Santayana in his autobiography refers to Catholicism as the most human of religions, if treated humanly. He does so because, he claims, it is fundamentally pagan (it has a pagan foundation), but supplements paganism with metaphysics. By "pagan" I think we must assume he means pagan, pre-Christian, religion as opposed to pagan philosophy. Much of pagan philosophy seethed with metaphysics, of course.
I'm interested in the "if treated humanly." I happen to think that metaphysics, though it clearly has occupied human thought (far too much), is not particularly human. This is because I think it to be concerned with matters that should not occupy humans to any great extent. It should not because, much as it may be pretended otherwise, it does not address human concerns. It seeks to transcend the miserably mundane world in which humans live, act, love, hate, procreate and die. If it could, it would ignore humans utterly, as well as the world in which they live. The truth as well as anything truly important to metaphysicians is to be sought elsewhere.
If I understand Santayana correctly, he may disagree with me about metaphysics. However, he also seems to feel that Catholicism, and by implication I think all religion, is treated humanly when it is treated as a human activity; in other words, as conduct on the part of human animals by which they seek to experience transcendence. Religion, therefore, is a very human, very natural, activity.
"Activity" is an important word here. Humans are inclined to action and inclined to act in a particular way when being religious. They have engaged in rituals while being religious for thousands of years. Particular actions have been deemed to allow us to partake of the divine in some special sense. Catholicism took on many ancient pagan rituals prevalent in the Roman Empire just as it took on much of the empire's administrative organization. Generally, rituals are presided over by a priesthood--those peculiarly knowledgeable regarding the ritual.
Catholicism as it was practiced in Santayana's time was still very much devoted to ritual. One could go to a Church anywhere in the world and observe the same ritual performed in the same Latin. The Reformation sought to do away with ritual, as well as a kind of priesthood, and the use of images (idols, icons) in the ritual. Catholicism sought to do the same with and after Vatican II.
Christ became in that way more human than divine. There is little or nothing new under the sun, it seems. In the ancient Church, there were many who refused to accept Christ as divine in the same sense as the Father. Using the metaphysics of the time, they thought him of similar substance to the Father, but not of the same substance. Eventually, this view was made a heresy, and the Church proclaimed Christ to be "one in being with the Father." Icons were also condemned by some in the ancient Church, and this to was eventually condemned by it, only to come up again in Protestantism, and now. We have a rather unfortunate way of repeating ourselves.
I suspect we will be tending towards ritual again in our religion, soon enough. We may have already commenced that movement. The spare, dull, communal "happy" get-togethers which were religious celebrations the last time I visited one seemed to me particularly bland.
I don't mean to claim that ritualistic religion is in some way better than other religion. But like Santayana I suspect that we humans find ritual to be comforting, and pleasing, even in a profound sense.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Santayana and Life in the Middle
Judgment Day not having taken place as predicted (yet again), I'm free to continue my musings without being interrupted by the reign of the Antichrist or whatever it is that is supposed to happen after the elect are "raptured" (I take it for granted I will not be among them). I've been reading Santayana again. He intrigues me.
He probably writes better than any philosopher who writes or has written in English--he certainly writes better than any I've read, and I've read a few. Reading him is therefore a delight, and it may be that this in itself makes him attractive as a thinker. But what I find particularly interesting is that though he was ultimately committed to naturalism, much like Dewey and others of the pragmatists, he seems to have managed somehow to combine it with aspects of thought which one might describe as spiritual and artistic which are not normally associated with naturalism as such.
Santayana seems to have had little patience with metaphysics, particularly as he matured as a thinker, and as a critic of the "Quest for Certainty" he seems at times much more severe than Dewey (or perhaps I should say more sardonic--Santayana was a witty man, and his wit was ironic and sardonic; Dewey surprises me sometimes with his wit, but is at all times in his writings extremely earnest). We are animals, says Santayana, and we know things as animals know things. We are not apart from life, we know and we act as creatures in the middle of life.
And yet having minds, we have imaginations, and it seems that he found in our imaginations something which he found lacking in pragmatism and other philosophical "schools" of his time, like positivism and its offspring. Humans are not merely tool-users and problem-solvers to Santayana. He had a kind of aristocratic distaste for the pursuit of wealth, for the more materialistic aspects of American culture in particular. He sees in religion and art expressions of human imagination which are themselves natural in the sense of being consequences of existing as human animals.
