This chapter contains sections titled: Notes.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Holly Flora’s published dissertation is a critical contribution to scholarship of the origins of the Meditationes Vitae Christi, a text strongly associated with the preaching and prayer habits of the early Franciscan order and perhaps the most representative example of the late-Medieval devotional and pictorial phenomenon often summarized as the “Vita Christi tradition.” For almost a century, art historians have invoked the MVC to explain iconographic innovations in late-Medieval (...) and Renaissance art, in particular the emergence of apocryphal images of the early life of Christ. In contrast to these earlier art-historical uses of this text, Flora advocates for a re-contextualization of the MVC. She joins scholars, in particular Isa Ragusa, who suggest that the didactic content and devotional strategies of the MVC reflect a particularly Franciscan strain of the Vita Christi, one aligned with the cura monialium , and argues that it was probably composed by a Franciscan friar for the spiritual benefit of a Poor Clare. The MVC’s distinctive emphasis on themes of virginity, silence, and enclosure support this interpretation, as do a series of interjected prompts or imperatives for the reader to visualize herself participating in poignant events that underscore the humanity of Christ and promote affective devotion. Flora sees the MVC as an attempt by a friar to reconcile the competing Franciscan notions of the vita activa and vita contemplativa in the interests of a cloistered nun under his care; the performative devotional strategies offered by the MVC would have afforded her the means to engage actively—even if only virtually—in a life of extreme poverty or to engage in charitable public giving as exemplified by the lives of Christ and the Virgin, opportunities Flora suggests were not readily available to a cloistered nun.Association of the MVC with the Poor Clares is bolstered by the manuscript that probably contains the closest witness to the original version of this text . The author’s compelling consideration of the textual, material, and pictorial content of Ms. ital. 115 supports the claim that it was made in Pisa around 1340–50 for the community of Poor Clares at the convent of San Martino. Although written on paper rather than parchment and painted in a humble watercolor technique, Ms. ital. 115 contains the lengthiest extant pictorial cycle of any version of the MVC, a characteristic that agrees with the image-centric devotional practices of medieval nuns. Flora’s comparison of those few MVC manuscripts that contain pictorial cycles of comparable length casts into relief those discrete iconographic characteristics of the Ms. ital. 115 cycle. Most telling are ubiquitous images of women that resemble Poor Clares, regular sewing companions of the Virgin, whose presence indicates the illuminators’ attentions to the interests and identities of their audience.Having established Ms. ital. 115’s Clarissan context, the remainder of the Devout Belief of the Imagination is a consideration of a Poor Clare’s interaction with the manuscript. Flora describes this experience as an intensely emotional didactic process that begins with instruction and culminates in imaginative devotional performances where Mary constitutes the main paradigm for female monastic conduct. The extensive account of the Virgin’s childhood in the Temple, for example, supplies a progressive lesson for a young nun on the virtues of discipline and devotion. The culmination of this spiritual maturation process is the extraordinary text-image structure of the Circumcision of the Christ child by his Mother. Not only does this event resonate with Franciscan typology, but as Flora demonstrates, Mary’s privileged position in sharing the suffering of Christ offers a powerful introduction to the affective devotional strategy that structures the viewer’s experience of the remainder of the manuscript. Extended pictorial sequences that follow metaphorically address the cloistered condition of a Poor Clare viewer and her particular spiritual needs. The Holy Family’s Flight into Egypt and their.. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Consistently Pro-Life: The Ethics of Bloodshed in Ancient Christianity by Rob Arner, and: Christ at the Checkpoint: Theology in the Service of Justice and Peace ed. by Paul Alexander, and: Becoming Nonviolent Peacemakers: A Virtue Ethic for Catholic Social Teaching and US Policy by Eli Sarasan McCarthyBrian D. BerryReview of Consistently Pro-Life: The Ethics of Bloodshed in Ancient Christianity ROB ARNER Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2010. (...) 136 pp. $15.56Review of Christ at the Checkpoint: Theology in the Service of Justice and Peace EDITED BY PAUL ALEXANDER Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012. 182 pp. $19.80Review of Becoming Nonviolent Peacemakers: A Virtue Ethic for Catholic Social Teaching and US Policy ELI SARASAN MCCARTHY Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2012. 259 pp. $27.00In Consistently Pro-Life, Rob Arner (who teaches at Chestnut Hill College in Philadelphia) makes the case that Christians should not kill other human beings—regardless of the circumstances. Taking as his point of departure the vigilante killing of abortion doctor George Tiller in Wichita, Kansas, in 2009, he argues not only that abortion is always morally impermissible but so also is [End Page 217] the murder of abortion doctors and the use of the death penalty to punish those who murder them. In addition, he turns to the early church fathers to contend that, prior to Constantine, “without exception, the church strongly condemned the taking of human life in any form whatsoever”—thus rejecting abortion and infanticide, the blood sport of the Roman games, suicide, and killing in war (120). This was because the New Testament witness to Jesus and his death on the cross required early Christians to view “the means as just as important, if not more important, than the ends” (xiii).Arner supplements this deontological argument for Christian pacifism, which he learned from John Howard Yoder, with a brief consideration of the virtue of patience cultivated in the early churches, reflecting the influence of Stanley Hauerwas on his thought. This “cardinal virtue” connoting “longsuffering, forbearance, patient endurance”—as found in Jesus’s teaching in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5:38–48)—enabled early Christians to practice non-violent resistance “deferring personal revenge in favor of God’s vindicating justice” (98). If Christians were to adopt this same consistently pro-life ethic today, argues Arner, it would “lead to greater healing and peace in our blood-soaked world” (121). The book closes with three appendices—one of which is a chart of terminology that dehumanizes vulnerable victims, including unborn human beings. Unfortunately, the book does not have an index.Christ at the Checkpoint, edited by Paul Alexander (professor of Christian ethics and public policy at the Palmer Theological Seminary of Eastern University), includes thirteen plenary addresses delivered at a conference on the Arab-Israeli conflict organized by Palestinian Evangelical Christians at Bethlehem Bible College in March 2010. Almost all of the contributors to this volume—including biblical scholars, theologians, ethicists, pastors, activists, and others—criticize the ideology of Christian Zionism and its support of a theology of dispensationalism that, in their view, distorts the scriptures and fosters violence rather than reconciliation between the Israelis and the Palestinians. In his own presentation titled “What Can Pentecostals and Charismatics Do for Peace with Justice in Israel and Palestine?,” Alexander—who describes himself as a former “one-sided” Christian Zionist who later discovered the writings of Yoder and Hauerwas—appeals to Jesus’s teaching in the Sermon on the Mount and urges Pentecostals to create church communities “that cultivate persons of character and conviction, who through habits, practices, and action live out the core of our faith” (69). Along with being faithful to the “greater challenges” of love, mercy, compassion, and forgiveness, he argues that they should publicly declare that Jesus does not want Israel to continue the occupation of Palestine, and they should engage in the “easier tasks” of promoting human rights, lending support to United Nations Resolutions, and working toward a two-state solution (72). “The time has come in human history,” writes Alexander, “for Pentecostals to speak and act prophetically regarding this present injustice … [End Page 218] and to use every nonviolent weapon in our arsenal—stories, preaching... