Wonder is commonly perceived as akin to curiosity, as stimulating inquiry, and as something that enhances pleasure in learning, but there are many experiences of wonder that have a less obvious place in education. In Wonder and Education, Anders Schinkel theorises a kind of wonder which he calls 'contemplative wonder'. Contemplative wonder opens up space for the consideration of (radical) alternatives wherever it occurs, and in many cases is linked with deep experiences (...) of value; therefore, it is not just important for education in general, but also, more specifically, for moral and political education. (shrink)

Awe and wonder are theorised to be distinct from other positive emotions, such as happiness. Yet little empirical or theoretical work has focused on these emotions. This investigation explored differences in language used to describe experiences of awe and wonder. Such analyses can provide insight into how people conceptualise these emotional experiences, and whether they conceptualise these emotions to be distinct from other positive emotions, and each other. Participants wrote narratives about experiences of awe, wonder and happiness. (...) There were differences in the language used to describe these positive emotional states, consistent with the theorised functions of each emotion. Awe was related to observing the world, reflected in greater use of perception words. Wonder was related to trying to understand the world, reflected in greater use of cognitive complexity and tentative words. Language use for both emotions reflected an environmental focus, whereas language use for happiness reflected a social/relationship focus. (shrink)

The book under review shows, from various perspectives, that the force of wonder and the silence that follows from it can nurture our ability to be receptive to and present in human relations and in resonance with the meaning-giving life phenomena that surround us. Wonder, Silence, and Human Flourishing: Toward a Re-humanization of Health, Education, and Welfare approaches humanization and the process of re-enchantment in a radical new way. For more than a decade the call for re-humanization in (...) education, care and welfare has been heard and discussed primarily in critical thinking, political theory, and sociological discourses. This critique is mainly based on a social constructivist and naturalistic worldview that keeps the discussion in an anthropocentric perspective. By focusing on the phenomenology and ethics of wonder as an ontological and even spiritual event, and by listening to the silence that follows this contemplative wonder, the contributors offer an existential, phenomenological, and hermeneutic way of understanding humanization. (shrink)

Wonder is a root of the religious experience, and the desire to understand drives science. If wonder and understanding are fundamentally opposed, religion and science will be also. But only if wonder is limited to the contemplation of magic or mysteries is religion in principle opposed to science. The aim of science is to explain how something is possible. Understanding how something is possible need not destroy our wonder at it. Recent scientific theories of the human (...) mind—albeit based in computer technology—increase our wonder at its richness and power. (shrink)

“Enthusiastically acclaimed in Europe, Cornelis Verhoeven’s The Philosophy of Wonder starts with the premise that any authentic philosophy begins as a posture of wonder before reality. “Wonder is the foundation of the whole of philosophy,” he states. “It is not the beginning of thought in the sense that it might lead on to something better founded, something like philosophical principles, which could be cheerfully manipulated without any ambiguity. Nor does the philosopher begin by wondering, proceed to an (...) examination, and thus rid himself of a tiresome guest. It is not the beginning but the principle, the basic structure. It is not only the beginning but also the end; it guides and accompanies thought. It has not only the first but also the last word” Verhoeven develops his posture-the posture of one who thinks rather than one who merely learns a system-from the starting point of a striking reverence for reality. Wonder is possible only to one who is truly open to what reality is, is ruled by it, and who stands in fascination of the fact that what is there is there. Verhoeven’s approach to authentic thought and philosophy implies a rebellion against prevailing attitudes, against the tyranny of mediocrity that today’s world often imposes. Wonder is a rebellion against certitude and security. Authenticity demands that one remove himself from the tyranny of the revenge, that one slow down in a past-moving world. It demands that one receive reality with reverence and in a mood of contemplation rather than manipulation.The Philosophy of Wonder is neither a textbook nor a do-it-yourself philosophy book with “foundations” and “concepts.” Rather, it is a prod that engenders wonder. Wonder is not a quasi-romantic, wide-eyed passivity; it is an aggressive action, an exciting adventure, an exercise in free fall. Whenever philosophy has become a system, says Verhoeven, it has surrendered its birthright.”- Publisher. (shrink)

ABSTRACT Is a scientific attitude to the natural world an obstacle to an appreciation of its value? This paper argues that it is not. Following Aristotle and Marx, it maintains that, properly pursued, science has value because it enables us to contemplate that which is wonderful and beautiful. However, the paper concedes that, as actually practised, science can foster a vice described by Augustine as ‘the lust of the eyes’: knowledge is sought not to open us to the world, but (...) merely to satisfy the itch of curiosity. If scientific knowledge is thus pursued, no limits to the means to it nor to its objects are recognised. Those who thus seek knowledge fail to understand its value. (shrink)

That wonder is educationally important will strike many people as obvious. And in a way it is obvious, because being capable of experiencing wonder implies an openness to experience and seems naturally allied to intrinsic educational motivation, an eagerness to inquire, a desire to understand, and also to a willingness to suspend judgement and bracket existing—potentially limiting—ways of thinking, seeing, and categorising. Yet wonder is not a single thing, and it is important to distinguish at least two (...) kinds of wonder: active wonder, which entails a drive to explore, to find out, to explain; and deep or contemplative wonder, which is not inherently inquisitive like active wonder and, as a response to mystery, may leave us lost for words. Claims for wonder's importance to education and science often do not distinguish between the two, but whereas for active wonder that importance seems obvious, this is much less so for deep wonder, which by its very nature rather seems to be anti-educational. Yet in this paper I explore exactly the educational importance of deep wonder. This importance is found to lie, not just in its motivational effects—real though they are—but in making us attend to the world for its own sake, and making us aware of the limits of our understanding. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:This essay considers hagiography as a spatial-theological genre emerging, so to speak, from the crypts of Christian martyrs where liturgical celebrations commemorate their paradoxical witness to the Paschal mystery, whereby the faithful gain eternal life through temporal death. Later the virtues and miracles of holy men and women, such as ascetics, bishops, mystics and founders of religious communities, are recounted in vitae intended for liturgical offices and contemplative (...) reflection. The relics of these saints are a site for the construction of religious identity and a locus of pilgrimage, as the faithful gather in the churches where the bodily remains are located. Often miracle accounts, collected soon after the death of the saint, are accompanied by miracles at the tomb thereby initiating or furthering the process of veneration and canonization, whence the relics are subsequently transferred to a prominent place within the church, such as the area near the altar. Miracle stories are a constant in liturgical legends, and the vitae of Saint Francis are no exception.In the case of Francis of Assisi, canonization and construction are contemporaneous, since Thomas of Celano's official legend, the Life of Saint Francis, is presented during the initial building phase of the sepulcher basilica. The Paschal paradox of the miraculous, evident in the spatial localization of transcendent power, informs Celano's hagiographical account of miracles in his first text, as well as in the later Legend for Use in the Choir, the Remembrance of the Desire of the Soul, and the Treatise on Miracles. Bonaventure's subsequent conceptualization of Francis's dream body in the Journey of the Soul into God and literary reorganization of the miracle stories in the Major Life, and the absence of Francis's reliquary remains in the Minor Life, dislodges the miraculous from sepulchral stone and regional locales into textual space, which is located in a narrative history but freed from the spatial constraints of ecclesial edifices and geographical locations. As a result, the thaumaturgical founder of Celano's narratives, whose wonders in life and death find a spatial locus in Italy and, particularly, at the basilica tomb, is replaced by the stigmatized Francis. He is the central miracle of Bonaventure's narratives, and readily present anywhere – albeit mediated by the General Minister's own memory – in prayer. This essay posits that this "transitus" of Francis from miracle worker to abiding miracle, especially noticeable in Celano's Legend for Use in the Choir and Bonaventure's Minor Life, is best understood when the performative nature of liturgical legends in sacred space is recognized.1. Choir Legends, Sacred Space and Performative IdentityChoir legends are primarily conceived, composed, and received as spatial texts, ritually performed in a designated sacred space and season. Their ritual context is the Liturgy of the Hours, where believers enter into a dialogical exchange with the divine, grounded in the paradox of the Paschal mystery. Choir legends are unique witnesses to a particular communal image of a saint, whose life of virtue and miraculous deeds is recounted within the dynamics of liturgical prayer and the dominant cultic-cultural identity. Given their essential status within worship, these biographical texts assume a level of iconicity not shared by non-liturgical documents. Specifically intended for communal contemplation and not the promulgation of the saint's cult throughout the universal church, choir legends are similar to opaque windows opening inward on a secluded courtyard of those gathered to recount their family story. While the narrative is accessible to all those who gaze through the aperture and listen attentively, the locus of intent is within the religious community. When the community members – or at least influential leaders – no longer espouse this "prayed" likeness of their father or mother figure, a new image may be constructed, and the previous choir legend is supplanted or even suppressed by another legend that reflects the revised cultural-theological identity. Evidence of this process is found among second.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Call to Wonder reimagining disabilityRosemarie Garland-ThomsonComing to WonderI came to wonder last summer on a research visit to the Ringling Brothers Museum in Sarasota, Florida. Scattered with garish posters and peculiar objects, the museum’s circus archive was a cabinet of curiosities documenting a lost world of the extraordinary. Circuses, sideshows, and early museums were entertainment venues that offered good jobs to people with disabilities at a (...) time well before disability rights or accessible workplaces integrated people with disabilities into public life. At the Circus Museum, I came to understand more fully that many of the people on the freakshow’s broadsides are my ancestors, people with rare congenital disabilities that gave them uncommon appearances and occasioned for them some creativity in carrying out the tasks of daily living.That muggy summer day in Sarasota, the archivist opened for us one by one the thin but wide drawers of the filing cabinets designed to store rare and valuable documents. As each assemblage of posters revealed its strange contents, I came to recognize a lost community of ancient ancestors. All manner of human variation in extravagant shapes, sizes, and forms peered out of the drawers, beckoning our attention and igniting our wonder. The dwarf musicians, legless cyclists, exotic albinos, fat ladies, hermaphrodites, and giants who entertained and charmed circus audiences then have today been transformed into people with disabilities. Civil rights legislation such as the Americans with Disabilities Act, an [End Page 483] accessible designed and built public environment, and broad awareness of disability inclusion offer these unusual people opportunities for education and wider employment opportunities today. Many of my friends and colleagues resemble these circus celebrities and performers. All of us now go about our lives quite differently from these lost ancestors. We have lives, work, families, communities, and environments that are much more compatible with our ways of being. Nonetheless, my shudder of sympathetic recognition witnesses our congruence, despite the decades and centuries that separate us from them. As I move along the unsettling archive they have left me, my vanished ancestors stare back at me from the scrapbooks, circus posters, tattered photos, and ancient prints tucked into the drawers and cabinets along our tour. Their steady returning gaze demands my response. They pull from me an unsettling merger of awe and tenderness, familiarity and strangeness. They have awakened in me the ancient affect of wonder.For me, the most compelling occupant of these archival coffins was the “The Little Man of Nuremberg,” the armless calligrapher, Matthias Buchinger (Figure 1). This prodigy of ornate micrography gazed frankly back at me with dignified contemplation, inviting me into his elaborate realm of the miniature (see Schjeldahl 2016). His diminutive hands peeked out of the velvet cuffs, startling me with their familiarity to my own unusual arms and hands. Famous during his lifetime (1674–1739) as “The Greatest Living German,” Buchinger was a calligrapher, artist, performer, and entrepreneur who was an early exemplar of a genre of legless and armless disabled performers who inspired wonder and awe in their audiences and communities.1 Buchinger’s 1724 engraving offers his viewers an early 18th-century resume or social media page. The illustration’s loquacious caption describes, “the wonderful Little Man of about 29. Inches high, born without Hands, Feet, or Thighs, June the 2, 1674. In Germany.” The “last of nine Children,” he goes on to verify his own reproductive robustness by detailing that he “has been married four times, and has had issue Eleven children, one by his first Wife, three by his second, six by his third, and one by his present Wife.”Amazement apparently requires detail for its realization. His self-portrait engraving continues to variously solicit our wonder. “This little Man performs such Wonders as had never been done by any; but Himself,” he assures us. These wonders include playing various instruments, including the flute, bagpipe, dulcimer, and trumpet. Moreover, he designs and makes musical instruments and draws coats of arms and pictures of life “with Pen.” His astonishing feats include playing cards and dice, performing tricks with “Cups and Balls, Corn, and Live Birds,” playing at “Skittles or Nine Pens to... (shrink)

