Category Archives: politics

Hope in Exile

As is the case with any profession, the life of an academic includes some great and some not-so-great features. After twenty-five years of being a college professor, here’s a brief list:

Great:

• Sabbatical

• Being in the classroomlove teaching

• Team-teaching with colleagues

• Planning courses

• Writing

• Beer with fellow teachers on Friday afternoons

Not So Much:

• Gradingtechnology

• Being in a dysfunctional department

• Trying to get what you have written published

• Technology in the classroom

And academic conferences. Especially academic conferences

I have written in the past about my dislike of academic conferences. Conference papers are the bread-and-butter of the academic life when climbing the tenure and promotion ladder, but I’ve never been a fan. A lot of posturing, name-dropping, networking and having papers read at you. Not to mention overheated and ugly seminar rooms along with stale pastries and lukewarm coffee. I do not learn much just by listening to someone—I’m more a visual and tactile learner—but traditionally that’s been the way things go at conferences. colloquy posterOf course I usually forget that when I present a paper, I’m expecting my audience to appreciate mine far more than I enjoy theirs.

Fortunately I have not had to work the academic conference circuit vigorously since I earned promotion to full professor almost fifteen years ago. There is, however, one group of academics that I enjoy gathering with annually for a conference—the American Weil Society. If you read this blog regularly or even occasionally, you know that Simone Weil shows up on a semi-regular basis. I’ve had an intellectual affair with this strange woman from the first half of the twentieth century for at over fifteen years now (Jeanne calls Simone my mistress), a connection that has produced a book, several articles, and a paper at the Weil colloquy almost every year.

I have attended the annual Weil Society colloquy just about every year for the past couple of decades; we have hosted the Weil colloquy twice in the past ten years here at Providence College. There are a solid two dozen or so Weil scholars from North America who attend just about every colloquy. The theme of this year’s colloquy is hope in exile“Hope in Exile,” an evocative topic that prompted me to send in a brief proposal. The proposal was accepted, so now I have to write the paper. That’s one of the great things about a blog—it provides me with an opportunity to run my thoughts past intelligent people before I am responsible for them in person.

As I searched my notes and Simone Weil texts the other day for “hope” references, I was surprised to find that she doesn’t explicitly discuss the topic very often. And yet, the theme of how to avoid despair in the middle of a world that seems determined to drive us toward it on a daily basis is a thread that winds through most of her writing. In her final work, NfrThe Need for Roots, Weil considers why despair is not a necessity.

If pure good were never capable of producing on this earth true greatness in art, science, theoretical speculation, public enterprise, if in all these spheres there were only false greatness, if in all these spheres everything were despicable, and consequently condemnable, there would be no hope at all for the affairs of this world; no possible illumination of this world by the other one. But it is not so. (Emphasis mine)

This reminded me of something I just read the other day from Marilynne Robinson:

Cultural pessimism is always fashionable, and, since we are human, there are always grounds for it. It has the negative consequence of depressing the level of aspiration, the sense of the possible. And from time to time it has the extremely negative consequence of encouraging a kind of somber panic, a collective dream-state in which recourse to terrible remedies is inspired by delusions of mortal threat.

One encounters this sort of “somber panic” and such proposed “terrible remedies” everywhere one turns these days. When everything is pushing intelligent people toward cynicism and/or despair, what reasons are there, if any, to cultivate hope? The cynic is likely to agree with Violet, dowager countess of downtonDownton Abbey, who says that “hope is a tease to keep us from accepting reality.” The hopeful person might counter with something like what I heard Maria Popova say on NPR’s “On Point” the other day: “Cynicism is the sewage of the soul.” My guess is that the truth lies somewhere between these extremes.

Simone Weil’s insight is a good place to start. If it is actually the case that human beings are incapable of producing anything of value, if it is true that even the best of human endeavors are polluted by falsity and worthy of condemnation, then cynicism or despair are the reasonable order of the day. There is no reason other than naïveté to hope for anything other than a continuation of mediocrity, violence, and death until we finally manage to snuff ourselves out. But after setting the stage for such despair, Weil opens the window a crack with just one sentence: But it is not so. RobinsonMarilynne Robinson concludes her comments on the attractiveness of cultural pessimism with a similar sentiment.

When panic on one side is creating alarm on the other, it is easy to forget that there are always as good grounds for optimism as for pessimism—exactly the same grounds, in fact—that is, because we are human . . . To value one another is our greatest safety, and to indulge in fear and contempt is our gravest error.

The stakes could not possibly be higher. As I begin working on this with the upcoming conference in mind, I start with the premise that what really needs to be sorted out is the relationship between critical thinking and hope, since critical thinking without hope is cynicism, but hope without critical thinking is naïveté. Our contemporary challenge is to find a place between the scylla and charybdisScylla of cynicism and the Charybdis of naïveté, seeking to build a life in that space because finding fault and feeling hopeless about improving our situation produces resignation of which cynicism is a symptom as well as a futile self-protection mechanism. And perhaps it is worth taking note of Simone Weil’s suggestion that the illumination of this world by “the other one” might be a reason to hope. What is that other world? How might a passageway for mutual illumination be opened? Stay tuned—I welcome your ideas and contributions!

Give Us Barabbas

easter cantataAn annual musical fixture of my Baptist upbringing was the Easter Cantata. Each year on Easter evening our small choir would perform a contemporary setting of the Passion and Easter story from Last Supper through the Resurrection. My aunt Gloria was the choir director, several of my relatives sang in the choir from my pre-teen years on, and from about age twelve through high school I was the piano accompanist for this annual event. We weren’t that good and the quality of the music we performed was even worse, cranked out in some evangelical music factory on a regular basis in a sad mockery of the superhuman weekly bachcantata-composing efforts of my musical hero, Johann Sebastian Bach, in 18th century Leipzig.

The cantata score each year as well as our performance was completely forgettable, but I was reminded the other day of a striking feature of each cantata. During the portion portraying Jesus’ trial before Pilate, one male would sing the part of Pilate (my cousin Greg one year), another would be Jesus (my cousin Greg a different year), and the rest of the choir was the crowd singing “Release unto us Barabbas!” “Away with this man!” “We have no king but Caesar!” and “Crucify him!” I remember clearly the strange dissonance of these lyrics sung vigorously in a building dedicated to the worship of the man being condemned to death; even though the temptation was to consider the crowd as evil sinners, give us barabbasI also remember wondering if there might have been more than a few well-meaning folks in the group calling for Jesus’ crucifixion who actually thought they were doing the right thing. Sometimes “Give us Barabbas!” seems to make sense.