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Virtue as "Likeness to God" in Plato and SenecaDaniel C. Russell (bio)In The Center Of Raphael's Famous Painting"The School of Athens," Plato stands pointing to the heavens, and Aristotle stands pointing to the ground; there stand, that is, the mystical Plato and the down-to-earth Aristotle. Although it oversimplifies, this depiction makes sense for the same reason that Aristotle continues to enjoy a presence in modern moral philosophy that (...) Plato does not: quite simply, Plato's ethics looks too fantastic. And Plato's ethics never looks more fantastic than in the claim that our highest good is to be like God.We find this view, in various forms, in the Phaedrus, Timaeus, Laws, Republic, and Theaetetus, as well as in the Phaedo and Philebus,1 and the ancient Platonist Alcinous in his Handbook of Platonism tells us that likeness to God () is Plato's "official" position on our final end.2 Nonetheless, this view receives very little press today: many philosophers are unaware of it; some have simply ignored it or dismissed it as an idle metaphor; and most of those who have taken it more seriously have also tended to find it too otherworldly to be of much relevance to us. This latter response is due in large measure to viewing likeness to God from the perspective of the ancient Neoplatonist Plotinus.3 But there is certainly no guarantee that Plotinus's perspective on likeness to God gives us an especially accurate reconstruction of Plato's view; indeed, the interpretation of this idea was a matter of considerable controversy among Neoplatonists, some of whom offered far less other-worldly interpretations than Plotinus's.4 [End Page 241]In any event, unraveling likeness to God in Plato requires a fresh approach that makes the greatest sense of it within Plato's larger moral philosophy. And in fact we find just such a promising understanding of likeness to God when we take a fresh look at it through Stoic lenses, and through the lens of Plato's Philebus: in both we find the idea that virtue is part of the divine realm right alongside the down-to-earth idea that virtue is rational activity in relation to the world as we find it. This is not to suppose that the Stoic conception of likeness to God is an interpretation of, or descended from, Plato's conception.5 It is simply that the Stoics also found it helpful to think of virtue as likeness to God, and it will be enough if the Stoic conception opens up the range of possibilities for understanding such an idea, allowing us to see philosophical alternatives that might take us some distance towards interpreting Plato, and that may have remained otherwise out of view. Such an understanding of the idea that virtue is likeness to God as we find in the Stoics, I argue, offers just this sort of promising and unexplored alternative in Platonism.One thing that is quite clear is that Plato means for likeness to God to offer us some insight into the nature of virtue. We see this in the Timaeus, where Plato offers a model of the three-part soul, in which mastery of the parts is justice (42 a-b) and happiness (90b-d), and is what likeness to God comes to (42b-d, 47a-c); clearly, then, the virtue in question is moral virtue. Rather curiously, Plato depicts this constitution of soul as a sort of motion which is of the same kind as the motion of the universe itself (90c-d):6 as the universe consists in orbits which are orderly and reconciled in their motion, so the human soul consists in the different orbits (44d) of reason, passion, and desire, which are out of harmony when we start life, but become more orderly as we mature (43a-44d). Although this is difficult talk, it is clearly meant to depict a self-mastery of the whole soul under [End Page 242] the leadership of reason (43a-44d), which is the same as justice, and which consists in the reconciliation of one's inner motions by reason (42b-d).7 Thus we "stabilize the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:AN ITALIAN VIEW OF THE DEBATE ON VIRTUE TERENCE KENNEDY, C.Ss.R. Accademia Alfonsiana Rome, Italy FATHER GIUSEPPE ABBA, S.B.D., professor of moral philosophy at the Pontifical Salesian University in Rome, has written two volumes of prime importance for the theory of the moral virtues. Although writing in Italian, he has entered into the thick of debate in other languages, especially English. The first, Lex et Virtus: Studi sull'evoluzione (...) delta dottrina morale di san Tommaso d'Aquino (Las-Roma, 1983, 293 pp.) is every bit as wide ranging as its title suggests. His thesis is that St. Thomas's moral thought underwent a long and radical evolution that issued in "a new science" in the Secunda Pars of the Summa Theologiae totally centered in the virtues. His book is neatly divided in two parts: humanity under the regime of law and humanity under the regime of virtue. He argues that the Scriptum super Sententiis presents virtue as the capacity to put law into practice in life. Here law has priority because it is conceived as participation in the divine rectitude, and virtue is derivative in as far as it facilitates compliance with God's law, making our response easy, pleasurable and spontaneous by restraining the disorderly influence of passion on our moral response. The De V eritate, he maintains, follows the same descending schema. Truth is communicated downwards through the hierarchy of intellectual beings so that the human virtues are seen mainly in terms of how they reflect the divine truth, especially in the moral knowledge involved in free choice or liberum arbitrium. The Summa Contra Gentiles III classifies morality under the rubric of the law as rational submission to divine government through 123 124 TERENCE KENNEDY, c.ss.R. Providence. In this vision, our return to God as final end is given focal emphasis before being considered the fruit of our effort. Abba makes a strong case that in the Secunda Pars St. Thomas passes from a conception of morality based in law to one founded in the virtues. Morality assumes deeper significance in its own right because the human person is no longer viewed mainly as a direct reflection of divine truth but truly as imago Dei having dominion over his acts in freedom and deliberation. God, the subjectum of theology, is known through his effects in creation and the motus hominis in Deum provides matter for the speculative discipline of theology as the study of God. Morality unveils the mystery of God through how He works in our free activity drawing us to Himself. St. Thomas thus has very little in common with those contemporary moralists who are wholly taken up with the rightness of actions in normative ethics. Abba maintains that in the Summa St. Thomas was the first to afford morality its rightful place as an integral part in his theological synthesis. This involved a reworking of the idea of virtue beginning, with a fresh approach to habitus in the Ia!Jae. The determination of a habit ad unum is necessary because of the way a specifically human form is received in particular matter. This determination means not just a further specification of the matter, but the coming into being of new abilities, a creative enablement. of our nature with original energies so that it can reach its enc(' efficaciously. Virtue now has priority over law, because facility, pleasure and spontaneity are only the effects of this new interior transformation of our nature. Thus the originality of virtue arises not from our mode of acting firmiter, faciliter, delectabiliter, but from the new interior capacities by which we can realize our moral selves, naturally and supernaturally. Law is thereafter thought of in relation to its service of virtue as an external command promulgated for the government of a collectivity. It is given precisely so as to educate the collectivity to virtue. In the community governed by God's divine law it is not possible to follow His law without being enlivened by the infused virtues. The eternal law is not exhausted by our understanding of the precepts of divine law THE DEBATE ON VIRTUE 125 but it embraces God's complete idea... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Moral Responsibility in a Context of Scarcity:the Journey of a Haitian PhysicianPaul PierreAlmost all Haitian physicians have been involved in some sort of "social movement" at one point in their professional life. In a country characterized by a natural inclination to question authority, fighting the status quo of the ineffective, corrupt and disorganized [End Page 89] Haitian health system often appears to be the right thing to do.In (...) 