In Umbris Sancti Petri

Also noteworthy—and a little more germane to the title of this blog—the Holy Father has continued his tradition of trend-swaying appointments, once again in the liturgical sector:

Pope Benedict XVI made a low profile but significant move in the direction of liturgical reform by completely renewing the roster of his liturgical advisors yesterday.

A hardly noticed brief note from the Vatican's Press office announced the appointment of new consultants for the office of Liturgical Celebrations of the Supreme Pontiff. It did not mention, however, the importance of the new appointees.

The new consultants include Monsignor Nicola Bux, professor at the Theological Faculty of Puglia (Southern Italy,) and author of several books on liturgy, especially on the Eucharist. Bux recently finish a new book "Pope Benedict’s Reform," printed by the Italian publishing house Piemme, scheduled to hit the shelves in December.

The list of news consultants includes Fr. Mauro Gagliardi, an expert in Dogmatic theology and professor at the Legionaries of Christ's Pontifical Athenaeum “Regina Apostolorum”; Opus Dei Spanish priest Juan José Silvestre Valor, professor at the Pontifical University of Santa Croce in Rome; Fr. Uwe Michael Lang, C.O., an official of the Congregation for the Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments and author of the book "Turning Towards the Lord" -about the importance of facing "ad orientem" during Mass; and Fr. Paul C.F. Gunter, a Benedictine professor at the Pontifical Athenaeum Sant Anselmo in Rome and member of the editorial board of the forthcoming "Usus Antiquior," a quarterly journal dedicated to the Liturgy under the auspices of the Society of St. Catherine of Siena. The Society, which has an association with the English Province of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans), promotes the intellectual and liturgical renewal of the Church.

Also relevant to the appointments is the fact that all former consultants, appointed when Archbishop Piero Marini led the office of Liturgical Celebrations, have been dismissed by not renewing their appointments. (CNA)

Not a shock. But definitely interesting news nevertheless...

Having a blog is a good thing, especially when you need to put in a plug for another blog. And that is what I am doing right now.

Behold, The Synopsis Project.

Although this new project is quite different than In Umbris Sancti Petri, I have a feeling that many of you who are regular readers here will enjoy what (I hope) will be going on at The Synopsis Project. While this blog is mostly dedicated to things related to theology, philosophy and the Church on a wider scale, the other will be focused primarily on philosophical issues, and will have a decidedly more 'pinpointed' approach. For anyone who's wanted to venture deeper into philosophic topics, I would warmly welcome you to become a regular visitor and commenter at The Synopsis Project.

We are still getting it off the ground—we're at about T+2 seconds, I'd say—but soon it will be fully operational, and we're looking forward to lots of good discussion!

Obviously, we figured out how to provoke comments. And all sorts of comments at that. I'm pleased that such a silly little exercise got people thinking (and typing).

Although the aim of the last post was two-fold (i.e. critiquing the current mindset of bloggers while attempting to promote useful commentary at the same time), the real purpose—as I noted—was to research how to become a 'better blogger.' Getting comments is one thing (a very important thing, no doubt), but stimulating comments that are germane to a topic, and which are sustained in quantity and quality is a different matter altogether. Now that I have your attention for a few moments, what sorts of ideas would you submit on this point?

Here's a thought-provoking (and hopefully comment-provoking) exercise, which incidentally (and perhaps oxymoronically) voices my opinion on a few things. I think it provides a good challenge to those who find it necessary to so quickly open their mouths in comboxes internet-wide...

I've been trying to look toward a few other blogs for ideas on how to blog better. For the most part, I've been getting lots of ideas—but in very few cases have they been formulated in positive terms. For some reason, blogging seems to have an inherently degenerative principle of existence (an apparent anomaly in logical thought) which reduces all possibility for constructive dialogue to mere exchanges of heated opinion. It sounds like something from The Matrix, but all you have to do is seek out any number of mainstream 'discussion' blogs to find evidence.

