Graduate 125: 1 Corinthians 2:6-3:4

In 1 Corinthians 1:10-2:5, Paul sets about undercutting the motivation that drives people to factions. The Corinthian Christians have been placing their confidence in particular individuals or in associating themselves with particular individuals--Paul, Apollos, Cephas, even Christ. And the result is that they have become divided and quarrelsome. Paul reminds them that in Jesus Christ there is no need to advance oneself (or defend or protect oneself) by placing confidence in mere men or in any merely human resource. In fact, to take that route is just to follow after the pattern of this world's wisdom, which is contrary to God's wisdom. We need to place our trust and confidence and identity and security in Jesus Christ alone.

Now, having set up this juxtaposition between the wisdom of the world and the wisdom of God--having rejected the wisdom of the world and preoccupation with it, it is particularly interesting that Paul should continue with this next statement:

"Yet we do speak wisdom among those who are mature; a wisdom, however, not of this age, nor of the rulers of this age, who are passing away; but we speak God's wisdom in a mystery, the hidden wisdom, which God predestined before the ages to our glory;" (2:6-7)

At first glance, this appears to be a step backwards rather than forwards. Corinth, being a very cosmopolitan place--a center of trade and of the exchange of ideas--, is full of people who profess to have and to teach wisdom. In the last section, Paul speaks of the Greeks' quest for wisdom. (1:22) Part of the Corinthian Christians' problem just is that they are seeking to acquire wisdom--wisdom of a sort that they can then flaunt, hold over other people's heads, and use as a mark of status. Paul has just been undercutting that misguided pursuit. So for him then to 'concede' that there is a wisdom that is spoken among the mature seems, at first, to open the door to that very pursuit that he condemned just a moment ago.

One can imagine the ears of the Corinthian Christians perking up as they listen to this letter being read in their church. For a while they may have been shamed by Paul's rebuke, but now Paul seems to be moving in exactly the direction that they want him to go. Those who have claimed to be wise are gearing up to weigh and evaluate this new wisdom. Those who have never been considered wise are wondering if they will understand; if only they can grasp it, then they will be "wise" as well. Anticipation is high as Paul begins to tell them about the wisdom that is spoken only "among those who are mature." But what does Paul say about this wisdom? He says only that it is "not of this age, nor of the rulers of this age". He says that it is contained in "a mystery", that it is "hidden" and that it is was prepared for Christians by God. Of course these are all tantalizing details, but they don't tell us what exactly the wisdom is. Paul goes on to describe:

"the wisdom which none of the rulers of this age has understood; for if they had understood it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory; but just as it is written, 'Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, and which have not entered the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him.' " (2:8-9)

That's it. That's the description. Are you disappointed? Here Paul seemed to be gearing up to tell us about the secret, hidden wisdom of God and all he does is tell us that it consists in things which eye has not seen, ear has not heard, and which have not entered the heart of man. What a let-down.

Now different commentators have speculated on what exactly is being referred to by this 'wisdom from God'. [1] Their interpretations tend to turn on how they read Paul's reference to the 'mature.' Some take this "wisdom" to refer to the general revelation of Jesus Christ as savior (v. 8); others see a more eschatological emphasis (v.7); some look to the other letters of Paul, like Colossians (chs. 1-2) for clues to uncovering this mystery.

I will not focus on the exact character of the wisdom to which Paul refers in this passage. What I want to focus on is why Paul brings it up. He's not just giving the Corinthian Christians a lesson about the wisdom of God but he is making a very particular point. We can see this even more clearly if we adopt (if only provisionally) the reading of the text that I've offered above. Keep in mind the Corinthians' desire to acquire knowledge and wisdom as we read what Paul says next, beginning with yet another Reason Clause:

"For to us God revealed them [referring to the mysteries] through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches all things, even the depths of God. For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the spirit of the man, which is in him? Even so the thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God. Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things freely given to us by God, which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words." (2:10-13)

[For a brief comment on Reason Clauses, see the preceding entry.]

When the Corinthians thought about wisdom, they very likely thought of it in terms of some secret creed or set of secret truths. In some of the mystery cults, it might have taken the form of incantations or mantras. According to certain philosophers, it may have consisted in certain special abilities of discernment. In every case, the wisdom is human-centered and within the power of the people who wield it. This is where the contrast, between what the Corinthians may have been expecting and what actual godly wisdom consists in, begins. Paul makes clear that wisdom is revealed by the Spirit of God; but it is not just "revealed" in the sense that the Spirit tells us the wisdom of God. Something much deeper and more profound is involved.

Paul draws an analogy between the Spirit of God and the spirit of a man. The only one who knows a man's thoughts is that man's spirit. This we may accept as a commonplace. Of course our thoughts and attitudes and beliefs can be revealed by our actions (even inadvertent actions), but it still remains the case that the only one who really knows what a person is thinking is the person himself. And the only way for anyone else to know what that person is thinking is for him to disclose that voluntarily. Similarly, Paul says, "[T]he thoughts of God no one knows except the Spirit of God." But God does not reveal His thoughts just by telling them to us. He goes farther than that; He gives us His Spirit. This kind of revelation is far deeper and more affecting and life-transforming than could possibly be achieved "in words taught by human wisdom". [2]

That it is the Spirit Himself that we receive totally changes the dynamic of life that follows. Mere "words" of wisdom we can weigh and evaluate and consider and either accept or discard; not so with the Spirit of God. After all, what standard could we use to evaluate God's wisdom? Can we apply a human standard to the wisdom of God? Paul has already told us that the wisdom of God is foolishness to the world. Imagine the people in the Corinthian congregation who may have been gearing up to consider and judge Paul's purported wisdom; given the chance, they would have evaluated his claims by their own standards and certainly would have found them wanting. But Paul has not given them that chance and, in doing so, has shown them how their mindset and methodology are mistaken and misguided. He goes on to make this contrast more explicit in the following:

"But a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised. But he who is spiritual appraises all things, yet he himself is appraised by no man. For who has known the mind of the Lord, that he should instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ." (2:14-16)

This concludes Paul's description of the relationship between the wisdom of God and the revelation of the Spirit of God. Actually, his language would not be unfamiliar to those who were acquainted with the pagan philosophical systems that abounded in Corinth. But this is also the point where Paul completely turns the table on the Corinthian Christians. They have been chasing after wisdom. Unfortunately they have not been chasing after God's wisdom but the world's wisdom and have received the fruits of their efforts in the form of factions and divisions and quarrels. Throughout this passage Paul has been reminding them of where true wisdom comes from--that it comes from the Spirit and is spiritually discerned and cannot be appraised by the unspiritual or natural man. Finally he concludes this argument with this harsh rebuke of the Corinthian Christians:

"And I, brethren, could not speak to you as to spiritual men, but as to men of flesh, as to babes in Christ. I gave you milk to drink, not solid food; for you were not yet able to receive it. Indeed, even now you are not yet able, for you are still fleshly. For since there is jealousy and strife among you, are you not fleshly, and are you not walking like mere men? For when one says, "I am of Paul," and another, "I am of Apollos," are you not mere men?" (3:1-4)

Earlier Paul may have been taking jabs at the Corinthians by playing on their pursuit of wisdom (2:6-9) and expanding on the contrast between the spiritual and worldly (2:10-16) that he laid out in 1:10-2:5. Now he comes right out and tells them that they are unfit to receive the true wisdom that comes from God. These people who have boasted of their wisdom and quarreled with one another over their wisdom--Paul says quite plainly that not one of them is wise or fit to receive spiritual things.