2002, I played an active role in a large protest movement for better working conditions at the largest health facility in Port-au-Prince: the General Hospital (GH). Port-au-Prince is the capital and economic center of Haiti. It is home to close to a third of Haiti's ten million people. At that time, the situation at the GH facility was dire. All of the 400 beds at the GH were dirty. The staff was underpaid and unhappy. Drug and medical supply stock-outs were routine. Medical equipment was rarely maintained and only one of the six operating theatres in the surgery block was working. Unsupervised physicians in training (like me) were the main health care providers. Attending physicians were busy running their own private clinics, and most of them would come to the hospital solely to "recruit" the less poor patients for their clinics. As physicians-in-training, we had the responsibility of caring for the poor, but we had no means. We grew frustrated and angry witnessing our powerless patients losing legs, arms and their lives for lack of care. On many occasions, I had the parents of my patients buy the gloves that I would use to examine their sick relatives. I've seen patients fighting for the inheritance of medications left by others who had just passed away. There was no way for this hospital to fulfill its mission, and no way for its staff to deliver anything other than mediocre care. We could not accept that situation at such an early stage in our medical development, and so we refused to continue to work. We went on a strike, which completely paralyzed the delivery of care at the hospital for nearly two months. After intense negotiation, the strike ended with a signed agreement with the Minister of Health that addressed, more or less, the reasons of our movement. However, the implementation of the agreement was permanently delayed by other competing "state emergencies" including a general insurrection.At the time of our movement, I thought we were making history. After witnessing 11 "social movements" that similarly paralyzed the GH in the following decade for reasons identical to ours, I am now convinced that we were not. We were temporary actors performing in the cynical play of scarcity on permanent display in Port-au-Prince. The social movement that we started ended up hurting the very same people that we were trying to help.Extending access to heath care to poor people seemed to me at that time to be too complicated and too expensive for an unorganized state like Haiti. I realized that local protests could, at best, influence the allocation of local resources. But so-called local resources are so limited in "resource-limited" countries. Haiti spends only $40 U.S. dollars per capita for health care. This is not enough for good care. The options we were provided were not real ones—since all of them would end in more suffering. The case of providing health care to poor people needed to be approached differently.I was born in Port-au-Prince at the same general hospital in which I would later work. I am the third of four children, and the first male child in my family. My father made me understand very clearly that my first responsibility was for my siblings. My sisters made me understand equally clearly that I had no authority over any of them. I ended up with a lot of responsibility but with very little authority. The few of us who completed school, entered university, studied abroad and "emerged" were considered, to some extent, responsible for the others—the ones who couldn't go to school, university, or abroad, the ones who had "sunk... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Virtue Ethics for the Real World: Improving Character without Idealization by Howard J. CurzerBenjamin HoleCURZER, Howard J. Virtue Ethics for the Real World: Improving Character without Idealization. New York: Routledge, 2023. 272 pp. Cloth, $160.00The development of virtue ethics has been in a lull. This book is a welcome treatise in theory-building, developing a novel Aristotelian approach to virtue ethics that, first, avoids idealization (...) and, second, provides a method for character improvement. It is divided into two parts reflecting these themes.The front matter before the title page brandishes a "No Don Quixotes" sign, warning the reader the following pages are no place for a misguided idealist. Part 1, "Against Idealization," contains six chapters. Chapter 2 argues that idealization is not a useful guide, but an impediment to virtue, since ideals can be misleading, psychologically damaging, and used for nefarious purposes. Chapters 3 through 7 construct a virtue ethical theory without idealization. Idealization may seem central to a virtue-oriented approach to ethics. For example, Rosalind Hursthouse's famous biconditional claims that an act is right if and only if it is what the virtuous person would characteristically do in the same circumstances. By contrast, chapter 3 provides counterexamples separating virtuous action from what the virtuous person would characteristically do, and separating virtuous action from right action. Sacrificing Hursthouse's biconditional is a fundamental change to the way many conceive of Aristotelian virtue ethics, demanding revisions to the rest of the theory. For instance, to address moral dilemmas, chapter 4 defends two psychological mechanisms under which there are virtuous, morally wrong acts that are admirably immoral, and vicious, morally right acts that leave the agent with dirty hands.Chapter 5 provides the grounding for contemporary Aristotelian virtue ethics without idealization, by answering what makes character traits [End Page 541] virtues and what makes acts virtuous. Two-level eudaimonism involves a thin theory, where virtue consists in responding well to different spheres of human activity, and a thick theory, where responding well contributes to the agent's eudaimonia. Since virtuous people may characteristically perform nonvirtuous actions, virtuous actions are not necessarily what virtuous people characteristically do but actions that are endorsed by virtuous people from the perspective of virtue. The "Perspectives Doctrine" claims that virtuous people decide how to respond from the perspective of different virtues, and those perspectives offer incomplete and sometimes incompatible ways of responding. For instance, a temperate person endorsing an action as temperate from the perspective of temperance makes it temperate, but would not make it courageous, and an endorsement from the perspective of courage would not make her action temperate. Agents determine what is virtuous by asking virtuous people to consider, from the perspective of virtue, what should be done; when virtuous people are unavailable, agents can consult philosophers and social scientists who research the responses of virtuous people. Chapter 6 rejects the "Reciprocity of the Virtue Doctrine," which claims possessing one virtue entails possessing the rest, in favor of the "Unevenly Virtuous People Doctrine," on which people can have some but not all of the virtues; character typically improves at different paces in different areas of life. Chapter 7 rejects Philippa Foot's "Corrective Doctrine" of virtue as implausible idealization in favor of a traditionally Aristotelian "Doctrine of the Mean," and argues that the virtues of integrity, forgiveness, tolerance, open-mindedness, and civility are governed by that doctrine.Although character improvement seems to depend on idealization, by striving to achieve some end, part 2's five chapters paint an alternative picture. Chapter 8 defends a medical analogy over competing models philosophers typically employ to understand character improvement, including skill (Aristotle and Julia Annas), stage or path (Aristotle and Wouter Sanderse), self-cultivation (Mengzi), and self-construction (Xunzi) analogies. To improve character, one must look to a fine-grained list of possible character flaws, diagnose deficits in character, and then heal character flaws by employing targeted strategies, including "inculcation strategies, rehabilitation strategies, and strategies to improve society's ethical climate." Character improvement is complex and becomes more so when considering all of the ways one might err. Chapter 9 introduces an Aristotelian model for moral decision-making within each... (shrink)

The paper addresses claims that Aristotle's notion of happiness is inconsistent given his expositions of happiness in Book I and Book X of NE. It argues that such claims are rooted in the erroneous conclusion that Aristotle defines happiness in Book I as living a "good life", and an unwarranted assumption that when Aristotle identifies happiness with contemplation, he has a professional philosopher in mind and contemplation as an activity one engages in leisurely and as a means of intellectual (...) conditioning. It further argues that happiness as Aristotle understands it is a reward for cultivating virtuous character and though everyone has the capacity for it, only few will attain happiness since it requires exertion and effort and many are unwilling to prioritize such acquisition. (shrink)

