Earlier this month I was sitting in Birdland, the great jazz club now on 44th St. in Manhattan, sipping the alcoholic beverage of my second choice (the first choice being unavailable, much to my dismay), and found myself wondering over the fact that the Friday night crowd was made up entirely of white people. Even the performers were white; some Hispanic.
Birdland, called "the jazz corner of the world" by the man who inspired its name, the late, great Charlie "Yardbird" Parker. The place where giants of the genre have played over time, including but not limited to--as we lawyers like to say--Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonius Monk, Art Blakley (the list goes on and on) since its founding in 1949. And while I wondered I recalled that in my several visits to Andy's Jazz Club in Chicago, the crowd and performers have always been white, or at least they have been when I may be said to have been sufficiently aware of my surroundings to notice or remember. I have overindulged in liquor there, on a few occasions.
I became a fan of jazz in my college years, mostly. I am one of the unfortunates who lived through the 1970s as a young adult and adolescent. The popular music of the time was for the most part a horrifying mix of cloying sentiment and disco tunes, with the ridiculous bump and other grotesque dances making us look like clowns. We males dressed like clowns as well, of course; most appropriately. I find it hard to even glance at pictures of the time.
There were some exceptions. Rock wasn't entirely dead. But that's when I began listening to and buying the works of the artists I refer to above and others like Charles Mingus, Rahsaan Roland Kirk and Yusef Lateef. I attended the last Newport Jazz festival, disrupted by a bunch of hippies or vagrants who thought entry should be free of charge and so made certain that those who paid could not listen to the artists they paid to see, and that the artists would lose future pay days at least. I saw Maynard Ferguson and his band at a club in Boston the name of which I can't recall, but that particular event I found disappointing; Ferguson and his band seemed to me simply to play uninteresting music very loudly. I was something of an oddity at my Alma Mater, my stereo blaring jazz through the thin door of my dorm room.
There were some white jazz artists even then, like John McLaughlin who played on some albums with Miles Davis, primarily "fusion" artists. And of course Bill Evans and Brubeck and other white folk were outstanding jazz men long before. But it is not inaccurate to say that jazz began with black musicians, and it seems that like other music forms such as rock and, most depressingly, blues what began with black musicians and fans has been or is being overwhelmed by whiteness. There's something about white men singing the blues that seems almost offensive. As George Carlin once said (if I recall correctly) white people don't sing the blues; we make other people sing the blues.
White jazz musicians are certainly not offensive. But I wonder why it is that at least to this observer, jazz is no longer dominated by black artists as it was in the past. Have we white fans chased them away? Is there no longer any real incentive for young black people to acquire the vast knowledge of an instrument required to play jazz, rap and hip-hop being more desirable (and, I think, far less difficult to master)? Is jazz, which created cool, no longer cool?
Popular music has taken an odd turn, I believe (or maybe I've become an old fogey myself). The great stars no longer play instruments of any kind. Instead, they sing (or rap) and dance (or hop), usually in groups, while music is played by others if not manufactured by machines. Popular music (with the possible exception of country music, where it seems stars may still play an instrument) seems to have transformed into a kind of parade of nightclub acts or Vegas shows, full of showgirls and showboys.
Jazz and some of what is called "world music" may represent all that is left for musicians who make new music. I love classical music, but it seems unchanging. The efforts made to make new classical music have in my opinion resulted in what may be called musical exercises, complex but uninspired. They appear to be strained, small efforts compared to the great masterpieces of the past.
Perhaps jazz is becoming a kind of classical music itself, now. It still continues to live and grow, but it may be that its limitations are being reached, not because the form of music itself is limited, but because it no longer attracts the young among us.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Sunday, October 20, 2013
A Campaign in the "Culture Wars"
The Culture Wars (or is it war?) are similar to those "wars" we've fabricated which are not wars and which are not won or lost, but are unending, like the War on Drugs or the War on Poverty. But the Culture Wars are sillier than those other non-wars in that they are even less wars than are the others, as the others at least have had practical impacts on some of us, good and bad. It's unclear the Culture Wars have had or ever will have an impact of any kind in real life. That's because they represent only opportunities, of which there are already far too many, for the more pompous and verbose among us to pontificate once more on matters they find disturbing and disagreeable.