I think we find ourselves in one of those times. Regular readers of this blog know that I have been wondering about how Christians who are also Republicans fit all of that together and, most recently, why so many evangelical Christians support Donald Trump. Then this past Sunday, Donald Trump gave the convocation address at Liberty University, the self-proclaimed largest evangelical Christian university in the world.

Donald Trump at Liberty Universitytrump at liberty

Interviews with students afterwards revealed strong support for Trump because of his perceived honesty, directness, outside-Washington status, business experience, and the perception that he had the best chance among the Republican candidates to defeat Hillary Clinton. Trump’s inability to identify the location of his favorite Bible verse or to even quote it accurately, his apparent lack of any commitment to traditional Christian values beyond lip service, and the fact that a conservative Christian leader described Trump recently as “the most immoral and ungodly man to ever run for President of the United States” seemed to matter little, if at all. One student said “I know a lot of people speak of his ego and how that’s not a Christian value — but I honestly think his ego is what gets things done. I’m okay with an egotistical president. He wants to be the best, and I think for that reason, he gets things done.” When faced with the opportunity to judge a candidate according to the values he and his chosen university profess, this student chose to punt. “Give us Barabbas.”givenness

At the gym later in the day I read an essay from Marilynne Robinson’s recent collection The Givenness of Things that shone some new light on these matters. In “Awakening,” Robinson reflects on a contemporary phenomenon that runs rampant through our current public and political discourse—a professed “Christianity” that looks and sounds like anything but Christianity.

No doubt as a consequence of a recent vogue for feeling culturally embattled, the word “Christian” now is seen less as identifying an ethic, and more as identifying a demographic. On one hand I do not wish to overstate the degree to which these two uses of the word “Christian” are mutually exclusive, and on the other hand I think it would be a very difficult thing to overstate how deeply incompatible they can be.

For many people, in other words, “Christianity” has become a tribal label, a marker of “us” vs. “them,” the very sort of tribalism that currently infects and threatens to permanently damage our political and social structures. Robinson notes that when the hallmarks of being a Christian are reduced to “are you in or out?” very un-Christian consequences are inevitable.saved and unsaved

The simple, central, urgent pressure to step over the line that separates the saved from the unsaved, and after this the right, even the obligation, to turn and judge that great sinful world the redeemed have left behind—this is what I see as the essential nature of the emerging Christianity. Those who have crossed this line can be outrageously forgiving of one another and themselves, and very cruel in their denunciations of anyone else.

How is it, I have been wondering recently, that professed Christians can support candidates and policies that are, by any stretch of the imagination, anything but embodiments of traditional Christian values? If Marilynne Robinson is right, it is because contemporary Christianity often is not a way of life or a commitment to the principles of a historic and beautiful religion—it is rather a way to facilitate what are often the worst tendencies in human nature and behavior.

People of good faith get caught up in these things in all times and all places. In the excitement of the moment who really knows he or she might not also shout, “Give us Barabbas!”

muslims are terroristsAll of this sounds rather harsh and judgmental—also not congruent with Christian values. So be it. I grow weary of hearing the name of my faith used in the service of un-Christian and inhumane policies and actions, in much the same way that sincere and serious Muslims must tire of hearing their ancient religion’s name used as a placeholder and justification for terrorism and murder. The truth of the matter is that Christianity as a lived faith runs contrary to much of our deepest, natural human wiring. The first will be last; to him who asks give; turn the other cheek; judge not. Tribal Christianity, on the other hand, appeals to the worst in our nature. As Robinson points out,

It is worse than ordinary tribalism because it assumes a more than virtuous us on one side, and on the other a them who are very doubtful indeed, who are, in fact, a threat to all we hold dear . . . If the claims to Christian identity we hear now are rooted in an instinctive tribalism, they are entirely inappropriate, certainly uninformed, because in its nature the religion they claim has no boundaries, no shibboleths, no genealogies or hereditary claimants.

As Robinson writes, fear and the desire for identity and a place to belong can cause people of good will and intentions to choose and accept things that are in truth the very opposite of what they claim to believe in, even with the real thing right in front of them. But fear need not rule the day.voting

We should take very seriously what the dreadful past can tell us about our blindnesses and predilections. The haunting fact is that we are morally free. If everyone around us is calling for Barabbas, it is only probable—but never necessary—that some of us join in.

White Privilege

If I lived by my principles fully, I would never shop at Walmart. For reasons too numerous to belabor, Walmart represents many of the worst features of American capitalism. But there are many items that Jeanne and I regularly purchase at Walmart, items that we could get at any number of other retail establishments. So why do we go to Walmart? Because it’s convenient and its cheaper. walmartPrinciples be damned, apparently—I guess there’s an American capitalist in me after all. But I must confess that I don’t enjoy going there—I feel as if I’m doing something wrong every time I pull into Walmart’s parking lot.

Last Saturday was my latest excursion to the dark side for dog treats, a few cheap picture frames, checking the Keurig display (our Walmart occasionally has our favorite Amaretto flavor), shampoo, cold medicine, and a couple of other items for which in our experience Walmart has the lowest prices. After paying I headed for the exit where, as is the custom at this Walmart, there was an employee checking the bags of those leaving the store for the parking lot—something that Jeanne and I both find annoying and yet another reason to hate Walmart. Then something happened that I found worthy of a Facebook post when I got home.

walmart-security-checkHad an interesting experience at Walmart this morning. After buying my stuff and heading for the exit, there’s a Hispanic family in front of me and an African-American guy behind me. After checking the receipt of the family in front of me to make sure everything is accounted for, the Walmart employee at the door (an older white guy) waves me through. I said “No, either you check everybody or you check nobody.” Checking my receipt, he said “you’re right.” In the parking lot afterward, the guy behind me said “thanks, man–that was nice.”

This was not a typical thing for me to do; my awareness usually is only high enough to show the employee my receipt if she or he insists and get the hell out of there. But this time I noticed something and, contrary to my nature, said something about it. “Good for me,” I congratulated myself as I drove home.sticker

White privilege—I confess that although I read about it frequently and have intellectually affirmed that it exists for a long time, in practical terms I have been virtually blind to it. Jeanne and I have laughed occasionally that there are no two whiter people in the world than we are. I have white hair in a ponytail and white skin that is a product of my Scandinavian gene pool. Jeanne acts Italian, but has the beautiful, freckled lily-white skin from the Irish half of her ancestry. Without Jeanne’s red hair we would look like Casper and his significant other. But during our current Presidential election cycle my almost-sixty-year-old whiteness has come to my attention more frequently than in the past—I hear and read over and over again that certain elements of U. S. citizenry is angry, upset about all sorts of things, an anger that is making outsider candidates such as Ben Carson and Donald Trump attractive in spite of their complete lack of traditional qualifications for the Presidency. mad as hellAnd what sorts of people are angriest? Older white people, particularly older white guys. My demographic, in other words.