We have sought to expound how Jan van Ruusbroec goes about representing the relationship of love between God and human beings by proceeding from God’s inner life of love. Therefore, in the first part of our paper we elucidated Ruusbroec’s view of the inner love reality of the Triune God. In the second part we explained how genuine Christian mystical life is founded within the intra-trinitarian life of love. Prior to discussing the characteristics of Ruusbroec’s trinitarian position, (...) we dwelled upon the author’s development of his idea of the Trinity from a personal perception of his relation with God, the embedding of Ruusbroec’s love-mysticism in traditional Christian faith and his repeated clarification of the Triune God from two perspectives: God’s nature and God’s essence. We found that, in his explanation of God’s nature, Ruusbroec underlines its fruitfulness as a way of demonstrating that God is one dynamic of love, without beginning or end, which ceaselessly and simultaneously consists in “flowing out” and “being flowed back”. This phenomenon, we stated, he associates with the concept, “oneness in threeness” and “threeness in oneness”. Through an exposition on the differing features of unity and the Persons of the Trinity, we came to the conclusion that the author in all of his works combines both the origin of “flowing out” and “flowing-back” with the Holy Spirit as the bond or unity of love of Father and Son. From this we concluded that none of the Persons is the principle or source of regiratio, i.e. return, to the unity. The view that God’s unity of Persons is the principle of exitus-reditus – and not only the third Person as recent scientific research has sought to demonstrate – is what we consider to be the heart of Ruusbroec’s trinitarian way of thinking. We ascertained, further, that the author not only links the unity of the Persons with fruitfulness; he believes that the same “fruitful” unity, drawing in the divine Persons on the level of God’s nature, is the “enjoying” unity on the level of God’s essence. By means of the distinction between God’s enjoying unity and the unity of God’s fruitful nature, Ruusbroec explicates the true facts of the intra-trinitarian life of love. The perception leads him to conclude that God, as a unity of Persons, is ceaselessly and simultaneously working and enjoying. In the second part, we illustrated how Ruusbroec’s trinitarian thought mirrors the basis of his mystical doctrine: the conviction that mystics are unified with the divine Persons both in working and enjoying, and that they are one reality of love with God. We explained how the author, first of all, maintains that mystics, who bear a full likeness to God’s fruitful nature, ceaselessly turn to good works and virtues, just as God, ceaselessly, through the divine Persons, flows out in love. We then avered that the likeness to God’s nature is not the result of human effort and that it arises from God’s touch within the human mind. Moreover, we showed that Ruusbroec, in accordance with his intuition that God’s fruitful unity is both out-flowing and inwarddrawing, believes that God is both impelling humans outward toward virtues and drawing them into God’s unity of love. In analogy with the first part of our argument – as far as the “return” of humans is concerned – we ascertained that our author is stressing the initiative of God’s unity of the Holy Spirit, i.e. the mutual love between the Father and the Son. We found the emphasis on God’s inward-drawing unity to be of great significance, because God’s unity of love also plays a crucial role with respect to the transition to “enjoyment” of human beings in God’s essence. We clarified how human beings, according to Ruusbroec, through the likeness to God’s nature, participate in the enjoyment of God’s essence with the divine Persons. We pointed out that the union in God’s essence is the most intimate experience, but not the end-point of the mystical life as, according to our author, contemplatives are directed, again and again, to good works. Lastly, we arrived at the conclusion that Ruusbroec considers the mystical life, like the life of God, to be ceaselessly consisting of action and enjoyment. However, it is not primarily the analogy with God’s trinitarian reality of love that Ruusbroecs stresses. Basically, he accentuates the fact that mystics ceaselessly experience unification with the divine Persons, both in working and enjoying. This means that mystics, united with the divine Persons in one enjoyment on the level of God’s essence, concurrently experience that, with the divine Persons, they also “share” in God’s “flowing” and “ebbing” on the level of God’s nature. On the basis of this we have affirmed that, according to Ruusbroec, God’s activity and enjoyment in the “Divinity Itself” is God’s activity and enjoyment in the human being, and the inverse. Moreover, we have shown how the author considers both moments to occur simultaneously, both in God and in human beings, meaning that the mystical life is continuously one reality of love with God. (shrink)

Notre Dame Philosophy professors Meghan Sullivan and Paul Blaschko have gone deep with that work in their wildly popular and influential undergraduate course GOD AND THE GOOD LIFE, in which they wrestle with the big questions about how to live and what makes life meaningful. Now they invite us into the classroom to tackle such issues as what justifies your beliefs, whether you should practice a religion, and what sacrifices you should make for others--as well as to investigate (...) what Aristotle, Plato, Descartes, Kant, and Murdoch have to say about how to live well. Sullivan and Blaschko teach us how to reason through real-world case studies by doing the timeless work of philosophy like escaping our own caves, learning to doubt everything, asking strong questions, grasping our own purpose, and wrestling with the problem of evil and the existence of God. For at least the past 2500 years philosophers have taught that goal-seeking is an essential part of what it is to be human--and crucially that we could find our own good life by asking better questions. Their virtue ethics approach resonates profoundly in our own moment. Philosophers know that our "good life plan" is one that we as individuals need to be constantly and actively writing. In that work, we can achieve some meaningful control even if the world keeps throwing surprises our way. THE GOOD LIFE is a winning guide to tackling the big questions of being human with the wisdom of the ages. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Studies Volume XXVI, Number 1, April 2000, pp. 129-142 Hume on ''Greatness of Soul" GRAHAM SOLOMON The "great-souled man" was first described in detail in Book iv of Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. Simon Blackburn concisely summarizes Aristotle's portrait of this "lofty character": "The great-souled man is of a distinguished situation, worthy of great things, 'an extreme in respect of the greatness of his claims, but a mean in respect (...) of the Tightness of them', perfectly virtuous, good at conferring benefits but ashamed of receiving them, neither humble nor vain. The combination involves proper pride or magnanimity." Such men will enter politics with the aim of preserving justice and working for the good of society, or they will exhibit great personal courage in battle, or, more generally, they will aim at virtuous action at all times, even when faced with painful choices and life-threatening circumstances. Historians disagree about whether Aristotle held that the great-souled man is motivated in part by a desire to be admired by others, but certainly he held that the great-souled man was capable of performing great and virtuous actions that would be admired.1 By the mid-eighteenth century, greatness of soul could be found in much less distinguished situations. Consider, for example, Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy. Tristram attributes greatness of soul to his mother for wanting to give birth to him under the care of a midwife rather than a doctor. His father thinks that turning down a large purse of money offered in exchange for naming one's son Judas is an act of greatness of mind. And Tristram says his friend Jenny exhibited greatness of soul by purchasing a much less expensive piece of silk than the one she initially wanted, deferring to Tristram's unvoiced but Graham Solomon is at the Philosophy Department,Wilfrid Laurier University,Waterloo, Ontario, Canada N2L 3C5. e-mail: [email protected] 130 Graham Solomon obvious judgment.2 For an example from the nineteenth century, consider the following passage from the novel The Wrecker (1891) by Robert Louis Stevenson and Lloyd Osbourne. The narrator, a wealthy young American, is slumming as a bohemian art student in the Latin Quarter of Paris: "I always looked with awful envy... on a certain countryman of my own, who had a studio in the Rue Monsieur Ie Prince, wore boots, and long hair in a net, and could be seen tramping off, in this guise, to the worst eating-house of the quarter, followed by a Corsican model, his mistress, in the conspicuous costume of her race and calling. It takes some greatness of soul to carry even folly to such heights as these."3 There the character's greatness of soul seems to involve an ability to ignore or overlook or misinterpret the opinions others might have of him. While the phrase "greatness of soul" or "greatness of mind" is not commonly used nowadays,4 the Latin form "magnanimity" is still in use in ordinary, everyday, reasonably educated discourse. And occasionally "highmindedness " is used. The capacity to make magnanimous gestures is still widely felt to be a virtue. "Magnanimity" nowadays refers to a mix of unselfishness, generosity, the capacity to rise above petty feelings of resentment and revenge, and more generally and vaguely to a kind of nobility of heart and mind. These are features that Aristotle would recognize. But, it seems to me, we are prepared to apply the term to a far wider class of people than Aristotle would. Magnanimity is nowadays thought to be a virtue that can be exhibited by almost anyone. The first extended discussion in English-language philosophy of the concept of greatness of soul or mind is in David Hume's Treatise III iii 2, a section titled "Of greatness of mind." Hume's discussion contributed to a domesticated and democratized understanding of the concept, a more serious ancestor of the concept found in Tristram Shandy5 and The Wrecker. Donald Siebert argues in the chapter "In Search of the Hero of Feeling" in The Moral Animus of David Hume6 that after the initial exploration of the concept in the Treatise, Hume eventually settled in The History... (shrink)