These days and for some decades past those of the right, socially and politically, take such opportunities more often than those on the left, and this has had the effect that the campaigns of these wars are rather dull and repetitive. One of the more recent of them involves the old Maine liberal arts college of Bowdoin, which is the subject of a lengthy criticism issued by something called the National Association of Scholars, which describes itself as being committed to rational discourse as the foundation of academic life, rather than irrational discourse, which it would seem must be committed to by the National Association of Bad Scholars or Non-Scholars. The study is called "What does Bowdoin Teach?", which I like to think was chosen as a title to parody the frivolous advertisements/brochures colleges use to lure students, which have titles such as "What is X University?", but which I fear was a title selected by those grim scholars who authored the study in all seriousness.
I've mentioned Allan Bloom's diatribe against modern college education in the past, and it seems Bloom lives again in the pages of this work. There is much the same outrage and much the same that is deemed outrageous. Assuming the study is accurate, it may be said things are even less Bloom-like or Bloom-worthy than when he wrote.
While I've noted that Bloom strikes me as someone who was very much an old fogey, I've also noted that I find some of his criticisms to be merited. His fascination with the sex lives of the students and their parents is somewhat unnerving, though, and this preoccupation seems shared by scholars of this national association (I'll just call them the "scholars" for the rest of this post). If the study is accurate, though, it seems that sex fascinates the professors at Bowdoin as well, as there are apparently courses about sex and sex which is the wrong kind of sex as far as the scholars are concerned.
That college students are obsessed by sex and experiment with it should come as no surprise. The scholars, though, believe that they are being encouraged to experiment by the professors, and to be accepting of objectionable sex. I have my own problems with college courses on sex that are not part of a psychology or sociological curriculum, i.e. which are not devoted to the study of sexual conduct, but rather advocate sexual conduct of a particular kind (if there are such courses). But I think that our society generally and social conservatives in particular take sex far too seriously. There was a great deal of sex going on in the distant days when I was in college; that's the way of it. In itself it's nothing to get excited about.
Similarly, the fact that the curriculum and professors are overwhelming "liberal" is hardly surprising; that again was the case decades ago. That the professors are not sufficiently American ("un-American" has some disturbing associations, but perhaps the scholars have their own committee on such activities) is not surprising either. All these criticisms have a familiar ring to them, I'm afraid. They're old news.
The study suffers from having a forward by William J. Bennett, famous gambling addict, proponent of the virtues and opponent of the Seven Deadly Sins (except, perhaps, greed). It's difficult for me to take moralizing from Mr. Bennett seriously, and his participation in the study, however limited, gives it the appearance of political and ideological bias.
I have limited expectations regarding a college education. I think it's desirable, but feel that those who graduate and do not continue in the academy in one way or another are not influenced by it greatly, and that what influence there is dissipates with time and in the face of the focus required to make a living. I don't think it's necessary that certain books be read, certain history taught, certain languages learned. There will be time to read those books, and one reads them to better effect when one doesn't have to read them. What I think colleges should do, though, is instill in their students the habit of critical thinking and the means of intelligent analysis and inquiry. This study purports to demonstrate that critical thinking is not being taught at Bowdoin and by implication at other liberal arts colleges.
That may be true and if true is most unfortunate. But I don't think it would be taught in the context of a "good old" liberal arts university education either. I don't think it has been taught at all, in fact, though I think I was fortunate in having a few teachers in college who actually made me think and taught me something about it. That wasn't due to the courses being taught, however; it was a discipline taught not due to the topic of study but due to the demands imposed by the professors. Critical thinking won't be taught in schools until courses specifically devoted to such thought are made part of the curriculum. Until that time, it will be taught haphazardly if it all.
Critical thinking may create doubts regarding whether preferences of those on the right or the left are appropriate, however. Nobody wants to see their sacred cows subject to criticism. So it's unlikely the method of critical thinking will ever be taught as part of any curriculum. It's very likely, though, that those who believe that particular courses should be taught, not others, will always maintain that those they prefer must be taught in order for students to know what is right, good and true, and that they will insist on telling us so.