So what are older white people angry about? According to an older white couple interviewed by MSNBC while standing in line for a Trump rally, “everything.” When asked to be more specific, neither one of them went further than “we want America to be the way it used to be,” in alignment with Trump’s campaign slogan “Make America Great Again.” The attractiveness of that, of course, depends on how one defines “great”—as one of the anchors on “Weekend Update” on the Saturday Night Live broadcast that Donald Trump hosted recently remarked, “Whenever rich old white guys start bringing up the good old days, my Negro senses start tingling.” Specific issues are often raised, but the general sense is often that a segment of the population—particularly older white folks—have a gnawing fear that things they have taken for granted their whole lives are changing and that the world they thought they could depend on seems not quite so dependable any more. There is anger that a world which used to make perfect sense isn’t making sense any more. yodaOne blunt but honest way of describing this is that older white folks aren’t happy about an emerging world in which whiteness and entitlement are no longer synonymous.

I was surprised that my brief Facebook post about my Walmart experience received more “likes” and comments than anything I have ever posted on Facebook—and I’m pretty active there (more than I should be). My experience apparently hit a nerve—positively. One Facebook acquaintance whom I have never met in person commented “Not only is it great that you pointed this out at the time, but it is great that you posted about it. Too many of us white people aren’t even aware that this happens . . . probably partly because we aren’t even aware that ANYONE gets checked . . . when it doesn’t happen to us, we don’t notice.” It takes conscious awareness for the privileged to even see their privilege—this is why “All Lives Matter” from a white person is not an appropriate response to “Black Lives Matter.” This response implies that “of course black lives matter—we all do, because everyone is equal in our country. Didn’t you know that?” Ignoring, of course, the fact that older white folks like I have been the beneficiaries of generations of accumulated and embedded privilege our whole lives, white privilegeusually without our even being aware—it can be jarring to be told forcefully that what we take for granted has been institutionally denied to those unlike us throughout the history of our country.

As I posted on this blog a week ago, my New Year’s Resolution is to find ways to be a blessing in my corner of the world—I’d like to think that my Walmart experience is a start. I’m not an angry older white person—even if I shared the fears of those who express such anger (and I don’t), I would not be able to sustain it for long. Being perpetually pissed takes a psychological toll. But as an older white person I am privileged in ways that are both institutional and unjust—I commit myself to noticing and addressing those ways as often as possible. As a close friend commented on my Facebook story, “I love those moments which move life toward justice—one has to believe that it all adds up.” One bit of awareness at a time.

Donald Trump and Evangelicals

But understand this, that in the last days terrible times will come. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, wolf in sheep's clothinglovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people. II Timothy 3:1-5

The other day as I listened to NPR as is my custom when in the car, someone mentioned that although Ted Cruz seems to have the approval of most evangelicals in Iowa, Donald Trump does well nationally among conservative evangelical Christians. It’s probably not right for someone who claims to be a Christian to have a “What The Fuck!!” moment, but I did. I’ve expressed my confusion before over how someone professing to be a Christian can sign on to the political platform of the Republican Party,

The Return of Republican Jesus

but that confusion pales in comparison to my complete failure to understand how evangelical Christians can support Donald Trump. Rather than ask my numerous liberal friends and social media acquaintances, who would be as clueless as I am about this phenomenon, evangelicals-cartoonI decided to go to the source. I gave some evangelical Christians the opportunity to explain this to me.

This was a bit trickier to do than it might sound—where is a liberal Episcopalian, freelance Christian who is off the charts liberal on social issues and most everything else going to find some evangelical Christians willing to talk with a reprobate such as I? Although I do not call myself an evangelical Christian, I understand the mindset and commitments of evangelicals very well—it is the faith atmosphere into which I was born and in which I was raised. My father, a Baptist minister, was the founder and President of a small evangelical Bible school in northern New England during my growing up years; I spent a year there between graduating from high school and going across the country to begin my college education.

My dad’s Bible school closed its doors a half-dozen or so years after my year there; I was interested to discover a Facebook page a year or so ago for former students to reconnect and reminisce. Several of the people who were fellow students with me over forty years ago are members of this site—it has become clear to me as I drop in on occasion that although I have evolved away from conservative evangelical Christianity over the past few decades, many of my former fellow students have not. donald and evangelicalsSo when I wanted to run my Donald Trump question past some evangelicals, I knew where to go. I went to the Facebook site and posted this question:

Could someone explain to me why so many evangelical Christians like Donald Trump?

Here are a few of the exchanges that ensued, lightly edited for space purposes:

Conversation One was not very fruitful:

  • Him: There is no one more unqualified for the presidency of this great nation than the person currently occupying that office.
  • Me: Which, of course, does not answer the question I asked.
  • Him: The answer is, any of the candidates on the Republican side, though not perfect, would be orders of magnitude better than any on the other side, current or running.
  • Me: keep calm and answer the questionYou’re certainly free to answer whatever question you want, even if it’s not the one I asked, but I’m not the least bit interested in a useless political debate. You and I disagree sharply, let’s leave it at that. If you’re interested in actually responding to the question I asked, it was: Could someone explain to me why so many evangelical Christians like Donald Trump? I fail to see how “I don’t like the President” or “anyone but Hilary or Bernie” addresses that question. I posted it because I thought in this group there might be an evangelical Christian or two who could provide some illumination, since I fail to detect any glimmer of Christian anything in Trump. X provided a reasonable explanation above–if you care to try as well, I’d be happy to respond.

He didn’t. Conversation Two at least appeared to engage with my question:

  • Him: Vance, I think it’s simply and only because there has been such a climate of PC that has developed over the years, it’s refreshing to hear a person simply saying what they think with really no thought that what he says (may…might…possibly…to some unknown and unnamed person…) be offensive sometime. That would be my guess.
  • Me: You’re probably right–which worries me greatly. To think that a person who is entirely unqualified to be President is attracting followers because he has no filter is scary. And it is anything but “refreshing,” unless one finds racism, misogyny and egomania “refreshing.” Also, the above does not explain why evangelical Christians would be attracted to him–what you describe is hardly a trait affirmed in the Sermon on the Mount, for instance.