What emerges as the overarching theme in the extensive work of the Dutch philosopher Cornelis Verhoeven is our relationship to reality. Being appealed to by thousands of things in our existence makes us realize that we cannot avoid reality. The most meaningful forms of reality are symbols, which lead us, through radical astonishment and contemplation to the metaphysical insight that something exists rather than nothing. This renders Verhoeven sceptical as the weakness of our ability to know and understand hampers our (...) vision of hard reality, and also ironical because so many forms of speaking and writing display a reality which is being taken for granted. Thinking symbolically, metaphysical reflection and scepsis towards thoughdess assumptions are the instruments of a contemplation which, in Verhoeven's work, leave room for the lyrical prevalence of reality. In his later writings he gradually and more insistently draws attention to the theme of truth, while at the same time not denying our epistemological incapacity towards understanding and explaining reality. (shrink)

The argument is developed by drawing on the thought of Søren Kierkegaard, Eric Voegelin, and Bernard Lonergan. Contemplation is possible because the self is constituted by self-presence in its engagement with being. Self-presence does not precede one’s engagement with being and is not an alternative to this engagement, but is the unique mode of human participation in being. Immersed in the frenetic give and take of the world, one is present to oneself. Self-presence also includes the unique quality of human (...) existence in tension between the immanent and transcendent. The contemplative experience is characterized by awe, humility, joy, and mystery. In contemplation, one cedes for a time the practical preoccupations evoked by the pull of immanence and gives way to the questing disposition—what the Greeks called wonder—toward transcendence. Contemplation is the questing disposition of self-presence toward being. (shrink)

Sixteenth‐century Germany witnessed a tremendous flourishing of vernacular literature. An unprecedented number and variety of texts were produced for new groups of readers. This essay analyzes one underexplored genre of this vernacular literature: texts on the natural world. Numerous books on animals, plants, minerals, and natural marvels rolled off the German presses in this period, indicating a widespread curiosity about the natural world. These texts give valuable insight into the views of nature available to a broad lay audience, literate in (...) German but not necessarily in Latin. They reveal a pervasive sense of nature as divinely created and a deep conviction that contemplation of the natural world would lead to greater piety. The divine and the mundane were thoroughly intertwined in vernacular natural histories. While other historians of science have seen the sixteenth century as a period of increasingly secular ways of thinking about nature, I argue for the persistence, and even the intensification, of profoundly religious attitudes toward the natural world. (shrink)

Ian Normile begins this study from the premise that critical thinking is often conceptualized and practiced in problematically narrow and instrumentalized ways. Following Ronald Barnett, he suggests that the idea of critical being can help expand the theory and practice of critical thinking to better meet the needs of education and society. Essential to this effort is greater consideration of how critical thinking articulates with other aspects of being. Normile uses two examples of “non-critical” experiences that he argues can help (...) critical thinking expand into critical being. First, he explores the emotive power of wonder as a source of inspiration and emotional education, and as an essential aspect of critical thinking. He then argues that curiosity, wonder, contemplation, and critical thinking are complementary aspects of critical being. The second example is the Chinese concept of wu-wei, a form of efficacious non-critical action. Normile argues that inevitable breakdowns in wu-wei provide opportunities for critical reflection while the unlearning common to both wonder and wu-wei facilitates receptivity to new perspectives and possibilities beyond the boundaries of the familiar; in this state, one is capable of facilitating the metacritique that is essential to truly transformative critical thinking. Normile concludes with some brief thoughts on implications for practice as a starting point for further inquiry. (shrink)

In this paper, I aim to clarify the role of ‘wonder’ in education. Most of us who work in education want to provide valuable experiences for our students, and we want them to be driven by intrinsic values such as truth and recognition of the dignity of human existence. However, whilst I echo many of the sentiments espoused by advocates of the utility and ethical significance of wonder, I contend that some recent developments—and in particular, Schinkel’s argument that (...) ‘deep’ (‘contemplative’ or ‘cosmic’) wonder has a ‘fundamental’ role in education—are misconceived. This is, I argue, because any concept deployable within educational spaces (whether formal or informal) must pay due regard to the conceptual constraints of the concept of ‘education’; that is, attention must be paid to the role of ‘learning’. Schinkel’s proposals are, I suggest, vulnerable to a critique of sentimentalism and excessive romanticism. As such, they offer little in terms of practical import for educators. As I will propose, if we are to take ‘wonder’ seriously in educational contexts, we must pay attention to the purpose of wonder as an epistemic emotion; namely, aiming for knowledge and understanding, and getting there requires sensitivity to practical know-how and conceptual competence. (shrink)

Pierre Hadot's analysis of the role of ancient philosophical discourse in the formation of a philosophical self allows us to extend to the interpretation of Aristotle the counter-Heideggerian Platonic hermeneutics of Gadamer, Strauss and Klein. Central to Plato's and Aristotle's rhetorical/pedagogical strategy is the development of the language of theoria to formulate the goal of philosophical formation. ;Traditional meanings of theoria refer to attendance at public festivals and consultation of oracles. Plato first extends its meaning to express the vision of (...) timeless truths. However, he does not give theoria a single meaning intended to express the philosophical experience, but has Socrates employ it dialectically according to the characters and aspirations of diverse interlocutors. ;Aristotle gives the language of theoria a twofold development, systematically forging a language for acts of cognition while also reshaping the objects of his students' aspirations. In the Nicomachean Ethics , he exploits the aristocratic aspiration to preeminence that aims at rule, replacing the statesman with the philosopher as object of emulation. The language of theoria in the final chapters borrows grandeur from the objects that at this point wisdom is said to pursue, the stars and cosmos; as in the Republic, the human mind is said to enjoy godlike theoria. In his natural philosophy, Aristotle shifts the focus from stars to animals; theoria loses the grandeur it had in the Ethics and comes to express the thoughtful observation of the causes of natural phenomena. ;In the Metaphysics, Aristotle makes more explicit the ethics proper to the life of inquiry, based on the radical experience of aporia about the most fundamental questions of being and the shared attempt to formulate these questions and pursue answers within the Lyceum culture. It involves liberation from the admiration accorded the transcendently wise man and delivering oneself to wonder at the most puzzling questions. This dissolution of the emulous relationship between teacher and student entails the creation of a greater distance between human and diving thought; in the theology of Book Lambda, theoria refers only to human thought, which cannot attain the same perfection as divine noesis. (shrink)