Blogging, in many senses, is like a classroom: one person 'teaches,' and the rest voice their approval or disapproval for that teaching based on reasoned judgments (i.e. "comments"). This can happen in various ways, but two seem prominent in my mind. There are instances of both classical and—for lack of a better term—modern constructions of blogging, each being diametrically opposed to the other. In the (anachronistically) classical approach to blogging, the blogger writes what he or she believes to be the case, anticipating questions and rebuttals, but nevertheless endeavoring to submit new substance for the discussion at hand. In other words, a topic of particular consideration is viewed in its own right, and is subsequently grappled with by inquiring disciples (themselves often master-bloggers in some other and remote niche of cyberspace).

On the other hand, the (felicitously named) modern approach to blogging is closely associated with the modern theory of classroom study, which is dominated by a subjectivist approach to teaching, weakened further by a subjectivist theory of learning. To put it more clearly, a topic is brought into consideration which is admittedly subjective on the part of the teacher, who in turn expects (although often only implicitly, and by virtue of his own example) that his listeners will attempt to discredit his claims based on similarly subjective evidence. The result of this latter method seems to be a degeneration of dialogue, furthered by each side's attempt to undercut the other's evident and otherwise-impenetrable position of subject-focused truth. In plainest terms, the modern construction of the classroom is not a classroom at all, but an endless series of contradictions aimed at establishing personal truths founded on nothing but subjective bias.

Here, I am free to become a bit teacher-ish. I am free to assume that the beauty of my own critique of blogs and bloggers lies in the critique itself, and in the necessarily self-evidencing character of any comment designed to undermine it. If anyone seeks to prove my theory wrong, his or her comment will prove it right: either the comment will be supportive of my theory that reasoned judgments and positions alone have priority in the dialectic setting of the (blog) classroom, or it will itself manifest the degenerative nature of subjectivist positions in the face of logically constructed ones.

That being said, does anyone have a comment?

Whenever I think of the Roman university of La Sapienzia, and their bold claims against the Holy Father and the Vatican, I can't help but laugh a little. Especially in light of this:

The president of the Pontifical Council for Culture has said that evolutionary theory is “not incompatible” with the teachings of the Catholic Church, insisting that the theory of biological change over time was never condemned by the Church.

Archbishop Gianfranco Ravasi made such remarks while presenting the new interdisciplinary conference to mark the 150th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s Origin of the Species. The conference, which is a Vatican initiative to promote dialogue between scientists and theologians, is scheduled to take place in Rome in March 2009. (CNA)

Now, its already quite clear that the Church has nothing against scientific progress; and I've already written quite enough on that topic for the time being. What really strikes me about this little news clip is the next paragraph (specifically the last line):

[Ravasi] said the theologians, philosophers and scientists are attending the conference not necessarily for the purpose of coming to an agreement, but rather hoping to confirm “the possibility of dialogue and a common desire to interpret reality, albeit from different points of view.”

This statement—as seemingly insignificant as it might be at first glance—provides us a window into some very big issues. First, it shows us precisely the point of all philosophic inquiry. It outlines the basis of philosophical reasoning and methodology: namely, that philosophy is concerned not with some universal method of understanding the truth, but with the truth itself—a truth which alone is universal. In other words, varied approaches to truth are (philosophically) equally acceptable, so long as ultimate and real truth is the goal.

Second, it calls to mind the task of theology, which is quite converse to that of philosophy. In theology, the 'object' or 'aim' of study is God himself. Therefore, the truth being considered is a divine one. Moreover, since theology concerns itself with the knowledge of God directly, something understood only by way of revelation (and particularly in the person of Jesus Christ), it is therefore inherently concerned with the truth of revelation in se. Perhaps more clearly, proper theology places an importance upon the understanding of revelation just as much as it does upon the understanding of God himself. The theological 'study of God' is equally the 'study of God revealed.'