Conversation Three was the most fruitful and most worrisome:

  • Her: Vance, I am not sure that I am the person to answer the big question, but I find it refreshing for someone in the spotlight to speak up and say what many Americans are thinking. In my circle of friends, who consider themselves evangelical, I am hard pressed to find quote unquote any evangelical Christians who would vote for him. Even though they like what he says. They believe he is too quick and they don’t like how he talks about the other people and lacks experience. anyone but hillaryLet’s imagine that he is the nominee…would evangelical Christians vote for him? I believe that they would. They would not stay home and not vote, like those who did in the last election. They don’t want another Clinton in the White House. I hope that I have shed some light on your question and that I was somewhat coherent.
  • Me: I would not be surprised if conservative folks, Christian or not, might vote for anyone to avoid a liberal as President–often votes are cast against someone rather than for. But with a number of Republican candidates with credentials that line up better with evangelical concerns, I’m just wondering why so many like Trump.
  • Her: I think that many, myself included, will get the same old “Beltway” Republican, who easily caves into the Democrats on the “Hill”. I want someone who will stand up for something, fight the good fight and if he goes down, let him go down swinging. The candidates that are running aren’t that way. They are tied to big money donations. Seriously, do we want Jeb Bush as the next president. conservativesTalk about someone who appears wimpy and whiny. Ben Carson is not going to make it, he knows less than Trump. Chris Christie, no way, Rubio, no way, Ted Cruz…maybe. There is so much discord between liberals and conservatives that I believe that Trump may not be so bad. Who knows what he will be like in the White House if elected. I believe that this election will be one of the scariest and not knowing who the real person is that is being voted for. Does Trump have a hidden agenda? Don’t know. Does he really believe what he is saying? Don’t know. I do believe the election will come down to who has the most votes. I must say I am looking forward to watching both conventions. Yes, they will vote the person and not what they say to avoid a liberal democrat. I brought my bibleThey see liberal democrats as big on spending and taxes. But the bottom line is, many people who are unemployed, have had cuts in pay, struggling with meeting their budgets, feel helpless about the immigration, and the feeling that their Constitutional rights are slowly being taking away… YES, they will vote for Trump.
  • Me: I appreciate your thoughts. As you might imagine, we’re on opposite sides of the political spectrum. But I am glad to have a discussion with more depth than the usual sound bites from both sides.
  • Her: I have enjoyed the discussion, also. I believe that is probably the biggest problem in America. People don’t talk to others who have different opinions. They shout, call each other names and don’t try to understand another’s point of view. Just because I understand another point of view does not mean that I agree. But I will still talk to that individual. I read your blog, food for thought and gives me another perspective of another person’s world view. Though I don’t feel insulated, I know that I am compared to others. It always surprises me when others don’t have my view. LOL!

In addition to agreeing with my Conversation Three partner that it always surprises me when others don’t share my views, my main takeaway is to note that my conversants said virtually nothing about Christianity, evangelical or otherwise. The reasoning provided could have been given by a conservative agnostic.kim davis

Which means that I remain confused. One of the fundamental commitments of evangelical Christianity is to bring one’s Christian faith “into all the world”—a Kim Davis-like insertion of one’s religious beliefs into secular society. Those who responded to my Facebook question instead relied on their conservative political leanings with nary a mention of how any of this squares with their being an evangelical Christian. I just don’t get it—my own social and political commitments are largely shaped by my faith commitments. As I frequently say, I am a liberal because I am a Christian. And I am still waiting for a Christian to show me how their faith meshes with their conservative agenda. Or with supporting Donald Trump, who sounds a lot like the sort of person Paul tells us to avoid in Second Timothy.

There was one person, though—my Conversation Four partner—who was clearly interested in voting for the best Christian among those running for President.

  • Her: I would like to know which of the nominees is truly the one that has a relationship with Jesus? Does anyone know?
  • Me: Ultimately that is not for us to judge. But we do have what they say and do as evidence. As the book says, by their fruits you will know them.
  • Her: Thanks Vance, but I was hoping for some names.kicking ass and taking names

Goliath was a Wimp: Random Observations for the New Year

The first measurable winter precipitation of the season rolled through town last Monday night, on the heels of sixty-five degree temperatures on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.goliath I found out on Weather.com that this mediocre, unimpressive two-inches-of-icy-crap-producing storm was given the name Winter Storm Goliath. I really hate that every winter system that produces a snowflake gets its own special name, but if we’re going Biblical with storm names this winter, I have some suggestions. Nebuchadnezzar. Zerubbabel. Mephibosheth. Habakkuk. Melchizedek. Ahasuerus. Or we could go short with something like Eli or Ham. If we have a winter like last year and run out of names, I’ve got some good New Testament ones as well.

If at this time in 2017 Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, or Ben Carson is President of the United States, Jeanne and I will be wishing everyone Happy New Year from Canada.carsontrumpcruz

 

 

 

 

At an after-Christmas, multiple birthday party at Jeanne’s brother’s house on Long Island this week, there were three generations of her family present (hard to believe that we are part of the oldest generation). This included six kids representing the newest generation—I don’t recall my cousins, brother, and me being that cute and precocious when we were in single digits of age. Or at least our parents didn’t act as if we were.

DeadInflatables1-560x234What’s with the inflatable snowmen, reindeer, and Santa Clauses that seem to populate more and more yards every holiday season? I don’t like them. At least eighty percent of the time they are not inflated and look like a bunch of large and colorful used condoms. Really—think about it.

While writing one of the days before Christmas I put Handel’s Messiah on Spotify for my listening pleasure. I had a classic WTF? moment shortly afterwards until I realized that I had forgotten to turn “shuffle” off. “The Trumpet Shall Sound” followed by “There Were Shepherds Abiding in the Field” and the “Hallelujah Chorus” was as disorienting as scrambling the verses of the Twenty-Third Psalm would be. Didn’t quite work.

trumpet

Good news on the broken ankle front–it has healed well and I don’t need to see the orthopedist again. I asked him if there was anything I should still avoid doing; his advice sounded like a Henny Youngman joke. “If you do something and your ankle hurts, stop doing it.”

From the Un-Fucking-Believable file: I read on Facebook this week that certain conservative elements are interpreting House Speaker Paul Ryan’s new beard as a sign that he is soft on Islam and perhaps moving toward conversion himself. I’m not making this up.

Did Paul Ryan GROW A BEARD to show SYMPATHY with the MUSLIMS?!?!

Beards are important, though—just ask fans of the 2013 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox. I noticed the other day that one sharp dividing line between my side of the philosophy department wars and the other, dfear the beardark side is that the males on my side all have beards and the guys on the other side are, with one exception, beardless. By the way, there’s only one woman out of twenty-one philosophers in the department—certainly a huge part of our problems. I never thought I would have a moment of solidarity with Paul Ryan, but as my sister-in-law from Brooklyn likes to say, “what are you gonna do?”