Naturalism seems reasonable. It's difficult even to conceive of the supernatural, if we're honest with ourselves. Humans refer to supernatural beings which seem to have characteristics, desires, intentions we are familiar with only through our existence in and participation in nature. We may claim to believe in a transcendent being, but cannot really conceive of what it would be like to exist "outside of nature" as nature, or at least a small part of it, is all we know.
Is it possible to accept naturalism and yet still accept the spiritual, even the religious? Some seem to have done so--the Stoics, Spinoza, and Santayana as well, I think. But they have done so in ways foreign to those accepted by those considered religious typically, in the West at least. Which is to their credit, I think.
He probably writes better than any philosopher who writes or has written in English--he certainly writes better than any I've read, and I've read a few. Reading him is therefore a delight, and it may be that this in itself makes him attractive as a thinker. But what I find particularly interesting is that though he was ultimately committed to naturalism, much like Dewey and others of the pragmatists, he seems to have managed somehow to combine it with aspects of thought which one might describe as spiritual and artistic which are not normally associated with naturalism as such.
Santayana seems to have had little patience with metaphysics, particularly as he matured as a thinker, and as a critic of the "Quest for Certainty" he seems at times much more severe than Dewey (or perhaps I should say more sardonic--Santayana was a witty man, and his wit was ironic and sardonic; Dewey surprises me sometimes with his wit, but is at all times in his writings extremely earnest). We are animals, says Santayana, and we know things as animals know things. We are not apart from life, we know and we act as creatures in the middle of life.
And yet having minds, we have imaginations, and it seems that he found in our imaginations something which he found lacking in pragmatism and other philosophical "schools" of his time, like positivism and its offspring. Humans are not merely tool-users and problem-solvers to Santayana. He had a kind of aristocratic distaste for the pursuit of wealth, for the more materialistic aspects of American culture in particular. He sees in religion and art expressions of human imagination which are themselves natural in the sense of being consequences of existing as human animals.
Naturalism seems reasonable. It's difficult even to conceive of the supernatural, if we're honest with ourselves. Humans refer to supernatural beings which seem to have characteristics, desires, intentions we are familiar with only through our existence in and participation in nature. We may claim to believe in a transcendent being, but cannot really conceive of what it would be like to exist "outside of nature" as nature, or at least a small part of it, is all we know.
Is it possible to accept naturalism and yet still accept the spiritual, even the religious? Some seem to have done so--the Stoics, Spinoza, and Santayana as well, I think. But they have done so in ways foreign to those accepted by those considered religious typically, in the West at least. Which is to their credit, I think.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A Kind of Gluttony
Perhaps it is the debate over whether to extend the "Bush-era tax cuts for the wealthy" or the current urge to do something to benefit from the unseemly large profits of Big Oil, or perhaps it is the omnipresence of the walking, talking caricature of a nouveau riche boor that is Donald Trump, but I find myself given to speculate regarding what it is that compels some of us to want to be very, very rich and do all that is possible to achieve that status.
I think it is common to want to be comfortable, to be able to eat and drink well, have leisure time, have and enjoy certain material goods, give our children certain economic advantages. However, we can achieve such things without being exceedingly wealthy. Some of the more regrettable personalities intruding upon us these days have referred to those most would consider to be well-off as being "comfortably poor" but I doubt it is necessary to be "poor" even in this fashion to be comfortable.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable, and I would go so far as to say it would be good, or at least nice, if all of us were. But what is it that drives a person who is comfortable in this fashion to want to be very rich? To want, in other words, more, more and yet more of that which allows him/her to be comfortable?
The very rich are sometimes justified by themselves and others (usually Republicans in this Great Republic) because they are said to benefit us in some vague manner. They "make jobs" or do something by being wealthy which is good for the economy. The wiser of their fans and advocates don't presume to claim that this is why they are wealthy, or that the wealthy eagerly dedicate themselves to making others richer. In fact, those like Ayn Rand and her Randriods do not merely acknowledge, but rejoice in, the selfishness of the rich and powerful. The benefit to others is apparently a function of their mere existence, their being, as it were; they radiate our benefit much as God is said to radiate Grace.
Thus there are those who resent it if they are being taxed more than others merely because they are wealthier than others. Why should they be made to pay more to the State merely because they have more to pay? Do they not already benefit us all by being wealthy, buying so much, consuming so much, thereby "making jobs" or whatever it is they are supposed to accomplish by doing so?
Frankly, I'm not adverse to the position that they should not be required to pay more than others. I would be pleased if they paid as much as others did, proportionately. If we must have an income tax, I confess to being fond of the idea of a flat tax--that all should pay the same percentage of their income as taxes to our benign government. Get rid of all deductions and exemptions, pay the same percentage, and we would have a wonderfully simple means of taxation it seems to me, and one which is at least arguably fair. But no doubt this is far too simple an idea to be effective.
