Patristic Spirituality: The subject of this week's class was Evagrios Pontikos, an ascetical writer from the late 4th century AD. Each week a student or two gives a presentation on the readings assigned, and I chose this week. The presentation could have gone better, but wasn't awful. I've learned I'm not a great extemporaneous speaker, and do much better when I have a prepared text before me. I tried to speak from an outline during this presentation, and I think it showed. Nevermind that, though. Evagrios wrote several works on the spiritual life and the path of progression to greater union with the Holy Trinity through focusing the intellect, calming the passions, and battling demonic temptations. Lots of your typical "deny the body to free the mind for contemplation" stuff--BUT the only reason it seems "typical" to us today is because Evagrios had HUGE influence on the history of Christian thought via his student John Cassian, who went into the Western Roman Empire and started founding monasteries; he, in turn, was a big influence on some guy named St. Benedict (you may have heard of him), whose rule for monastic life became an early standard for others to follow. We'll talk more about Evagrios this week in class.
Medieval Philosophy: There was no class on Monday due to the holiday. (Presidents' Day is a slap in the face, by the way; it used to be we had two separate federal holidays for the birthdays of Washington and Lincoln, and now we only get one with the ambiguous name "Presidents' Day." Is that supposed to include all the presidents? Really, are we taking time to commemorate the likes of William Henry Harrison, Franklin Pierce, and Chester A. Arthur?) Anyway... on Thursday we had a "discussion day" in which we compared various aspects of St. Augustine's De Magistro (On the Teacher) and Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy. There was a divide in the class as to who we thought had the more tightly constructed argument; it seems an unfair comparison, though, since Augustine was making one long argument, while Boethius made several short ones. Still, there was something about Boethius' I liked better. It had the clarity of the scholastic method about it. *Note: I will soon make a post describing the scholastic method in greater detail, so you'll know what the heck I'm talking about. (Actually, I wrote in my book "proto-Scholastic" as I read it, only to have our professor use that very phrase the next day in class!) This week we'll be discussing St. Anselm of Canterbury and Peter Abelard... or Peter Lombard... one of those Peters... it sometimes seems like the Middle Ages only had, like, eight names. Everyone's named Hugh or Peter or Thomas or John or something.
Philosophical Anthropology: Aristotle had a very helpful concept for relating the functions of the various powers of the soul. Sense knowledge gathers data from the outside world. The "common sense" (not meant as "practical know-how") relates the senses together and distinguishes them. The imagination acts as a storehouse for sense data. The cogitative or estimative sense allows us to intuit whether those things we sense are beneficial or harmful to us. And the memory allows us to store perceptions or conclusions of the estimative sense and retrieve particular ones. See how they all work together?
Metaphysics: "Quiddity" is one of my new favorite words. Especially because it's defined as "the thing-ness of a thing." Come on, that's just plain fun. Who said you can't have fun doing philosophy? Next week's post on this class will be more detailed, as I'll explain the principle of non-contradiction. Unless I forget to.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The Week in Review: Keepin' it Classy
Nothing of much note to share with you from this week, apart from class-related items, so we'll get to it:
Medieval Philosophy: This week we read some excerpts from works by one Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, commonly known to history simply as Boethius. He lived in the late 5th-early 6th centuries AD, and is sometimes called "the last of the antique men"; that is, he was what one might call the last true Roman. He grew up in an aristocratic family, and was appointed to high offices by Theoderic, the Visigothic general who had de facto control over Italy. He did something to fall out of favor, though, and was imprisoned for treason. He spent a year in jail before being executed, but during that time wrote what was to be a lasting work in the history of Western thought: The Consolation of Philosophy. This is a dialogue in which Boethius and "Lady Philosophy" investigate a number of philosophical questions. His method, in which he considers objections to a position, lays out his own answer, then responds to the objections, became the standard for the "school men" or scholastics of the Middle Ages. He's quoted quite often as an authority by St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa Theologica. And Boethius' translations of Greek philosophical terms into Latin became definitive. And he writes beautifully. Always nice when your assignments are a pleasure to read.
Philosophical Anthropology: We tend to think of human beings as the only things possessing souls, but Aristotle (and St. Thomas) took a different position. They used the term more broadly for the that principle which gives life to any material living thing; and different kinds of things have different kinds of souls, depending on the powers that sort of thing has. For example, a vegetative soul allows a thing to take nourishment, grow, and reproduce; so a tree has a vegetative soul. A sensitive soul would add movement and sensation to the powers of the vegetative soul; thus, a dog has a sensitive soul. A rational soul would add intellect to the powers of the sensitive soul; thus, humans have rational souls. Thomas was also clear that only humans have immortal souls, since eternal life would not perfect the powers of the vegetative or sensitive souls--one needs not the opportunity to contemplate God eternally if one has not the power of contemplation.