A friend of ours who is going through major life changes is trying to get Jeanne and me to give his dachshund a home. We have two dachshunds and a Boston Terrier already who all compete vigorously for Jeanne’s attention—adding a fourth Jeanne-loving canine into the mix does not make sense. But something tells me we’re going to do it (Lily likes me too, so maybe I can co-opt her). Stay tuned.100_0720

Here’s hoping that 2016 delivers a President that rational people from all sides can live with, a country that acts more like Canada, another Super Bowl for the Patriots, a deep NCAA tournament run for Friars basketball, a repeat national championship for the Friars hockey team, a publisher for my new book, my book rocketing to the top of the NY Times non-fiction list, the miracle of sanity and collegiality for my philosophy department, no snow storms stronger than Goliath, a Red Sox return to the top, and the keys to a new car under everyone’s seat. Is that too much? I don’t care—Happy New Year to all!latest-happy-new-year-2016-photos

The Best and the Worst: A Wish for the New Year

Love does not say “I ought to love”—it loves. Pity does not say “It is right to feel pity”—it pities. Justice does not say, “I am bound to be just”—it acts justly. George Eliot

There are eight to ten movies that Jeanne and I watch religiously during the Christmas season, from the obvious (“It’s a Wonderful Life,” “White Christmas”) to a few that are not as well-known. We ended our annual Christmas movie-watching binge on Christmas Eve this year with one of the lesser known films, the 2006 French film “Joyeux Noel.” Joyeux NoelOne of my favorites, this film is a fictionalized account of the 1914 Christmas Truce that spontaneously occurred in numerous places along the battlefield trenches throughout France during the first Christmas season of World War I. The movie is strangely both feel-good and devastatingly sad. The soldiers from both the German and the Allied sides are portrayed as humane and patriotic, willing to share in spontaneous brotherhood and solidarity for twelve hours or so, all the time knowing (as the viewer also knows) that carnage will return within hours and continue for another five hellish years. William Butler Yeats described it well: Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, / The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere / The ceremony of innocence is drowned.the second coming

I am not the first person during the past weeks and months to think of the next two lines from Yeats’ “The Second Coming” when considering current events: The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity. From departmental drama to presidential politics to immigration crises to the war on terrorism, these lines capture the essence of the world we live in. During this holiday season, the closing lines of Yeats’ masterpiece are especially haunting: And what rough beast, its hour come round at last / Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born? What is this world that we have created? And what hope is there, as we move to yet another year, to stem the blood-dimmed tide and begin to do something different?

With a few notable exceptions, the public sphere these days is crammed to overflowing with people who embody Yeats’ observation. Those who have boundless passion and energy, grabbing all the headlines and air space regularly display the worst aspects of what humans can be—intolerant, judgmental, pompous, self-centered, ambitious for all the wrong reasons—while evidence of what is best about us seldom rises to our attention. my life in middlemarchI read in Rebecca Mead’s My Life in Middlemarch the other day a line from a George Eliot essay that could have been written yesterday about many of our public figures. In a withering critique of Dr. John Cumming, a well-known nineteenth-century Scottish Evangelical preacher, Eliot comments on his ability “to reconcile small ability with great ambition, superficial knowledge with the prestige of erudition, a middling morality with a high reputation for sanctity.” Our current political landscape is populated with such people; as Eliot writes elsewhere, “one’s ambition is always in the inverse proportion of one’s knowledge.” And this is not forced on us—if pollsters are correct, this is precisely the sort of person that many of us are attracted to.

The obvious solution for this would be to find a way to spark the conviction of the “best” so that better people will seek the highest offices in the land. This is a problem that has challenged philosophers and others since Plato’s Republic—how is one to ensure that the best people are in charge of things (Plato essentially said they should be forced to do so)? My own thinking is that the “best” do not necessarily lack conviction as Yeats suggests; instead, the “best” are those whose conviction leads them to live the sort of life described by middlemarchGeorge Eliot beautifully in the final sentence of Middlemarch:

The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.

Goodness does not enter the world on grand stages with fanfare and media coverage. Rather, the best people are those who live lives of excellence and virtue with conviction, seeking no reward or notoriety. How is such conviction cultivated?

Many argue that religious faith is the most likely, perhaps the only, source of moral excellence and conviction. There is strong evidence linking faith and moral excellence, but we are all aware of just how much damage and violence is done in the name of religious purity and conviction in our nation and world. In his recent book sacksNot in God’s Name, Jonathan Sacks, until recently the Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, reflects on the connection between faith and moral conviction:

Abraham himself sought to be a blessing to others regardless of their faith. That idea, ignored for many of the intervening centuries, remains the simplest definition of Abrahamic faith. It is not our task to conquer or convert the world or enforce uniformity of belief. It is our task to be a blessing to the world. The use of religion for political ends is not righteousness but idolatry . . . To invoke God to justify violence against the innocent is not an act of sanctity but of sacrilege.

It is perhaps time for persons of all faiths to seek common sources of moral conviction, shared simply by being human.

George Eliot consciously intended her novels to be an inspiration for human excellence, but she spent most of her adult life as an agnostic, having left the Anglicanism of her youth behind in her early twenties. She found the wellspring of moral excellence and conviction in obvious, but often overlooked places—good and badour shared humanity and our capacity to empathize with others. Her answer to the perennial question “Why be moral?” is as direct as it is simple:

I am just and honest, not because I expect to live in another world, but because, having felt the pain of injustice and dishonesty towards myself, I have a fellow-feeling with other people, who would suffer the same pain if I were unjust or dishonest towards them. It is a pang to me to witness the suffering of fellow-beings, and I feel their suffering the more acutely because they are mortal—because their lives are so short, I would have them, if possible, filled with happiness and not misery.

This is not a call to debate, legislation, philosophical hair-splitting, or theological distinctions. It is a simple call to action. As the prophet Micah wrote so many centuries ago, “do justice, love mercy, walk humbly.” These are action verbs. We are called to do more than talk.

In keeping with Rabbi Sacks’ call, my New Year’s resolution is to find new ways to be a blessing in the part of the world that is in front of me on a daily basis. Perhaps if enough of us shared that resolution, our collective conviction might introduce some positive change into a world that badly needs it. It’s worth a try.

We Are Not Alone

This Christmas season seems more dissonant than most, with violence across the globe and in our country jostling for air space with department store muzak and familiar stories from the pulpit. During a conversation with a number of friends the other day I was reminded that the juxtaposition of promise and death, of expectation and suffering, is nothing new. The Coventry CarolThis dissonance is built into the fabric of the stories that we tend to tell selectively and sanitize for public consumption at this time of year. The text of one of my favorite carols, the Coventry Carol, is a case in point.