Third, Ravasi's remarks call to our attention the place of science. The word, "science," comes from a Latin word for "knowledge," "scientia." This form of knowing is concerned not only with the ultimate truth, as is philosophy, or the means of knowing, as is theology, but rather both the means and the truth. Science is the understanding of reality based on empirical and experiential observations. One cannot believe that gravity exists and cite the color blue in proof of that claim; nor can one observe an apple fall from a tree and subsequently claim that the theory of gravity has been debunked. For science, the end and the means are equally integral constituents. They must cohere with one another.

The ultimate conclusion is that each of the three—philosophy, theology and science—are inquests toward the truth. In terms of method, philosophy is highest. In terms of object, theology is highest. In terms of utility, science is highest. The real goal is to understand which truth is accessible by which method.

I apologize for the extended dive into the murky waters of 'freedom' theories. Although it is an eminently important question, it is nevertheless not the only one. I submit, however, one final glimpse into the nature of freedom and its integral place in the human experience:

A requiem Mass was celebrated on Monday for Thomas S. Vander Woude, a former athletic director at Christendom College who died saving his Down Syndrome son who had fallen into a septic tank.

Last week the 66-year-old’s youngest son Joseph, 20, had fallen into a septic tank at Vander Woude’s home in Prince William County. According to the Washington Post, his father jumped into the sewage-filled tank to help his son keep his head above the fouled water while Vander Woude’s wife Mary Ellen and a workman called emergency rescue workers and tried to help.

When he and his son were rescued from the tank, Vander Woude was unconscious. He was later pronounced dead at a hospital.

His son Joseph was hospitalized but is expected to make a full recovery. (cf. CNA)

Oddly enough, freedom seems to surface in the most inhospitable of circumstances; when we can't get a grip on it in the clear, all we need do is turn to the frailty of human nature and, without a doubt, we encounter it.

"Where is the wise one? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made the wisdom of the world foolish? For since in the wisdom of God the world did not come to know God through wisdom, it was the will of God through the foolishness of the proclamation to save those who have faith." (1 Col. 1:20)

I never realized how intensely debated the topic of 'free will' is in some philosophical circles. I have an entire class this semester, entitled Person & Freedom, in which we have done nothing but seek to understand the notion of freedom of the will, and its implications in the larger scope of philosophy. Amongst the contenders for status of the human modus operandi are, of course, the free will theory, compatibilist theory, and straight-up determinism. All three—despite the initial shock that the latter could be plausible—indeed have a leg to stand on. Defending one and rejecting the others is no easy task. Defending free will theory, as I've found out, is perhaps the hardest of all...

I've spent a bit of time preparing my assigned presentation for this week's class on determinism, in which I must select the most probable defenses of determinism from the annals of history and present them, as convincingly as possible, to the class. Although I volunteered for the assignment, I'm still not sure why. I do firmly believe in hearing all sides of an argument (so long as they are pertinent) before establishing a final judgment. This presentation has certainly heightened my awareness of determinism's place in modern thought. Before too long ago, I had always more or less equated determinism with predestination; although the two can coincide, though, it is not necessary. In fact, they have nothing to do with one another. Determinism is focused on the predictability of individual acts based on the residual effects of previous acts (i.e. conditioning), whereas predestination is more of a fatalism, in which no matter what one does the result is ultimately determined.

Enough with the philosophy lesson. The real question I wanted to raise was this: How often do we consider the true freedom of our daily actions, especially in light of our fundamental desire to see God in the beatific vision. In other words, how do we as Christians recognize the innately free character of truly moral activity, insofar as what is moral will ultimately bring us to the perfection of the moral life in an encounter with God, as he truly is. (That was really more than one question, but considering freedom per se and freedom in the moral life are intimately related, and can hardly be separated for one seeking to understand the Catholic position.)