Regardless, I don't think the very rich can "justify" themselves in this fashion, nor do I think they should. They should, however, acknowledge what they are--gluttons of a sort, and pathetic as a result--and we would all likely be better off if they exercised self-control. They need not devote themselves to the benefit of human kind. They would do us all a great favor, though, if they weren't very, very rich, and declined to be so because being so is unnecessary to their welfare, and undermines their dignity and indirectly the dignity which should be accorded to others.
Gluttony is, of course, the practice of excessive eating and drinking, and greediness in doing so. It is in a certain sense disgusting (I don't mean to refer to those with eating disorders, but rather to those who indulge in this kind of excess simply because they are greedy for the pleasure it brings them). It is infantile self-indulgence in a particularly unpleasant form. Those who strive to be or are much richer than they need to be to be comfortable indulge in a similar type of unnecessary excess and greediness.
Once one is comfortable, what else would account for the desire to have more and more money and things? The need to be more and more comfortable, to be very comfortable? What can compel this kind of acquisitiveness for money and things when there is no longer any reasonable need for them, but a kind of gluttony?
I don't advocate the forcible redistribution of wealth. But self-control is to be advocated in a time of dwindling resources, and is admirable in any case. Nobody needs to be exceedingly rich, and it is absurd to claim they do. The incidental benefit that may result from the excesses of the gluttons for money and power don't compensate for them.
I think it is common to want to be comfortable, to be able to eat and drink well, have leisure time, have and enjoy certain material goods, give our children certain economic advantages. However, we can achieve such things without being exceedingly wealthy. Some of the more regrettable personalities intruding upon us these days have referred to those most would consider to be well-off as being "comfortably poor" but I doubt it is necessary to be "poor" even in this fashion to be comfortable.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable, and I would go so far as to say it would be good, or at least nice, if all of us were. But what is it that drives a person who is comfortable in this fashion to want to be very rich? To want, in other words, more, more and yet more of that which allows him/her to be comfortable?
The very rich are sometimes justified by themselves and others (usually Republicans in this Great Republic) because they are said to benefit us in some vague manner. They "make jobs" or do something by being wealthy which is good for the economy. The wiser of their fans and advocates don't presume to claim that this is why they are wealthy, or that the wealthy eagerly dedicate themselves to making others richer. In fact, those like Ayn Rand and her Randriods do not merely acknowledge, but rejoice in, the selfishness of the rich and powerful. The benefit to others is apparently a function of their mere existence, their being, as it were; they radiate our benefit much as God is said to radiate Grace.
Thus there are those who resent it if they are being taxed more than others merely because they are wealthier than others. Why should they be made to pay more to the State merely because they have more to pay? Do they not already benefit us all by being wealthy, buying so much, consuming so much, thereby "making jobs" or whatever it is they are supposed to accomplish by doing so?
Frankly, I'm not adverse to the position that they should not be required to pay more than others. I would be pleased if they paid as much as others did, proportionately. If we must have an income tax, I confess to being fond of the idea of a flat tax--that all should pay the same percentage of their income as taxes to our benign government. Get rid of all deductions and exemptions, pay the same percentage, and we would have a wonderfully simple means of taxation it seems to me, and one which is at least arguably fair. But no doubt this is far too simple an idea to be effective.
Regardless, I don't think the very rich can "justify" themselves in this fashion, nor do I think they should. They should, however, acknowledge what they are--gluttons of a sort, and pathetic as a result--and we would all likely be better off if they exercised self-control. They need not devote themselves to the benefit of human kind. They would do us all a great favor, though, if they weren't very, very rich, and declined to be so because being so is unnecessary to their welfare, and undermines their dignity and indirectly the dignity which should be accorded to others.
Gluttony is, of course, the practice of excessive eating and drinking, and greediness in doing so. It is in a certain sense disgusting (I don't mean to refer to those with eating disorders, but rather to those who indulge in this kind of excess simply because they are greedy for the pleasure it brings them). It is infantile self-indulgence in a particularly unpleasant form. Those who strive to be or are much richer than they need to be to be comfortable indulge in a similar type of unnecessary excess and greediness.
Once one is comfortable, what else would account for the desire to have more and more money and things? The need to be more and more comfortable, to be very comfortable? What can compel this kind of acquisitiveness for money and things when there is no longer any reasonable need for them, but a kind of gluttony?