Metaphysics: When the subject matter of your class is defined as "everything that really exists," you start to wonder "How on earth are we going to cover this in 4 months?"
Patristic Spirituality: More Origen this week. We read excerpts from his De Principiis (On First Principles) dealing with his kooky cosmology and his theories on Scriptural interpretation. The latter was much more sensible than the former; and anyone who ever talks about the "spiritual sense" of Scripture owes a big debt to Origen. But his speculations about the nature of the universe got him into trouble later. Trying to fit Christian theology into his Platonist philosophy, he theorized that in the beginning God created all the intelligent beings that would ever exist, and they existed in a state of contemplation of God; but they got bored or lazy and turned away from God. The ones that fell the least became angels, the ones that fell the most became demons, and the ones in the middle were given material form and became human beings. This ain't kosher with Catholic theology, and it got his ideas condemned at an ecumenical council. But he had the whole Scripture thing going for him... which is nice.
Medieval Philosophy: This week we read some excerpts from works by one Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, commonly known to history simply as Boethius. He lived in the late 5th-early 6th centuries AD, and is sometimes called "the last of the antique men"; that is, he was what one might call the last true Roman. He grew up in an aristocratic family, and was appointed to high offices by Theoderic, the Visigothic general who had de facto control over Italy. He did something to fall out of favor, though, and was imprisoned for treason. He spent a year in jail before being executed, but during that time wrote what was to be a lasting work in the history of Western thought: The Consolation of Philosophy. This is a dialogue in which Boethius and "Lady Philosophy" investigate a number of philosophical questions. His method, in which he considers objections to a position, lays out his own answer, then responds to the objections, became the standard for the "school men" or scholastics of the Middle Ages. He's quoted quite often as an authority by St. Thomas Aquinas in his Summa Theologica. And Boethius' translations of Greek philosophical terms into Latin became definitive. And he writes beautifully. Always nice when your assignments are a pleasure to read.
Philosophical Anthropology: We tend to think of human beings as the only things possessing souls, but Aristotle (and St. Thomas) took a different position. They used the term more broadly for the that principle which gives life to any material living thing; and different kinds of things have different kinds of souls, depending on the powers that sort of thing has. For example, a vegetative soul allows a thing to take nourishment, grow, and reproduce; so a tree has a vegetative soul. A sensitive soul would add movement and sensation to the powers of the vegetative soul; thus, a dog has a sensitive soul. A rational soul would add intellect to the powers of the sensitive soul; thus, humans have rational souls. Thomas was also clear that only humans have immortal souls, since eternal life would not perfect the powers of the vegetative or sensitive souls--one needs not the opportunity to contemplate God eternally if one has not the power of contemplation.
Metaphysics: When the subject matter of your class is defined as "everything that really exists," you start to wonder "How on earth are we going to cover this in 4 months?"
Patristic Spirituality: More Origen this week. We read excerpts from his De Principiis (On First Principles) dealing with his kooky cosmology and his theories on Scriptural interpretation. The latter was much more sensible than the former; and anyone who ever talks about the "spiritual sense" of Scripture owes a big debt to Origen. But his speculations about the nature of the universe got him into trouble later. Trying to fit Christian theology into his Platonist philosophy, he theorized that in the beginning God created all the intelligent beings that would ever exist, and they existed in a state of contemplation of God; but they got bored or lazy and turned away from God. The ones that fell the least became angels, the ones that fell the most became demons, and the ones in the middle were given material form and became human beings. This ain't kosher with Catholic theology, and it got his ideas condemned at an ecumenical council. But he had the whole Scripture thing going for him... which is nice.
Monday, February 11, 2013
The Week in Review: Farewell Papa Benny
Before turning to a look at the week that was, let me first offer my prayers for our Holy Father, Pope Benedict, who this morning announced his abdication of the Chair of Peter, effective February 28. This was a huge surprise and a highly unusual move (the first time in nearly 600 years a pope has resigned), but it seems the pope feels he no longer has the strength to lead the Church. This saddens me greatly. I admire and respect this man as much as any person on this earth. His pontificate was a great gift to the Church, and he showed himself to be an outstanding teacher and pastor of souls, a man of humility, gentleness, and quiet strength and resolve. May God bless him in his remaining years.