On the free will side of things, a few weeks ago I began to attend the "school of community" meetings for the campus' Communione e Liberazione group. The topic of discussion has been the nature of freedom in the Christian life: the wonder, questioning, seeking and finally acceptance of faith in Christ as what is truly best and most liberating for man. In this context, freedom is something truly divine—a human participation in the fullness of God's essence, which is per se free. Reconciling this theological freedom with a philosophic view of freedom, though, has been difficult. Of course, philosophy can provide theories of how free will functions which hold water. But I'm beginning to find that the more I think about it, the more free will just simply makes sense. We know we're free. We act like it. We feel like it. Other people treat us as if we are free. We merit praise and blame from others, depending upon our actions. In the end, free will seems to be something entirely self-evident, and often over-thought. The world is constructed as if free will exists, and the world still exists. That's a pretty good case.

Hearing about the successful 'firing' of the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) today in Europe sort of excited me. After reading the BBC's article about the experiment's focus—and listening to the embedded live audio clip—I was even more intrigued. From the way the news agencies were reporting, it sounds like some novel, revolutionary knowledge about sub-atomic particles is an almost certain probability. "We will be able to see deeper into matter than ever before," said one physicist from the University of Liverpool. "We will be looking at what the Universe was made of billionths of a second after the Big Bang. That is amazing, that really is fantastic." (BBC)

As a Catholic, I am very open to the role of scientific research in man's fullest manifestation of himself. After all, as Aristotle tells us, "All men by nature desire to know." What is science other than a systematized basis for coming to know things? If the desire to know is fundamentally natural, it should be treated as are other natural desires; the desires for sleep, food and sex, to name a few. The bottom line: nature is good, and so are the desires it engenders. But, as Aristotle also tells us, "Virtue is in the middle." In other words, extremely impulsive acts—as well as extremely restrictive acts—cannot be a form of virtue, and thereby are deficient in truly articulating human nature in its fullest sense. Just as the appetites for food and sex need to be enjoyed in moderation and within their proper context (viz. hunger and marriage), so too does the desire to know need to be understood within the context of humility in the face of God's infinitude.

All too often, something surfaces in the news that has some group labeling the Catholic Church as being restrictive of 'academic freedom,' 'scientific innovation' or something of the like. Just as often, they cite the locus of such an apparent dilemma in the person of the Roman Pontiff, who so often defends the Church's positions on issues which do not change, despite popular culture's conceptions thereof. But here's something to consider: If I had to make a guess, I bet Pope Benedict XVI was just as excited as me when he turned on his television and caught word of the LHC's successful trial run. Although the pope and I disagree with the prospect of the Big Bang as a viable cause for the universe coming into being, the idea of coming to know more about the world in which we live is nevertheless exciting. The key, I think, is realizing the true beauty of scientific discovery in light of the truths of revelation, which we profess and adhere to as Catholics.

So long as our gaze remains fixed upon the fundamental questions, all the scientific knowledge and learning in the world won't become a problem for us. It is only when we let knowledge control us to the point of acting impulsively that something truly sub-human is occurring. "All men by nature desire to know," indeed. But nature is not the end of man. God is the end of man, and we must continuously realize that all the knowledge in the world is limited to just that—the world. Knowledge of the divine is, however, Wisdom, and transcends both our capacity to understand as well as our capacity to live on this earth. Someday we will die, and someday we will encounter Truth in himself. That seems to me an incredibly fulfilling prospect!

My friend—a regular reader of this blog—uses this term to describe things which are less than satisfying in terms of argumentative or convictive substance. I doubt he would define it that way, but I'm pretty sure (based on my own experience of its usage) that this is what he intends by it.

I think we would both agree that Sen. Joe Biden's recent Meet the Press appearance was pretty "weak sauce."

At the risk of sounding polemic toward preeminent Democratic figures—and directing the focus of this blog away from its true telos and toward political commentary—I can't help but mention Biden's display of thoroughly lifeless reasoning on this week's television interview with Tom Brokaw. It is an unsurprising follow-up to Nancy Pelosi's comments of all-too-recent memory. Not only was Sen. Biden's reasoning similarly lifeless, but non-convicting and fallacious as well. When pressed on the question of abortion from the perspective of a Catholic in public office, the response was foreseeably typical: "I'm prepared as a matter of faith to accept that life begins at the moment of conception...But that is my judgment. For me to impose that judgment on everyone else who is equally and maybe even more devout than I am seems to me is inappropriate in a pluralistic society."