In v.2 he refers back to a time when the Corinthians were not yet able to receive "solid food." That may have been when they first accepted Christ and were still young in their faith. Certainly there is nothing wrong with being immature, as such. But Paul goes on to say, "Indeed, even now you are not yet able," and that is the heart of his criticism. It's understandable that one is immature in one's faith when starting out. But the Corinthian church has been established for some time now, and they have not progressed and grown into maturity as they ought. Instead, they are still 'fleshly.' And what is the evidence of their fleshliness? The fact that they still have quarrels among themselves.

Do you see the irony? The Corinthians thought that they were wise, and because they thought they were wise, they quarreled amongst themselves. Now Paul comes along and says that the fact that they are still quarreling just is decisive evidence that they do not have wisdom.

Another interesting point to notice is how Paul's rebuke of the Corinthians in 3:1-4 contrasts with Paul's language in 2:10-16. Paul makes clear that wisdom comes only by the revelation of God. It is only by His Spirit that any man can come to grasp the mind and mysteries of God. But it is also within man's power to cut short that revelatory process. The natural man or the fleshly man can hinder or block God's revelation. This is important to keep in mind. Our attitudes and dispositions and character make a difference in our journey of growth toward maturity; we must not forget that.

Now some will worry about the descriptions offered in 2:14-16 and the portrayal of a God who seems to be, at least sometimes, inscrutable. What, after all, does it mean to be "spiritual"? It's hard to find a straightforward answer to that question. Moreover, if God is so beyond our ability to comprehend, then how can He expect us to follow Him. In a world where so many people, with different and conflicting messages, claim to speak for God; how can I know which way is God's way? Indeed, the very fact that there are so many conflicting messages, even within the Church, might be taken as evidence that there is no such thing as a "Spirit of God," for if there was such a Spirit, then the Church would be unified. And Paul, himself, seems to indicate that lack of unity is evidence of a lack of spiritual maturity. What are we to make of such a situation?

This is a difficult set of questions, indeed. Paul is, here, addressing a very specific church community and taking them to task on their particular failings. What general principles can we draw from this to apply to our contemporary situation? Certainly we should keep in mind Paul's desire and instruction in 1:10, "Now I exhort you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all agree, and there be no divisions among you, but you be made complete in the same mind and in the same judgment." But, of course, Paul does not have in mind, here, unity at any cost or unity at the expense of clear doctrine. Paul understands that Christ needs to be at the center of the church and that nothing less will do. He emphasizes that the Corinthians' preoccupation with worldly wisdom and worldly standards of success have hindered their spiritual walk and growth. At the very least, we too need to reflect on and evaluate the shape of our own lives.

To what extent have I bought into the value-systems of this world? Do my goals and aspirations reflect God's express will or my own desires? How confident am I that I am right? What is the source of that confidence? How does that confidence lead me to treat others? (Recall that even though Paul may distinguish between immature and mature Christians, this is not a ground for boasting on the latter's part.) How much do I rely on myself as opposed to the Spirit in trying to determine God's will? Do my conclusions about God's will reflect a reliance on His Spirit and revelation or a desire to see my own will done? What are the obstacles that I need to overcome in my journey of following God? What does the next stage of spiritual maturity look like for me? Do I see myself as constantly needing to grow in grace or do I think that I have already arrived? How well do I think that I understand God? Have I put God in a box? Am I still open to being challenged by the Scriptures and the Spirit?

The juxtaposition, so far, has been between the ways and wisdom of this world and the ways and wisdom of God. The challenge is to keep the two straight and to be constantly pursuing the latter. It is so easy to become confused and to settle for a version of wisdom that is comfortable and, in truth, more closely matches the pattern of the world then of God. How do you discern between the two? The above questions may help you to begin to do so. And as we continue to read, Paul will continue to challenge the priorities and accepted values of the Corinthians. At each turn, we can again look at our own lives and compare; how do we measure up? What can we change? How can we improve?--recognizing all the while that the one and only true source is God.

Paul continues his critique of those who wish to judge himself and other Christian leaders by merely human standards in the next section.

--

Footnotes:

[1] "The gift however is one for the mature Christian. [This expression] is not common in the Greek Old Testament, but its use there suggests ethical perfection...; elsewhere it is used more generally of those who are full-grown, adult. ... The significant point here (see Sevenster, Seneca, pp. 144 f.) is that Paul does not have a simple Gospel of the cross for babes (iii. 1), and a different wisdom-Gospel for the perfect... . All Christians are potentially perfect or mature in Christ (Col. i. 28), though only some are actually what all ought to be. This is not a gnostic distinction between earthly and spiritual men." (Barrett, 68-69)

"Hering and others think that Paul is here contrasting simple Christians, who know the story of the cross, with the more 'mature' who go on to profound wisdom. But his words do not bear this out. He is developing the thought that the divine wisdom which brought about Christ's saving act in the cross is the real wisdom, and further, that this wisdom is in total opposition to the worldly wisdom so beloved in Corinth. ... Those who have welcomed the message of the cross are mature, whereas the worldly-minded who reject it are not." (Morris, 52-53)

See also: Fee, 98-103.

[2] "Only God’s Spirit knows what is in his heart, but because believers have God’s Spirit, they can know his heart too. This was a radical statement for most of ancient Judaism, because most Jewish teachers did not believe that the Spirit was active in their day. "Spirit" had a broad variety of meanings, including "attitude," "disposition"; hence "spirit of the world" need not refer to any particular spiritual being (unlike God's Spirit)." (Keener:1993, 458)


--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 124: BT 04: Sec. 03

Introduction, Chapter 1. The Necessity, Structure, and Priority of the Question of Being
Section 03. The Ontological Priority of the Question of Being

We may have already pointed out that, for many, questions like, "What is being?" simply do not strike as engaging or important. Heidegger points out that this concern is aggravated by the complexity of the task of even formulating the question of that meaning of being. That question is a "peculiar one," he says. He has been motivated to ask it because of the confusion in answers that have been offered in the past--a point that he wishes to rectify--, but he does also wonder about the usefulness of the question as such.

"One may, however, ask what purpose this question is supposed to serve. Does it simply remain--or is it at all--a mere matter for soaring speculation about the most general of generalities, or is it rather, of all questions, both the most basic and the most concrete?" (BT 29/9)

Heidegger answers this question by appealing to the sciences and the structure of scientific investigation. He observes that every branch of science is defined by the range of entities that are its proper object of investigation. Each branch differs according to the kinds of entities that it investigates and the methods appropriate to those investigations. Mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, history, sociology, linguistics--each of these fields have their proper domain of inquiry. Moreover, each can be subdivided using the same principle; biology, for instance, can be broken down into still smaller categories: biochemistry, cell biology, morphology, physiology, behavioral science, ecology, and much, much more.