This analysis holds that just as wisdom is good for its own sake, the effervescent perfuming of aesthetic pleasure in rasa, camatkāra, need not be useful for a goal or purpose. However, there is an intellectual virtue in the act of aestheticizing the affective response of wonder. The “here and now” of the aestheticized emotion of wonder, adbhutarasa, is a moment of focus and attention regained as a logically atemporal, even timeless moment. As the carvaṇā process unfolds, adbhutarasa (...) invites an epistemic agent to give time through focused attention, a contemplative tarrying, or an unhurried attentional prolongation. Looking across Platonic, Cartesian, and Kantian traditions to answer the question of epistemic value in rasa experiences, I argue that an agent is moved, and moves into an evaluative mode through the lenses of the sublime and taste. Renewed vigor to see, feel, and contemplate how things are, thickens epistemic emotions. The agentive freedom of the rasika to affectively resonate with ideas re-cognitively makes adbhuta a vehicle of inquiry like none other. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:I Didn’t Like It, but I Recommend It: An Undergraduate Reflects on Contemplation in the ClassroomLauren RodgersWhile taking Introduction to World Religions as a first-year college student, I became acutely aware that my preconceived notions about religions were often wrong, and I had been oblivious to the diversity and complexity of the traditions I began to study. During subsequent semesters, I studied Judaism, Islam, and Hinduism, and during the (...) spring semester of my junior year I was happy to add Buddhism to my schedule. In that class, I not only examined manifold Buddhist teachings and histories, but engaged in a form of Buddhist practice, too. Four days a week, my fellow students and I arranged our zafus in a straight line, bowed, and adjusted our postures to commence fifteen to twenty minutes of zazen. By the end of the semester, I concluded that although I am very ambivalent about this meditation practice, I nonetheless believe that contemplative practices can be valuable tools in the academic setting.Because we were partaking in a religious practice in an academic setting, there were possibilities for ethical conflicts. My professor raised these and we discussed them several times during the first half of the semester, before we collectively agreed to give zazen a try. The only Buddhist in the room was my professor, so I agree that it was essential for her to stress that zazen was optional, and that if anyone felt uncomfortable in any way, it was okay to opt out. My professor reiterated this several times. I am not a follower of any religious tradition, so I did not have any conflicting feelings. Several of my classmates were Christian, but, like me, most were excited to give it a try. I think there was no sense of conflict because Buddhism involves a lot of practices geared toward developing insight on the basis of experience, and zazen does not require belief in a higher power. Buddhism does acknowledge the existence of gods, but they are irrelevant to the spiritual path. Also, my professor is an ordained Zen priest, and therefore very familiar with zazen. I did not have any doubts that we were taught an authentic practice by someone qualified to teach it.Just as there was no pressure to participate, I did not feel that I was forced to like zazen or hold back any feelings of opposition; I was free to express how I felt and why. At first I did not like it because it hurt my back, and instead of sitting there in pain [End Page 119] every day, I let my professor know and she helped me make some adjustments to my posture. But I disliked meditation for other reasons, as well. I rarely, if ever, was able to stop my mind from being like a monkey on a jungle gym. As we sat, we repeatedly counted to ten and fixed our gaze on a spot in front of us. I was told that it is natural for my mind to bounce around and wander off while counting, but I did not expect it would happen before I got to four. Adding to my frustration was the fact that 70 percent of the time, my thoughts were focused on all of the work that I needed to get done before the end of the day. Even though I only sat for fifteen minutes, I got antsy and staying still was not helpful. It makes me wonder, though, whether or how my feelings would change if I did zazen in the summer when my stress levels are way down. Or what if I meditated for more than fifteen minutes? How long would it take before my mind settled down? Would it get worse?Although my restlessness was not the most pleasant experience, I did have days where I found meditation helpful personally. In addition to zazen, we also tried walking meditation, and on nice days we meditated outside near a waterfall on campus. The sound of the water was really soothing, and I noticed that my mind wandered much less. Sometimes it was a relaxing break during the day, and even if I... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Wide Open to Life”:Thomas Merton’s Dialogue of Contemplative PracticeJudith Simmer-BrownThrough my decades of Tibetan Buddhist practice and interreligious dialogue experience, I have often contemplated an encounter that took place in a bar in the Central Hotel in Calcutta, October 19, 1968. It is the encounter between Thomas Merton in the last year of his life with my Tibetan Buddhist teacher, Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche, early in his teaching career (...) in the West. This encounter has deeply influenced my life of dialogue, for they initiated what I came to understand as a new kind of interreligious dialogue—the dialogue of contemplative practice. It is the kind of dialogue Trungpa introduced to Naropa University in the late 1970s in Merton’s honor, and it has influenced our university ever since.Thomas Merton, Father Louis, was fifty-three years old when stepped off the plane in India for his much-anticipated Asian journey. Excited and jet-lagged, he met the twenty-eight-year-old Tibetan monk Chogyam Trungpa, who had returned to India and Bhutan for a retreat after five years of study at Oxford University and a new venture of teaching dharma to Westerners. Trungpa’s English would have been accented but comprehensible, and his curiosity about Christian monasticism was at its peak. Merton was “coming home” to a place he had never been, visiting Asia to look for true spiritual masters about whom he had read for so many decades. He was later to admit to a special attraction to the Tibetans.On Merton’s first day in India, he and Trungpa found each other over many gin and tonics at the Central Hotel in Calcutta, talking about the contemplative life and its challenges in the twentieth century. It was the first of a number of conversations over the next few months. In his journals Merton commented:the important thing is that we are people who have been waiting to meet for a long time. Chogyam Trungpa is a completely marvelous person. Young, natural, without front or artifice, deep, awake, wise. I am sure we will be seeing a lot more of each other, whether around northern India and Sikkim or in Scotland, where I am now determined to go to see his Tibetan monastery if I can … The newsletter he puts out is good. His own meditations and talks, from what I have seen, are extraordinary.1 [End Page 193]Trungpa had a similar rapport with Merton. In the 1971 edition of his autobiography, he wrote, “Father Merton himself was an open, unguarded, and deep person. During these few days, we spent much time together and grew to like one another immensely. He proposed that we should collaborate on a book bringing together sacred writings of the Catholic and Vajrayana Buddhist traditions.”2 In another reflection, Trungpa commented, “Meeting Thomas Merton was wonderful; he was like a child, and at the same time, he was full of energy and life.”3 Still later, Trungpa was to conclude, “I had the feeling that I was meeting an old friend, a genuine friend … [Father Merton] was the first genuine person I met from the West.”4Later, Trungpa was deeply saddened by Merton’s premature death, feeling he had lost a heart friend, a genuine dialogue partner. Thirteen years later, Trungpa launched a series of seven landmark dialogue conferences at the fledgling university that he had founded, Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado. From the beginning, Trungpa dedicated these gatherings to “Fr. Merton” and said that he sought to cultivate the kind of conversations between genuine contemplatives that he had discovered with Merton. Sister Pascaline Coff, from the Benedictine community of Osage Monastery in Oklahoma, wrote that the inaugural conference was “a major breakthrough in the Christian-Buddhist dialogues.”5 This breakthrough gave impetus to the development of the international Monastic Interreligious Dialogue (DIM in Europe) and other contemporary dialogue developments.6 What kind of dialogue is this, and how did Merton stimulate this movement?I’ve written elsewhere about Merton’s encounter with the Tibetans and their view of him.7 I’ve also described Merton as a Dzogchen yogi, especially in relationship with his contact with Tibetan... (shrink)

In this paper, I explore, as a Christian and a parish pastor, what drew me into the religion‐science dialogue and what keeps me involved. Encounters with nature and readings of evolutionary theory answer some questions and raise others, especially questions about chance and the nature of God. I persist in my quest for understanding because creedal affirmations of God as Creator demand an examination of the relationship between God and the world, and because I want to proclaim the Christian message (...) in a credible way to parishioners raised with a scientific worldview. Along the way I am reaping unexpected spiritual dividends. (shrink)

Like all people, atheists contemplate issues of love, death, and morality, and in times of stress we long for solace and inspiration. A collection of uplifting quotations from some of mankind’s most important philosophers, scientists, writers, and even comedians, THE INSPIRATIONAL ATHEIST will be a treasured daily companion for the growing demographic of humanists who believe that life has meaning when we live it meaningfully, independent of the existence of a higher power. With words from Carl Sagan, D. H. Lawrence, (...) Julia Child, Douglas Adams, Charlotte Bronte, Bertrand Russell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, George Carlin, Joan Didion, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Thomas Jefferson and dozens of others on topics ranging from Love and Nature to Wisdom and Beauty, this book is a celebration of the sublime without the divine. (shrink)

The essay focuses on human self-understanding as it arises from out of the experience of nature—the experience of a relatedness to nature that is at once a belonging in nature. At stake, then, is not a conceptual approach to the question of nature but rather the emergence of the human within the embrace of what presents itself as a mystery irreducible to the human, inhuman in the sense of other-than-human. The experience of nature “hiding itself” gave rise to the longing (...) for mastery as well as to a celebration of the mystery in its wonder and beauty. The juxtaposition of Giordano Bruno's cosmological vision and Renaissance painting illuminates this latter perspective, disclosing mystery not so much as that which would lie beyond appearances, but as that which inhabits appearances and in them becomes manifest as such. (shrink)

Wonder Woman wields a number of magical Amazonian devices: her bulletproof bracelets, her invisible plane, and most importantly for this chapter, her golden lasso of truth. The first thing to notice about the golden lasso is that evildoers bound by it are not only compelled to tell the truth if and when they answer questions, but also compelled to answer Wonder Woman's questions in the first place. The second thing to notice is that answering truthfully does not, in (...) this context, necessarily mean uttering a true sentence. Rather, if a person is tied up with the golden lasso, then they are compelled to answer questions with what they believe is the truth. The chapter shows the examples that contemplating Wonder Woman's golden lasso, and Bizarra's golden lasso, can provide us with a wealth of interesting and entertaining paradoxes and puzzles. (shrink)

The love of wisdom carries a certain absurdity. What kind of animal falls into a hole while contemplating the sky, or stands outside all night, just thinking? When Plato and Aristotle say that philosophy begins in wonder, it sounds attractive – wonderful even – but it is in those moments of contemplative wonder that the lion snatches us, or someone walks off with our backpack.

Inspired by an ‘apophatic turn’ in theology, philosophy and art, and with insights from existential phenomenology, the article encourages us to step back as actors in order to let life or the phenomenon itself act upon us. This kind of apophatic thinking is not so far away from the thinking of the Norwegian philosopher Olav Eikeland when he describes “Insider and Praxis Action Research”. And yet, the apophatic potentials in his way of understanding action research are here elaborated by pointing (...) to three dimensions: the Knowledge, Being and Mystery dimensions in a praxis, and to the four ways of seeing praxis from within both a “gnoseology” and an “agnoselogy”. The latter being led by a deep sense of wonder followed by what Daoist’s call Wu Wei or “effortless actions”. (shrink)

In earlier writings, I have sought to establish a link between Howard Phillips Lovecraft and Romanticism, and this paper adds to that body of work. -/- The essay begins with a preliminary sketch of the use of gardens in Romantic thought and the highlighting of six themes: contemplation, joy, the dramatic, the strange, the foreign, and the beautiful, that all underpins Romanticism. -/- This is followed by an elucidation of Lovecraft’s fascination with gardens, his dealings in Romantic themes, and what (...) role they play in his short 1917 poem “A Garden”. -/- The essay concludes that given Lovecraft’s love of gardens and that his poem “A Garden” is imbued with Romantic themes and involves ‘wondrous contemplation’ and ‘poetic knowledge’, the case for his Romanticism has been strengthened. (shrink)

Do classical, contemplative philosophies have anything to teach which is relevant to life here and now? In the case of Plotinus, yes. While Platonic metaphysics is most often summarized as dualistic, where one sensible world stands apart from and in tension with an intelligible world, in the case of Plotinus this interpretation is incorrect. He does distinguish between sensibles and sense-experience, on one hand, and intelligibles and intelligible experience, on the other; but the two belong together intimately: both are (...) located in the same space, and the sensible is related to the intelligible as a shadow to its object or a reflection to what it reflects. Plotinus’ world is one. Given this picture, one rightly wonders at the status of the Plotinian exhortation for the soul to flee "alone to the Alone." Does not the journey of the soul to its source require a passing beyond of this world to some other? No, Plotinus exhortation should be understood as a reorientation, a reordering within the world here and now, not a rejection of one reality in favor of some other. This can be likened to Aesop’s fable, "The Dog and the Bone," where the dog had the choice between one real and one illusory bone, not two separate bones. Similarly, Plotinus’ world, though it can be perceived dualistically, is ontologically one; hence his metaphysics, far from otherworldly, offers a means of understanding life as it is to be lived here and now. (shrink)

According to the transcendental Aesthetic of the Critique of pure reason, there are two properties of time that cannot be intellectualized: passage and infinitude. This study tries to show that these essential properties of time come to light in Kant’s Critique of Judgment. The contemplation of beauty will be understood as a non-successive time and the wonder that we experience in seeing the sublime will be understood through Kant’s concept of infinite moment. These two aesthetic concepts of time will (...) be integrated into Kant’s broader view of time as developed in the first Critique. (shrink)

What if gravity satisfied the Klein-Gordon equation? Both particle physics from the 1920s-30s and the 1890s Neumann-Seeliger modification of Newtonian gravity with exponential decay suggest considering a "graviton mass term" for gravity, which is _algebraic_ in the potential. Unlike Nordström's "massless" theory, massive scalar gravity is strictly special relativistic in the sense of being invariant under the Poincaré group but not the 15-parameter Bateman-Cunningham conformal group. It therefore exhibits the whole of Minkowski space-time structure, albeit only indirectly concerning volumes. Massive (...) scalar gravity is plausible in terms of relativistic field theory, while violating most interesting versions of Einstein's principles of general covariance, general relativity, equivalence, and Mach. Geometry is a poor guide to understanding massive scalar gravity: matter sees a conformally flat metric due to universal coupling, but gravity also sees the rest of the flat metric in the mass term. What is the 'true' geometry, one might wonder, in line with Poincaré's modal conventionality argument? Infinitely many theories exhibit this bimetric 'geometry,' all with the total stress-energy's trace as source; thus geometry does not explain the field equations. The irrelevance of the Ehlers-Pirani-Schild construction to a critique of conventionalism becomes evident when multi-geometry theories are contemplated. Much as Seeliger envisaged, the smooth massless limit indicates underdetermination of theories by data between massless and massive scalar gravities---indeed an unconceived alternative. At least one version easily could have been developed before General Relativity; it then would have motivated thinking of Einstein's equations along the lines of Einstein's newly re-appreciated "physical strategy" and particle physics and would have suggested a rivalry from massive spin 2 variants of General Relativity. The Putnam-Grünbaum debate on conventionality is revisited with an emphasis on the broad modal scope of conventionalist views. Massive scalar gravity thus contributes to a historically plausible rational reconstruction of much of 20th-21st century space-time philosophy in the light of particle physics. An appendix reconsiders the Malament-Weatherall-Manchak conformal restriction of conventionality and constructs the 'universal force' influencing the causal structure. Subsequent works will discuss how massive gravity could have provided a template for a more Kant-friendly space-time theory that would have blocked Moritz Schlick's supposed refutation of synthetic _a priori_ knowledge, and how Einstein's false analogy between the Neumann-Seeliger-Einstein modification of Newtonian gravity and the cosmological constant \Lambda generated lasting confusion that obscured massive gravity as a conceptual possibility. (shrink)