These days and for some decades past those of the right, socially and politically, take such opportunities more often than those on the left, and this has had the effect that the campaigns of these wars are rather dull and repetitive. One of the more recent of them involves the old Maine liberal arts college of Bowdoin, which is the subject of a lengthy criticism issued by something called the National Association of Scholars, which describes itself as being committed to rational discourse as the foundation of academic life, rather than irrational discourse, which it would seem must be committed to by the National Association of Bad Scholars or Non-Scholars. The study is called "What does Bowdoin Teach?", which I like to think was chosen as a title to parody the frivolous advertisements/brochures colleges use to lure students, which have titles such as "What is X University?", but which I fear was a title selected by those grim scholars who authored the study in all seriousness.
I've mentioned Allan Bloom's diatribe against modern college education in the past, and it seems Bloom lives again in the pages of this work. There is much the same outrage and much the same that is deemed outrageous. Assuming the study is accurate, it may be said things are even less Bloom-like or Bloom-worthy than when he wrote.
While I've noted that Bloom strikes me as someone who was very much an old fogey, I've also noted that I find some of his criticisms to be merited. His fascination with the sex lives of the students and their parents is somewhat unnerving, though, and this preoccupation seems shared by scholars of this national association (I'll just call them the "scholars" for the rest of this post). If the study is accurate, though, it seems that sex fascinates the professors at Bowdoin as well, as there are apparently courses about sex and sex which is the wrong kind of sex as far as the scholars are concerned.
That college students are obsessed by sex and experiment with it should come as no surprise. The scholars, though, believe that they are being encouraged to experiment by the professors, and to be accepting of objectionable sex. I have my own problems with college courses on sex that are not part of a psychology or sociological curriculum, i.e. which are not devoted to the study of sexual conduct, but rather advocate sexual conduct of a particular kind (if there are such courses). But I think that our society generally and social conservatives in particular take sex far too seriously. There was a great deal of sex going on in the distant days when I was in college; that's the way of it. In itself it's nothing to get excited about.
Similarly, the fact that the curriculum and professors are overwhelming "liberal" is hardly surprising; that again was the case decades ago. That the professors are not sufficiently American ("un-American" has some disturbing associations, but perhaps the scholars have their own committee on such activities) is not surprising either. All these criticisms have a familiar ring to them, I'm afraid. They're old news.
The study suffers from having a forward by William J. Bennett, famous gambling addict, proponent of the virtues and opponent of the Seven Deadly Sins (except, perhaps, greed). It's difficult for me to take moralizing from Mr. Bennett seriously, and his participation in the study, however limited, gives it the appearance of political and ideological bias.
I have limited expectations regarding a college education. I think it's desirable, but feel that those who graduate and do not continue in the academy in one way or another are not influenced by it greatly, and that what influence there is dissipates with time and in the face of the focus required to make a living. I don't think it's necessary that certain books be read, certain history taught, certain languages learned. There will be time to read those books, and one reads them to better effect when one doesn't have to read them. What I think colleges should do, though, is instill in their students the habit of critical thinking and the means of intelligent analysis and inquiry. This study purports to demonstrate that critical thinking is not being taught at Bowdoin and by implication at other liberal arts colleges.
That may be true and if true is most unfortunate. But I don't think it would be taught in the context of a "good old" liberal arts university education either. I don't think it has been taught at all, in fact, though I think I was fortunate in having a few teachers in college who actually made me think and taught me something about it. That wasn't due to the courses being taught, however; it was a discipline taught not due to the topic of study but due to the demands imposed by the professors. Critical thinking won't be taught in schools until courses specifically devoted to such thought are made part of the curriculum. Until that time, it will be taught haphazardly if it all.