"The basic structures of any such area have already been worked out after a fashion in our pre-scientific ways of experiencing and interpreting that domain of Being in which the area of subject-matter is itself confined. The 'basic concepts' which thus arise remain our proximal clues for disclosing this area concretely for the first time. And although research may always lead towards this positive approach, its real progress comes not so much from collecting results and storing them away in 'manuals' as from inquiring into the ways in which each particular area is basically constituted [Grundverfassungen]--an inquiry to which we have been driven mostly by reacting against just such an increase in information." (BT 29/9)

What Heidegger says here is extremely significant and those familiar with the history of the philosophy of science may recognize concepts that they encountered in Thomas S. Kuhn's "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions." (1962) Heidegger points out that the divisions of science arise originally from our pre-scientific ways of experiencing and interacting with the world. We define certain entities as "basic" and endeavor to explain the world in terms of those entities. Now, in one sense, a great deal of progress can be made as one attempts to develop a more-or-less comprehensive picture of the world, but Heidegger insists that the real progress is made, not by this gradual accumulation of information, but when those "basic concepts" are called into question. He emphasizes, also, that this calling into question is motivated just by the accumulation of information.

To make clear what Heidegger is saying, consider the history of the sciences.
In 1651, Thomas Hobbes published Leviathan and, in that treatise, diagrammed the various divisions of the sciences. Modern readers may be surprised at his approach to the task. He divided natural philosophy (the study of the consequences that follow from the features of natural bodies) into two sub-categories. The first dealt with the consequences of the quantitative features that belong to all natural bodies; the second dealt with the consequences of the qualitative features that belong to natural bodies. Included in this second category are meteorology, music, ethics, poetry, rhetoric, logic, and justice. Now Hobbes had reasons for grouping these all together that had to do with his view about the basic entities that constituted the world and the methods appropriate to investigating those entities. In the 21st Century, we have different views about entities in the world and thus divide things differently. Many of those changes have been motivated by pressure generated within various fields of study. Take physics as an example. Sir Isaac Newton's laws of motion and mechanics were and continue to be extremely successful. With his equations, he was able to unify explanations of wildly disparate phenomena--from the motion of medium-sized objects near the surface of the earth to the motion of planets around the sun--under a few simple equations. However, his equations do have limits. There were and are phenomena that the laws of Newtonian mechanics cannot explain. People did not realize this all at once, but over time experimentation revealed that there were gaps in the model. This eventually led to Einstein's discoveries and the formulation of the theory of relativity. With this fundamental shift in the physical sciences, certain fundamental entities that had been accepted under the old paradigm--for instance, absolute time and space--were abandoned. E=mc(squared) altered our view of fundamental reality by showing that energy and matter are not really two distinct kinds of entities. Heidegger describes this shift like this:

"The relativity theory of physics arises from the tendency to exhibit the interconnectedness of Nature as it is 'in itself'. As a theory of the conditions under which we have access to Nature itself, it seeks to preserve the changelessness of the laws of motion by ascertaining all relativities, and thus comes up against the question of the structure of its own given area of study--the problem of matter." (BT 30/9-10)

Heidegger offers several other illustrations of this point. [1] He concludes by saying: "Basic concepts determine the way in which we gets an understanding beforehand of the area of subject-matter underlying all the objects a science takes as its theme, and all positive investigation is guided by this understanding." (BT 30/10) He goes on to equate the investigation of these basic concepts with "an interpretation of those entities with regard to their basic state of Being." This project of laying the foundation for the sciences, Heidegger refers to as a 'productive logic' that goes ahead of the science in question--"in the sense that it leaps ahead, as it were, into some area of Being, discloses it for the first time in the constitution of its Being, and, after thus arriving at the structures within it, makes these available to the positive sciences as transparent assignments for their inquiry." (BT 30-31/10) [2]

Heidegger associates "ontological inquiry" with the investigation of these basic concepts and "ontical inquiry" with the positive sciences. [3] We have illustrated the task of ontological inquiry above, but Heidegger insists that any such inquiry is incomplete if we do not consider the meaning of being in general. He goes on: "And the ontological task of a genealogy of the different possible ways of Being (which is not to be constructed deductively) is precisely of such a sort as to require that we first come to an understanding of 'what we really mean by this expression "Being" '." (BT 31/11)

According to Heidegger, the question of the meaning of being is necessary for grounding the sciences on a solid foundation. It must come before the ontical inquiries of the positive sciences and even before the ontological inquiries that ground those sciences. "Basically, all ontology, no matter how rich and firmly compacted a system of categories it has at its disposal, remains blind and perverted from its ownmost aim, if it has not first adequately clarified the meaning of Being, and conceived this clarification as its fundamental task." (BT 31/11) So we have demonstrated the ontological priority of the question of being from the very nature of ontological research. This is, itself, a reason for reviving the question of the meaning of being; however, it is not the only reason. Heidegger will continue in the next section.

--

Footnotes:

[1] One other example is this: "Theology is seeking a more primordial interpretation of man's Being towards God, prescribed by the meaning of faith itself and remaining within it. It is slowly beginning to understand once more Luther's insight that the 'foundation' on which its system of dogma rests has not arisen from an inquiry in which faith is primary, and that conceptually this 'foundation' not only is inadequate for the problematic of theology, but conceals and distorts it." (BT 30/10)

[2] He goes on to say, "To give an example, what is philosophically primary is neither a theory of the concept-formation of historiology nor the theory of historiological knowledge, nor yet the theory of history as the Object of historiology; what is primary is rather the Interpretation of authentically historical entities as regards their historicality." (BT 31/10)

[3] Footnote 3: "While the terms 'ontisch' ('ontical') and 'ontologisch' ('ontological') are not explicitly defined, their meanings will emerge rather clearly. Ontological inquiry is concerned primarily with Being; ontical inquiry is concerned primarily with entities and the facts about them." (p. 31)

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 123: Concerning Children

"At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" And He called a child to Himself and set him before them, and said, "Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18:1-4)

"And they were bringing children to Him so that He might touch them; and the disciples rebuked them. But when Jesus was this, He was indignant and said to them, "Permit the children to come to Me; do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it at all." And He took them in His arms and began blessing them, laying His hands upon them." (Mark 10:13-16)

My goal in this entry is not to exegete these passages. But what I would like to do is to alter, if only slightly, the way in which you see God and perceive your relationship to Him.

It was a Friday afternoon. I had just gotten out of class and my head was still swimming with the concepts and ideas that we had dealt with that day. As usual the discussion had been way over my head and, as usual, I was deeply troubled by that fact. It is very unnerving to be in an environment where a certain level of competency is expected, and yet to feel that you are always out of your depth. Thoughtful readers will point out that being stretched and challenged is a good thing--and they are right--but that doesn't keep the whole process from feeling quite hellish. In addition, I'm naturally disposed to worry and fret about my quality of performance and the level of my proficiency. I don't like even the feeling that I am not meeting expectations. (Whose expectations?--I don't know.)

So I left class that day with all these thoughts running through my mind--also aware that I had numerous assignments to deal with that weekend and papers to prepare for and other responsibilities to attend to, etc., etc., etc.

But for a little while, at least, I was going to try to set those things aside. I was going to hang out with one of my friends that afternoon. She was baby-sitting two sisters (two and four years old) from our church. We were going to take them to Carl's Jr., get them dinner, allow them to run around in the play area, and just spend some time together.

Young children have a way of absorbing one's attention. Constantly on the move, easily excited, and so full of energy, they constantly demand care and watching over. Needless to say, it took a little work to get them put-together and into the car so that we could take our trip, but eventually they were buckled into their seats and we were on our way. And in the midst of that car ride and the two-year-old chattering and me still thinking about all the work I've got to do and getting to Carl's Jr. for dinner, the four-year-old starts telling knock-knock jokes.