It’s no wonder descriptions of riding often resemble the words of Asian mystics and Jedi knights: The ride causes your senses to open completely. You experience only the present, the now. Readers who prefer revving a Harley to meditating in a Zen garden know that biking is just as contemplative as chanting in the lotus position. Here, philosopher-bikers explore this seeming dichotomy, expounding on intriguing questions such as: Why are the motorcycles the real stars of Easy Rider? What (...) would Marx and Foucault say about Harley riders’ tight leather garb? What’s it like to live a dual life as a philosophy professor who wrenches his own 1965 Electra Glide? Would Jesus hang out in a biker bar or a coffeehouse? And more importantly, would He ride a Harley or a Honda? These witty, provocative essays give readers and riders a new appreciation of what it means to become one with the road. (shrink)

Photomontage, the combining of two or more negatives, can be traced back to the 1850s. Scott Mutter is a modern master of the art. His subtle images have enthralled viewers in exhibitions and galleries, mainly in the Midwest, for a decade. "The response has been overwhelming," curator Martin Krause commented of an exhibition at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. "I've had people calling me on the telephone telling me what a great show this is. That happens so rarely. For whatever (...) reason, Scott's work is connecting with people." In the past year his work has attracted attention nationwide, and his posters are now available in galleries from coast to coast. Richly and immediately accessible, yet deeply resonant, Mutter's photomontages provoke strong responses: curiosity, awe, laughter, and then contemplation. They are creative fusions of elements that draw us irresistibly to look again at what first appears unbelievable. Boundaries dissolve miraculously; the impossible becomes seductively tangible. But the logic of his images is exact, reasoned - in his own term, "surrational." Although his work shares the recursive wit of Rene Magritte and M. C. Escher, Mutter never relies simply upon ironic effects. With precision and authority his art explores the ideals and mythologies of our culture, history, language, and art, both lamenting and celebrating contemporary civilization. "From the very beginning," states Mutter, "I tried to make images that people would find accessible and exciting. Art is no idle thing; people want to see something and be held in wonder." In short, he is a master at turning a glance into a gaze. In his foreword Martin Krause reviews the hundred-year history of photomontage and examines Mutter's unparalleled influence within that tradition. (shrink)

“Towards the end of a sultry afternoon early in July a young man came out of his little room in Stolyarny Lane and turned and in the direction of Kameny Bridge in central St. Petersburg.”[1] Right then, this young man, a former law student named Rodion Raskolnikov, is caught in an agonizing conversation with himself over whether or not to commit the ultimate crime: to murder an innocent person. Exasperated, wondering what to do with such a weighty decision, he cried (...) aloud, “that’s why I don’t act, because I am always talking. Or perhaps I talk so much just because I can’t act.”[2] On this occasion, he decided not to actualize his thoughts, and so kept on pondering. A little later, as he wandered through the dusty streets of the lively St. Petersburg public market, the young man again relapses into contemplation of the character of his existence, its worth, and its meaning. If he ever did decide to commit such evil, the act would determine what kind of man he is. It is a question of the movement from thought to action... (shrink)

Each one of T.H. Marshall's trinity of human rights rested on the state as, simultaneously, its birth place, executive manager and guardian. And no wonder. At the time Marshall tied personal, political and social freedoms into a historically determined succession of won/bestowed rights, the boundaries of the sovereign state marked the limits of what humans could contemplate, and what they thought they should jointly do, in order to make their world more user-friendly. The state enclosed territory was the site (...) of private initiatives and public actions, as well as the arena on which private interests and public issues met, clashed and sought reconciliation. In all those respects, the realm of state sovereignty was presumed to be self-contained, selfassertive and self-sufficient. (shrink)

In his Pensées, Blaise Pascal gives vivid voice to both the wonder and anxiety that many early modern thinkers felt towards infinity. Contemplating our place between the infinite expanse of space and the infinite divisibility of matter, Pascal writes.

The willingness of some scientists, futurists … and now philosophers to contemplate—or even actively pursue—their own obsolescence is a source of genuine wonder. Writers such as Hans Moravec,1 Ray Kurzweil2 and Nick Bostrom3 blithely maintain that we will soon be outclassed by our own cybernetic creations as though this were a prospect that could only be celebrated and not feared. In this context, one can only applaud Agar's clearheaded investigation4 of the prospects for creating ‘post-persons’ and his eminently sensible (...) conclusion that there might be good reasons to avoid doing so. His discussion of the significance of the difference between ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ thresholds in moral status and his inductive argument to the existence of higher levels of moral status than humans currently possess constitute significant advances in the philosophical literature on this topic. In these largely sympathetic remarks I will, however, argue both that post-persons are more easily conceived of than Agar suggests and that the threat posed by post-persons, should they eventuate, is greater than Agar allows.Agar's paper needs to be read in the context of Buchanan's discussion5 of the implications of post-personhood to which it is a response. Buchanan's discussion proceeds, for the most part, with reference to an essentially Kantian account of moral status as founded in the ability to engage in practical reasoning or practices of mutual accountability. Talk of ‘animals’, ‘persons’ …. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 124.2 (2003) 309-313 [Access article in PDF] Niall W. Slater. Spectator Politics: Metatheatre and Performance in Aristophanes. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002. x + 363 pp. Cloth, $59.95. In this close reading of all but three of Aristophanes' surviving plays, Niall Slater demonstrates considerable theatrical sensitivity. He all but stages the comedies for us, and in doing so he shows how Aristophanes stakes a (...) claim for the power of comedy to educate its audience.In two introductory chapters, Slater establishes the terms and contexts of his arguments. "The Naming of Parts" begins with the history of the concept "metatheatre," which includes a fine account of the problem of "illusion." Slater understands illusion as a contract negotiated—and in Aristophanes constantly renegotiated—between the actors and the audience. Metatheatre acknowledges the negotiation, the process of the play. "Aristophanic comedy knows and names [End Page 309] itself" (1). Slater sets out to show that Aristophanes uses metatheatre not just as one of many comic devices, but also as a technique to provoke Athenians into thinking about performance. Metatheatre, he says, "invites our contemplation not only of the qualitybut the goalsof theatrical performance" (7). The remainder of the chapter looks at the metatheatre possible or even inherent in the many aspects of the plays (e.g., musical form or costumes and props). The account is a welcome survey, and it reminds us to be open to finding metatheatre in moments less obvious than a parabasis. In his second chapter, "The Emergence of the Actor," Slater argues that only after the actor becomes conceptually separate from the play, which happened by the 440s and the institution of the acting prize, can an audience understand an actor's performance asa performance and react to it on a metatheatrical level. Slater recounts much of what we know about the shift from poet-actors to professional actors and focuses on comedy and how it makes fun not just of tragedy, but also of tragic actors. By doing so, comedy "created an observational point outside the tragic system of representation from which to recognize and observe analogues to tragic acting in the construction of other kinds of cultural performances" (32). He looks forward here to the arguments he will make about Aristophanes teaching his audiences to critique political performances, but I wonder if locating the "observational point" might not be as simple as showing that acting is recognizable as its own performance and that performance is something to be judged (both of which the existence of the acting prize proves) without making tragicacting the only way to observe other kinds of performance? Although Slater does not need to set up the rest of the book so elaborately, the chapter includes intriguing ideas about the effect of the emergence of the actor on the theater.He concludes the introductory chapters by explaining that he has chosen to examine in detail the eight of the surviving comedies in which metatheatre makes a difference and contributes to debates about democratic Athens. He begins with the admirable reminder that modern theater analogies are likely to mislead about Athenian comedy in the context of radical Athenian democracy. In his accounts of the plays, Slater first considers the theatrical space within a play and then gives a second look at the relationship of that theatrical space to other public spaces. What he finds in Acharniansis a theatrical space nearly congruent with the political space of the assembly—the only other occasion for the whole citizenry to sit together and judge—but Dicaeopolis cannot control that space, and so he creates his own space with his peace treaties. Slater clearly delineates the separate spaces Dicaeopolis brings together and the metatheatrical effect of his doing so, i.e., to show that all are performance spaces. The main claim of the parabasis is that Aristophanes has taught the city to see through deceptive speeches, and the parody of Euripides can teach spectators to see the process of role-playing and thus see through the deceptions of demagogues and... (shrink)

In a dialogue whose precedents include Oscar Wilde's “Critic as Artist,” two fictional professors of English take up the relationship between aestheticism and quietism. Their conversation begins with a debate on the necessity of treating sociopolitical contexts when teaching literature then moves to connections among aesthetic experience, political disengagement, inactivity, and contemplation explored by Wilde, Miguel de Molinos, Aristotle, Hannah Arendt, Walter Pater, Arthur Schopenhauer, Johann Winckelmann, and others. Having described the influence of nineteenth-century science and determinism on Wilde's gospel (...) of inaction, as well as Pater's adaptation of the Winckelmannian view that people and things express their nature most truly when still, one speaker wonders whether aesthetic experience gains some of its significance from its affiliation with leisure. The other resists the idea that repose might constitute one of life's key desiderata, but notes at the close how both his own view and his interlocutor's are adumbrated in the Wallace Stevens poem that furnishes the dialogue its title. (shrink)

With the 2015 publication of Pope Francis's encyclical Laudato Si', many people of faith have found themselves challenged to seek new ways of addressing serious ecological questions -- issues essential to the flourishing of all creatures and not just human beings. This volume brings together fifteen select scholars to consider pressing contemporary environmental concerns through the lens of Catholic theology. Drawing from the early church fathers and other authoritative voices in the Christian tradition, the contributors to On Earth as It (...) Is in Heaven show how ancient, creedal Christianity offers significant insights into our current ecological dilemmas and speaks powerfully about what it means for us today to care well for God's good creation. CONTRIBUTORS and TOPICS Robert Louis Wilken on honoring centipedes and toads -- and all of God's created works Christopher J. Thompson on not reducing creatures to "resources" solely to be "used" Steven A. Long on understanding the created order as a participation in the divine, eternal law Marie George on human stewardship of creation as both kingship and kinship Matthew Levering on "be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth" -- a good idea? Dawn M. Nothwehr, OSF, on sustainability from a Franciscan perspective John A. Cuddeback on land use and household stewardship Faith Pawl on animal flourishing and suffering Paul M. Blowers on evolutionary theory and the promise of restoration for all creation Christopher A. Franks on Job, poverty, gratitude, and "a gentle life" Jonathan J. Sanford on how Aristotle and Maritain illuminate our obligation to care for creation Paige E. Hochschild on contemplating rather than dominating nature, building on Augustine and George Grant Chris Killheffer on how monastic sources help us rethink gluttony and its remedies David Vincent Meconi, SJ, on the wonderful, awe-filled interrelationship between creatures and their Creator Esther Mary Nickel, RSM, on the liturgy as the space in which all creation is consecrated before the cross of Christ. (shrink)