Critical thinking may create doubts regarding whether preferences of those on the right or the left are appropriate, however. Nobody wants to see their sacred cows subject to criticism. So it's unlikely the method of critical thinking will ever be taught as part of any curriculum. It's very likely, though, that those who believe that particular courses should be taught, not others, will always maintain that those they prefer must be taught in order for students to know what is right, good and true, and that they will insist on telling us so.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
The Great Shutdown
Although frequently asked--if not commanded--to bless America, our Great Republic, God doesn't seem inclined to do so in many cases. Those of us who think as I do that God is unlikely to esteem any country on a planet representing such a tiny part of the universe more than any other tiny part of the universe will not find this surprising, of course. Others might, however, and those so inclined may wonder just why he, or we, allow our elected representatives to disport themselves in so contemptible a fashion as they have regarding the shutdown which has taken place in the last few weeks.
Fox News insists on calling it a "slimdown" it seems. Slimming down is good, you know; healthy. It's all for our benefit in the end, no matter how painful it may be. Thus its dismisses the fact thousands suffer as a result of the posturing of our politicians. I suppose it's admirable in a way that this organization expresses its bias in such a cavalier manner. I'd say such an honest revelation is refreshing even if unintended, but then there's that annoying slogan, "Fair and Balanced." So we can't absolve Fox News of hypocrisy in this case, at least. Why not just refer to a "partial shutdown" if "shutdown" is deemed inaccurate? Then again--why be accurate in today's world?
For me the most disturbing aspect of this melodrama is the fact it seems directed to derailing Obamacare, which may not be good law but is the law nonetheless. Republicans are pleased to denounce judicial interference with duly adopted legislation (sometimes, at least) but they apparently have no qualms about doing it themselves when they are unable to arrange for its repeal. This is at best mere petulance, which is worthy of disgust, but I think something more is involved. I don't mean money, as its overwhelming importance in our political system must be taken for granted. I refer to the kind of insane fit or seizure which takes hold of certain of us when anything related to our President is encountered or mentioned. One must wonder what the cause is of such remarkable symptoms, but it is clear that the President sends certain of us into a frenzy.
How else explain the self-destructive conduct of those leading the charge against Obamacare, or perhaps a better analogy would be the defense of an outpost, say by the French Foreign Legion, or of Rorke's Drift (which might better suit those who find the President's mixed genetic heritage offensive, and it is possible that heritage is at the heart of this lunacy). Something romantic and inspiring is called for--the Alamo? But in the end the motivation is that some politicians disagree with adopted legislation which is the law, and while such disagreement is of course not in itself bad or despicable and can even be merited, the use of power to injure people because of dissatisfaction with the law of the land is ignoble, especially when those wielding power for such purposes are charged with adopting legislation.
It seems that wiser heads may prevail as far as the debt ceiling is concerned, but what are "wiser heads" where our government is concerned? Those who can manage to be reasonable in certain limited cases? Are the best of those who represent us those who are not clearly idiots or unthinking zealots?
Well, it can be said we get the government we deserve, and perhaps this is God's way of telling us he will not bless us with good government because we don't deserve it. Those who think that divine grace is accorded without regard to conduct won't find this conclusion satisfying, but perhaps they will at least acknowledge that the elected are not necessarily the Elect. The Chosen People need not be those we chose to do these things.
Fox News insists on calling it a "slimdown" it seems. Slimming down is good, you know; healthy. It's all for our benefit in the end, no matter how painful it may be. Thus its dismisses the fact thousands suffer as a result of the posturing of our politicians. I suppose it's admirable in a way that this organization expresses its bias in such a cavalier manner. I'd say such an honest revelation is refreshing even if unintended, but then there's that annoying slogan, "Fair and Balanced." So we can't absolve Fox News of hypocrisy in this case, at least. Why not just refer to a "partial shutdown" if "shutdown" is deemed inaccurate? Then again--why be accurate in today's world?
For me the most disturbing aspect of this melodrama is the fact it seems directed to derailing Obamacare, which may not be good law but is the law nonetheless. Republicans are pleased to denounce judicial interference with duly adopted legislation (sometimes, at least) but they apparently have no qualms about doing it themselves when they are unable to arrange for its repeal. This is at best mere petulance, which is worthy of disgust, but I think something more is involved. I don't mean money, as its overwhelming importance in our political system must be taken for granted. I refer to the kind of insane fit or seizure which takes hold of certain of us when anything related to our President is encountered or mentioned. One must wonder what the cause is of such remarkable symptoms, but it is clear that the President sends certain of us into a frenzy.