Quite randomly, for no particular reason, she starts telling knock-knock jokes.

Four-year-old: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Whose there?"

And they were bad knock-knock jokes. They didn't make sense. She's only four-years old so she hasn't got the knack of punning yet. She just spouts off random things and made-up words and laughs at every "punch-line." And I laugh too. Not because the jokes are funny, because they're not. They don't make sense. But she's so happy and she's so funny. So we go around and around, again and again.

Four-year-old: "Knock, knock."
Me: "Whose there?"

And it suddenly dawns on me: that's how it is with us and God.

We spend so much time and energy worrying about the things that we have to do and the responsibilities that we carry and the goals that we want to achieve and the people we have to please. Sometimes it's even worse with Christians who carry the extra burden of "ministry." They're working for God and trying to please Him and do what's right and meet His standard and make a difference.

And I'm sitting in a car on the way to Carl's Jr. with a friend and a bubbling two-year-old and a four-year-old who's telling jokes and, for a moment, I see things from a different perspective. I see things from God's perspective. I look down on my life, as if from above, and see how small it is. I see how my very best must always prove to be inadequate. I see how my greatest aspirations, when viewed against the backdrop of the cosmos and eternity, really don't amount to much. I see how, in truth, I'm really not that different from that four-year-old. All my abilities and talents and accomplishments and aspirations and goals and credentials and wisdom and experience and knowledge and cleverness amounts to about as much as a knock-knock joke. A bad knock-knock joke.

Depressing thought? No, because the wonder of this story lies in the realization that we have a heavenly Father who will always hear our knock-knock jokes.

Me: "Knock, knock."
God: "Who's there?"

The picture grows even sillier (and, in this case, that is a virtue) when we reflect on how stressed out we get over our knock-knock jokes. We want them to be perfect and we won't tell them to anyone until they're just right and we fully expect that everyone should appreciate them and if they don't then we are crushed and we cry out to God (or the universe at large), demanding that He acknowledge our significance.

And what does God here? "Knock, knock."

And though, in truth, our accomplishments are insignificant and our demand for acknowledgment absolutely absurd and the difference between us and God far greater than the difference between that four-year-old and myself with all my responsibilities and obligations and burdens and real-world know-how, God still condescends to answer: "Whose there?"

One of the biggest challenges for those of us who lead busy lives--and have places to be and things to do and a social calendar and business appointments and e-mails to answer and phone calls to make--is to make time for children. That's just not high on the priority list. Playing with four-year-olds doesn't impress the bosses; it doesn't help me get that promotion or secure that client; it certainly doesn't help me to finish that report or prepare that presentation; it doesn't help me to get ahead; it doesn't help me to advance. And, of course, those are the things that are really important. We wouldn't be stressing about them if they weren't important. Or would we?

Jesus always made time for the little children. While his disciples were focused on "doing ministry" and on the "work of the kingdom," Jesus made time for the little children. And our heavenly Father, who created and sustains the universe, who governs heaven and earth--He makes time for us.

Me: "Knock, knock."
God: "Who's there."

I hope that you will come to see how freeing that is. I don't have to worry about impressing anyone. God will not be pleased by my accomplishments because they are significant, because they're not. I won't be getting ahead because of anything that I do. But when He sees us filled with joy and delight, He will be pleased to aid us and walk the journey of life with us and lead us around and around, again and again.

So here's my suggestion: find a child to love. A young child who will demand all your attention and focus and who can't possibly give you anything "worthwhile" in return and will keep you from taking yourself to seriously. (This advice from a young man who is almost always taking everything to seriously.) And maybe you'll catch a glimpse of how joy-filled and free true life really is.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 122: Batman: The Dark Knight and Revelation

"To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been granted. For whoever has, to him shall more be given, and he shall have an abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has shall be taken away from him. Therefore I speak to them in parables; because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand." (Matthew 13:11-13)

I begin with this quotation from Jesus, not because it speaks of the kingdom of heaven but because it speaks of parables. Jesus speaks differently depending on his audience. And when he teaches the multitudes, he regularly uses parables. Stories and analogies engage the mind differently than do lectures and tell-it-like-it-is teaching. The latter sometimes has the unfortunate effect of shortchanging the learning process, but it is also less likely to lead to ambiguities and confusions--especially when one is as unskilled at the method as I am.

So here am I, telling it like it is--or at least as I see it. You may agree with me, or not. In either case, I would recommend reviewing the entry that preceded this one (Graduate 121: Batman: The Dark Knight and the Modern Apocalypse) and mulling over the questions that I raise. It would be easy to agree or disagree with what I say here. It would be much harder and more profitable to think about the questions I posed there.

--

I think that at least one of my readers is under the impression, based on my last blog entry, that I dislike the latest Batman movie. In fact, I would not say that I dislike the film; however, I would acknowledge being troubled by it. I am troubled because of the commentary it makes on our contemporary culture.

There are two main possibilities, as I see it. Either the screenwriters are posing a question and commenting on the inadequacy of the answers that are currently available in our culture, or they are posing a question to which they themselves do not have an adequate answer. The latter possibility is far more frightening and, I fear, far more likely. When the story-tellers lose sight of their roots the rest of the culture cannot be far behind.

What is the question being posed by Batman: The Dark Knight? What are we to do when faced with unrelenting evil? Of course, that question is a bit removed from the day-to-day lives of most movie-goers. So how about: What are we to do when life doesn't go our way? How do we deal with the 'curve-balls' that life throws at us? How do we cope when life spins out of our control? It might be a cancer diagnosis. It might be a house foreclosure. It might be a friend who betrays you. Or a business partner. It might be a spouse who leaves you. It might be something even more mundane--anything that is out of your control.

We don't like to be out of control. We don't like to be at the mercy of anyone or anything. We deliberately construct our lives in such a way that we are maximally in control. We set up barriers around us to protect us and develop contingency plans, backup plans, and insurance policies just in case. But what happens when our best isn't good enough and life comes at us full speed and bowls us over?

Gotham is in control. Or at least it's gaining control. The mob is on the run. The streets are getting safer. There's a new District Attorney. He's untainted by corruption, has the situation well in hand, and is promising to bring about still greater improvements. Everything is good.

And then the Joker comes. He's not like the other criminals. The usual strategies won't work against him. He can't be appeased. And he puts the challenge to the people: What will you do when your best isn't good enough?

We like to think of ourselves as good people, as law-abiding citizens, as decent human beings. That's, after all, how we get by. Don't bug me and I won't bug you. You stay on your side of the line and I'll stay on mine. And if you do cross that line, there are laws and police and rules that will put you back in your place. The laws are there to protect us. The laws allow us to live as good, law-abiding, decent human beings.

But what happens when those laws no longer protect us? What happens when they don't work? What happens when the system that I have set up to protect myself and to allow me to live as a civilized person breaks down? Do I abandon being a civilized person?

Everyone is at each others' throats. No one can trust anyone. It's each man for himself. And for a while the new DA stands strong. He's smart. He's clever. He's still got a few tricks up his sleeve. He's not a victim of the chaos that rages around him. He makes his own fate.

But eventually even his best proves inadequate. And he discovers that he cannot control his destiny. And he throws himself headlong--eyes wide open--into the chaos.