Torture has become the subject of intense debate in recent years. One facet of that debate is whether there are any circumstances during which it might be an appropriate response by a respectable government. One might wonder precisely why torture receives so much more attention than, say, the "collateral damage" that is an inevitable aspect of contemporary warfare. But the debate also involves what counts as "torture," as distinguished from "cruel, inhuman, and degrading" methods of interrogation or even "coercive (...) but acceptable" methods. This article argues that we sometimes overemphasize the significance of particular acts — i.e., x either is or is not torture — as against the importance of the phenomenology of torture, which involves creating a structure of complete domination and, therefore, complete vulnerability. This is similar to the phoenomenology of slavery. Indeed, in this 150th year since the Supreme Court's decision in the Dred Scott case, it is important to contemplate the full meaning of Chief Justice Taney's declaration that blacks had "no rights" that whites were "bound to respect." Can a liberal political order ever carve out a set of persons — such as suspected terrorists — who indeed have "no rights" that the state is obligated to respect? If the answer is no, then what are the implications for the process by which the United States, presumably a liberal political order, conducts interrogations even of those suspected of being "the worst of the worst"? (shrink)

Genetic engineering, the latest offshoot of biotech, furnishes medical sciences with an ability to design and invent living organisms as well as to observe and analyze their function However, this genetic engineering leading to process of cloning, stem-cell research and reproduction innovations, which are being heralded as new age wonders in bio-medical technology need to be contemplated with an ethical-philosophic vision to ponder over the pertinent query, Whether we are crossing thresholds into improved existence of a long and very healthy (...) living or are we metaphorically opening Pandora’s box? In my paper, I have tried to raise a few concerns that need to be deliberated upon by lawyers, policy makers, scientist, researchers, common public and academics before new life forms and world view become an actual socio-cultural reality. The queries about values and virtues in the context of the quality and dignity of life and human relationship in relation to the continued research and advancement in bio- medical technology i.e., in genetic cloning form the integral part of this paper. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Heidegger and RhetoricPhilippe-Joseph SalazarHeidegger and Rhetoric. Edited by Daniel M. Gross and Ansgar Kemmann. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005. Pp. 195. $21.95, paperback.I have to confess to double ignorance. I have never paid much attention to/Heidegger and Rhetoric/ (let me use forward slashes to indicate a commonplace) because, in spite of all efforts of reconciliation between France and Germany, my knowledge of German is not (...) so adequate that I would ever contemplate reading Heidegger in his native tongue. As a rule I mistrust translations and rely on derivative knowledge only in cases of extreme urgency. This being said, I must add that such ignorance is somewhat informed by some knowing—where would French philosophy and French philosophy of rhetoric be without the long-standing and continuous dialogue between Heidegger and France, from Levinas’s seminal essay to today’s iterative debate on Heidegger’s so-called introduction of Nazism in philosophy? Be that as it may, I read the edited volume by Gross and Kemmann as a naive reader would, undisturbed by and unaware of intra-ecclesial wrangling. As it happened, as I was reading this book, I had advanced knowledge of a stunning little book byValerie Allen and Ares Axiotis (2007), on Heidegger’s plea for exoneration in July 1945. It was a numinous conjunction.Recalling Arendt’s distinction, in politics of course, among aim, end, and meaning, it is clear that Heidegger and Rhetoric has all three—the gesture [End Page 305] is indeed political, at least within our scholarly community. This book has a meaning—its elucidation imposes on readers to move from chapter to chapter, seriatim. It has an aim, the reality of which only comes to the fore as we close the book. It has an end, which, somehow, allows us to pass judgment with regard to the superior life of the discipline, if there is any.Back to the commonplace, which grounds all three. The difficulty with titles like this is that, more often than not, they promise more than they deliver. One asks oneself: Why not Rhetoric and Heidegger? Which leads to: What “rhetoric”? Aristotle’s? Rhetoric as attributed, by a growing population of ignoramuses, to “rhetoriticians”?The function of a commonplace is to evoke common ground, and in this instance, the common ground has a deep fault line. Indeed, as we read Gross’s erudite introductory essay (chapter 1), it is unclear whether the volume is dedicated to Heidegger’s Summer Seminar of 1924 devoted to Aristotle’s Rhetoric or to rhetoric in/around/about Heidegger. To compound it, we learn, in footnote 1 (41) that in one particular but revealing occurrence, Heideggerian scholars differ about the transcription: although the seminar was on the Rhetoric, does Heidegger refer to Rhetorik or to Logik when he defines “concrete function,” a highly operative definition indeed? Much of the volume hinges on how Heidegger defines the political function of rhetoric. Notwithstanding this casualty of scholarship, and Gross’s thoughtful transcription and explanation of key passages from the seminar, readers will wonder: “Where is the Urtext?” Unless one reads German and has at hand both volume 18 of the Collected Works and the rival transcript (pending, of course, the discovery of yet another transcript), one is reduced to rely on the authors’ word and view (an English translation is in preparation at Indiana University Press). This is the surface of the fault line.Below the surface of the text runs a deeper rift. Nonspecialists are left with the impression that Heidegger’s Summer Seminar of 1924 is a text by Heidegger, when, in fact, if I am not mistaken, Heidegger destroyed his notes and what we are left with are students’ notes cobbled together; they probably turned Heidegger’s lectures into their own commonplaces, which is what students usually do, as we all know. (We may as well have one of the famous imitations of the master with which Heidegger’s brother entertained his drinking friends, perched on a beer barrel like a bibulous orator.)Incidentally, I wish specialists would stop using the acronym SS 1924 to refer to the text. It has a sinister... (shrink)