The Coventry Carol is written in a minor key, appropriate for the shocking event that is its central concern. In Matthew’s gospel the early focus is not on the birth of Jesus (Luke’s more familiar story takes care of that), but on events occurring soon after. “Wise men from the East” have arrived in Jerusalem following a star that they believe portends the birth of a new king. After they refuse to take the current king Herod’s bait and choose to return home after visiting the Holy Family’s house (they’ve apparently moved out of the stable some time earlier) without revealing to massacre of the innocentsHerod where the infant threat to his throne is living in Bethlehem, Herod orders the murder of all the male children under two years of age in Bethlehem. This is the theme of the Coventry Carol, so named because it is part of a cycle of 16th century songs that were performed in that city as a pageant dramatization of the birth narrative in Matthew.

Herod the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day.
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children to slay.

Mary, Joseph, and Jesus escape the massacre because Joseph is tipped off by an angel of the danger. They escape to Egypt where the family stays until Herod dies. The Coventry Carol reminds us that even the Incarnation, the divine taking on human form, does not guarantee a respite from darkness, evil, and death. Indeed, this particularly horrible event—the massacre of innocent children—would not have even happened had it not been for the miraculous event of Jesus’ birth. coventryAgain and again we learn that goodness and evil abide together in a complex tangle that belies our hopes and dreams of a world in which all is goodness and light. Whatever is promised by the narrative of the Incarnation, it is not that.

The city of Coventry after which the carol is named was the location of yet another extraordinary mixture of hope and darkness during World War II. An industrial city in the West Midlands of England, Coventry was the target of numerous Luftwaffe bombing raids. The worst of these occurred on November 14, 1940; the devastation included the almost total destruction of Coventry’s gothic Saint Michael’s Cathedral that was built during the late 14th and early 15th centuries. ruinsVarious researchers revealed some decades later the likelihood that because the German secret “Enigma” code had just been broken by cryptographers at Bletchley Circle, British war authorities knew that Coventry had been targeted for a Luftwaffe fire-bombing raid some days before the raid occurred. These authorities chose not to alert the citizens of Coventry ahead of time because doing so would have revealed to the Germans that their supposedly unbreakable code had been cracked. Sir William Stephenson, the chief of all Allied intelligence during WWII, wrote that both Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill were aware that Coventry was going to be bombed; cathedral old and newChurchill reportedly told Stephenson after the war that letting Coventry burn aged him twenty years.

Others have challenged Stephenson’s story, but situations of overall good requiring destruction and death are disturbingly commonplace. A new Coventry Cathedral was built next to the ruins of the one destroyed in 1940, incorporating into its modern architecture the remains of the previous edifice as a testament to both hope and despair, triumph and sacrifice. The theme of the dedication, and the continuing ministry of St. Michael’s Cathedral to this day, is reconciliation. Its art work, commissioned from all over the world, makes use of remnants of the old cathedral as well as materials not usually incorporated in religious art—the wreckage of automobiles, refuse from landfills—thehigh altar cross last places we normally look for intimations of the sacred.

Paying attention to the Christmas narrative reveals that the planners and parishioners of the cathedral in Coventry are on to something. When the divine enters the world, we may often look in vain for immediate evidence. Violence and suffering still occur, human beings continue to perpetuate atrocities on each other and on the world in which we live. The difference before God enters human reality and after is so subtle as to often be unnoticeable. But as a wise person once told me, this is not a God who intervenes. AudenThis is a God who indwells. In his lengthy Christmas poem “For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio,” W. H. Auden expresses this sentiment through Simeon, the old man who gets to see the infant Jesus just before he dies.

And because of His visitation, we may no longer desire God as if He were lacking: our redemption is no longer a question of pursuit but of surrender to Him who is always and everywhere present. Therefore, at every moment we pray that, following Him, we may depart from our anxiety into His peace.

Anxiety and fear are natural human responses to evil and suffering. But we do well to remember one of the promised names of the infant to come—Immanuel—means “God is with us.” massacre 2We will look far and wide for reminders of Herod’s massacre of the Innocents in nativity sets in houses and front yards this Christmas season, but maybe such reminders should be there. They are just as much a part of the story as angels singing to shepherds. In the darkest depths of despair, the promise is that God is with us, choosing to become part of the mess and transform it from within rather than impose solutions from the outside. As I heard someone say this morning, “we need to stop listening to fear and calling it wisdom.” At the heart of the beautiful and transformative story is, as Winston Churchill might have described it, “a mystery wrapped in an enigma.” The baby in a manger, as well as the dead babies in the streets of Bethlehem, call us to embrace hope when things are darkest. We are not alone.

Our Thoughts and Prayers Are Not Enough

our thoughts and prayersOn the day after the San Bernardino massacre, just the latest in what seems to be a weekly litany of mass violence in this country, I posted the following in frustration on my Facebook page:

I’m tired–really tired–of hearing people say and seeing them write that “my thoughts and prayers are with” the victims of the latest mass shooting. God isn’t going to fix this, and the victims don’t need our prayers. They need us to f__king do something about the gun insanity in this country. just another dayUntil then, as a BBC headline said today, massacres such as today’s will be “Just Another Day in the United States.”

My post was prompted by an avalanche of “my thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families” sentiments in social media and from every corner of politics, as candidates for President fell over each other in the race to express the sincerity of their thoughts and prayers before those of their opponents. Given the cheapness of thoughts and prayers disconnected from actual action, I was not impressed.

Not surprisingly, my post generated more activity than perhaps any Facebook message I have ever written, comments ranging from mere “likes” and brief sentences of agreement to pushback of various sorts. One person suggested that we should pay more attention to the fact that gun violence is significantly lower in this country than it was twenty years ago; instead of wringing our hands over the violence that remains, we should study carefully what we have done right in the last twenty years and continue to do likewise (this comment set off a different, very volatile discussion that I did not participate in). 2nd amendmentSomeone else wanted to know if I believe in the Second Amendment (I do, but not interpreted as unlimited license to bear arms in whatever amount and of whatever kind one chooses). But given that the main concern energizing my post was the cavalier attitude behind offering impotent and ineffective prayers in response to random bloodshed and not a debate about gun control, what caught my attention most came from a friend whose faith perspective is of the sort in which I was raised.

  • Friend: How about this. Instead of each of us approaching this problem with our own fix, we all as Christian people pray that the light of Christ shine on this country and the world so all can see the truth for what it is. Most people don’t want this. To see the truth is painful. The light of Christ exposes all things hiding in dark places including ourselves.
  • Me: With millions of people praying for this every day and the problem getting worse, what would you suggest? I’m a Christian and I’m also a pragmatist—too many people are hiding behind the defense of “we’re praying for change” while never spending an ounce of effort actually trying to make it happen.
  • Friend: You missed it. I’m not talking about praying for change. I’m talking about praying that the light of Christ will shine! If Jesus is truly the light of the world, then no dark thing can be hidden from it. Everything would be seen for what it really is.
  • Me: True—but my question still stands. The Bible says God requires us to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. That’s a lot more than just praying for the light of Christ to shine.