Let us pray, too, for the papal election which will happen in a few weeks. May God grant us the right man for the job!
(One side note: you may have seen various news reports disagreeing on when was the last time a pope resigned his office. The earlier date cited, in the 1200s, was that of Pope Celestine V, who stepped down due to his advanced age, and perhaps his lack of desire to be pope in the first place. The later date, in the 1400s, was that of Pope Gregory XII, who resigned in the midst of the Great Western Schism, when three men were claiming to be pope simultaneously; all three men resigned, and a new pope was elected that all factions agreed to recognize. I'm not sure why some news agencies aren't citing the latter example--perhaps they look at that turbulent time in Church history and aren't sure what to make of it. Anyway, the later date is the correct one, so far as I know.)
Now, to much more mundane affairs....
My prediction of a schola brevis for the first meeting of Philosophical Anthropology was proved accurate. I used the additional time, as well as most of the rest of the day, to do some reading for classes later in the week.
Yeah, Monday and Tuesday pretty much consisted of some combination of class-read-eat-read-sleep-class-read-eat-read-sleep-repeat. Busy, but just the sort of busy I want to be!
Wednesday added a little curve ball of a few hours of work instead of class, but the rest of the day was much the same as the previous two.
Thursdays will be LONG this semester: I start class at 8:10am, and don't finish for the day until 9:00pm. Oh, there are some breaks in there, but they're going to be marathons. This last Thursday proved no exception, with some interesting highlights:
-- In the first meeting of our Metaphysics class, we were introduced to Dr. Marga Vega, a diminutive philosopher from Spain with a kind demeanor and a three-month old baby. (Said baby was not present in class, adorable as that would have been.) This is going to be a heady course, but a good one, I think.
-- A classmate and I took part of the afternoon to grab a coffee and talk about his journey toward the Catholic faith. After discussing his sensitivities toward his non-Catholic family, he said to me: "All right, so: Mary. Just tell me your thoughts about Mary, without trying to answer any objections or anything like that." I said that Mary is the first and greatest disciple of Jesus Christ, whose last words in Scripture are "Do whatever he tells you"; that the relationship between a mother and child is the closest and most significant of all human relationships, so that the relationship between God Incarnate and His mother can't be something merely peripheral; and that Mary always leads us to Christ. This echoed things he had read elsewhere, and I think he found it helpful to have them reinforced by a real live person. I hope to have more conversations of this sort in future.
-- The evening saw the first meeting of our Patristic Spirituality class, led by Dr. Thomas Cattoi, a seemingly omniscient Italian who plucks quotes by everyone from Hans Urs von Balthasar to Theo the Studite out of thin air. He even knew of this very webpage! After I gave my little spiel at the beginning of class, answering my name, my school, etc., Dr. Cattoi added, "...and he has a blog." Apparently I turned a highly luminescent shade of red, and the fellow next to me said, "I believe that's known as a bust." Nice (and a bit intimidating) to know we may have a Ph.D. perusing these pages on occasion.
Saturday evening I joined a view friends for a viewing of the sci-fi classic Alien, which turned out to be much better than I remembered. Good thrills, good pacing, good dialogue, good twists here and there. Our one friend who had never seen the film before responded to the iconic "alien birth" scene by bursting out laughing--not the reaction I expected. Just remember: if you ever are on an alien planetoid and come across some leathery-looking eggs, DON'T NOT put your face in close proximity to them unless you want a squidy thing attaching itself to your mug.
Highlights from classes:
Medieval Philosophy: We've begun the course by discussing St. Augustine of Hippo, particularly his influence on philosophy. He lived in a time (350-420 AD) when there was no clear distinction between philosophy and theology; thus, no one would call it "irrational" when he asserted that human beings gain knowledge by being taught by the "inner teacher," that is, God. Augustine's thought on everything from the grace to the relationship between church and state would go on to be hugely influential on medieval philosophers and theologians. Our professor told us today (paraphrase): "Ancient philosophy effectively ends with Augustine." So, yeah. Kind of a big deal.
Philosophical Anthropology: In our first meeting, the professor set the agenda for the course by presenting us with a series of questions: What is the human being? What is the relation between soul and body? Do human beings have free will? He concluded with a wry smile, saying, "We'll answer these next time."
Metaphysics: Not much to report here yet, as the one class meeting was pretty much introductions and "housekeeping" items.