continent. 2.1 (2012): 40–43. Lance Olsen is a professor of Writing and Literature at the University of Utah, Chair of the FC2 Board of directors, and, most importantly, author or editor of over twenty books of and about innovative literature. He is one of the true champions of prose as a viable contemporary art form. He has just published Architectures of Possibility (written with Trevor Dodge), a book that—as Olsen's works often do—exceeds the usual boundaries of its genre as it (...) explores his interests in narrative theory and pedagogy. The book is a kind of “anti-textbook;” a performative polemic against the stale, conservative and monolithic conception of the literary that so often dominates institutional discourse around creative writing. The following interview takes the occasion of AoP's publication as a chance to speak with Olsen about the book itself as well as to engage with larger, unanswerable, questions about the futures and intersections of literature and education. —Ben Segal INTERVIEW: 1) First, I want to start before the beginning, with the title. I’m really fascinated by the concept it conjures. Can you say something about innovative/experimental/(choose your adjective) literature in relation to both ideas around architecture and possibility? Innovative or experimental are tremendously fraught adjectives, needless to say. But for the purposes of my book, they modify a fiction concerned with the questions: What is fiction? What can it do, and how, and why? Now, of course, what looks “innovative” or “experimental” to one at 17 may not be what looks “innovative” or “experimental” to one at 27 or 57, and what looks “innovative” or “experimental” in 1812 may not be what looks “innovative” or “experimental” in 2012. A certain existential and historical perspectivism is always at work. But I think it’s fair to say that innovative and experimental usually refer to a narrativity that includes a self-reflective awareness of and engagement with theoretical inquiry, concerns, and obsessions, as well as a sense of being in conversation with fiction across space and time. One can't create challenging writing in a vacuum; it has to challenge in relation to something. So contemporary writers interested in the subject are not only in pursuit of the innovative, but are also always-already writing subsequent to it—writing, that is, in its long wake. Architectures of Possibility conceives of creativity as a possibility space, a locale just outside our comfort zones where we can and should take multiple chances in order to imagine in new ways, explore fresh strategies for finding and cultivating ideas, re-view what it is we’re doing and why, better understand what Samuel Beckett meant when he wrote: “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” It reminds us that there are other ways of narrating our worlds and ourselves than those we have inherited from the entertainment industry, the government, academia, previous writing, and so on. 2) AoP seems to be directed at several audiences (and purposes) simultaneously. What I mean is that it seems at times a polemic in favor of innovative literature, at other times a creative writing textbook, and still other times a guide to the network of publishers, journals, and programs that make up the current world of non-mainstream literary art in the U.S. In my mind, Architectures is a theorized anti-textbook about writing. Most textbooks on the subject (think of Janet Burroway’s Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft , taught in most creative-writing classroom across the country) orchestrate how to construct conventional stories. They instruct from a place of power how to generate familiar stories that are repeated so often that many of us begin to take them as the primary model for narrativity, if not unconsciously as a kind of truth. The result, as Brian Kiteley points out in 3 A.M. Epiphany (one of the only other alternative textbooks about innovative writing around, by the way, and a tremendous repository of exercises), is merely competent texts. Architectures problematizes that gesture by outlining what conventional narrativity looks like, urging writers to think about its ideology of form as well as content, and invites them to imagine writing, not as a set of relatively stable conventions, but, rather, as a possibility space where everything can and should be thought, tried, challenged. It thereby rhymes with Roland Barthes’s definition of literature: the question minus the answer—which is to say Architectures poses complications to the act of writing rather than solutions. 3) One of the most notable things about the book is the use of interviews. This is also one of the reasons that I think the book works so well for a variety of audiences—that anyone with even a passing interest in the state and future of literature will have an interest in your conversation with people like Ben Marcus, Samuel Delany, and Lydia Davis. I was hoping you could just talk a little about how you chose these subjects to interview, how you edited the interview material, and which answers you received struck you the most. Experimentalism , like realism , wants to appear in the plural. The idea of gathering more than forty interviews (with the help of my awesome collaborator, Trevor Dodge, himself a fine innovative author) represents an attempt to suggest that: the wide, rich, exciting opportunities inherent in the term. There are interviews with younger writers, elder statesmen in the field, publishers, editors, hypermedia artists, comic book makers, and so on: Joe Wenderoth, Carole Maso, Scott McCloud, Nick Montfort, Kathy Acker, et al. Trevor and I decided to do flash interviews: short, concentrated Q&As, each focusing on a particular troubling of writing. We only lightly edited the results to match the manuscript’s overall style, and every interview arrived as a surprise housing several unexpected insights. Three brief examples: Michael Mejia, when asked about what he dreads when setting about writing: “Dread is an interesting word here. I associate it less with loathing or aversion, I suppose, than with a kind of productive fear. Do I dread a project’s failure? Sure, who doesn’t? Who wants to waste time on something that comes to nothing, or is unreadable? But then, what do these terms mean, and who or what defines a work as a ‘failure,’ as ‘waste,’ as ‘unreadable’? Should a work actually try to interrogate and exceed these conceptual limitations? My tendency is to write into dread in order to reveal to myself, as much as to any reader that may come after, the varied complacencies that make other, mostly more conventional writings, readable. It’s at the frontier between readability (security) and unreadability (terror) that I want to live creatively.” Carole Maso, when asked what she’d like a sentence to accomplish: “I think a sentence can if allowed carry emotional and intellectual states as they flee, as they come and go, an escaping essence difficult to hold in other ways. In this way I think the sentence can work as a phrase of music does, sounding something large and elusive in us. Alternatively it can provide sometimes a stability, an essence, a moment of being. Unlike music the sentence also of course carries language with all its potential for meaning making and memory traces and association with it as well. I probably love the accretion of sentences most—those patterns, that shimmer, that resonance.” Shelley Jackson, when asked what is innovative about the innovative: “The purpose of the innovative is, I think, to wake us up. We are not quite alive, most of the time; we occupy a sort of cartoon version of our lives, its lines made smooth by repetition. Writing can open the seams in that world, reintroduce us to the real lives that we have forgotten. Maybe all good writing is innovative in some sense, in that it shows or tells or makes you feel something you never felt before—something for which you have no cartoon ready.” 4) You talk a little about N. Katherine Hayles’s concept of Media Specific Analysis and propose the supplemental notion of Medium Specific Generation—basically taking Hayles and applying her thought from the perspective of the writer. I’ve been trying to develop somewhat related theoretical frameworks, so I was really excited to come upon this section of the book. I’m wondering if you can talk a little more about this idea and, in general, about the potentials that you see as being opened up by writers engaging with and exploiting different media as literary platforms? “Lulled into somnolence by five hundred years of print,” Hayles urges in her (at least for me) transformative 2004 essay, “Print is Flat, Code is Deep,” “literary analysis should awaken to the importance of media-specific analysis, a mode of critical attention which recognizes that all texts are instantiated and that the nature of the medium in which they are instantiated matters.” She goes on to argue critics should learn to become more attuned to the materiality of the medium under investigation—which is to say a story isn’t a story isn’t a story. Rather, the “same” story remediated through film is intrinsically different from that story remediated through conventionally printed books is intrinsically different from that story remediated through hypermedia. “Materiality,” Hayles goes on, “is reconceptualized as the interplay between a text’s physical characteristics and its signifying strategies, a move that entwines instantiation and signification at the outset.” My point in Architectures is simply to emphasize Media Specific Generation: the idea that when writing you should be cognizant, not only of the thematics of the text you are working on, and, as it were, the internal components of its narrativity (character, language, plot, etc.), but also of the material embodiment those components take, and, perhaps more important, the material embodiment those components can take. The idea that the way texts matter matters isn’t something usually addressed in any significant way in creative-writing classrooms and textbooks. It may almost go without saying such experimentation with typography, layout, and white space has a long tradition—certainly one that tracks back at least as far as Guillaume Apollinaire’s early twentieth-century Calligrammes , Laurence Sterne’s textually ribald eighteenth-century Tristram Shandy , although one could arguably plot a hypothetical trajectory that reaches to ancient Greek romances like Achilles Tatius’ second-century Leucippe and Clitophon . Experiments into atomic materiality and digital immateriality bracket the definition of “book” at the same time they highlight Michael Martone’s prediction of its present future as increasingly viral, collaborative, and ephemeral. Or, as Matthew Battles points out: the future of the “book” has already arrived, and it is “ethereal and networked” rather than “an immutable brick.”While conventional writing and reading practices are conceptualized as private, individual, relatively fixed experiences, many of the new forms indicate that writing and reading—from production through dissemination—are rapidly becoming public, collective, incrementally unfixed experiences. That strikes me as an astonishing set of opportunities for a writer to investigate. 5) Another concept you elaborate in AoP is that of limit texts, basically texts that, once you read them, change what you imagine as the shape/horizon/potential of literature. You provide a fantastic reading list of limit texts at the end of AoP. I was hoping you could talk about a few of them in terms of how they specifically operate as limit texts for you—how they expand your understanding of what literature could be or do. Karl Jaspers coined the word Grenzsituationen (border/limit situations) to describe existential moments accompanied by anxiety in which the human mind is forced to confront the restrictions of its existing forms—moments that make us abandon, fleetingly, the securities of our limitedness and enter new realms of self-consciousness. Death, for example. Limit texts are a variety of disturbance that carries various elements of narrativity to their brink so the reader can never quite imagine them in the same terms again. Once you’ve taken one down from the shelf, you’ll never be able to put it back up again. They won’t leave you alone. They will continue to work on your imagination long after you’ve read them. Simply by being in the world, they ask us to embrace difficulty, freedom, radical skepticism. One of the most important for me is Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable . Instead of establishing conventional setting and building traditional character, from its first words it unsettles both: “Where now? Who now? When now?” That first trio of question marks broadcasts the thematics of the writing (“novel” may be too strong a word) that will follow: it is all about a voice (or, perhaps, voices, about the grammatical mistake of the first-person pronoun), a consciousness (maybe, again, too strong a word), often genderless, removed from place and chronology and socioeconomic reality, hovering in a state of perpetual aporia. All it knows is what it doesn’t know, and its not-knowing is blackly, sardonically comic. The Unnamable is the embodiment of an unreliable narrator—a subject position that can’t trust itself, let alone be trusted by a reader. It contradicts, takes back, digresses, undoes what it just did, forgets, lies, hallucinates gloriously. The language is abstract, disembodied, devoid of sensory data, grayish rather than painterly in texture. Without knowing this passage is from a novel, a reader might well conclude s/he were reading a patch of (anti-)Cartesian philosophy. It might be helpful to conceive of what Beckett is doing as post-genre writing, then, or perhaps what Raymond Federman referred to as critifiction—a mode that blurs conventional distinctions between theory and narrative. In completely different register, and much more recently, Anne Carson’s Nox blew me away. It takes the form of an elegy for her older brother, whom she didn’t know well and who died unexpectedly while on the run from the law in Europe. The thing itself arrives in a box that simulates a thick book, as well as the brother’s textual coffin. Open it, and inside you discover, not a codex, but an accordioned series of “pages” that folds out into an arrangement that suggests an ancient scroll (Carson is, perhaps illuminatingly, a professor of classics) made up of shards of her brother’s letters, old photographs, tickets, Carson’s observations, Catullus’ poem 101 (the one addressed to the Roman poet’s dead brother, a doubling of Carson’s situation), and extensive dictionary entries on all the words that compose that poem. The aggregate produces a collage about the impossibilities of aggregates, the impossibilities of understanding fully, of capturing absences in language. At times Nox feels less an example of what most readers consider a book than something closer to a three-dimensional work of assemblage art. It’s a beautiful mechanism for contemplating Media Specific Analysis, for urging us all to be more extreme. 6) Finally, I want to talk a little about pedagogy and institutions. I’m less interested in questions like “Are MFA programs good for writers?” than in questions about how your role as teacher informs your understanding of literature and your writing practice. I’m also very curious about your take on how commercially marginal literary art is largely patronized by large state institutions and at the same time often imagines itself as a critical and even possibly revolutionary practice. How have your own positions within universities and university-affiliated organizations shaped your thinking about them and about innovative literature? I can imagine in many ways it might make you even more critical. And (I know, another ‘and’...) how does AoP (especially given its relation to Rebel Yell , your previous text on creative writing) reflect your personal history and experience as a teacher and member of communities that are largely defined by institutions? In the classroom, I try to generate the pedagogical field I would have liked to have inhabited as a student, but didn’t. Roland Barthes has a lovely line about this: “We need to substitute for the magisterial [classroom] space of the past (the word delivered by the master from the pulpit above with the audience below, the flock, the sheep, the herd)—a less upright, less Euclidean space where no one, neither teacher nor students, would ever be in his final place.” Easier said than done, of course, but an important life project for all who think of themselves as educators. My own classroom, my own writing, and Architectures of Possibility itself attempt to create the sort of possibility space where, as I mentioned at the outset of our interview, everything should be thought, tried, challenged; where everything rhymes with Roland Barthes’s definition of literature: the question minus the answer. I’m not sure I could write what I’m writing now without the conversations I have almost daily with my students, the conversations they have with each other, the conversations we all have with the texts we study. Especially in light of the paradigm shift over the last, say, quarter century from academia as intellectual exploration to academia as McDonaldized trade school, the irony isn’t lost on me concerning the discrepancy between the safe harbor innovative authors find there and the cultural critiques those authors launch through their writing and pedagogical work. In 2001, I quit my full professorship at one institution precisely because of my disappointment over what had happened to the learning environment there. I had no intentions of reentering the field. In 2007, however, the University of Utah approached me, and I found myself in an environment much more hospitable to the sort of work I want to do—teaching experimental narrative theory and practice. It isn’t by any means a simple irony. One could easily argue innovative writing and pedagogy represents the trace of the paradigm Barthes suggests, and that trace is tremendously productive in all kinds of ways. Innovative writing has never and will never change the world in any large, macrocosmic way. But we’ve all had our lives changed, one by one, by an encounter with a difficult, rich, resonant piece of prose, poetry, music, art, you name it. We’ve all had our lives changed at the ahistorical, microcosmic moment by a class we’ve taken, a teacher we’ve studied with, to such an extent that we became, quite literally, different people. I just came across a stunning set of sentences from Derrida on the topic: “What is education? The death of the parents.” That’s what we’re all up to in the innovative, be it in written texts or the texts we call our classrooms or the texts we call our politics: trying to disrupt what both can and can’t be disrupted, trying to undo what both can and can’t be undone, continuously. (shrink)

Thinking is a dynamic process resulting from practices of integration. Thought encounters in openness, wonder, receptivity, and contemplation confer upon us intellectual work that is uniquely our own. Digital patterns, however, distract us from these creative encounters. Our intellectual searching is weakened and fragmented by frenetic consumption of information. We miss out on reason's innate pull toward integration and concrete reality. This book is an invitation to enter into openness, wonder, receptivity, and contemplation with deeper understanding and intentionality. (...) We can do this by considering exemplars, persons who lived out the integrity of their hard-won beliefs, such as Thomas Merton, Eva Saulitis, Malcom X and St. Anselm. Each process of integration is applied also, so that practical knowledge and practice become a way into this intellectual restoration. We need deeper knowledge won in the slow orbit of encounters. Encounters in thought are precisely what each generation needs to apprehend the cosmos, nature, authority, truth, and moral action. Responsibility to this ecologic age requires a reform of reason; this book is just one attempt to convey a way toward this restoration. (shrink)