How else explain the self-destructive conduct of those leading the charge against Obamacare, or perhaps a better analogy would be the defense of an outpost, say by the French Foreign Legion, or of Rorke's Drift (which might better suit those who find the President's mixed genetic heritage offensive, and it is possible that heritage is at the heart of this lunacy). Something romantic and inspiring is called for--the Alamo? But in the end the motivation is that some politicians disagree with adopted legislation which is the law, and while such disagreement is of course not in itself bad or despicable and can even be merited, the use of power to injure people because of dissatisfaction with the law of the land is ignoble, especially when those wielding power for such purposes are charged with adopting legislation.
It seems that wiser heads may prevail as far as the debt ceiling is concerned, but what are "wiser heads" where our government is concerned? Those who can manage to be reasonable in certain limited cases? Are the best of those who represent us those who are not clearly idiots or unthinking zealots?
Well, it can be said we get the government we deserve, and perhaps this is God's way of telling us he will not bless us with good government because we don't deserve it. Those who think that divine grace is accorded without regard to conduct won't find this conclusion satisfying, but perhaps they will at least acknowledge that the elected are not necessarily the Elect. The Chosen People need not be those we chose to do these things.
Friday, September 27, 2013
The Dread of the Real
We're all fairly familiar with this dread, aren't we? If not from feeling the dread, then from being immersed in it through the pronouncements of various intellectuals, certain of the religious, and of course by undergoing what is called a liberal arts education, which mandates the reading of the works of various dread-full titans of the history of the West.
I'm reading a book by Robert Unger with the rather exclamatory title The Self Awakened: Pragmatism Unbound. I have a fondness for pragmatism the philosophy (I'm still awaiting the movie), as anyone deigning to read this blog knows. So, it seems, does Unger; but he also evidently believes it does not go far enough. Regrettably as far as I'm concerned, he does not reveal where it or humanity or philosophy in general should be going in the first parts of the book, but he makes very firm statements that it and we and philosophy are not going where they and we should. And, in pointing out why that is the case, he constantly refers to what he (or perhaps those of us who aren't going where we should--I'm not sure yet) feels is our plight as miserable, decaying, dying animals trapped in a universe beyond our comprehension.
Dread has a peculiar meaning in philosophy, or at least in some kinds of philosophy, being roughly the same as angst. It seems a kind of glorified fear, a fear which some claim is even useful in an unusual manner. I use it here in a broader and more common sense, which certainly may involve fear but would also include loathing and disgust, even contempt and disdain, directed of course sometimes with alacrity at us, our fellows and the universe in general.
Am I alone in thinking that the tendency to indulge in describing, explicating, bemoaning and expounding on this "plight" is tiresome and futile? It's been going on for centuries, obviously to nobody's gain--indeed, the very idea of gain may be unimaginable if not intolerable to those who feel we exist in a foul, incomprehensible world without meaning or purpose. I especially am interested by those who are called or call themselves "anitnatalists" who are apparently persons who take advantage of the fact that they live and think and experience to contend that it is inappropriate for us to give birth, thereby causing the creation of others who will live and think and experience as they do. Inappropriate because, of course, the world is foul, incomprehensible and without meaning or purpose.
When we think of this tendency towards dread of the world we naturally think of the "usual suspects", dismal purveyors of misery and angst such as Kierkegaard (speaking of fear), Schopenhauer, Sartre and their many equally if not more miserable and angst-filled followers. But the belief that the world is inferior or a source of evil and our brief lives a chore if not worse has been around a long time. Jolly old Plato, of course, thought little of the world and even less of humanity. Even Marcus Aurelius wrote of the world and we humans as being of little worth, now and then; whether this indicates his real feelings or thoughts written in his darker moments or as a kind of exercise is unknown. The Stoic view that God is immanent in nature would seem to preclude the kind of disdain for it we find in Plato, or the odd despair over it which seems a feature of modern times.