While we're at it, we might consider removing murder, rape and pillage from the offenses punishable by United States law. After all, they aren't scientifically demonstrable evils. What are they beyond personal "judgments," imposed upon unsuspecting Americans who have a right to believe and do as they please in our pluralistic society? No one is really right, anyhow. At least not so "right" as to be entitled to press his or her judgment of rectitude onto the masses, who may or may not have voted for such a person to hold an office where precisely that is expected of them. Are we really all right? I guess that's a silly question; who are you to tell me if that is or isn't right? That would be so un-pluralistic of us! I'll think what I think and you think what you think, and we just won't bother with coming to a consensus of truth on this matter or any matter. That will show the world the power of American democracy...

I think a commentary on just why Sen. Biden's remarks were deficient is unwarranted. Hyperbole is worth a thousand words. It's also easier and more entertaining.

[My apologies to all the good Democrats out there. It's just that your party seems to be the one attracting all the nominal Catholics who are willing to compromise 'their' faith for the sake of the public 'good.']

Things have been rather dry lately. My time has been consumed mostly by class, reading, writing and doing that thing I have to do to make money to pay the rent. Although I've had little time to do recreational thinking and writing in recent days, the increasing normalcy of life has given me occasion to reflect on a few things that otherwise I may not have, among them being the implications of the upcoming election, and theories of what I might like to write a thesis on in the near future. I have no definite thoughts on either, but both are coming a little clearer and that's currently good enough for me.

With the 2008 election on the near horizon, it seems that even the occasion for philosophic discourse (i.e. class) has become ever more saturated with polico-centered discussion. This goes without saying for 'normal' conversations with friends and acquaintances. It's a big issue, and something altogether impossible to avoid. The question I've been asking, though, has been this: "What is truly beneficial about discussing politics?" So often it seems that political discourse—on both the macro and micro levels—turns so quickly into either 1) mindless bickering or 2) superficial contradictions based on ill-stated or poorly articulated positions. I suppose the latter is more prevalent. It is also more dangerous.

I mention this in light of a recent conversation with an acquaintance regarding the election, and the ever ubiquitous issues of abortion and homosexual marriage rights. Our discussion began pretty much like every other discussion of the sort, however with one foundational (and I think very important) element: it was not between two Catholics, or even two Christians, but rather between myself and a practicing and devout Muslim. From the outset, the focus of the dialogue centered on just what direction each of us viewed the United States as heading toward by means of its current policies, etc. My position—and the position of a friend of mine participating on the side—was that the US is more or less tending to foster a lessened appreciation for the dignity of human life. The other man's position was that the nation is on a path toward the restriction of freedom of its citizens. Each of us agreed that things appeared to be going more downhill than not, but our perceptions of the origins of the problem were quite diverse.

The interesting part is, both of us saw a downfall; and we both identified it as being restrictive insofar as human life is concerned. The difference occurred in our understandings of 'freedom.' His definition was something much more relative, while mine, I would like to think, was one much more rooted in (at least the notion of) an absolute truth. For the other man, rights to abortion or homosexual unions were a non-issue in the political arena; "Who am I to tell someone what they can or cannot do in their private life." For me, they were not only issues, but central issues and ones at the heart of the entire political question.

I quickly realized that our differing religious views were becoming evident in our political debate. While my understanding of freedom was one aimed at an absolute standard of reality and truth, his was one directed not toward an absolute truth but by it. Such a difference in opinion was, by my best calculation, the ultimate factor in our divergence. It is, coincidentally enough, what I understand to be the fundamental separation between Christian and Islamic theology. The first seems to be focused on a notion of the divine as something toward which all reality flows and because of whose Goodness all things move, undetermined and free; the latter appears, as I see it, a theology much more focused on obligation, duty and—for lack of a better word—determinism. (I am not asserting that the Islamic faith supports a strict determinism of the will, but simply that its doctrines, in their various interpretations, are much more in accord with what we might call a philosophic determinism.)