Patristic Spirituality: We discussed the 3rd century author Origen, who had some pretty unorthodox ideas on some things (e.g. pre-existence of souls, matter as a form of corruption, etc.), but whose work as a biblical commentator and exegete was hugely influential. He asserted that Christ was present in the Old Testament as well as the New, but in types and "shadows," pre-figurations. You'd be hard-pressed to find a Scripture commentary that didn't employ this sort of language. So, yeah. Also a big deal.
Let us pray, too, for the papal election which will happen in a few weeks. May God grant us the right man for the job!
(One side note: you may have seen various news reports disagreeing on when was the last time a pope resigned his office. The earlier date cited, in the 1200s, was that of Pope Celestine V, who stepped down due to his advanced age, and perhaps his lack of desire to be pope in the first place. The later date, in the 1400s, was that of Pope Gregory XII, who resigned in the midst of the Great Western Schism, when three men were claiming to be pope simultaneously; all three men resigned, and a new pope was elected that all factions agreed to recognize. I'm not sure why some news agencies aren't citing the latter example--perhaps they look at that turbulent time in Church history and aren't sure what to make of it. Anyway, the later date is the correct one, so far as I know.)
Now, to much more mundane affairs....
My prediction of a schola brevis for the first meeting of Philosophical Anthropology was proved accurate. I used the additional time, as well as most of the rest of the day, to do some reading for classes later in the week.
Yeah, Monday and Tuesday pretty much consisted of some combination of class-read-eat-read-sleep-class-read-eat-read-sleep-repeat. Busy, but just the sort of busy I want to be!
Wednesday added a little curve ball of a few hours of work instead of class, but the rest of the day was much the same as the previous two.
Thursdays will be LONG this semester: I start class at 8:10am, and don't finish for the day until 9:00pm. Oh, there are some breaks in there, but they're going to be marathons. This last Thursday proved no exception, with some interesting highlights:
-- In the first meeting of our Metaphysics class, we were introduced to Dr. Marga Vega, a diminutive philosopher from Spain with a kind demeanor and a three-month old baby. (Said baby was not present in class, adorable as that would have been.) This is going to be a heady course, but a good one, I think.
-- A classmate and I took part of the afternoon to grab a coffee and talk about his journey toward the Catholic faith. After discussing his sensitivities toward his non-Catholic family, he said to me: "All right, so: Mary. Just tell me your thoughts about Mary, without trying to answer any objections or anything like that." I said that Mary is the first and greatest disciple of Jesus Christ, whose last words in Scripture are "Do whatever he tells you"; that the relationship between a mother and child is the closest and most significant of all human relationships, so that the relationship between God Incarnate and His mother can't be something merely peripheral; and that Mary always leads us to Christ. This echoed things he had read elsewhere, and I think he found it helpful to have them reinforced by a real live person. I hope to have more conversations of this sort in future.
-- The evening saw the first meeting of our Patristic Spirituality class, led by Dr. Thomas Cattoi, a seemingly omniscient Italian who plucks quotes by everyone from Hans Urs von Balthasar to Theo the Studite out of thin air. He even knew of this very webpage! After I gave my little spiel at the beginning of class, answering my name, my school, etc., Dr. Cattoi added, "...and he has a blog." Apparently I turned a highly luminescent shade of red, and the fellow next to me said, "I believe that's known as a bust." Nice (and a bit intimidating) to know we may have a Ph.D. perusing these pages on occasion.
Saturday evening I joined a view friends for a viewing of the sci-fi classic Alien, which turned out to be much better than I remembered. Good thrills, good pacing, good dialogue, good twists here and there. Our one friend who had never seen the film before responded to the iconic "alien birth" scene by bursting out laughing--not the reaction I expected. Just remember: if you ever are on an alien planetoid and come across some leathery-looking eggs, DON'T NOT put your face in close proximity to them unless you want a squidy thing attaching itself to your mug.
Highlights from classes:
Medieval Philosophy: We've begun the course by discussing St. Augustine of Hippo, particularly his influence on philosophy. He lived in a time (350-420 AD) when there was no clear distinction between philosophy and theology; thus, no one would call it "irrational" when he asserted that human beings gain knowledge by being taught by the "inner teacher," that is, God. Augustine's thought on everything from the grace to the relationship between church and state would go on to be hugely influential on medieval philosophers and theologians. Our professor told us today (paraphrase): "Ancient philosophy effectively ends with Augustine." So, yeah. Kind of a big deal.
Philosophical Anthropology: In our first meeting, the professor set the agenda for the course by presenting us with a series of questions: What is the human being? What is the relation between soul and body? Do human beings have free will? He concluded with a wry smile, saying, "We'll answer these next time."