continent. 1.3 (2011): 201-207. “Poetry is experience, linked to a vital approach, to a movement which is accomplished in the serious, purposeful course of life. In order to write a single line, one must have exhausted life.” —Maurice Blanchot (1982, 89) Nikos Karouzos had a communist teacher for a father and an orthodox priest for a grandfather. From his four years up to his high school graduation he was incessantly educated, reading the entire private library of his granddad, (...) comprising mainly the Orthodox Church Fathers and the ancient classics. Later on in his life he sold the library for money, only to buy a little more time before he went broke again: “I carry sorrow like a cage/ I got no birds/ as I come back from her hair/ I see the profit emptied/ cool from terror.” (1993, Ι, 101) Nowadays—and ridiculously recently—we are more than apt to speak of a certain insouciance pertaining to the Greek form of expenditure: expenditure without any type of investment, sometimes not (even) symbolic. In the vaults of the European unconscious, this imprudent stance still conjures a “capital punishment” in the form of de-capitation, reflecting back the fear of excess and the terror of its consequences.1 Thus the Greek way of living is very close to what a stranger could have termed as “the Greek way of dying.” Yet, what is not often understood is that the Greek esprit , the same one that invented the maxim μηδ?ν ?γαν (“nothing in excess”), does not experience death solely as an imminent fear of bankruptcy. For it miraculously combines its unconditional acceptance with the promise of a resurrection that is always there in the scents of Spring, from Dionysus to the orthodox Christ: “Everyone resurrects himself through dying [….] Resurrection is the switching of mortalities.” (2002, 94) Hence, if an entire library was imprudently traded for a plate with seven olives, a sliced tomato and some fresh goat cheese, let us not be fooled: this is not the meal of the pauper, but that of “an aristocrat from God” (1993, II, 491) feeding his eloquent loudmouth, ridiculously cut open in an otherwise rock-solid caput . *** To speak of the Greek experience is to speak about a half-dead language that still utters in life what is seemingly excluded from it and thus forbidden to be talked about: death. Death as anything that is out of this world, as something that will never return . Still, along with an experience of death that recently waned as a worn-out academic fashion, the Greek experience is dead too. Nearly 2300 years of written words separating Homer from the fall of Byzantium equal 500 books on a library traded for money: “I am with the killed. Hence my deepest solitude. I do not feel this tremendous macho society, beyond from the fact that it is a ruthlessly consuming one. It is me who pays all the time .” (2002, 57) Let us do the math and see how much this dealing with the Greek experience is costing the poet and how much dealing with the Greek experience might cost us today. *** “I do not guarantee a single word.” (Karouzos, 1993, II, 454) Through its various dialects and forms, the Greek language speaks through an incessant historical dissemination. Anyone who is aware of this terrifying polymorphy and still calls himself a poet, must stand against a white sheet of paper, pen-in-hand, with a very particular duty: to be as fully inconsistent as possible. In the formally ironic uniqueness of the poem, the poet functions as “a band-aid for lesser and greater antinomies.” (1993, I, 251) Of course these antinomies are not exhausted in language—they are historical, political and, alas, existential. Yet, beyond appearances , it is language that ruthlessly encodes them through history, submitting the poet to the temptation of placing them one next to the other on a single white sheet. The closer their neighboring, the greater the scattering of the writer in the ironic uniqueness of the paper. In a work where poetic license is described as a “freedom-impasse” (2002, 51), this task is undertaken in full conscience of its personal consequences: “what I am interested in is to escape my individuality (envisioning the non-ego) […] Nevertheless, my dissociations never achieve duration.” (2002, 74-75) Hence, though poetry is the “deserted direction of will,” (1998, 62) the stance of the poet is not that of a Nietzschean “great man.”2 Whereas drunkenness provides a thread between the poem and the excess it both presupposes and infuses (“Poetry always enlarges. ‘Drunkenness’ is nothing more than that,” (2002, 85)), whereas language flashes in loudmouth spurts of déraison (“When I am alone I do something else. I utter words. For example, while having my ouzo and listening to music I am most likely capable of randomly shouting ‘Electricity!’” (2002, 138)), the poet never gives in to the double affirmation that would eventually risk the “element of pleasure in discourse.” (2002, 80)” It is exactly because the gap of the antinomies is so vast that poetry is not meant to be written with a hammer. Neither does writing consist in a reevaluation of those elements. In short, poetry is not an affirmation of difference, but the surprising beauty of chiming antinomies. We might never transcend them, but it is up to us to put them together. Yet again, this voisinage is not to be identified with the necessity of chance as an eternal return.4 On the contrary it is a return from that very return : Let us treat Yes as a No to No and No as a Yes […] And let us not forget that this pissed affirmation crumbled down Nietzsche’s intellect in the dark paths of this world. (2002, 88) This return from the “vicious circle” should in no way be taken as a form of artistic prudence. Rather it can be seen as a dribble of demonic inconsistency as Dionysus transforms himself into a Christ that is in turn de-theologized: “Who can forbid that? Every man is capable of his own theology, nothing can stop him.” (2002, 73-74) This is a turn towards an existential vision of the world, historically coinciding with a particular political defeat of the Left, to which the poet devoted all his life: after the defeat of the popular front I raised the question “why do we exist?” while others were asking “why we failed.” (2002, 57)5 But most of all it is a return to poetry that exceeds the existential question itself, going beyond the issue of faith. Poetry comes in as a question of return after a defeat that is confessed in full profanity. Though it accepts the necessity of the defeat, it does not affirm it. Though it negates it, the negation is not in the name of a promise to be delivered in the kingdom of heavens. Following a historical and existential defeat, poetry is born post mortem . It signals a return to Christ as “groundless religiousness in the surprise of the real as such” (2002, 72) which is at once a return to the refuge of childhood. It is not a question of endurance towards an eternal return. Rather it is a question on the possibility of an existential return. Returning in a world as someone who cannot enjoy any returns exactly because he is averse to guarantees. A return without returns. *** PHOTOCOPY OF HAPPINESS When I was young I used to pin down cicadas and step on ant nests. I used to stand there silent for hours. With threads I decapitated bees. Now I am a dead man breathing. (Karouzos, 1993, II, 336.) The return to the “paradise of childhood” (2002, 68) constitutes the devouring refuge of its own memory when defeat becomes the synonym of adulthood. The political struggles of a young communist in a country torn up by a civil war right after World War II fraught with incarcerations and exiles. Historically they resulted in the defeat of the communist movement in Greece and opened up a long turbulent road that would peak in the dictatorship of 1967. Existentially they led to a series of disillusionments: mental breakdown, divorce, abandonment of studies in law school. To the question “why do we exist” the answer was poetry. Still this exposé should not be read as a sweeping chronography of a man. For it actually happens to coincide with the historical fate of a nation that after its modern constitution never stopped dreaming of the glories of its past youth, in a present that was (and is) sweepingly disappointing. But isn’t this return to youth finally a way of compensating for a loss of youth that necessarily results in a losing adulthood? Will Greeks, the eternal children of Plato and Nietzsche, ever learn? How to return without dying, how to remember without wasting time? WE ARE IN THE OPEN MEANING Living the coldest mauve night right across Parthenon I went to take a piss on some foliage and I was enjoying