At any rate, the discussion was an interesting one, and I hope to do some more thinking about it. I would also enjoy hearing any responses or thoughts on the matter. Perhaps I'm way off base. I'm eager to hear what others might be thinking...

It is amazing how manipulative things get in the political arena. Even grammar is not safe from the whims of politicians and—to use a Jon Stewart-ism—the aggrandizement of "party hacks." Our case study today is Michelle Obama's statement about her husband's pro-choice stance: "He’ll protect a woman’s freedom of choice, because government should have no say in whether or when a woman embraces the sacred responsibility of parenthood."

I realize the finer disagreement here is the question of when life begins. If life does not begin at conception, then the pro-abortion position seeks to eliminate the possibility of parenthood before it is actualized. Thus, Mrs. Obama's statement holds some water. Given that set of true premises. On the flip side, if human life begins at conception, then the argument to end life before birth would not prevent any actualization of parenthood, which will already have been initialized in the very act of conception itself. Those are the two sides of the when-does-life-begin debate, with regard to the Obama statement.

My contention is that the statement itself—grammatically speaking—is not only illogical (in that it is an unsound argument), but is even verbally contradictory. The whole point of what Mrs. Obama is trying to get across, it seems, is that a "woman's freedom" is aimed at "sacred responsibility," one of which being parenthood. The choice to embrace this end, then, is in the mind of her husband undefiled by law, and by the government's ability to impose upon what is properly personal and individual to the woman in question. The important part, though, is that Michelle Obama identifies parenthood as sacred, and as a viable end toward which women rightly and justifiably seek to move.

The first question I'd ask Obama, if I had the chance to engage her in dialogue, would be to clarify her qualification of 'sacredness.' If she admitted to believing in some divinely appointed role of parenthood in the plan of universal salvation...well...story over. I think we can all infer how that argument would progress. However, if she means 'sacred' in the sense of what is truly proper to human nature in its fullest and most articulated expression, then we would have another situation entirely. Frankly, I propose that this is probably what she means here—regardless of her individual religious beliefs, whatever they may be. She was speaking, I think, from an anthropocentric viewpoint, common enough to the modern mindset, wherein she intended to demonstrate parenthood as one of the heights of the human experience.

The distinction I would like to make here is of an entirely philosophic nature, yet I believe it is important and quite evidently present in the very statement made by Mrs. Obama. It concerns the presupposition that parenthood can usher forth from pregnancy; I would even argue that it should. Pregnancy, by its nature, and as recognized by Obama's comment, indicates the potential for parenthood. If this were not so, the right to choose would not be sparing some from embracing the "sacred responsibility," but would rather be of a different nature altogether. If this is so, however, doesn't the possibility of a child become necessary in early pregnancy, if the potential for parenthood is present when abortion occurs? If being a 'parent' is directly codependent upon another's being 'son' or 'daughter,' then we can rightly infer that the potential for human life has been initiated at the point of conception—even if many disagree about when that animated life begins. Nevertheless, Michelle Obama's statement is not focused on determining the moment of animation, as we have previously established; it is focused on embracing "sacred responsibility," and nothing sacred can spontaneously be generated if not first in a state of potential, itself in some way sacred by virtue of its life-giving role.

I think it would be difficult for any mother to submit, and particularly one who loves her children, that the right to abortion does not violate something altogether sacred. Although Obama's statement does not seek to identify when life does or does not begin, by seeking to identify parenthood as something intimately linked to pregnancy, she therefore recognizes that the potential for life does exist, even at the most early stages of conception. Her thoughts as a mother are telling. Frankly, I think they betray a fundamental concept of life which is in conflict with her and her husband's outlook on abortion and the 'right to choose.' I am curious what others think of this, and to what extent other Catholics will latch onto her address in similar fashion...