Metaphysics: Not much to report here yet, as the one class meeting was pretty much introductions and "housekeeping" items.
Patristic Spirituality: We discussed the 3rd century author Origen, who had some pretty unorthodox ideas on some things (e.g. pre-existence of souls, matter as a form of corruption, etc.), but whose work as a biblical commentator and exegete was hugely influential. He asserted that Christ was present in the Old Testament as well as the New, but in types and "shadows," pre-figurations. You'd be hard-pressed to find a Scripture commentary that didn't employ this sort of language. So, yeah. Also a big deal.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Catching Up and the First Day of Class
Apologies to all of you both of you who were pining for a weekly update from me and didn't get one last week. Other than slicing off part of my thumb while working at the deli, I didn't think there was much to report. Come on, who among us can honestly say he hasn't mixed up his thumb and a salami before? Maybe that's why I liked to suck my thumb as a kid... hmm.... Anyway, it wasn't as bad as it first looked--it was just a flesh wound that took some skin and part of my nail, but it's so much fun to say to someone, "I slice off part of my thumb the other day."
This last week featured much less bloodshed and a bit more activity. The DSPT had a two-day event on the place of natural law rhetoric in American jurisprudence. If you're not sure exactly what that means, don't worry; the speakers didn't seem to quite know either. While we enjoyed some very controversial comments from Jean Porter of Notre Dame, some piquant observations from Russell Hittinger of Tulsa, and some trenchant thoughts from Lloyd Weinreb of Harvard, none of them explained particularly well what the natural law even is. They made many pleas to the "complexity of the tradition," etc., and said it was largely a framework for guiding further conversation, but didn't say much as to its content. I thought at first that I wasn't smart enough or well-versed enough to follow them, but several others had similar reactions to mine, making me think that it might possibly have been them, not me. Oh well. I suppose I can always read some St. Thomas and get a few answers.
Yesterday was the first day of classes for the semester. (Yes, it does start a bit late, but they make up for it by making the summer breaks shorter.) I described in a previous post the classes I'll be taking. Just one yesterday: Medieval Philosophy. (It's technically called "History of Philosophy: Medieval," but this is shorter.) It's being taught by Fr. Augustine Thompson, OP, who is an historian and a medievalist by trade; so not only is the subject material right up his alley, he owns the alley and the two adjacent buildings. And he gets so animated... it's going to be a great class.
Later today will be the first class meeting for Philosophical Anthropology, taught by Fr. Michael Dodds, OP. If Fr. Michael is true to form, today's class will be a schola brevis, or "short school," a tradition in the Dominican Order in which the first meeting for a class gives some basic introductory material and then adjourns early. That would be nice, since I've got a boatload of reading for my Patristic Spirituality class for Thursday... which I should probably get to now...
This last week featured much less bloodshed and a bit more activity. The DSPT had a two-day event on the place of natural law rhetoric in American jurisprudence. If you're not sure exactly what that means, don't worry; the speakers didn't seem to quite know either. While we enjoyed some very controversial comments from Jean Porter of Notre Dame, some piquant observations from Russell Hittinger of Tulsa, and some trenchant thoughts from Lloyd Weinreb of Harvard, none of them explained particularly well what the natural law even is. They made many pleas to the "complexity of the tradition," etc., and said it was largely a framework for guiding further conversation, but didn't say much as to its content. I thought at first that I wasn't smart enough or well-versed enough to follow them, but several others had similar reactions to mine, making me think that it might possibly have been them, not me. Oh well. I suppose I can always read some St. Thomas and get a few answers.
Yesterday was the first day of classes for the semester. (Yes, it does start a bit late, but they make up for it by making the summer breaks shorter.) I described in a previous post the classes I'll be taking. Just one yesterday: Medieval Philosophy. (It's technically called "History of Philosophy: Medieval," but this is shorter.) It's being taught by Fr. Augustine Thompson, OP, who is an historian and a medievalist by trade; so not only is the subject material right up his alley, he owns the alley and the two adjacent buildings. And he gets so animated... it's going to be a great class.
Later today will be the first class meeting for Philosophical Anthropology, taught by Fr. Michael Dodds, OP. If Fr. Michael is true to form, today's class will be a schola brevis, or "short school," a tradition in the Dominican Order in which the first meeting for a class gives some basic introductory material and then adjourns early. That would be nice, since I've got a boatload of reading for my Patristic Spirituality class for Thursday... which I should probably get to now...