the foliage as it was steaming. (Karouzos, 1993, II, 340) Beyond the historical tragedies of modern Greece and away from any personal disappointments, the relation that this land holds with language and history is mediated through the Greek light—whose omnipresence is the very condition of its transcendence. All historical contradictions from Dionysus to Christ took place under this light; all those disseminated dialects were spoken beneath its warmth. To paraphrase Lévinas,6 light is both the condition of the world and of our withdrawal from it—a withdrawal towards the invisibility of God, of the dead, of meta-physics, resulting from the temptation that all is still here, behind this light the visibility of which they once evaded: “birds, the allurement of God.” (1993, I, 17) Under that luminous sky, if Greeks can do anything at all, it is to envision a return that will never come. All they can do is write poetry—which is doing nothing; other than lending an ear to a disseminated language whispering a unity that cannot be promised, as an adulthood in defeat is ready to recognize. Trying “to trap the invisible in visibility” (1993, II, 483) they forget that they have grown up and one day they die—with the promise of return. Hence an additional meaning must be given to this return to childhood. It does not signal salvation but rather its promise. To the ears of an aged continent it means that the return to/of poetry is a losing game, a return without returns. “Europe, Europe… you are nothing more than the continuation of Barabbas.” (1993, I, 295) *** “Life is not there to verify theories.”7 The records show that Karouzos was finally given a second-class pension from the Greek government, at the time when he was being recognized by the literary press as one of Greece’s major contemporary poets. Being neither a bourgeois nor a nobelist, he proclaimed himself to be an anarcho-communist, unconditionally faithful to the utopia of a classless society. He also drank, heavily. “Capitalism made an animal out of man/ Marxism made an animal out of truth/ Shut up.” (1993, II, 369) Perhaps one of the most scandalous divides of our times has been the one between the living and the dead, the latent prohibition that the living should not be concerned with the dead based on the mere impossibility of the dead to be concerned with the living in the first place. What adds to this scandal is that this divide abuses anything that cannot return to us by subsuming it under the same futility. Hence death is no longer “loss” in the usual sense. It no more refers to the things we lost but to our “loss” (of time, money and well-being) as we insist to dwell on them. Death is a waste —of time. It is this waste that we find in the insouciance of Greek expenditure; the waste in dealing with a language that most of its historical part is no longer spoken (a dead language); the waste in translating a poet who is ex definitio untranslatable; the waste of his vision, his money, his life. The waste of dealing with anything that cannot return and that cannot bring in any returns . But it is also the waste of life that poetry itself presupposes, the waste of dealing with invisibility, with anything that is out of this world and thus invokes the fear of death that is in turn—and surprisingly— nowhere to be found. Instead of death, what is there, beyond the light, is the being without us (to recall the Lévinasian il y a ), the mumble of our own nothingness which constitutes the price to be paid for writing poetry under an evergreek light. To understand this to-and-fro, is to realize that poetry is something out of this world that nevertheless takes place in this world, by virtue of this world. But to ridiculously equate this to-and-fro with death as non-existence, is to exile poetry along with its own possibility from this same old world: I do not believe that poetry will ever disappear from this world. […] But I am also sure that it does not have many chances of playing, as you say, a redemptive role in our vertiginous technological future. Without being endangered as a creative need, it will be placed on the side of history. (2002, 32) It is mainly there that we would like to locate the meaning of Nikos Karouzos’s poetry today. If we are willing to include the Greek original it is because we consider that it will be both a waste of time for us to do so (since most of you cannot read Greek) and because it might induce you to the even larger waste of learning it. We would additionally be glad if this small introduction served as an equally wasteful, academically useless piece of reading, gesturing towards a taboo of investing in anything Greek—that is in anything dead among the living, in anything that will never come back and maybe was never here in the first place. This is the only way to reserve for ourselves the possibility of poetry and preserve the light of its promise. “To return: that is the miracle.” (1993, I, 17) Athens, Greece July 10, 2011 NOTES 1 “ Capitale (a Late Latin word based on caput “head”) emerged in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries in the sense of funds, stock of merchandise, sum of money or money carrying interest.[…] The word and the reality it stood for appear in the sermons of St. Bernardino of Siena (1380-1444) ‘… quamdam seminalem rationem lucrosi quam communiter capitale vocamus ’, ‘that prolific cause of wealth that we commonly call capital’” (Braudel, 1992, 232-233). 2 “A great man – a man whom nature has constructed and invented in the grand style – what is he? First : there is a long logic in all of his activity, hard to survey because of its length, and consequently misleading; he has the ability to extend his will across great stretches of his life and to despise and reject everything petty about him, including even the fairest, ‘divinest’ things in the world.” (Nietzsche, 1968, 505, §962) 3 Cf. Deleuze, 1986, 186-9. 4 “Return is the being of becoming, the unity of multiplicity, the necessity of chance: the being of difference as such or the eternal return.” (Deleuze, 189)5 In this 1982 interview Karouzos refers to the defeat of the communist movement in Greece after the civil war of 1946-1949 between the Governmental Army and the Democratic Army of Greece, the military division of the Greek communist party. Karouzos’s father was a member of the communist National Liberation front (EAM) members of which formed the mainl resistance movement (ELAS) in Greece during WWII. The poet was a member of the United Panhellenic Organization of Youth (EPON), which was a youth division of EAM. After the end of the war, ELAS was called to disarmament in view of the formation of a National Army. The members of EAM resigned from the government of national unity and a series of protests led to a 3 year civil war between ELAS and the Government Army. After the defeat of ELAS the Communist party was outlawed and many communists were exiled in deserted Greek islands. Karouzos, who took action in the Greek resistance and was active during the Greek civil war, was exiled in Icaria on 1947 and in Makronisos on 1953 where he was called two years earlier to do his military service. 6 “Existence in the world qua light, which makes desire possible, is then, in the midst of being, the possibility of detaching oneself from being. To enter into being is to link up with objects; it is in effect a bond that is already tainted with nullity. It is already to escape anonymity. In this world where everything seems to affirm our solidarity with the totality of existence, where we are caught up in the gears of a universal mechanism, our first feeling, our ineradicable illusion, is a feeling or illusion of freedom. To be in the world is this hesitation, this interval in existing, which we have seen in the analyses of fatigue and the present.” (Lévinas, 1988,43-4) 7from a TV interview. THE POETRY OF NIKOS KAROUZOS From Redwriter [ Ερυθρογρ?φος ], in Collected Works, Vol . II, Athens: Ikaros. 1993, 463-4. [Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 9-10.] JESUS ANTI-OEDIPUS* Why were we once saving till the fifth day the Paschal lamb? The scriptures say: with this victim’s meat we ought to cleanse all of our senses. To give life to the whitest wave miraculous odors in the extension of the chest. Ideals to death. For us to witness the illustrious dawns of Absinthe and for the soul to be a deeply carved ornament on the fore we named will. Then many deer running amidst the evergreen growth with watery hymns, then, the unintended angels descending with heights spiraling in their momentum offer themselves to the luminous Adventure. Whence the need for speech and our sufferings covered with flags like the glorified dead. An incorporeal finger pointing at the flamboyant and fragrant holocausts within the tired horizons and the exhausted breadths with joys of the mistletoe on fire and shivering all of the green-leaved love. Something would have chirped again had we not driven it away— maybe the ewe’s grass. Something would have called us to the eternal resurrection— maybe the grace of spring. But now our heart is fiercely blinded, withdrawn to the appearances of Hades. Silence and ice incessantly cover the Infant Spirit in thatched times. While the cherry trees are dreaming faintly glowing in absolute darkness there’s nothing the Babylonians can contemplate in labs with automatic colored lights. How to rejoice now in the fifth day of the lamb? We have forked the stars. We’ve gradually become supposedly sublime with plucked chimeras in our hands. Avenged relentlessly by science. *Though the poem appears in a 1990 collection, it was actually written in 1968. Hence the reader must be aware in not associating Karouzos’ Anti-Oedipus with the famous 1972 work of Deleuze and Guattari, given that the former precedes the latter. ΙΗΣΟΥΣ ΑΝΤΙ-ΟΙΔΙΠΟΥΣ Γιατ? κρατο?