This was the sort of conversation that could have gone on indefinitely with each of us talking past each other and making no connection. Fortunately, another Facebook acquaintance jumped in and said clearly what I should have said.

  • Facebook acquaintance: God works through us, not instead of us. We are the physical manifestation of God and, while prayers do help us see and hear what must be done, we are the ones who must do it. The God you are praying to is waiting for you to be the light you are praying to shine. How does your Jesus shine light into the world if not by you?

This brought to mind a favorite passage from Joan Chittister, one that I arrive at frequently when I take the time to wonder what being a person of faith might actually require of us rather than mere facile verbiage.joan chittister

Having made the world, having given it everything it needs to continue, having brought it to the point of abundance and possibility and dynamism, God left it for us to finish. God left it to us to be the mercy and the justice, the charity and the care, the righteousness and the commitment, all that it will take for people to bring the goodness of God to outweigh the rest.

As long as persons of faith believe that “my thoughts and prayers are with you” is an appropriate response to anything, let alone the tragedy of mass violence, we wait in vain for the coming of the kingdom of God for which many of us robotically pray in the Lord’s Prayer every Sunday. I have often wondered how it is that faith commitment so frequently over time becomes nothing more than rote phrases and habitual practices; the most obvious answer is that it happens in the same way that intelligent commitment platitudeis reduced to bumper sticker platitudes in any human endeavor. It happens because real commitment is difficult and cuts far deeper than the simplified ways we construct to make it through our days, weeks, months and years intact.

In the liturgical year Advent is the time to pay close attention to the ways in which the divine, according to the Christian narrative, chooses to insert itself into our human reality. It never happens in easily identifiable ways or in events so spectacular that even the densest person would have to admit that “yes, that’s God at work.” Instead God enters the world through the pregnancies of a woman past child-bearing years and of a virgin, in private communications that only one person is privy to,be the change and ultimately through a helpless baby in a manger surrounded by animals.
This is good news, because it says that each of us—no matter how insignificant and powerless—can be the vehicle of divine change. But as it was in the stories, so it is now. We have to decide to be that change. We have to say “be it unto me according to your word.” This requires a lot more than thoughts and prayers.

Fear Itself

Last Monday a segment of one of the NPR shows I listen to frequently was dedicated to the 73rd anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, particularly focused on President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s famous “day that will live in infamy” speech to Congress and the nation that followed the attack on December 7th, 1941. FDR first inauguralDuring the segment, the person being interviewed mentioned a well-known passage from another of FDR’s speeches, his First Inaugural Address in 1933.

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.

In this speech, Roosevelt was drawing his listeners’ attention particularly to the economic fear that paralyzed the nation during the Great Depression. But his words have direct application to our country at the end of 2015—the greatest thing we have to fear is not ISIS, Muslims, immigrants, liberals, conservatives, global warming, Donald Trump, or any of the other people or things that we obsess endlessly about. It is fear itself.

fear notThere is a reason why the first thing angels say when showing up in various places in scripture invariably is “Fear Not.” Because when forced to choose between freedom and safety, human beings invariably prefer the latter. What do people want more, freedom or security? There is an exercise I do with my students frequently when this question comes up in class that never fails to be illuminating, an exercise that begins with my telling them a story. Just four short weeks after 9/11, I was scheduled to give a conference paper in Fort Lauderdale; as it turned out, almost half of the thirty or more scheduled speakers cancelled because they did not feel safe getting on a plane. Security was very tight at the airport in Providence, but I particularly remember the airport in Fort Lauderdale for our return flight. We arrived three hours earlier than we would have normally and needed every bit of those three hours to get through beefed-up security. There were soldiers in uniform with automatic weapons everywhere in the terminal, the security line was moving at a snail’s pace—and no one was complaining. security linesIndeed, many people went out of their way to thank the soldiers and security personnel for their service and for “keeping us safe.”

“Suppose,” I ask my students, “you wanted to fly home today and it took you more than three hours to get through security at the Providence Airport. What would your reaction be?” “I’d be pissed!” most of them say. What’s the difference between my experience in October 2001 and now? “People didn’t feel safe then, and they do now.” The takeaway from the exercise, without fail, is that freedom and all of that is great, wonderful, and at the center of our core values—until we don’t feel safe. When we think we are threatened or “under attack,” all bets are off—we are willing to set our core values aside in exchange for guarantees of security. And we will flock to the support of any person or persons who claim to have a strategy for keeping us safe. I am not in the classroom this semester because I am on sabbatical, but if I ran this exercise now, my guess is that students might be more tolerant of beefed-up security before a plane ride home. In the wake of an uninterrupted series of mass killings both abroad and in this country over the past several weeks, we are approaching that tipping point from freedom to security.fear and ignorance Iris Murdoch once said that one of the best questions a person can ask is “What are you afraid of?” These days the answer apparently is “everything.” You can smell the fear.

Albert Camus wrote in The Plague that the greatest source of evil in the world is ignorance; that case can be made, but I’m convinced that an even greater source of the worst that human beings can be is fear. Despite the best efforts of many, our current political cycle is being driven by a candidate for President who is extraordinarily skillful at building support out of any number of fears both hidden and public. This week Donald Trump proposed that until our leadership “knows what’s going on,” all Muslims should be prohibited from entering the United States. This was just another example of the sort of xenophobic and racist statements that he utters every other day. My concern is not so much Trump himself—I still am hopeful that his candidacy will fall by the wayside—but rather with why he has been the frontrunner for the Republican nomination unbroken for the past several months with no change in sight. trumpThis says a great deal more about the American electorate than about Donald Trump, who makes no secret about who he is. Why is such a person who regularly says things that eat at the heart of our most cherished values attracting noticeable voter support and endless media play?

Fear. Even FDR was not immune from its tentacles; his internment of Japanese-American citizens during WWII for no reason other than their race is almost universally considered to be one of the darkest blemishes on American history in the 20th century. The day after Donald Trump’s call for banning Muslims from entering the United States, the Anti-Defamation League released the following statement:

In the Jewish community, we know all too well what can happen when a particular religious group is singled out for stereotyping and scapegoating. We also know that this country must not give in to fear by turning its back on its fundamental values, even at a time of great crisis. adlAs we have said so many times, to do otherwise signals to the terrorists that they are winning the battle against democracy and freedom.