I don't advocate the forcible redistribution of wealth. But self-control is to be advocated in a time of dwindling resources, and is admirable in any case. Nobody needs to be exceedingly rich, and it is absurd to claim they do. The incidental benefit that may result from the excesses of the gluttons for money and power don't compensate for them.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
An Expected Death
I am bemused by the questions being raised regarding the killing of Osama (Usama?) Bin Laden. Was it an assassination? Did it violate international law? Why bury him at sea? Why not release a photograph of his corpse? Was he armed? Why kill him instead of capture him? Why use the code name "Geronimo" to refer to him?
No sensible person can have had any doubt that the United States government would act in the manner it did once it had reliable information of his location and that he was located in Pakistan. All the world knew he was "wanted, dead or alive." Expressing surprise or dismay that he was not captured or that Pakistani territorial sovereignty was violated seems disingenuous, if not more than that, as a result. The United States tried to kill him while infringing on the territory of other nations even prior to 9/11.
I am not fond of our current Attorney General, primarily because of his famous assertion that "failure is not an option" in a particular trial it was insisted take place in federal court and subsequently decided would take place before a military tribunal. However, I think he's correct in maintaining the killing of Bin Laden was in the nature of an act of "national self-defense." That Bin Laden had killed and remained intent on killing Americans cannot be doubted. No nation can be expected to tolerate those who have expressed their desire to kill its citizens, especially when they've demonstrated their ability to do so in such a spectacular fashion. Why should such toleration be expected?
If it is fatuous to expect such toleration, it is fatuous to bemoan the fact that such toleration is not granted. The questions being raised then become idle. Perhaps he was killed because it was desired that he be killed rather than captured. Perhaps he was killed because in such a situation men with guns tend to kill because they are concerned for their own safety. It does not matter, in this case, nor do the other questions being asked.
Like most everything else, questions may be pertinent or irrelevant, fatuous or intelligent, appropriate or idle, based on the circumstances under consideration. The circumstances here were such as to render the outcome not only appropriate, but inevitable. If the person killed had not been involved in killing thousands and had not been actively trying to kill more, other conduct, other outcomes may have been appropriate.
Were his actions such as to justify the wars conducted in Iraq and Afghanistan? If it is indeed that case that those wars were commenced for that reason, that is a different question. I would say they were not.
No sensible person can have had any doubt that the United States government would act in the manner it did once it had reliable information of his location and that he was located in Pakistan. All the world knew he was "wanted, dead or alive." Expressing surprise or dismay that he was not captured or that Pakistani territorial sovereignty was violated seems disingenuous, if not more than that, as a result. The United States tried to kill him while infringing on the territory of other nations even prior to 9/11.
I am not fond of our current Attorney General, primarily because of his famous assertion that "failure is not an option" in a particular trial it was insisted take place in federal court and subsequently decided would take place before a military tribunal. However, I think he's correct in maintaining the killing of Bin Laden was in the nature of an act of "national self-defense." That Bin Laden had killed and remained intent on killing Americans cannot be doubted. No nation can be expected to tolerate those who have expressed their desire to kill its citizens, especially when they've demonstrated their ability to do so in such a spectacular fashion. Why should such toleration be expected?
If it is fatuous to expect such toleration, it is fatuous to bemoan the fact that such toleration is not granted. The questions being raised then become idle. Perhaps he was killed because it was desired that he be killed rather than captured. Perhaps he was killed because in such a situation men with guns tend to kill because they are concerned for their own safety. It does not matter, in this case, nor do the other questions being asked.
Like most everything else, questions may be pertinent or irrelevant, fatuous or intelligent, appropriate or idle, based on the circumstances under consideration. The circumstances here were such as to render the outcome not only appropriate, but inevitable. If the person killed had not been involved in killing thousands and had not been actively trying to kill more, other conduct, other outcomes may have been appropriate.
Were his actions such as to justify the wars conducted in Iraq and Afghanistan? If it is indeed that case that those wars were commenced for that reason, that is a different question. I would say they were not.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Regarding Beatification
The late Pontifex Maximus, John Paul II, is to be beatified, it seems. He is apparently being beatified in record time. One may wonder why, but one may also wonder what it means to be beatified.
As I understand it, beatification like canonization is in the nature of a papal decree. It is a decree that a person may be considered a candidate for canonization, i.e. for sainthood. The decree of canonization is essentially a papal statement that a particular person is a saint, may be referred to as one by the faithful, take his/her place presumably in the liturgy, and may have a day set aside for him/her to be celebrated in some fashion. It is also formal reassurance that the saint is, indeed, a saint and is safely ensconced in heaven. At least in the old days, saints could be asked to intercede with God.