There is a phenomenon which has from of old and in a peculiar degree attracted the attention of social philosophers and practical economists, the fact of certain commodities (these being in advanced civilizations coined pieces of gold and silver, together subsequently with documents representing those coins) becoming universally acceptable media of exchange. It is obvious even to the most ordinary intelligence, that a commodity should be given up by its owner in exchange for another more useful to him. But that (...) every economic unit in a nation should be ready to exchange his goods for little metal disks apparently useless as such, or for documents representing the latter, is a procedure so opposed to the ordinary course of things, that we cannot well wonder if even a distinguished thinker like Savigny finds it downright 'mysterious.' It must not be supposed that the form of coin, or document, employed as current money, constitutes the enigma in this phenomenon. We may look away from these forms and go back to earlier stages of economic development, or indeed to what still obtains in countries here and there, where we find the precious metals in a uncoined state serving as the medium of exchange, and even certain other commodities, cattle, skins, cubes of tea, slabs of salt, cowrie shells, etc.; still we are confronted by this phenomenon, still we have to explain why it is that the economic man is ready to accept a certain kind of commodity, even if he does not need it, or if his need of it is already supplied, in exchange for all the goods he has brought to market, while it is none the less what he needs that he consults in the first instance, with respect to the goods he intends to acquire in the course of his transactions. And hence there runs, from the first essays of reflective contemplation of a social phenomena down to our own times, an uninterrupted chain of disquisitions upon the nature and specific qualities of money in its relation to all that constitutes traffic.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Trungpa's Barbarians and Merton's Titan:Resuming a Dialogue on Spiritual EgotismSteven R. ShippeeA Dialogue Begun: The Meeting of Chögyam Trungpa and Thomas MertonMuch of the dialogue on the spiritual life between Buddhists and Christians has centered on two locations in the United States. The first is Naropa Institute (now University) in Boulder, Colorado. This institution was founded in 1974 by Chögyam Trungpa, a Tibetan master and lineage holder of both (...) the Nyingma and Kagyü traditions, two of the four major schools of Tibetan Buddhism. Under Trungpa's guidance, Naropa hosted an important series of Buddhist-Christian contemplative dialogues in the 1980s.1 A second significant place is Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky, the Trappist monastery that became home to Thomas Merton in 1941. Since 1996, and through the efforts of several of the same people who had worked on the Naropa dialogues, the abbey has hosted three interreligious "encounters" sponsored by the Monastic Interreligious Dialogue.2An important link between these dialogues, as well as the initial inspiration for the first of them,3 is the meeting of the two men most famously associated with each of the hosting institutions, Trungpa and Merton. As many of their respective readers know, the two men met in Calcutta on 19 October 1968, and spent several days together.4 This contact was very stimulating to them both and seemed the beginning of a deep friendship. Merton was so impressed with Trungpa that he immediately determined to visit Trungpa's new monastery in Scotland. Trungpa later said, "Meeting Thomas Merton was wonderful,"5 and that he felt he "was meeting an old friend, a genuine friend."6 Despite the brevity of their relationship, during his last talk on 10 December, Merton said he likewise considered Trungpa "a good friend."7 Later that same day, their friendship and dialogue were terminated by Merton's death. Not two months had passed since the meeting in Calcutta. Trungpa called Merton's death "a tremendous loss, to me personally and to the world of genuine spirituality."8Judith Simmer-Brown has provided the fullest picture thus far of the relationship between Trungpa and Merton.9 One of the facts that most intrigues Trungpa's [End Page 109] followers is his own recollection, shared with participants at the third Naropa dialogue, that the two discussed what he called "spiritual materialism" (his most common phrase for spirituality co-opted by ego) at some length over dinner and drinks.10 This article picks up where that recollection leaves off. While we do not know more about the specific content of that discussion, we do have a body of writings from each man on topics relating to the quest and pitfalls of authentic spirituality. A comparative analysis of these proves worthwhile, as further elucidation of what made possible their meeting of the minds and the immediate affection they felt for each other, and certainly as wisdom that still has the power to deepen our spiritual experience today by exposing the manipulations and deceptions to which ego11 subjects even our noblest spiritual aspirations.The challenges to authentic spiritual life were major concerns for both Trungpa and Merton, a leitmotif that characterized almost all of their respective teachings and written works.12 As an extensive examination of these is not possible here, I have set side by side one symbol from each: Trungpa's modification of the traditional Tibetan teachings on the Lalos (kla.klo, literally "barbarians"), which he translated as the "Three Lords of Materialism," and Merton's reflections on the tragic Titan Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods. These two symbols, while certainly not exhaustive of their insights, nonetheless effectively crystallize their respective thoughts on the matter, and thereby allow us to see that Trungpa and Merton shared very striking insights both about the malady of spiritual egotism and about its necessary antidotes.Chögyam Trungpa on Spiritual MaterialismIn talks given from 1970 to 1973, Trungpa gave teachings to his students on "the Three Lords of Materialism," symbolic personifications of the trap to which he referred as spiritual materialism.13 Believing that most of his students were sincere about the spiritual path, he... (shrink)

In this paper I outline the most relevant traits of the term ‘trust’ understood as one of the synonyms for ‘certainty’ that Ludwig Wittgenstein used in his posthumous work On Certainty. To this end, I analyze the paragraphs of On Certainty in which reference is made to pupils who are expected to trust what is taught by their teacher: in addition, I note that such a process is largely based on the attitude of rejection and bewilderment that teachers promote towards (...) people who call into doubt those certainties that pupils are expected to assimilate. Subsequently, after emphasizing the importance that Wittgenstein attached to the ineffability of certainties, I explain how such certainty or trust can be staged. Lastly, I clarify why an appropriate contemplation of this staging can be of great help for pupils to achieve at least four goals of educational interest: thus, children can not only strengthen their capacity for wonder, but also experience what things are ineffable, glimpse the limits of rationality, and become more tolerant of people who are partakers of a different world-picture. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Mystery of Sacramentality:Christ, the Church, and the Seven SacramentsCharles JournetTranslated by Aaron D. Henderson, with Introduction and NoteOriginally: Charles Journet, "Le Mystère de la sacramentalité: Le Christ, l'Église, les sept sacrements," Nova et Vetera 49 (1974): 161–214.Translator's IntroductionThe thought of Charles Cardinal Journet, venerable founder of the present journal and unparalleled twentieth-century master of Thomistic ecclesiology, merits a wider reception and a more ardent love.1 Not a few (...) have recognized this of late, producing articles and books dedicated to explicating his teaching.2 Nevertheless, much remains to be done to ensure that English speakers have fuller access to Journet's corpus. For instance, only the first [End Page 611] volume of L'Église du Verbe incarné,3 his magnum opus, has been translated into English.4 It is with this in mind that we set out to translate the article below. And it is no meager article that is reproduced below (though such a work is foreign to Journet), but one of considerable substance and importance. After all, it is a wonderful (and wonderfully extensive) expression of his post-conciliar Christology, ecclesiology, and sacramental theology. Indeed, written in 1974, but one year before his death, this article represents the mature fruit of many years of contemplation and prayer.With respect to his ecclesiology, Journet was influenced by the Second Vatican Council, in which he participated after his elevation to the episcopacy and cardinalate. As an example of this influence, an influence evident in the article below, the conciliar documents speak in several places of the sacramentality of the Church.5 The Church is, in Christ, a sacrament, "a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the [End Page 612] unity of the whole human race."6 Describing the Church as a sacrament is part of the Council's effort to unfold for the Catholic faithful and for the whole world the Church's inner nature and universal mission. Following the teaching of the Council, therefore, Journet includes the Church herself, in her being and action, in "the mystery of sacramentality."7But the mystery of sacramentality includes more than the Church. Indeed, there is a respect in which the entire economy of salvation is sacramental. Furthermore, the Church is a sacrament (a sign and instrument) only in a derived sense, in a way wholly dependent on her divine Spouse and Head. It is for this reason that Journet refers to Christ as "the sacrament of the divine life in its source" and to the Church as "the sacrament of the divine life communicated." Both Christ and the Church, then, are sacraments, but not in precisely the same manner. As Journet puts it, "Now, to which of these two is the Second Vatican Council's definition, 'universal sacrament of salvation,' suited? To Christ and to his Church respectively, though proportionally (that is, analogically)."8Journet's systematic ordering (first Christ, then the Church, and finally the sacraments) is intelligible and consonant with others who suggest that, had St. Thomas written an ecclesiological treatise in the Summa theologiae, it would be situated between the questions on Christ (ST III, qq. 1–59) and the questions on the sacraments (ST III, qq. 60–90).9 Journet begins [End Page 613] his work, however, with a reality that he refuses to call a sacrament, namely, the Most Holy Trinity. The Trinitarian mystery stands at the heart of the Christian faith; it is the source of the mystery of sacramentality. We see the splendor of the entire economy of salvation, and of the New Law especially, in the mystery of the Trinitarian indwelling and missions of the Son and Spirit. The Word became flesh, became human, so that he might rescue our sin-ravaged world. Jesus is, in his sacred humanity, the sacrament of the Trinity, the sacrament of the divine life in its source, to employ again Journet's language.Journet describes the Word as seizing or taking hold of the depths of his sacred humanity in his being and in his action. The Gospels bear authoritative witness to this, but they... (shrink)