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Q & A: New Picture
Hey Nick, what's with the new picture on the top of your blog?
The fact that they're from such an early time in the Church's history, and that they affirm so clearly so many things that Catholics affirm: the divinity of Christ; the Real Presence in the Eucharist; the three-fold hierarchical structure of bishop, priest, and deacon; they even contain the first reference to the "Catholic Church," when he writes: "Wherever the bishop appears, there let the people be; as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church." And in his letter to the church at Rome, he refers to the Roman church as "she who presides in love," which would seem to be a very strong and very early indicator of Roman primacy in the universal church. He also writes beautifully on his impending martyrdom, calling himself a grain of wheat that is to be ground up for Christ to serve as bread for others, the sort of sentiment that would later be echoed by Tertullian: "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church."
Not only for his witness to catholic and orthodox teaching, but for devotion to Christ and His Church, St. Ignatius of Antioch is a fine exemplar, not only for a theology student, but for all Christians. Seems like a good idea to have his picture on my virtual wall.
I thought the site could use a bit more visual flavor.
That's for sure. Seeing all that red made me feel like a bull facing a matador. What's this a picture of?
This is a stained glass window from St. Ignatius Martyr Catholic Church in Austin, Texas. The man depicted is the aforementioned St. Ignatius.
First: why do you have a picture from that parish?
Back in my seminary days, I spent a month at that parish, and thoroughly enjoyed my time there. Plus, it's a real perdy picture.
Fair enough. But why a picture of this guy on your blog?
Here at the DSPT, I'm concentrating on historical theology; I'd like to focus on the patristic period, the time of the Church Fathers. St. Ignatius of Antioch is one of the earliest and, in many ways, one of the most important of the Church Fathers. He's one of a few who are referred to as the "Apostolic Fathers," because of his connection with the apostles.
Why? What's his deal?
St. Ignatius was the bishop of Antioch around the end of the first century AD. He was the second successor of St. Peter the Apostle as head of the church in Antioch; one source even says that St. Peter himself appointed St. Ignatius as bishop of Antioch. And it's thought that St. Ignatius may have been a disciple of St. John the Evangelist. So... pretty good credentials there.
Wait, I thought Peter was head of the church in Rome.
He was. Antioch was his first gig.
I see. Go on.
St. Ignatius was arrested by the Romans and brought to Rome for execution around the year 100 AD. On his way, he wrote several letters to the churches in Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy, places like Philadelphia, Smyrna (addressed to his friend St. Polycarp, the bishop there), Ephesus, Magnesia, Trallia, and Rome.
What do we care about his letters? "Dear People of Magnesia, please send me some of that milk your so famous for." Big deal.
Think more like St. Paul's letters to the churches at Ephesus, Thessolonica, Philippi, etc. These letters were full of exhortations and teachings about the faith and about church life.
What makes them so important?
Not only for his witness to catholic and orthodox teaching, but for devotion to Christ and His Church, St. Ignatius of Antioch is a fine exemplar, not only for a theology student, but for all Christians. Seems like a good idea to have his picture on my virtual wall.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Spring Semester Classes
After a lengthy layoff, the spring semester begins on Monday. Here are the classes I'll be taking:
History of Philosophy: Medieval -- The riveting sequel to "History of Philosophy: Ancient," which I took last semester. This one's taught by Fr. Augustine Thompson, OP, who taught me in Aristotelian Logic. This course will cover the movement in the Western philosophical tradition from the classical and late antique world to Christendom and the "scholastic" system of philosophy which dominated in the 12th through 14th centuries. We'll also talk about parallel movements in Jewish and Muslim philosophy, especially those which impacted scholasticism. (After all, Western Europe recovered the texts of Plato and Aristotle largely thanks to the Muslim scholars who had preserved, studied, and commented on them. Just as St. Thomas shows his respect by referring to Aristotle simply as "The Philosopher" and St. Paul as "The Apostle," the Muslim philosopher Averroes is referred to by Aquinas as "The Commentator.") I've always appreciated medieval philosophy for its sound methodology, particularly its insistence on considering all sides of a question when answering it. I look forward to sharing more about this class with y'all.
Philosophical Anthropology -- The exciting follow-up to "Philosophy of Nature," also taught by Fr. Michael Dodds, OP. Where Philosophy of Nature gave us the Aristotelian-Thomistic account of change in the natural world, this course will give us the Aristotelian-Thomistic account of the human person. What's a person made of? What makes a human being a human being? We'll be using a lot of the same categories of form and matter, substance and accident, act and potency, that we did in the last class, I'm sure.