My favorite saint has always been St. Christopher. As I recall the story, Jesus in the form of a child decided for some reason to demand that Christopher carry him across a river, and Christopher did so even though Jesus, rather mischievously, increased his weight as he was carried along making it more and more difficult for Christopher to accomplish his task. I received a St. Christopher medal when I was a child. I wear it to this day. I'm not sure why. But I think this is due in part to the fact that St. Christopher has been in some sense demoted by the Church, and I resent him being singled out in this fashion.
Regardless of one's faith, beatification and canonization seem to be relatively little more than a papal stamp of approval. If John Paul II is in heaven, he is presumably there regardless of the decree of any of his successors. If he was a holy man peculiarly honored by God, he was or is so even if he should be condemned by a pope. He requires no reassurance in these respects.
Beatification and canonization, then, constitute a kind of certification that a dead person may (and I suppose should) be honored in a certain way by the faithful. I think it is another way the Church mimics, as it were, the Roman Empire it eventually came to absorb. Emperors and others were declared divine by the appropriate authority, usually the senate. This was a way of honoring them. It came to be expected on the death of an Emperor. Vespasian it's said joked about it on his deathbed.: "Dear me, I seem to be becoming a god." Some Emperors declared themselves to be divine while they lived. Emperor worship was required as time passed, in the provinces at least. Certain Emperors, though, were honored more than others. It seems to have been very much a political practice.
And although nobody may be declared a god in these enlightened times, beatification and canonization seem very much a political practice now. Poland is said to be "joyful" about the beatification. The Church has apparently made a policy decision that it requires more saints, and is churning them out, even dispensing with the need for an advocatus diaboli. The Church believes that modern heroes are required, and it may be that it is not wrong; we seem to like having heroes. Certainly secular authorities have in effect decreed that certain leaders are to be treated as heroes in the past, even in modern times, e.g., Hitler, Lenin, Stalin, Mao.
Whatever beatification is, then, it should be treated seriously. It is a means by which power and influence are exercised; it has an effect even in the modern world.
As I understand it, beatification like canonization is in the nature of a papal decree. It is a decree that a person may be considered a candidate for canonization, i.e. for sainthood. The decree of canonization is essentially a papal statement that a particular person is a saint, may be referred to as one by the faithful, take his/her place presumably in the liturgy, and may have a day set aside for him/her to be celebrated in some fashion. It is also formal reassurance that the saint is, indeed, a saint and is safely ensconced in heaven. At least in the old days, saints could be asked to intercede with God.
My favorite saint has always been St. Christopher. As I recall the story, Jesus in the form of a child decided for some reason to demand that Christopher carry him across a river, and Christopher did so even though Jesus, rather mischievously, increased his weight as he was carried along making it more and more difficult for Christopher to accomplish his task. I received a St. Christopher medal when I was a child. I wear it to this day. I'm not sure why. But I think this is due in part to the fact that St. Christopher has been in some sense demoted by the Church, and I resent him being singled out in this fashion.
Regardless of one's faith, beatification and canonization seem to be relatively little more than a papal stamp of approval. If John Paul II is in heaven, he is presumably there regardless of the decree of any of his successors. If he was a holy man peculiarly honored by God, he was or is so even if he should be condemned by a pope. He requires no reassurance in these respects.
Beatification and canonization, then, constitute a kind of certification that a dead person may (and I suppose should) be honored in a certain way by the faithful. I think it is another way the Church mimics, as it were, the Roman Empire it eventually came to absorb. Emperors and others were declared divine by the appropriate authority, usually the senate. This was a way of honoring them. It came to be expected on the death of an Emperor. Vespasian it's said joked about it on his deathbed.: "Dear me, I seem to be becoming a god." Some Emperors declared themselves to be divine while they lived. Emperor worship was required as time passed, in the provinces at least. Certain Emperors, though, were honored more than others. It seems to have been very much a political practice.
And although nobody may be declared a god in these enlightened times, beatification and canonization seem very much a political practice now. Poland is said to be "joyful" about the beatification. The Church has apparently made a policy decision that it requires more saints, and is churning them out, even dispensing with the need for an advocatus diaboli. The Church believes that modern heroes are required, and it may be that it is not wrong; we seem to like having heroes. Certainly secular authorities have in effect decreed that certain leaders are to be treated as heroes in the past, even in modern times, e.g., Hitler, Lenin, Stalin, Mao.
Whatever beatification is, then, it should be treated seriously. It is a means by which power and influence are exercised; it has an effect even in the modern world.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)