Logic in Action/Doron Avital Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide (Napoleon Bonaparte) Introduction -/- This book was born on the battlefield and in nights of secretive special operations all around the Middle East, as well as in the corridors and lecture halls of Western Academia best schools. As a young boy, I was always mesmerized by stories of great men and women of action at fateful cross-roads of decision-making. Then, like as today, (...) I felt the full weight of the moment of truth as it confronts the individual, the man or woman of action, with the imminent necessity to decide. Alongside, as I was climbing up the ladder of education, I found myself just as well captivated by the great intellectual stories of our times, in particular 20th century analytic philosophy and, at its core, the machinery of modern logic. How do then the cool contemplative modes of the philosophical and analytic outlooks, that are better fitting of the philosopher's armchair at the fireplace, hang together with the heat of the battlefield or the angst of the ticking clock of time left to the completion of a daring special operation? Growing up I was pondering exactly that. Not accidently, and in fact as consequence, I have chosen a course in life that challenged me to visit the poles of both theory and practice. I set myself on a mission to unravel the tension between the contemplative inquiry, supposedly theoretical, aiming at the logical structure of things, and the uncompromising test of life and action. The puzzle of the gap between theory and practice has become ever since the guiding question of my life. -/- Not long ago, I met two friends, Avner Shor, a veteran combat soldier of the special forces unit I eventually commanded, and Aviram Halevi, a fellow officer with whom I served. Why will we not put into writing the ideas that guided us during our years of military action, we wondered. At that time, I used to deliver the keynote lectures to the senior officers' course of Israel central intelligence organization, the Mossad. For this I already had to put some of these ideas in writing. Avner was quick to introduce me with a notable publisher and even helped me write the first chapter. With Aviram I sat to many meetings, where he would challenge me with key questions, and we followed them with memories of operations and battles, aiming to draw the required lessons. This served me well when I finally sat down to write the first draft of the book. The result was more extensive than me and my friends had expected. I had to add a particularly long chapter dealing with the story of modern philosophy and logic. This was required, I felt, as no decision-making process lives in an intellectual vacuum. Knowingly or subconsciously, the intellectual climate of the time guides us for better or worse with the decisions we finally take. The initial draft was naturally cumbersome and inaccessible. But here I had the privilege of meeting a particularly talented editor, Rami Rothholtz. I found in Rami both an editor and a critical reader. As an infantry combat soldier at youth and now a senior journalist and editor, Rami insisted on simplifying and refining my ideas. Had it not been for his work, this book would have been literally unreadable. *** I opened my book with a brief description of a single night of a special operation deep at the Lebanon Bekaa valley, far away from Israel northern border. The mission was to kidnap a senior terror leader known to be holding in captivity an Israeli pilot. This was also the last special operation I commanded in my military career. A single special operation night, but what had to precede it? For sure, many months of intense and skillful preparations. What is Planning? This is the question with which I open up chapter (2) of the book. I confront in this chapter two approaches to planning. The first is the one I saw as a mission to myself to cultivate in my many years of military service. The second is the one I saw as representing a deep-rooted fallacy that holds a firm grip on today's conventional wisdom about planning. To further examine the logic of the competing models, I was required in chapter (3) to analyze the concept of "The Standard". I argue that the false model of planning has its roots in an attitude of an uncompromising adherence to the power of literal obedience to standards and rules. The standard, or what is outlined by a rule as prescribing a future course of action, is seen as an answer to the fundamental tension between theory (planning) and practice (execution). I argue in contrast that the standard does not produce an answer but rather what I call: "A Well-Defined Question". In essence, it is a meticulously-well-planned invitation to exercise a fresh judgment. A judgement that has as an anchor the default answer that the standard produces but is open to extension as it confronts the new frame of reference of the test of reality. In chapter (4), I present a new tool for planning and execution: "The Polygon of Risks" or "The Polygon of Execution". The Polygon is a geometric illustration of the underlying tension that exists between all dimensions of the operational project. The construction and conceptualization of the trade-offs that exist between the various dimensions - segments of the polygon - is the first topic on the planner's agenda. I position the concepts of "Daring" and "Taking Proactive and Well-Informed Risks" as necessary logical constituents of the polygon and show how in contrast the false model of planning is responsible for an operational culture that is risk-averse. It encourages, in fact, the piling up of false securities at the segments' level that eventually lead to the collapse of the polygon. The necessary trade-offs relationships that exist between the segments of the polygon express the fundamental tension between partnership and competition: partnership in a joint goal and competition over resources, both material and abstract. When this tension is not managed well, that is, when the players' local optimizations overshadow the global optimization required for the success of the project, the execution polygon collapses. In this scenario, we may find the setting of the bar of "High Standards" in a players' spheres of responsibility to conceal a hidden agenda of personal insurances taken against a possible failure. Once the overall risk is not mitigated by way of collaborative joint executional dialogue, the process that leads to a collapse of the polygon is literally unstoppable. *** In chapter (5), I discuss "(Fateful) Decisions". I examine the way in which we should translate the polygon into sequential critical decisions on the timeline. The execution polygon is not a rigid scaffolding but a dynamic conceptual illustration of the -/- project. It will need now to be converted into successive decision junctions. We will find the content of a decision and its timing on the timeline to be inseparable. The right decision is the one that is taken at the right time. The moment of decision is in fact the last moment of deliberation, the first moment available for action, i.e. the first possible "Can" is also the latest possible "Must". Deciding too soon is analog to the "Jumping of the Gun". The decision maker is forcing a pre-conceived answer to a state of affairs not ripe for an answer, e.g. the target in the shooting range is not yet erected. Late to decide and the decision maker may envision what he or she should have done but reality is no longer available for them to harness it right, e.g. consider a tennis player's frustration when reviewing a too-late-to-react move in the video replay. I review in this chapter many fateful decisions, both historical, from Napoleon's Waterloo, to a Bridge Too Far of WWII, to the failed rescue attempt of American hostages at the time of the Iranian Revolution, as well as fateful decisions I had to take in the course of my military life, both in combat and in special operations, and show the sense in which they all answer to our analysis. The theme of chapter (6) is "The Moment of Truth". This is the moment when everything is on the line and from which there is no turning back. I discuss the formative repetitive structure of the schooling and simulation phase and contrast it with the "One Shot, One Opportunity" nature of the moment of truth. This is extremely helpful when we analyze the logical structure of failures as unwarranted repetitions of past lessons. The schooling curriculum indeed consists of important abstractions drawn from lessons of the past. However, it is when we project them in a fashion that is literal or mechanical that we cross path with the possibility of a failure. The paradox of education is that what we must repeat in school and simulation must be extended and not repeated in real life. What is required of us so we do not fall into the fallacy of repetition in face of the moment of truth is the core subject of the discussion of this chapter. In chapter (7), I took a lengthy philosophical detour surveying the intellectual drama of modern logic, and in general, the story of 20th century analytic philosophy. Readers who choose to bypass the somehow demanding narrative of this drama can do so and still keep the argumentative thread of the book. However, even by way of skipping the more technical parts, I would still urge the readers to delve into the discussion in this chapter as I believe this would grant them a deeper understanding of the overall conceptual framework. I explore here the work of two key figures: the logician Kurt Gödel and the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, both were crowned in 2000 by TIME Magazine, as the leading Logician and Philosopher, respectively, of the 20th Century. I review the fascinating logical result of Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem and examine its relevance as setting a theoretical limit to the power of formalization. This amazing logical result - a result that shakes the logical foundations of 20th century thought in as much as the discovery of irrational numbers shook the foundations of the Pythagorean program of the ancient Greeks - bears significantly on the question of action and the blind trust we place in the power of formalization in the form of protocols and rules. It is here that Wittgenstein's philosophy enters in full force. We follow Wittgenstein as he dismantles our conception of rules as if there were "Railroads to Infinite", i.e. as prescribing for us in-advance their proper employments in all possible -/- future eventualities. Instead we propose that the dilemma of action demands of us an extension of rules rather than a mechanical or blind repetition of their literal imperative. In turn, this extension can serve as a new lesson added to the curriculum of school and simulation. The theme of chapter (8), the concluding chapter, is Strategy, Logic, and Ethics. The chapter comes to place the ethical dilemma in the conceptual map we presented in the book. I discuss here the tension between strategy as a process of setting goals and deriving backward as it were the steps that are necessary for achieving these goals, to the inescapable dictation of the ethical imperative. This unavoidable tension is particularly important against the backdrop of contemporary culture that is guided by a vision of personal success and achievement that may threaten our ability to do what is right. Most of all, I am troubled in this chapter, with the role logic may play, first as a liberating force enabling a change that is tuned to the ethical imperative, and second, as a force designed to justify on logical grounds, as it were, the existing power structure. It is in this junction that brave individuals will be called to challenge the governing logic of the zeitgeist - logic that operates now as an oppressive force that serves the vested interest of beneficials of the existing order. When success is favored over doing what is right, as we must admit is the prevailing cultural mood of our times, that the words of Emanuel Kant carry their full weight: "Do the Right thing and leave the Consequences to God". For this we need heroes and heroines that challenge the time by bearing the full weight of responsibility that comes with the doing of what is Right. *** This book was written more than anything from the perspective of the heroes and heroines of action. Sometimes they may be missing the exact words or the full insight into the solid logical complexity that stands between them and the doing of what is right. They feel what is right to do on the battlefield of life, whether in real battle, in political or economic life or whether in the life of creativity and the quest of the intellect. They do need, in analogy, proper logical and intellectual artillery. I hope they will find the logical cannons they require as they travel through the pages of this book. The rest is in their hands at the Moment of Truth. -/- Doron Avital, Tel Aviv 2011 -/- . (shrink)

Aristotle began his great study on causes, which he called Metaphysics, with a simple connection to physics: "All men by nature desire to know. An indication of this is the delight we take in our senses." Catholic high school physics teacher Matt D'Antuono makes a similar connection in his own teaching. While discussing the nature of science with his physics students, Matt pointed out that their topic of conversation was technically not science any more. Instead, when they were talking about (...) the nature of science, they were doing philosophy. The students then wanted Matt to teach them some philosophy, and Philosophy Fridays became a classroom tradition. Every secondary school teacher will find within this book the kind of practical wisdom that enlightens the young mind and engages their students in the act of contemplating all the wonders of our world, both physical and metaphysical. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:113 HUME ON LIBERTY, NECESSITY AND VERBAL DISPUTES Although Hume's discussion "Of Liberty and Necessity" in Section VIII of the first Enquiry has become a paradigm of compatibilism with respect to the issue of free will and determinism, it is not without its perplexing features. For instance, it is far from clear how Hume's arguments and illustrations help to establish his claim that "The same motives always produce the (...) same actions: The same events follow from the same causes." Nor is it obvious that Humean liberty is reconcilable with Humean causation or constant conjunction, or that the latter takes the sting out of determinism and makes the case for compatibilism more plausible. In this paper I want to examine a further, perhaps related, perplexing feature of Hume's discussion, namely, his contention that the dispute concerning liberty and necessity has been a merely verbal one. Although perhaps portions of the dispute may turn "merely upon words" as Hume contends, still it seems extreme to claim that the "whole controversy" is of this nature. I shall begin by examining the notion of a merely verbal dispute as it is discussed by Hume in other parts of his philosophy, and shall isolate three conditions for such a dispute. I shall then show why the dispute over liberty and necessity as presented in the Enquiry fails to meet these conditions. I want to suggest that there is a tension between Hume's psychological account of particular mistaken beliefs or natural illusions and his views about particular verbal disputes involving these beliefs. Even if this tension can be eased or eliminated, it will not make the dispute about liberty and necessity verbal. 114 Before we can hope to assess Hume's claim that the dispute about liberty and necessity is a merely verbal one, we must be clear on what hé understands by such a dispute. Fortunately, the notion is discussed in each of his four most important philosophical works — the Treatise, the two Enquiries and the Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion. Perhaps the most detailed discussion is found in the Appendix to the second Enquiry, where Hume examines an apparent disagreement discovered in a comparison of various natural languages over the question of whether particular personal qualities are virtues or rather talents (and the corresponding question of whether other qualities are vices or rather defects). In contending that the disagreement is merely verbal, Hume has two important things to say. First, he notes that "I do not find that in the English, or any other modern tongue, the boundaries are exactly fixed between virtues and talents, vices and defects, or that a precise definition can be given of the one as contradistinguished from the other." (E 313) Secondly, he states, "...it is no wonder that languages should not be very precise in marking the boundaries between virtues and talents, vices and defects; since there is so little distinction made in our internal estimation of them." (E 314) Hume goes on to point out that the sentiments which arise from the contemplation of qualities that are designated virtues are similar to those which arise from the contemplation of qualities which in some languages are designated talents. (E 316) 115 The preceding comments suggest an account of the nature of verbal disputes along the following lines. In a verbal dispute there is an underlying agreement about specific impressions, perceptions or experiences of objects. Thus, in the case of the dispute about whether specific qualities are talents or virtues, this would include the fact that the qualities elicit a similar feeling of approval for Hume whether they are designated in one way or the other. Moreover, Hume's comment about the lack of a clear distinction between "virtue" and "talent" implies that the terms express or refer to ideas that are compatible, that is, both of which can apply to a given object. Hence, there can be instances of qualities which fall under both designations. Given the underlying "factual" agreement between the parties to the dispute and given the compatibility of ideas, it would seem that for Hume in a verbal dispute there is no real disagreement between them and neither party is mistaken. Consequently... (shrink)