Metaphysics -- The very name of this class often sends chills down the spine. It can seem so intimidating: "the philosophy of being." What is the nature of being? What is the relationship between essence and existence? Not a few people would respond to these questions with a blank stare and a "Huh?" not even sure what the questions asks, let alone what the answer is. I'm hopeful that Dr. Marga Vega will help sort some of these things out.
Patristic Spirituality -- This class is being taught over at the Jesuit School of Theology, another school within the GTU. As much as we might like to poke fun at "The J" (as I'm sure they do us), I've heard nothing but good things about this professor, Dr. Thomas Cattoi. (You may perhaps remember his name: he was one of the presenters for the panel the school held last December on Pope Benedict's new book.) This class will focus on the spiritual theology of some of the Eastern church fathers (that is, important and influential clerics and theologians who lived in the first several centuries of the Church). In particular, we'll investigate the concept of "apotheosis," Greek for (very, VERY roughly) "becoming God-like." The goal, or end, or telos, or final cause of the Christian life is for the Christian to grow in relationship with God so that the Christian participates more and more fully in God's own life. The old patristic saying goes: "God became man so that man might become God"--not in a pantheistic, "raindrop absorbed in the ocean" kind of way, but in a participatory way. I sure hope I'll be able to explain it better as the semester goes on.
I am, as the kids say, totally stoked for these classes! Can't wait!
Thursday, January 24, 2013
The Right Tool for the Right Job
Picture a scene: a wooded glade on a warm spring day. Birds are chirping. Bunny rabbits are darting into the thicket. A family is there, having a picnic, Pop and his son playing a good ol' game of catch. The mood is cheerful, contented, and happy. And overlaid is this sound:
That doesn't quite fit, does it? Hearing that, you'd expect the Luftwaffe to fly over and starting bombing the place, or something equally unpleasant to happen. If it didn't, the scene wouldn't make sense.
***
Picture another scene: a dungeon, dark and dank. Prisoners in rags, unwashed, unshaved. A storm rages outside, complete with thunder and lightning. The mood is depressed, hopeless, and despairing. And overlaid is this sound:
That doesn't quite fit, does it? Hearing that, you'd expect the storm to break, and the sunlight to penetrate the barred window of the prison, and the jailer to enter and announce that all the prisoners have been pardoned. If it didn't, something would seem... wrong.
***
I use these examples to illustrate a truth of which we're all aware: certain types of music fit certain moods and situations. I don't know enough about musicology, psychology, or physiology to explain why this is, but I trust you all can recognize it as a bare fact and can accept it as such. We can recognize pieces as "sad," "happy," even "sassy" or "demented." TV and movie producers make use of this to accentuate their visual products with the appropriate sounds. A romantic scene will have music in a major key, slower, sweeping; if it's supposed to be a bittersweet love scene, it might move into a minor key, but still light in tone. A death scene will probably be in a minor key, perhaps moving a little faster, a little heavier in tone. In the two examples given at the top, the scenes described would be much better illustrated by swapping pieces. As they are now, the music doesn't fit the situation.
George Harrison once wrote that music adds another dimension to the words of a song. It's important, then, that it adds the right sort of dimension so that we don't lose the initial shape or texture of what we had at first. If it adds the wrong dimension, it's like trying to taking a two-dimensional square and add a third dimension to turn it into a sphere--you lose the original "squareness."
***
Picture one more scene: the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is taking place. The priest is leading the faithful to the Throne of Mercy and presenting the Father with the Sacrifice of Our Lord, that we may receive forgiveness for our sins, and that we may be renewed in our spiritual life by being fed with the true nourishment of the Body and Blood of Christ. Time and space are compressed, and we are brought to Calvary 2,000 years ago, and to the Heavenly Jerusalem at the end of days, all at the same time. This is an event of glory, splendor, solemnity, and reverence. So, I ask you, does this sound match?
Does this sound say "glory and splendor"?
Does this sound say "solemnity and reverence"?
The songs may or may not be aesthetically pleasing considered in themselves-- a debatable point, but not the one at hand. The words may (or may not) be loosely based on Scripture--also not the point at the moment. Just consider the event they are supposed to illustrate. Consider the moment they are to adorn. They don't match. The music doesn't fit the mood. Playing a song that sounds like it's from a Broadway musical during the Mass is like decorating your house with Christmas lights for the 4th of July.