The problem is this. Most people will only play by the rules so long as the system works for them. Once the system fails, they'll abandon it. Aristotle, I believe, referred to this as 'incontinence.' And we keep on searching for the system that will keep us safe. We keep searching for the system that is so perfectly molded to our wants and desires that we will not even have to try in order to live successfully in it.

The problem is that no such system exists. As long as we live in a broken world, the very best that humankind can offer will always be inadequate to deal with the very worst that life can throw at us.

That's what we see in the DA. We see the very best that humanity can offer. The highest, noblest, most capable, most virtuous; and it is still inadequate to stand before the relentless force of evil. It is still corruptible.

How can we survive in a world where our very best is not good enough? How can society endure? How can trust? How can love?

What will keep the company of two ships from blowing one another up? On this point the screenwriters give us nothing. They give us no answer.

What will prevent one neighbor from betraying another in an act of desperation? Fear? Possibly. Guilt? Maybe. Sentimentality? Sometimes. But these are not solid foundations on which one can build a social edifice that will stand strong in the midst of storms. Things may work out this time, but what about next time? And what about the time after that? As evil and chaos beat relentlessly against the gates and walls, will they stand?

But the screenwriters have nothing else to give us. They offer us no hope. They give us no reason to remain faithful to our deepest convictions about the value of humanity and goodness and truth and beauty.

How can we survive? How can we hope to live normal lives? Only by hiding our inadequacy. Only by lying about the downfall of the DA. Because if anyone found out that the very best that humanity has to offer was not good enough, then all hope would be lost. We must continue to pretend that the system works.

Of course, it will be the batman that does all the real work. It is his strength that we are really relying on. (And that's still, ultimately, a mere mortal's strength.) And if he were ever to fall then chaos really would break lose. But as long as he is there people can pretend that it's really the system that keeps them safe and they can continue to live normal lives, imagining themselves to be decent human beings and quietly ignoring the truth about who they really are.

What if, instead of trying to pretend that the system is adequate and that we can handle things, we were to acknowledge that our best isn't good enough? What if we were to acknowledge that our fate and destiny are not in our control? What reason would we have to continue to pursue lives of virtue? What reason would we have to continue to do good?

One thing is for sure--our reason would have nothing to do with improving or maintaining the quality of our external circumstances. If you're only good because of the pay-off; then when that pay-off is no longer there, your goodness will disappear right along with it. But if you're good because you know that being good is really the best way to live well--irrespective of situation--then you will continue to hold to that even in the worst of circumstances.

It is here that we do turn to contemplate the kingdom of heaven--a kingdom not of this world, a kingdom that does not promise success in this life, but a kingdom that is the source of the deepest and most abiding wholeness and wellness. And those who belong to this kingdom can (and have) stood against the very greatest evils of this world. They have done so knowing that their very best was not good enough to meet the challenge; but they have endured nonetheless because their hope was not in their own strength and ability but in the God who saves. They are the one's who could truthfully say, "It's going to be alright." "Even if it ends in torture and death, it's going to be alright, because it won't really be the end. There is a hereafter."

--

This is the question posed to us by the latest Batman movie: In a world that is out of our control, in which evil is ever growing in power and strength, how can we continue to live decent lives? And the answer: The only way to cope and live a decent life is to pretend that our system really works, while hoping that the day of evil never comes. Again, is that the screenwriters commenting on what they see in our culture? Or is that the screenwriters' best answer?

--

What does it take to make you compromise your principles? It need not be something as serious as cancer or a job loss. In our society, it doesn't take nearly that much. Just cut a man off on the freeway, and he may try to kill you. Are you living your life based on principle? Or are you just going with whatever's convenient? What will you do when life inconveniences you?

--

I recently read Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. (Garden City: The Literary Guild of America, Inc., 1954.) At one point in the story Jane is forced to choose between remaining with the man that she dearly loves in an illicit relationship and abandoning that man to journey in destitution and desolation. This is what she decides:

"I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad--as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigor; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth--so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane--quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot." (p. 283)

--

Some might see a picture of redemption, absolution, and sacrifice in the way that the batman assumes responsibility for the sins of the defunct DA. This thought has occurred to me. But even if this image in isolation is Christian, in the larger context of the picture, I think that it is not because there is no reconciliation. The people of Gotham will continue to put their faith and confidence in a system that does not work. They will continue to live unprincipled lives. So I am, at least, inclined to resist that interpretation.

--

Of course some may perceive what I have said about the themes of Batman: The Dark Knight as reactionary and alarmist. I hope that they will not. I try very hard not to be either reactionary or alarmist. Moreover, interpreting my words in that way will likely prompt the reader to dismiss my opinions outright without really thinking about them. That is, as I said at the beginning, the danger of "telling-it-like-it-is." So I will, again, recommend that you read the blog entry that preceded this and mull over the questions and think about the movie. Realize, too, that I am writing this after only seeing the movie once. There's a lot that I could have missed or misconstrued. But that's okay. My desire is not, primarily, to make you think the way that I think, but my desire is that you would think.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 121: Batman: The Dark Knight and the Modern Apocalypse

These are my initial reflections on the just-released Batman: The Dark Knight. It's all quite loose and imprecise. There may be spoilers in the following material. You have been warned.

When you hear the word, "prophet," what comes to mind? Someone who tells the future? Someone who tells you what will happen before it happens? Someone who foretells significant events?

In the Bible there are actually two distinct kinds of prophecy. Prophets in the Old Testament served as the mouth-pieces of God. Especially in a time when the kings and people were continually turning away from God, the prophets were the ones who called on the people to return to God. They often warned that if the people did not turn then bad things would come, in the form of plagues or famine or invading armies or exile. These prophets warned the people about the judgment that would come if they did not change their ways. Those were the first kind of prophet. The second kind of prophet is commonly associated with Apocalypse. They also warn the people of future trouble; the difference is that the people can't do anything to change it. For instance, in Revelation, the Apostle John writes of tribulation and wars and persecution; but his purpose isn't to make the people change their ways. The warning is something more like: "Hang on tight. It's going to get rough."

I suspect that if we think about it, we'll find that we're far less comfortable with this second kind of prophecy. We won't like the idea that bad stuff is going to come and there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it except endure. We don't like that.

Batman confronts us with the problem of Apocalypse. Evil that is completely irrational, that has no aim, no goal, but just revels in wickedness and chaos confronts us. We want to know what they want, what will satisfy them, what will make them stop doing evil; the problem is that they don't want anything, except to do more evil; nothing will satisfy them, except to cause more destruction; and nothing will stop them from doing evil. How do we deal with this kind of situation?

It's one thing to deal with an evil that wants something. You can try to satisfy the want and thereby remove the evil. There are rules of engagement that, if you follow them, can forestall or prevent the evil. But when you are confronted with relentless evil, insane evil, what can you do? The rules no longer work. Principles can no longer keep us safe. Laws can't help us. So what do we do? Do we abandon the rules? Do we abandon the principles? Do we abandon the law?

What happens when a man who makes his own fate is suddenly confronted with the reality that he is not in control of his life--that he is out of control? What happens when he discovers that it is not within his power to right the wrongs of the world? What happens when he realizes that his best is not good enough? Does he abandon principle, rule, law? What happens when the white knight is exposed--his corrupt heart revealed, his imperfect soul shown to all the world?