Amen to that. When faced with evidence of having failed to live up to our hopes and claims, people often say “We’re better than that.” In our current climate, we have to be better than that.

I am not a big fan of the National Anthem. The tune of “The Star-Spangled Banner” is too difficult for anyone but a trained singer to perform well and many of its lyrics are violent and war-mongering. Give me “America the Beautiful” or “My Country ‘tis of Thee” any day. But the final line of the National Anthem is one that all Americans would do well to pay close attention to these days.land of the free If we are truly “the land of the free and the home of the brave” as the song claims, then we need to act like it. If freedom for all is our primary value, then we need to embrace courage and reject guarantees of security built on a foundation of fear and denial of freedom for some. We must resist the siren call of those who would play on our fears and the worst angels of our nature. The future of the American experiment is at stake.

This or That?

I got into an interesting conversation the other day with someone who insisted that on the particular issue we were discussing, “all or nothing” was the rule—either one took one position or the other, with no room for nuance. The issue was an important one, but this “all or nothing,” “either/or” attitude is not unusual. Human beings are hard-wired to categorize things, including each other. all or nothingThis is a survival skill honed over the millennia through the evolutionary process. Faced with an extraordinarily complicated and threatening environment, creatures with the capacity to quickly simplify things by sorting them out into a manageable number of categories have a leg up in terms of survival on creatures who lack this capacity.

But this useful ability that developed in our evolutionary past does not serve us well when applied to many of the complicated and complex matters that contemporary human beings face every day. One of my most important tasks in the classroom is to convince my students that reality is not neatly and cleanly divided up into familiar or comfortable categories; as William James wrote,william james “In the great boarding-house of nature, the cakes and the butter and the syrup seldom come out so even and leave the plates so clean.” Our current political dysfunction is at least partially due to our insistence on reducing every issue, from abortion to climate change, from immigration to health care, to sharply opposed and incompatible options. Compromise, which has historically been the lifeblood of social policy and politics, has become a dirty word. All or nothing. This or that. Make a choice.

And yet . . . I must admit that quick and rough division into recognizable categories is one of the most useful tools available for trying to understand ourselves and the world around us. I have written about my favorite categories for understanding human nature on occasion—here are a few of them.

Hedgehog/Fox: Archilochus’s observation that “the hedgehog knows one big thing, hedgehog and foxbut the fox knows many little things” is so indispensable to understanding authors, colleagues, friends and family that I have written about it twice, once in the form of a primer

Hedgehogs and Foxes: A Primer

and another time discussing how I use the hedgehog/fox distinction both in teaching and in administration.

How to Herd a Hedgehog (or a Fox)

Another useful way to talk about this difference is to ask whether a person is a “bottom-up” individual (details first, then big picture) or “top-down” (big picture first, applied then to the details). bottom upI am both by nature and philosophical orientation far more fox-like than hedgehoggy, preferring the messiness of details to the pristine purity of the big picture, but I try to remember that none of these distinctions are value-laden. One is not better than the other—they are just very different. Each of us runs into trouble when we assume that our way is not only ours but also is universally best, then act on that assumption.

Cromwell/More: This distinction is about change and certainty—with which are you more comfortable? In my estimation, this is the most useful teaching tool in my arsenal when introducing students to the pantheon of philosophers in the Western tradition for the first time. Two great streams of philosophical thought flow from deciding which is more important to focus on as we try to decipher ourselves and our world. In the certainty camp can be found Protagoras, Plato, Descartes, Hegel, and most of the great metaphysical system builders of the past two millennia and more, while Heraclitus, Aristotle, Hume and the great empiricists focus their attention on the importance of change. I have named this distinction Cromwell/More because of the following passage from cromwell and moreHilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall, around which I built a discussion of this distinction a few months ago.

Wolf Hall

He [Cromwell] never sees More . . . without wanting to ask him, what’s wrong with you? Or what’s wrong with me? Why does everything you know, and everything you’ve learned, confirm you in what you believed before? Whereas in my case, what I grew up with, and what I thought I believed, is chipped away a little and a little, a fragment then a piece and then a piece more. With every month that passes, the corners are knocked off the certainties of this world: and the next world too. Show me where it says, in the Bible, “purgatory.” Show me where it says “relics, monks, nuns.” Show me where it says “Pope.”

Although I am thoroughly Cromwellian in all facets of my life, I try to remember—although it is often difficult—that for many people certainty is both a refuge and a requirement (even though I often say that it is vastly overrated).

high maintenanceHigh maintenance/Low Maintenance: For those blessed J with administrative and leadership duties, the most important matter to become clear about as soon as possible is who the high maintenance people are. The low maintenance people are those you will never hear from—they just do their jobs. Toward the end of my time as director of a large interdisciplinary program with 80 professors under my guidance, I wrote about how this distinction effected my scheduling of classes for the next academic year.

What I Want When I Want It

In review I realize that I probably was as too critical of high maintenance people. And from the perspective of an administrator, it is difficult not to start resenting the five percent of people you are responsible for who take up ninety percent of your time and are responsible for ninety percent of your headaches. Over time I have frequently been surprised by how often high maintenance people take pride in being high maintenance. squeaky wheelAny time you hear a person say that “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” that person is almost certainly a high maintenance person giving you a soundbite explaining why they are the way they are. It’s their way of getting things done. If someone doesn’t stir the pot, nothing will happen. And (I can’t believe I’m saying this) thank God for high maintenance people—just as long as they are using their abilities for the good of everyone instead of just themselves. And thank God that a significant minority of people are high maintenance. My prescription for what ails our current dysfunctional Congress? Stop electing so many high maintenance people.

Introvert/Extrovert: You knew this one was coming. I ruminate about the joys of introversion and the frightening aspects of extroverts frequently; today, I’ll simply take note of two very helpful checklists that have been making the rounds on social media and elsewhere for a while now.

how to care for introverts

how-to-care-for-extroverts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I look these over, I am astounded by how well my extraordinarily extroverted wife abides by the rules of taking care of people like me, particularly because when we first got together she not only didn’t know anything about these rules but didn’t seem to even be aware that introverts exist. familySpending a bit of time with her extended Italian/Irish family will explain why—there are no introverts in sight. I only hope that I am continuing to learn to let her shine and talk things out as well as she has learned to respect my need for privacy and silence as well as my lack of need for dozens of friends. For those strongly on one side of this divide in relationship with someone strongly on the other side, I suggest that you find a couple of things that you both love where you can focus you shared energies. Dogs, great television shows and God do quite well.

Everyone uses these quick and effective tools to sort out a complicated world—there’s nothing wrong with that. The trick is not to impose moral values on traits that are, for the most part, hard-wired in each of us as default settings. Vive la difference!