. It was typed, but personal, from Shirley. She was congratulatory at my enthusiasm and talents, but could not offer me the position. I will do the manly thing, of course. I will write, thanking her for her trouble and offering myself for any future service – there is no door that, even shut, cannot be knocked upon.
Be still my soul and wait,.. wait,.. wait upon the Lord.
Come, Thou almighty King,
Help us Thy Name to sing,
Help us to praise!
Father all glorious, over all victorious,
Come and reign over us, Ancient of Days!
Back at the office, Lynn-nore called. I received a letter from Hendrickson. It was typed, but personal, from Shirley. She was congratulatory at my enthusiasm and talents, but could not offer me the position. I will do the manly thing, of course. I will write, thanking her for her trouble and offering myself for any future service – there is no door that, even shut, cannot be knocked upon.
Be still my soul and wait,.. wait,.. wait upon the Lord.
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