What happens to a people that live by the rules only so long as the rules work? What happens when the rules stop working? Do they abandon the rules? What happens when the thing that we have put our hope and confidence into fails us? Do we abandon hope?

Why do we live by the rules? That's the question. Because when the chips are down we will have to decide whether or not to continue to live by those rules and we will have to decide whether our reasons for living by the rules continue to hold even in the darkest times and places.

What will prevent one neighbor from betraying another? Fear? Possibly. Guilt? Maybe. Sentimentality? Perhaps. But these are not solid foundations on which one can build an edifice that will stand strong in the midst of storms. Things may work out this time, but what about next time? And what about the time after that? As evil relentlessly beats against the gates and walls, will they stand?

What about that white knight? Must we hide his scars in order to preserve hope? Must we hide his failings so that people do not lose confidence? Is our only defense against total despair the broken system that we have built from our own inadequate resources? Is the only way to defeat the relentless darkness to sacrifice someone--for someone to become as wicked and evil while everyone else continues to pretend that its our system that keeps the evil at bay.

"It's going to be alright." Is that a lie? Can anyone say that with confidence? Is it possible to be "alright" even in death?

Batman confronts us with evil on an Apocalyptic scale. But it does not present us with Apocalypse. Because Apocalypse is about revelation and uncovering. Batman is about covering things up and pretending.

How can we deal with relentless evil? That is the question. How can we deal with relentless evil? I don't think Batman has the answer. I don't think the screenwriters know.

Who will stand as a prophet in this apocalypse? Who will call us to stand strong and true in the midst of relentless and overwhelming evil? Who will remind us that truth and goodness and beauty are real and even worth dying for? Who will put his confidence and trust, not in any human being or any human institution or any human system, but in something far greater, better, and more enduring? Who will stand faithful with the only thing--the only One--who is unchanging and eternal and who has promised to bring justice and victory over evil?

Is there anyone?

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 120: BT 03: Sec. 02

Introduction, Chapter 1. The Necessity, Structure, and Priority of the Question of Being
Section 02. The Formal Structure of the Question of Being

"The question of the meaning of Being must be formulated. If it is a fundamental question, or indeed the fundamental question, it must be made transparent, and in an appropriate way." (BT 24/4) Heidegger begins by considering the nature of questions in general in preparation for exhibiting the question of being and its distinctive character.

"Every inquiry is a seeking [Suchen]," says Heidegger. (BT 24/5) One way to think about Heidegger's view of inquiry is to use the analogy of a gap in understanding (like a gap in a puzzle) where the goal is to fill that gap, and the way in which one goes about trying to do that is guided by the grasp that one already has of the nature of that gap and of what is likely to fill it. Even before embarking on the investigation, an inquirer must have some idea of the context in which it is to be conducted and of the parameters and conditions that will mark an acceptable (intelligible) answer. One must have some idea of what one is looking for? So, for instance, when Mother asks, "Which member of this family knocked over the vase in the dining room?" it is clear that her question is informed by a great deal of background knowledge. She already understands much about the situation and that is what allows her to ask the question that she does and to conduct her inquiry effectively. [1] Answering the question, then, simply involves "laying bare" (to use Heidegger's language) that which the question is about and ascertaining its character.

Now the inquiry has three key components: that which is asked about (what the inquiry is about; what, in theoretical investigations, is to be determined and conceptualized), that which is interrogated, and that which is to be found out by the asking. Now our intention is to formulate the question of being as clearly as possible--to make it transparent to itself--and in order to do that, we need to make each of these factors clear and transparent.

Now if an inquiry must be guided by some grasp of what is sought then since this inquiry concerns the meaning of being, it must be the case that we already have some grasp of that meaning. But we must be careful not to overreach ourselves and think that we have a better grasp of it than we actually do. That, after all, is Heidegger's whole point in reviving the question. With that in mind, consider the question, "What is "Being"?" Now the reason that we are asking the question is that we do not know what being is; that is why we are asking the question. Yet, by asking the question, we demonstrate that we do have some grasp of the concept. Just as the mother in the above analogy demonstrates that she has some grasp on who the culprit is ("Which member of this family..."), so just by our use of the word "is" in the question, "What is "Being"?" we demonstrate that we have some grasp of the meaning of being. We remain unable, at this point, to fix the meaning conceptually and we do not even know the "horizon" in terms of which that meaning is to be grasped. "But this vague average understanding of Being is still a Fact." (BT 25/6)

Our ability to use the term "is" reflects what Heidegger calls our "average understanding of Being." By this he does not mean a capacity to grasp the conceptual content or meaning of the term, but rather, an understanding that is reflected in our ability to use the term effectively and consistently. In many ways, Heidegger takes this to be a much more helpful clue to the actual meaning of being than the various philosophical speculations about its meaning that have come down through history. At the end of the investigation, when we have a full understanding of the meaning of being, that understanding should be able to account for this average understanding, as well as understand why the concept of being is so difficult to grasp clearly, and what the obstacles to understanding it are, and why and how they arise. This is the goal, even if, at the outset, our approach seems to be quite far removed from tradition approaches to the topic.

Concerning the three components of the question of (the meaning) of being. Heidegger begins by saying, "In the question which we are to work out, what is asked about is Being--that which determines entities as entities, that on the basis of which entities are already understood, however we may discuss them in detail." (BT 26/6) Now we must keep in mind that being is not a thing in the world like an apple is a thing in the world. In filling this gap in understanding, we are not looking for an entity (like an apple) or a cause (like a child) or a process or anything else like that. As a consequence, the kind of approach we take to answering the question will be different from other questions, particularly those concerning entities. That which is to be found out by the asking is the meaning of being. And since being is always of entities then that which is interrogated just is entities.

Now there is a question about our ability to investigate the meaning of the being of entities (so there is a question about the viability of this project) because it's not clear that we can grasp entities as they are in themselves. Under a blue light, a red apple will appear black. And its not clear, given the nature of our physical senses that we are able to interact with objects fully as they really are and not just as they appear or as they seem to me. But if we are to grasp the being of an entity, we need to be able to grasp that entity as it is in itself. Heidegger also recognizes, as a problem, the fact that we use "being" in so many different ways and to mean so many different things. He says, "Everything we talk about, everything we have in view, everything towards which we comport ourselves in any way, is being; what we are is being, and so is how we are. Being lies in the fact that something is, and in its Being as it is; in Reality; in presence-at-hand; in subsistence; in validity; in Dasein; in the 'there is'." (BT 26/7-8) Our challenge, then, is to discern which (if any) is the most appropriate starting point for our investigation.