σαμε κ?ποτε ?ς την π?μπτη μ?ρα το πασχαλιν? πρ?βατο; Τα κε?μενα λ?νε: μ’ αυτο? του θ?ματος το κρ?ας ?πρεπε να καθαρ?σουμε ?λες τις αισθ?σεις. Για να δ?σουμε κ?μα στη ζω? λευκ?τατο θαυμ?σιες ευωδι?ς στην ?κταση του στ?θους. Ιδανικ? στο χ?ρο. Για να βλ?πουμε τα λαμπρ? χαρ?ματα του ?ψινθου και να ’ναι η ψυχ? στ?λισμα βαθυχ?ρακτο της πλ?ρης που την ε?παμε θ?ληση. Τ?τε πολλ?ς δορκ?δες τρ?χοντας αν?μεσα στην καταπρ?σινη φ?ση με τους υδ?τινους ?μνους, τ?τε, κατεβα?νοντας οι αθ?λητοι ?γγελοι με κυλινδο?μενο το ?ψος στην ορμ? τους χαρ?ζονται της αστραφτερ?ς Περιπ?τειας. ?θεν η μιλι? γι’ αυτ? χρει?ζεται και τα δειν? σκεπ?ζονται ωσ?ν τους τιμημ?νους νεκρο?ς με σημα?ες. Ασ?ματο δ?χτυλο δε?χνει τα φλογ?δη και μοσχοβ?λα ολοκαυτ?ματα στους κουρασμ?νους ορ?ζοντες στα εξουθενωμ?να πλ?τη καθ?ς αν?βουν οι χαρ?ς του νερα?δ?ξυλου και τρ?μει ολ?κληρη η πρασιν?φυλλη αγ?πη. Κ?τι θα κελαηδο?σε π?λι αν δεν το δι?χναμε— μπορε? της προβατ?νας το χορτ?ρι. Κ?τι θα μας καλο?σε στην απ?ραντη αν?σταση— μπορε? του ?αρος η χ?ρη. Μα η καρδι? μας ?γρια τυφλ?θηκε π?ρασε στα φαιν?μενα του ?δη. Σιγ? και π?γος αδι?κοπα σκεπ?ζει στους αχυρ?νιους καιρο?ς το Ν?πιο Πνε?μα. Την ?ρα που ονειρε?ονται οι βυσσινι?ς και λ?μπουν αμυδρ? μεσ’ στο απλ?τατο σκοτ?δι τ?ποτα δε στοχ?ζονται οι βαβυλ?νιοι στα εργαστ?ρια με τ’ αυτ?ματα χρωματιστ? φ?τα. Π?ς να χαρο?με πια την π?μπτη μ?ρα του προβ?του; Φουρκ?σαμε τ’ αστ?ρια. Γ?ναμε σιγ?-σιγ? δ?θεν υπ?ροχοι με μαδημ?νες χ?μαιρες στα χ?ρια. Μας ν?μεται σκληρ? η επιστ?μη. From: Redwriter [Ερυθρογρ?φος], in Collected Works, Vol. II, Athens: Ikaros. 1993, 472. [Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 18.] DIALECTΙCS OF SPRING Christ the straight angle; Christ the Pythagorean theorem. Christ the infinitesimal calculus from above the blessed Sets Christ. Christ the tessellation of massive particles Christ the zero mass. Hence we spray numbers and fields of lust. We are carabineers of diseased logic plus something— Observed means observer and Hekate The darkness luminous and light in the dark Astarte banqueters demons from today. ΔΙΑΛΕΚΤΙΚΗ ΤΟΥ ΕΑΡΟΣ Χριστ?ς η ορθ? γων?α· Χριστ?ς το πυθαγ?ριο θε?ρημα. Χριστ?ς ο απειροστικ?ς λογισμ?ς ?νωθεν ?λβια Χριστ?ς τα Σ?νολα. Χριστ?ς η ψηφιδογραφ?α στα μαζικ? σωμ?τια Χριστ?ς η μ?ζα μηδ?ν. ?ρα ψεκ?ζουμε αριθμο?ς και πεδ?α λαγνε?ας. Ε?μαστε τυφεκιοφ?ροι νοσο?σης λογικ?ς και κ?τι-- παρατηρο?μενο σημα?νει παρατηρητ?ς και Εκ?τη σκ?τος το π?μφωτο και φως εν τ? σκοτ?? η Αστ?ρτη συνδαιτημ?νες δα?μονες απ’ ?ρτι. From: Redwriter [Ερυθρογρ?φος], Athens: Apopeira, 1990, 18. [1993, II, 472]. CREDO (as we are used to say in Latin) Α I believe in one Poet expelled from heavens / fugitive from the god and vagabond, Empedocles / and here on earth / exile on the earth etc. of Baudelaire /. Β I believe in one Computer inside thunder and through matter. Γ Suffering undefiled / substantive / the Poet uplifts himself slow-burning suicidal implying lengthy sleeps. Δ Cutting down on prospective mistakes. Ε Of all things visible and invisible officiating the onion-peelings. Ζ The Poet has nothing / see the departed /. Η I believe in one Poet that says: madness I enjoy; he ridicules existence; let me light up from my mana. Θ Syntax he doesn’t care about when musicality commands him. Along with still more licenses, and Ts are played according to the concept sound anywhere. E.g. the winters here, he winters there; it will not come—I will not rest, etc. etc. Ι The Poet exercises thought until it’s stripped down. Κ And if he’s Greek he must always study the fineness of Attica, in light, mountains, fields and sea. For this fineness teaches language. Λ And if he’s deeply destined the Poet expresses the unexplainable of the explained; he happens to be a rightful heir to the scientist and his predecessor. Μ On the froth he does not last; the Poet blusters at the bottom of the pot. Ν Flamebred and never redeemed. Ξ The Poet must sometimes say: what a consumption of presence — be a bit lonely for a change! Ο The Poet is twilit. Π He is susceptible of deaths and resurrections. Ρ He looks from the corner of his eye and exists in a glance. Σ He follows behind the mother. Τ Eveningless when it comes to age. Υ I believe in one Poet who says: let the purities coincide. Until the Corinth of the Universe or even further. Φ In a higher despair. Χ In a brighter quintessence. Ψ In one sensation that lifts off. Ω Forgiving everyone. CREDO (ως ε?θισται να λ?με λατινιστ?) Α Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν εκτ?ς ουρανο? / φυγ?ς θε?θεν και αλ?της, Εμπεδοκλ?ς / και επ? της γης / εξ?ριστος π?νω στη γη κ.λπ. του Βωδελα?ρου /. Β Πιστε?ω εις ?να Υπολογιστ?ν εντ?ς κεραυνο? και δια της ?λης. Γ Υποφ?ροντας ?χραντα / ουσιαστικ?ν / ο Ποιητ?ς ανατε?νεται βραδυφλεγ?ς αυτ?χειρας εξυπακο?οντας πολ?ωρους ?πνους. Δ Τα υποψ?φια λ?θη λιγοστε?οντας. Ε Ορατ?ν τε π?ντων και αορ?των ιερουργ?ντας την αποκρομμ?ωση. Ζ Ο Ποιτ?ς ?χει τ?ποτα / βλ?πε τους αναχωρ?σαντες /. Η Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν που λ?ει: η τρ?λα μ’ αρ?σει· γελοιοποιε? την ?παρξη· ας αν?ψω απ’ τη μ?να μου. Θ Συνταχτικ? δεν το γνοι?ζεται στην προσταγ? της μουσικ?τητας. Μαζ? και μ’ ?λλες ακ?μη λευτερι?ς, και τα νυ πα?ζονται κατ? την ?ννοια ?χος οπουδ?ποτε. Π.χ. τον χειμ?να εδ?, το χειμ?να εκε?· δε θ? ’ρθει – δεν θα καταλαγι?σουμε, κ. λπ. κ.λπ. Ι Ο Ποιητ?ς γυμν?ζει τη σκ?ψη σε απογ?μνωση. Κ Κι αν ε?ναι ?λληνας οφε?λει να σπουδ?ζει π?ντοτε της Αττικ?ς τη λεπτ?τητα, σε φως, βουν?, χωρ?φια και θ?λασσα. Διδ?σκει γλ?σσα η λεπτ?τητα το?τη. Λ Κι αν ε?ναι βαθι? πεπρωμ?νος ο Ποιητ?ς εκφρ?ζει το ανεξ?γητο του εξηγητο?· τυγχ?νει ν?μιμος δι?δοχος του επιστ?μονα και προκ?τοχ?ς του. Μ Στον αφρ? δεν ?χει δι?ρκεια· στο πατοκ?ζανο μα?νεται ο Ποιητ?ς. Ν Φλογοδ?αιτος και ποτ? ξελυτρωμ?νος. Ξ Ο Ποιητ?ς κ?ποτε πρ?πει να λ?ει: μεγ?λη καταν?λωση παρουσ?ας – γενε?τε και λ?γο μοναξι?ρηδες! Ο Ο Ποιητ?ς ε?ναι αμφ?φλοξ. Π Επιδ?χεται θαν?τους και αναστ?σεις. Ρ Ακροθωρ?ζει και υπ?ρχει σε ξαφνοκο?ταγμα. Σ Ε?ναι ουραγ?ς της μητ?ρας. Τ Αν?σπερος απ? ηλικ?α. Υ Πιστε?ω εις ?να Ποιητ?ν που λ?ει: να συμπ?σουν οι αγν?τητες. Μ?χρι την Κ?ρινθο του Σ?μπαντος ? μακρ?τερα. Φ Σε αν?τερη απελπισ?α. Χ Σε φαειν?τερη πεμπτουσ?α. Ψ Σε μια α?σθηση που πτηνο?ται. Ω Συγχωρ?ντας τους π?ντες. From Large Sized Logic [ Λογικ? μεγ?λου σχ?ματος ], Athens: Erato, 1989, n.p. [1993, II, 521-3]. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response to Eva Alerby and Cecilia Ferm, “Learning Music: Embodied Experience in the Life-World”C. Victor FungThe authors' choice of using phenomenology as a foundation of their inquiry is appropriate and appealing. They have, to a great extent, achieved their goal to explain music learning from a life-world approach. Descriptions of absolute musicality and relativistic musicality in the opening paragraphs remind me of the good old "nature versus (...) nurture" argument. Do the authors intend to relate musicality to musical ability or aptitude as defined by psychologists? If musicality is "the ability to make something of one's own," does it mean that the authors have taken on a relativistic view and believe that musicality can be acquired?At the onset of the essay, musicality is described as emotional or cognitive phenomena. I would be interested to know what role a psychomotor phenomenon plays in musicality. The authors later describe "motor knowledge" in the context of Merleau-Ponty's "maximum grip." Does it mean that "motor knowledge" or "maximum grip" in music is outside the realm of musicality?I have attempted to follow the authors' logic in answering the question: What is learning of music? The authors postulate that "knowledge does not always, and not in any way automatically, become exactly the same as the learning situation aimed for" and that "the aim of music education is to produce music knowledge." These propositions lead me to believe that the learning of music occurs in experiencing all types of musical activities, regardless of the musician's level of proficiency. In all types of musical activities, including different performances of the same repertoire by the same performer, the musician would find new knowledge that is being produced in his/her body. Therefore, I agree with the authors in that "bodily experience is the foundation for learning."I would like to respond to the issue of whether music learning occurs within [End Page 206] or outside of the human being. I enjoy reading how the authors borrow Merleau-Ponty's analogy of the blind man and his stick. They put it so beautifully that "the piano becomes an extension of the pianist's body, and the pianist can 