But of course we humans really came to disdain the world in toto and even with gusto upon the advent, as it were, of Christianity. For this we probably have to thank St. Paul, primarily. Now there was a man who dreaded, and indeed hated, the world and all that's in it! It's curious, though, that this dread of the real in the West, at least, is not limited to Christians, but may be even more evident in intellectuals who have renounced Christianity. I'm not sure if this is a result of the fact that philosophy, like politics, makes strange bedfellows or the fact that misery loves company.
Assuming the world is pointless and hideous, and we if not hideous are at least pointless, though, why take the trouble to point out that this is the case, and pronounce upon it in hideous detail? Perhaps we have here a even more striking example of the fact that misery loves company. Does this represent an instance where the miserable among us are engaged in a relentless quest to make certain that others are miserable as well? Or is it simply that many of us are whiners and many of us for some reason enjoy hearing others whine?
Why not, at the least, make efforts to lessen the misery; our own and those of others? That would seem to be the intelligent response to misery, whether it is real or imagined.
I'm reading a book by Robert Unger with the rather exclamatory title The Self Awakened: Pragmatism Unbound. I have a fondness for pragmatism the philosophy (I'm still awaiting the movie), as anyone deigning to read this blog knows. So, it seems, does Unger; but he also evidently believes it does not go far enough. Regrettably as far as I'm concerned, he does not reveal where it or humanity or philosophy in general should be going in the first parts of the book, but he makes very firm statements that it and we and philosophy are not going where they and we should. And, in pointing out why that is the case, he constantly refers to what he (or perhaps those of us who aren't going where we should--I'm not sure yet) feels is our plight as miserable, decaying, dying animals trapped in a universe beyond our comprehension.
Dread has a peculiar meaning in philosophy, or at least in some kinds of philosophy, being roughly the same as angst. It seems a kind of glorified fear, a fear which some claim is even useful in an unusual manner. I use it here in a broader and more common sense, which certainly may involve fear but would also include loathing and disgust, even contempt and disdain, directed of course sometimes with alacrity at us, our fellows and the universe in general.
Am I alone in thinking that the tendency to indulge in describing, explicating, bemoaning and expounding on this "plight" is tiresome and futile? It's been going on for centuries, obviously to nobody's gain--indeed, the very idea of gain may be unimaginable if not intolerable to those who feel we exist in a foul, incomprehensible world without meaning or purpose. I especially am interested by those who are called or call themselves "anitnatalists" who are apparently persons who take advantage of the fact that they live and think and experience to contend that it is inappropriate for us to give birth, thereby causing the creation of others who will live and think and experience as they do. Inappropriate because, of course, the world is foul, incomprehensible and without meaning or purpose.
When we think of this tendency towards dread of the world we naturally think of the "usual suspects", dismal purveyors of misery and angst such as Kierkegaard (speaking of fear), Schopenhauer, Sartre and their many equally if not more miserable and angst-filled followers. But the belief that the world is inferior or a source of evil and our brief lives a chore if not worse has been around a long time. Jolly old Plato, of course, thought little of the world and even less of humanity. Even Marcus Aurelius wrote of the world and we humans as being of little worth, now and then; whether this indicates his real feelings or thoughts written in his darker moments or as a kind of exercise is unknown. The Stoic view that God is immanent in nature would seem to preclude the kind of disdain for it we find in Plato, or the odd despair over it which seems a feature of modern times.
But of course we humans really came to disdain the world in toto and even with gusto upon the advent, as it were, of Christianity. For this we probably have to thank St. Paul, primarily. Now there was a man who dreaded, and indeed hated, the world and all that's in it! It's curious, though, that this dread of the real in the West, at least, is not limited to Christians, but may be even more evident in intellectuals who have renounced Christianity. I'm not sure if this is a result of the fact that philosophy, like politics, makes strange bedfellows or the fact that misery loves company.
Assuming the world is pointless and hideous, and we if not hideous are at least pointless, though, why take the trouble to point out that this is the case, and pronounce upon it in hideous detail? Perhaps we have here a even more striking example of the fact that misery loves company. Does this represent an instance where the miserable among us are engaged in a relentless quest to make certain that others are miserable as well? Or is it simply that many of us are whiners and many of us for some reason enjoy hearing others whine?