In order to make this inquiry transparent to itself, Heidegger turns to inquiry itself as his starting point. "Looking at something, understanding and conceiving it, choosing, access to it--all these ways of behaving are constitutive for our inquiry, and therefore are modes of Being for those particular entities which we, the inquirers, are ourselves. Thus to work out the question of Being adequately, we must make an entity--the inquirer--transparent in his own Being. The very asking of this question is an entity's mode of Being; and as such it gets its essential character from what is inquired about--namely, Being. This entity which each of us is himself and which includes inquiring as one of the possibilities of its Being, we shall denote by the term "Dasein". If we are to formulate our question explicitly and transparently, we must first give a proper explication of an entity (Dasein), with regard to its Being." (BT 26-27/7) Heidegger begins by pointing to such things as looking at something, understanding, conceiving, and choosing as ways or modes of being for inquirers. Rather than ask about the being of apples or bats--the results of which investigation would be dubious at best since it's not clear that we can understand the nature of these entities in themselves--he turns his inquiry back onto the inquirer. To begin his investigation into the meaning of being, he looks at the being of the inquirer which is simultaneously exhibited and investigated in that inquiry. The entity (in this case, the inquirer, although other modes of being are possible for this entity) Heidegger denotes by the term "Dasein." Now Dasein literally means "being-there". In some other philosophical writing it simply stands for existence as when one speaks of the existence (the "being-there") of God or the existence (the "being-there") of aliens. But in certain contexts it is taken to refer specifically to the kind of being that belongs to persons and that is how Heidegger uses it.

One might ask: Well, if "Dasein" just refers to persons or human beings, why not just use those expressions? The reason is that Heidegger is trying to make a very particular point about what is distinctive about human beings. He comments in a later section about the various ideas that people associate with being human (e.g. being a rational animal or a member of the species homo sapien) but none of these, for Heidegger, succeed at getting at the heart of what it really means to be the kind of creature that we are (and, in fact, they get in the way of understanding what is at the heart of what it really means to be the kind of creature that we are). We are the kinds of creatures that "are-there" in a way different from the way that books or television sets or coffee cups "are-there" and Heidegger underscores that by using the term "Dasein".

Now one might wonder at this point whether there is not some problematic circularity in Heidegger's approach. How can it be that we must define an entity in its being before we can formulate the question of being based on that definition? Heidegger offers two responses. First he points out that accusations of circularity are vacuous where investigations into first principles are concerned. This might be read as a concession--acknowledging that there is a kind of circularity in the investigation of first principles but that it is not a problem. His second response is to point out that, as a matter of fact ("factically"), there is no such circularity in the current investigation. "One can determine the nature of entities in their Being [as when one describes "that" and "how" an apple is--reflecting the average understanding of being] without necessarily having the explicit concept of the meaning of Being at one's disposal [which is the goal of this inquiry]." (BT 27/7) Heidegger describes this average understanding of being as that "in which we always operate and which in the end belongs to the essential constitution of Dasein itself." (BT 28/8) The point is that the meaning of being, which is the goal of this investigation, is not supposed to be the ground for a derivation of the average understanding of being or vice versa. Rather, the goal of this investigation is to lay bare and exhibit the grounds of this average understanding in the very meaning of being.]

Where the appearance of circularity comes is in the "remarkable 'relatedness backward and forward'" which connects being (of which inquiry is a mode) with being (which is the object of this inquiry). But the reason for this is that we have selected the being of Dasein as the starting point of our investigation just because Dasein has a unique grasp of its own being and is in a position (that it has with no other entity in the world) of being able to grasp itself in making this inquiry. In this, we have given priority to the being of Dasein in this investigation--a point that will derive further support from the considerations that follow.

--

Footnotes:

[1] It should be noted that even if the mother happens to be wrong about the vase having been knocked over by a member of her family (perhaps the culprit was one of her children's classmates or the neighbor's dog) her question still demonstrates a grasp of certain basic facts, for instance, that there was a cause. Her son could not coherently reply: "No one caused the vase to fall over. In fact, nothing caused the vase to fall over." That response is simply unintelligible, given our understanding of the nature of causation. Vases do not fall over for no reason at all. The reason might not be a child or classmate or dog or gust of wind, but it still might be the deterioration of the legs of the table on which the vase rested or some undetectable quantum event or even ghosts or magic spells. As implausible as these causal explanations might seem, they are still intelligible whereas the idea that there simply was no cause of the vase's falling over is not.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.

Graduate 119: Socratic Meditations

I do not know whether the question troubles every philosopher, though I expect that each must deal with it at least once in the course of his or her career. For what is philosophy useful? What is the purpose or value of philosophy?

Many people have a high-flown but decidedly vague notion of what philosophy is. It has something to do with the meaning of life or questions about what exists or the rational foundations for beliefs or doubting everything. Basically it explores all the "deep" questions that nobody in the course of normal life comes across or has time to deal with or is really interested in. I wonder sometimes if people don't have a bipolar view of philosophy and philosophers--as extremely bright and intelligent and thoughtful and insightful on the one hand, and as almost completely useless on the other.

Now, in one sense, the fact that the average person on the street is not conversant with contemporary philosophical questions and debates should not be surprising or alarming. Theories of scientific explanation or models of intentionality or the constitutive norms of assertion are simply not immediately relevant to most people. The academic discipline of philosophy is similar, in this respect, to most of the higher-level sciences. I have a friend who builds statistical models for a medical-equipment manufacturer. Most of the people that use the equipment probably do not understand the relevance of his statistical analyses to what they are doing. Still fewer patients have even the foggiest idea of such work as my friend does being involved in their treatment at all--and they don't need to. The fact that the significance of what my friend does is not widely appreciated does not prompt anxious thoughts in him concerning the value of his work. Likewise, to be irrelevant, in this sense, should raise no problems for practitioners of philosophical inquiry.

But is there another sense in which philosophy can either succeed or fail to be "relevant"? Is there a way in which philosophy should be immediately relevant? These are questions that I find myself prompted to consider as I begin to work as a teaching assistant. For two hours each week (for three more weeks of this first UCR summer school session) I get to meet with thirteen students who are taking Introduction to Philosophy and try to help them process the material that they are receiving in Lecture.

The course begins where philosophy--as practiced in the Western tradition--roughly begins, with Socrates (469-399 BC). Socrates lived during the "Golden Age of Pericles" (450-430 BC) as well as the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BC). It was during the height of Athens' success and prosperity that Socrates began to practice philosophy. And what did this practice consist in? Roughly, it consisted in pointing out to those who were content and satisfied with themselves the reality of their inadequacy and deficiency. Be they politicians, poets, orators, teachers, or craftsmen, Socrates would speak with them, determine from them what they did know--or, more often, what they didn't know--and expose that for all to see.

All this was part of his relentless pursuit of wisdom (philos - sophia). As Socrates tells it, he began doing this after learning that the Oracle at Delphi had identified him as the wisest of all men. Since he did not claim to have wisdom or (principled) knowledge about anything, Socrates was perplexed by this pronouncement and endeavored to test its veridicality by searching high and low for a man with greater knowledge and wisdom than himself. But every interview only served to confirm that Socrates, because he at least recognized his lack of wisdom, really was the wisest of all men.

From this, he concluded the following: "that in fact the god is wise and... his oracular response meant that human wisdom is worth little or nothing, and that when he says this man, Socrates, he is using my name as an example, as if he said: 'This man, among you, mortals, is wisest who, like Socrates, understands that his wisdom is worthless.' " (23a-23b)

For Socrates, the pursuit of wisdom was of utmost importance because to acquire wisdom was to acquire all the other virtues (courage, temperance, and justice, as well as piety and others). The great irony is that though Socrates claimed to completely lack any knowledge of these things, history has judged him to be among the most courage, temperate, and judicious (and pious) people of all time. How are we to account for this contradiction? How can it be that the man who claimed to lack knowledge of virtue--and who seemed to think that such knowledge was necessary to being a virtuous person--was one of the most virtuous men in history?