The people who composed this music, and the people who play it at parishes, may very well be devout and holy servants who are simply trying to praise God with their musical abilities. I don't question their motives or their intentions. I do think their sensibilities are off. If this is what they think would properly illustrate the Mass, I have to wonder if they have a proper conception of what the Mass really is all about. If that's the case, I attribute no malice to them; most likely they've simply been ill-formed.
Music of this sort affects the Mass such that it makes it harder to perceive the Mass for what it is. Music that sounds like pop music makes the Mass feel like a form of entertainment instead of worship. Music that sounds banal makes the Mass seem commonplace, yawn-inducing. Music that's saccharine is giving our ears cotton candy instead of the real sonic sustenance that will nourish them.
I think a lot of people agree with these sentiments, consciously or unconsciously, and are voting with their voices, or rather protesting with their silence: they don't sing.
Attention music directors: there are loads and loads of hymns out there with uplifting words and beautiful music befitting the Sacred Liturgy. Please use them. Please play them. You might just find folks will sing along.
That doesn't quite fit, does it? Hearing that, you'd expect the Luftwaffe to fly over and starting bombing the place, or something equally unpleasant to happen. If it didn't, the scene wouldn't make sense.
***
Picture another scene: a dungeon, dark and dank. Prisoners in rags, unwashed, unshaved. A storm rages outside, complete with thunder and lightning. The mood is depressed, hopeless, and despairing. And overlaid is this sound:
That doesn't quite fit, does it? Hearing that, you'd expect the storm to break, and the sunlight to penetrate the barred window of the prison, and the jailer to enter and announce that all the prisoners have been pardoned. If it didn't, something would seem... wrong.
***
I use these examples to illustrate a truth of which we're all aware: certain types of music fit certain moods and situations. I don't know enough about musicology, psychology, or physiology to explain why this is, but I trust you all can recognize it as a bare fact and can accept it as such. We can recognize pieces as "sad," "happy," even "sassy" or "demented." TV and movie producers make use of this to accentuate their visual products with the appropriate sounds. A romantic scene will have music in a major key, slower, sweeping; if it's supposed to be a bittersweet love scene, it might move into a minor key, but still light in tone. A death scene will probably be in a minor key, perhaps moving a little faster, a little heavier in tone. In the two examples given at the top, the scenes described would be much better illustrated by swapping pieces. As they are now, the music doesn't fit the situation.
George Harrison once wrote that music adds another dimension to the words of a song. It's important, then, that it adds the right sort of dimension so that we don't lose the initial shape or texture of what we had at first. If it adds the wrong dimension, it's like trying to taking a two-dimensional square and add a third dimension to turn it into a sphere--you lose the original "squareness."
***
Picture one more scene: the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is taking place. The priest is leading the faithful to the Throne of Mercy and presenting the Father with the Sacrifice of Our Lord, that we may receive forgiveness for our sins, and that we may be renewed in our spiritual life by being fed with the true nourishment of the Body and Blood of Christ. Time and space are compressed, and we are brought to Calvary 2,000 years ago, and to the Heavenly Jerusalem at the end of days, all at the same time. This is an event of glory, splendor, solemnity, and reverence. So, I ask you, does this sound match?
Does this sound say "solemnity and reverence"?
The songs may or may not be aesthetically pleasing considered in themselves-- a debatable point, but not the one at hand. The words may (or may not) be loosely based on Scripture--also not the point at the moment. Just consider the event they are supposed to illustrate. Consider the moment they are to adorn. They don't match. The music doesn't fit the mood. Playing a song that sounds like it's from a Broadway musical during the Mass is like decorating your house with Christmas lights for the 4th of July.
The people who composed this music, and the people who play it at parishes, may very well be devout and holy servants who are simply trying to praise God with their musical abilities. I don't question their motives or their intentions. I do think their sensibilities are off. If this is what they think would properly illustrate the Mass, I have to wonder if they have a proper conception of what the Mass really is all about. If that's the case, I attribute no malice to them; most likely they've simply been ill-formed.
Music of this sort affects the Mass such that it makes it harder to perceive the Mass for what it is. Music that sounds like pop music makes the Mass feel like a form of entertainment instead of worship. Music that sounds banal makes the Mass seem commonplace, yawn-inducing. Music that's saccharine is giving our ears cotton candy instead of the real sonic sustenance that will nourish them.
I think a lot of people agree with these sentiments, consciously or unconsciously, and are voting with their voices, or rather protesting with their silence: they don't sing.
Attention music directors: there are loads and loads of hymns out there with uplifting words and beautiful music befitting the Sacred Liturgy. Please use them. Please play them. You might just find folks will sing along.
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