Why not, at the least, make efforts to lessen the misery; our own and those of others? That would seem to be the intelligent response to misery, whether it is real or imagined.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Of Gods and Men
I ponder now and then the development of Christianity, which took place during the years the Roman Empire dominated most of Europe and the Mediterranean. I find fascinating the manner in which it also became dominant, and ascribe that in part to its remarkable assimilation of pagan religion and philosophy.
But I'm puzzled that in doing so it in turn became dominated by the doctrine of the Trinity. That seems to me a unique characteristic of the faith as it exists now, although it has not always been so.
There were many sons of gods wandering about in the first few centuries of what we now call the Common Era, being apparently uncomfortable with A.D. as a peculiarly Christian phrase. And there were gods who, like Christ, died for our salvation and were resurrected. Those other sons of gods, though, were considered human or semi-divine. Those gods were gods.
Christ for some reason is believed to have been while present on Earth both God and man, and indeed fully God and fully man. And, while he is indeed claimed to be the Son of God, he is also God the Father and the Holy Spirit or Ghost, who are also the Son of God, but are also, all of them one God.
If this seems to you a problem, it was also a problem during Christianity's development. Many thought Christ was divine but subordinate to the Father, a kind of sub-god, created by the Father. Some thought he was not always a god but became one. Some thought he was not a god, but despite that fact unique and extremely significant.
Unfortunately, because Christianity in most of its forms was exclusive and intolerant, the various kinds of Christians spent a great deal of time persecuting and even killing one another. Those who believed the Son to be one in Being with the Father, i.e. of the same substance and therefore in no respect subordinate, faced the problem that the Scriptures tended to indicate otherwise. Jesus in the gospels often seems to distinguish himself from the Father, and sometimes appears to claim that the Father knows something he doesn't know. I don't think anyone knew just what the Holy Spirit was supposed to be, really. Descriptions are quite vague. But for the fact he or it is God, we know very little. The Holy Spirit is a very nebulous God; one has to wonder why it is God at all.
Christianity's pagan predecessor religions avoided this confusion. The issue for them did not arise. And it seems early Christians didn't maintain that this was so because the pagan gods were imaginary or mere men. Instead, they thought them demons.
Constantine is generally credited with having made Christianity the religion of the Roman state, and it's claimed by some the doctrine of the Trinity was established and the condemnation of Arius and his followers (who felt Jesus was not of the same substance as the Father) was completed during his reign. But Constantine was rather eclectic and opportunistic when it came to religion. So were others of the time. We read of some individuals who kept statutes of Jesus, Asclepius, Apollo and others in their homes (there is something wonderfully Roman about this; a very practical people would have been careful to placate a variety of gods, keeping them all happy). He held a great Council of the Church, but there were many, many councils still to come, some of them not having imperial sanction. Constantine doesn't seem to have been concerned to impose Christianity or a particular kind of Christianity on the Empire. That came later.
Probably Theodosius was the emperor who began the imposition of the brand of Christianity we know best today, banning all others, also banning pagan worship and closing the schools of philosophy that were still active. The year in which the Western Empire disintegrated is traditionally considered to have been about 100 years later. The Eastern Empire lived on.
Augustine wrote of the Trinity, in Latin, and so is considered the great authority on the Trinity in Western Christianity, but some of the Fathers of the Eastern Church had written of it as well. They did so in Greek, though, which apparently Augustine could not read. We probably have Augustine and the decline of those would could read Greek to "thank" in great part for what we here in the West consider Christianity today. Augustine liked Paul, unfortunately, and Paul's grim view of the world and even grimmer view of sex was passed on to the Roman Church along with other things through Augustine.
Why was it so significant that Christ be one in Being with the Father? Why did that view win out, necessitating the creation of the convoluted, inexplicable Trinity? It would seem that the view that Christ, if he was a god, was a subordinate one would have made things far easier to explain and accept. Was it the fact that the emperors eventually accepted this view that made it dominant?