The key, I think, must lie in the pursuit. Time and again, Socrates is confronted with people who think that they have the knowledge but do not; and in some cases they are unwilling to take up the pursuit with Socrates. "Some other time," says Euthyphro (one example), "for I am in a hurry now, and it is time for me to go." (15e) Socrates, by contrast, continues, in spite of his lack of knowledge, to pursue the goal. Indeed, it seems that the pursuit is indispensable. Now one might wonder whether attainment of full knowledge of the virtues is possible. One might also wonder, given this fundamental dubiety, whether the pursuit is worthwhile.

To answer this, I recall a quotation from Dietrich Bonhoeffer--one of my favorites--from The Cost of Discipleship: "At the end of a life spent in the pursuit of knowledge Faust has to confess: "I now do see that we can nothing know." That is the answer to a sum, it is the outcome of a long experience. But as Kierkegaard observed, it is quite a different thing when a freshman comes up to the university and uses the same sentiment to justify his indolence. As the answer to a sum it is perfectly true, but as the initial data it is a piece of self-deception." (p. 51) There really is something indispensable about the pursuit (the process, the journey). The only other way the effect might possibly be duplicated is by direct apprehension of the form of the thing itself (wisdom, justice, etc.) and it is not obvious that even that would do the trick.

This begins to get at the question of the significance and value of philosophy. Philosophy should be immediately relevant to people's lives insofar as it is concerned with the pursuit of (practical) wisdom (again, philos - sophia) and the attainment of the life of virtue. But there are still a number of factors that stand in the way of Philosophy succeeding in this. One of the main ones is Philosophy, itself. Fewer and fewer philosophers, it seems, are concerning themselves with this most important and fundamental problem of philosophy. Of course, there is nothing incoherent about the idea of a philosopher who treats a wide variety of topics including that of virtue and the good life. But many may be treating a wide variety of topics while neglecting that of virtue and the good life. And, if Socrates is right, apart from that pursuit one cannot hope to gain that good life.

One other challenge (that I will not treat in this blog entry) has to do with the existence of people who seem to live fulfilled, worthwhile, and good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Now the fact that such people exist does not undermine the value of philosophy--just as the fact that people that do not engage in higher-level statistics exist does not undermine the value of that discipline. However, as a teacher whose classes may include both students with a natural aptitude for philosophy as well as students for whom philosophical questions simply are not engaging, it is important to think about how philosophy relates to all sorts of people.

The final challenge which I will consider here has to do with the fast-paced and unreflective nature of our society. I think most people would be willing to acknowledge we are often dominated by a Euthyphro-type mentality. There is not time to think about the deep questions and doing so is often uncomfortable and troublesome. But if Socrates is right--and on this point I think that he is--this kind of uncomfortable reflection--at least in our society--is indispensable.

(I acknowledge that there is a bit of tension between this claim and my claim with respect to the preceding challenge--that there are people who live good lives without engaging in rigorous philosophical reflection. Ultimately, I think, my conclusion on this point is that some kind of sustained reflection is indispensable; however, I am not convinced that the particular kind of reflection that Socrates advocated is the right path to take. However, I do think that Socratic reflection is particularly well-suited to address the kinds of complacency that arises in cultures like that of Periclean Athens (or in contemporary America). More needs to be said on this point but I will save that for a future entry.)

I asked my students, in Discussion last week, how many of them admired Socrates. Almost all the hands went up. I then asked my students how many of them would like to be Socrates. No hands went up. Students might agree that Socrates lived a good life--in spite of being disliked, charged with impiety, brought to trial, and finally executed. They might admire him. But they wouldn't want to emulate him. Now there are two ways of interpreting this apparent discontinuity. One is fairly innocuous: No one wants to be disliked, falsely accused, tried, and executed; given the choice between the good life with hardship and the good life without hardship, it makes sense that one should prefer the latter. But the other interpretation digs a little deeper: Perhaps the students are not really convinced that the life of virtue really is good. The kind of life that Socrates led really is radically different from the kind of life that most of us do. I think this can be illustrated by considering how we (you/me and Socrates) would respond differently to a situation described by the character Glaucon in Plato's dialogue, Republic.

Republic treats such questions as, What is justice? Is justice a virtue? and Is justice better than injustice? In book I, Thrasymachus tries to argue that injustice is superior and to be preferred to justice. In other words, he argues that the better life is had by the person who can take unfair advantage of others and make great gains at low costs and get away with underhanded activities and exert power over others than by the person who always and only acts in accordance with justice and fairness. In one place, Thrasymachus tells Socrates: "A just man always gets less than an unjust one. First, in their contracts with one another, you'll never find when the partnership ends, that a just partner has got more than an unjust one, but less. Second, in matters relating to the city, when taxes are to be paid, a just man pays more on the same property, an unjust one less, but when the city is giving out refunds, a just man gets nothing, while an unjust one makes a large profit." (343c-d) Socrates attempts to refute Thrasymachus' position and show that justice is superior to injustice, but in book II, Glaucon is still not convinced.

Glaucon puts the challenge to Socrates in a number of ways. One involves appealing to the "Myth of Gyges". According to the myth, Gyges was a shepherd in the service of the ruler of Lydia. One day he found a magic ring that turns the wearer invisible. With this ring, Gyges succeeded in infiltrating the palace, seducing the queen, killing the king (with her help), and taking over the kingdom of Lydia. Now there's nothing in the story to indicate that Gyges was a particularly vicious person in general. So Glaucon suggests the following: "Let's suppose, then, that there were two such rings, one worn by a just and the other by an unjust person. Now, no one, it seems, would be so incorruptible that he would stay on the path of justice or stay away from the marketplace with impunity, go into people's houses and have sex with anyone he wished, kill or release from prison anyone he wished, and do all the other things that would make him like a god among humans." (360b-c) And most people, I think, feel the strength of Glaucon's intuition. Most of us (if we're honest) can think of things that we might do, if we possessed such a magical ring, that we would not consider doing without it. Not all of them might be so dissolute or debauched. (Maybe you'd be content with free admission to Disneyland.) But the fact that most of us can envision making some change is enough to make the point.

The interesting irony, I think, is that Glaucon is raising this challenge to the one person who would not be tempted by the ring of Gyges. At least this is the impression of Socrates that I get from reading Plato's dialogues and my students seemed to agree. Socrates would not be tempted to use the ring to gratify his appetites or acquire power or abuse his enemies. In a very real way, the ring has nothing to offer Socrates. For one who is pursuing power, wealth, comfort, or pleasure, the ring offers much. For one who is pursuing virtue and wisdom, the ring offers nothing. And we know that Socrates desires the latter because he was willing to die rather than compromise that pursuit.

It is not enough to say that we admire Socrates. To admire Socrates is to recognize a deficiency in my life because I am not as Socrates is. I know that I am not as Socrates is because I feel the pull of the ring of Gyges in a way that he does not. My aims are not the same as Socrates' aims. I am not pursuing the same things that Socrates is. And there is no way, apart from the pursuit, of acquiring what he has. The pursuit really is indispensable.

More needs to be said on the exact nature of that pursuit. I do not think that the pursuit of abstract "wisdom" is enough. After all, wisdom does not exist fundamentally as an abstract form but is part of the character of Almighty God. But this is a good starting point for thinking about that pursuit and also helpful for understanding the significance and relevance of philosophy in general. The rest will have to wait for another blog entry.

--

God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.