It must have been considered by some, at least, of great importance that Jesus be God and not "merely" the Son of God. But this required an explanation of his human existence. How could God be human without being diminished? That wouldn't be at all satisfactory. So, it had to be the case that he was both human and God, and also both Son and Father, regardless of the fact that this would seem impossible or nonsense.
But I'm puzzled that in doing so it in turn became dominated by the doctrine of the Trinity. That seems to me a unique characteristic of the faith as it exists now, although it has not always been so.
There were many sons of gods wandering about in the first few centuries of what we now call the Common Era, being apparently uncomfortable with A.D. as a peculiarly Christian phrase. And there were gods who, like Christ, died for our salvation and were resurrected. Those other sons of gods, though, were considered human or semi-divine. Those gods were gods.
Christ for some reason is believed to have been while present on Earth both God and man, and indeed fully God and fully man. And, while he is indeed claimed to be the Son of God, he is also God the Father and the Holy Spirit or Ghost, who are also the Son of God, but are also, all of them one God.
If this seems to you a problem, it was also a problem during Christianity's development. Many thought Christ was divine but subordinate to the Father, a kind of sub-god, created by the Father. Some thought he was not always a god but became one. Some thought he was not a god, but despite that fact unique and extremely significant.
Unfortunately, because Christianity in most of its forms was exclusive and intolerant, the various kinds of Christians spent a great deal of time persecuting and even killing one another. Those who believed the Son to be one in Being with the Father, i.e. of the same substance and therefore in no respect subordinate, faced the problem that the Scriptures tended to indicate otherwise. Jesus in the gospels often seems to distinguish himself from the Father, and sometimes appears to claim that the Father knows something he doesn't know. I don't think anyone knew just what the Holy Spirit was supposed to be, really. Descriptions are quite vague. But for the fact he or it is God, we know very little. The Holy Spirit is a very nebulous God; one has to wonder why it is God at all.
Christianity's pagan predecessor religions avoided this confusion. The issue for them did not arise. And it seems early Christians didn't maintain that this was so because the pagan gods were imaginary or mere men. Instead, they thought them demons.
Constantine is generally credited with having made Christianity the religion of the Roman state, and it's claimed by some the doctrine of the Trinity was established and the condemnation of Arius and his followers (who felt Jesus was not of the same substance as the Father) was completed during his reign. But Constantine was rather eclectic and opportunistic when it came to religion. So were others of the time. We read of some individuals who kept statutes of Jesus, Asclepius, Apollo and others in their homes (there is something wonderfully Roman about this; a very practical people would have been careful to placate a variety of gods, keeping them all happy). He held a great Council of the Church, but there were many, many councils still to come, some of them not having imperial sanction. Constantine doesn't seem to have been concerned to impose Christianity or a particular kind of Christianity on the Empire. That came later.
Probably Theodosius was the emperor who began the imposition of the brand of Christianity we know best today, banning all others, also banning pagan worship and closing the schools of philosophy that were still active. The year in which the Western Empire disintegrated is traditionally considered to have been about 100 years later. The Eastern Empire lived on.
Augustine wrote of the Trinity, in Latin, and so is considered the great authority on the Trinity in Western Christianity, but some of the Fathers of the Eastern Church had written of it as well. They did so in Greek, though, which apparently Augustine could not read. We probably have Augustine and the decline of those would could read Greek to "thank" in great part for what we here in the West consider Christianity today. Augustine liked Paul, unfortunately, and Paul's grim view of the world and even grimmer view of sex was passed on to the Roman Church along with other things through Augustine.
Why was it so significant that Christ be one in Being with the Father? Why did that view win out, necessitating the creation of the convoluted, inexplicable Trinity? It would seem that the view that Christ, if he was a god, was a subordinate one would have made things far easier to explain and accept. Was it the fact that the emperors eventually accepted this view that made it dominant?
It must have been considered by some, at least, of great importance that Jesus be God and not "merely" the Son of God. But this required an explanation of his human existence. How could God be human without being diminished? That wouldn't be at all satisfactory. So, it had to be the case that he was both human and God, and also both Son and Father, regardless of the fact that this would seem impossible or nonsense.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)