'feel' its limitation." This leads me to ponder if there could be further extensions beyond the physical piano. We know that pianists make the strings in the piano vibrate through a lever mechanism. These vibrations travel through the air and arrive at the audience's ears. Then the vibrating energies are transmitted as electrical energies in the audience's nerve cells. The audience in turn may behave differently after such a complex transmission of energies at a performance. My question is: Is there an end to the "extension" of a musician's body? If so, where should it end? There is no doubt that the pianist relates to the world and learns about the world through the piano. Could the pianist learn about the world through the vibrations that the piano strings generate, through the air, and through the audience's hearing mechanism, brain cells, and behaviors? Is this what the authors meant by "the human ego is boundaryless and cannot be localized, and the ego is immanent in the whole system"? Regardless of how far the "extension" goes, how do we know if an "extension" has occurred? How can we validate an "extension" of a musician's ego"?It seems to me that the authors' discussions have focused on the tactile extension of the body. If the body can be extended like the stick for the blind man, would the air surrounding the blind man, including its smell, temperature, humidity, wind, and sound, be his extension too? When this question is transferred to a musician, would the total context of the musical event be the musician's extension of the body too? By "total context," I mean the cultural context, the environment (smell, temperature,...), and the people in the musical event.We are certain that music learning takes place when experiences and knowledge are incorporated in the body. We still have not solved the problem of whether music learning occurs within or outside of the human being, because the boundary of the... (shrink)

This essay examines the role of virtue and the status of non-moral goods in conceptions of the good human life through an exploration of the thought of Confucius and Mencius. Both Confucius and Mencius lived in quite similar worlds, but their conceptualizations of the world differed from each another. This difference led them to hold different views on the role of virtue and the status of non-moral goods. On the one hand, Confucius highlighted the self-sufficiency of (...) class='Hi'>virtue, but he acknowledged and appreciated the intrinsic and instrumental value of non-moral goods. On the other hand, while Mencius underscored the role of virtue as the best means to the best ends, he tried to depreciate the value of non-moral goods. As a consequence, even though their conceptions of the good life were essentially predicated on virtue, they parted company concerning the status of non-moral goods in human life. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thinking Mortal ThoughtsDebra SanThere is something quite odd about the ancient Greek advice to “think mortal thoughts” (or “think of mortal things”), for what human being past the flush of youth has not trembled at the thought of mortality? Consciousness of our mortal condition is considered a hall-mark of the human species, and is no doubt the reason we alone among the species on the planet entertain notions of (...) divinity. Why then are we counseled to think about what we cannot help thinking about anyway? And what purpose does the advice serve: are those who tender it eager to promote their own fearful frame of mind? Or, on the contrary, are they urging us to be courageous in the face of death? Perhaps the advice intended is to eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Or perhaps “mortal thoughts” are suicidal thoughts, and the object is to shuffle off this mortal coil in a manner, time, and place of our own choosing.Clearly, taken out of context, the injunction “think mortal thoughts” can mean any number of things. But in the context of ancient Greek culture, “think mortal thoughts” means roughly this:“Since you are not one of the immortal gods, be mindful of your limits as a human being. Consciousness of the inevitability of your death should inform the way you live your life, for just as your lifespan is limited by your mortality, so too are your capacities for understanding, for action, and for achievement. This is the truth of your condition; if you don’t accept it, you’ll be frustrated at best, and at worst you’ll incur divine wrath and retribution for attempting to push past your proper human boundaries into sacred turf where you don’t belong and aren’t wanted. Don’t trespass. Don’t even think about it. Don’t assume, in a futile exercise of hubris, that you’re a special case whose transgression [End Page 16] (huperbasia) will be exempt from dire consequences. Gnothi sauton, know yourself as a mortal being, and meden agan, do nothing to excess, or you will suffer the fate of Icarus, who aimed too high and died for it, or the fate of Phaethon, who was destroyed by forces which he thought he could control.”The advice presented here echoes throughout classical Greek drama, whose tragic protagonists are the theatrical descendants of Icarus and Phaethon. When Antigone compares herself to Niobe, the Chorus must remind her that “she was a god, born of gods, and we are only mortals born to die” (925–26). 1 In her failure to think mortal thoughts, Antigone resembles her father, whose refusal to acknowledge his limits is so profound that even after mutilating himself in horror at the discovery of his own transgressions, he must still be reminded that he is no longer “the master of all things” (1675). 2 Pentheus in the Bacchae lacks the stature of either Oedipus or Antigone, but like them he has pretensions beyond the limits befitting a mortal; he fails to exercise the “simple wisdom [that] shuns the thoughts of proud, uncommon men and all their god-encroaching dreams” (427–29). 3 In his arrogant and unrealistic attempt to pit his own puny powers against the incomparable force of the immortal Dionysus, Pentheus suffers the fate of those whose hubris overcomes the temperate virtue of sōphrosunē, “the wisdom that accepts” (390). Even the bloodthirsty, pre-Eumenides Furies of the Eumenides accept the limits which moderation entails: they understand that Zeus “appointeth the mean as the master in all things” (531). 4One might expect that this cautionary, temperate strain in Greek thinking would appeal to Aristotle, whose doctrine of the mean in Book II of the Nicomachean Ethics might have come straight out of the Oresteia. And yet, when the caution is expressed in the maxim “think mortal thoughts,” Aristotle rejects it, claiming that human beings should try to aim their thoughts at a level so high it cannot really be reached by mortals, which is to say a level as high as that of the immortal gods, whose contemplative, intellectual activity (theōria) soars far above... (shrink)

Samizdat, the underground circulation of unofficial and forbidden literature in the Soviet Union, is an example of how censorship can backfire. Ideological restrictions produced walls of monotony in libraries and bookstores, propelling readers to search for more interesting fare. Sensitive texts on religion, philosophy, human rights, and current events, as well as literary works, passed from hand to hand clandestinely from around 1960 until censorship was abolished in the late 1980s. Von Zitzewitz's study is itself interesting fare, uncovering the workings (...) of samizdat as both a distribution network, comparable to that of print culture, and a social network that developed bonds between people who shared a defined purpose outside the public space. By no means did they all think of themselves as dissenters. For many people who lived ordinary Soviet lives, it was simply that “reading samizdat increased [their] individual feeling of freedom and represented a personal act of resistance.”One merit of this book is its point-by-point comparison of the samizdat distribution network to the print-culture production chain of author-publisher-printer-shipper-bookseller-reader. Samizdat had an analogous chain, in which a text made its way from author to reader through a network of people, each performing a specific function—procuring manuscripts, housing them, typing (or photographing) multiple copies, and delivering copies to readers. There were others who served as compilers, translators, collectors, and even editors and “librarians” (although accepting this designation requires abandoning the notion of a library as a stationary physical repository).Since all participants in the network strove to hide their traces from the prying eyes of the security police, samizdat researchers are hampered by a lack of records and evidence. To help fill the information gap, von Zitzewitz (in collaboration with Memorial's Gennadii Kuzovkin) designed a sixty-three-question survey targeting former samizdat participants and posted online in 2017. Tables display statistics (from the first 122 respondents) on demographics (respondents’ gender, place and decade of birth, and education level) as well as information on which authors, genres, and subject matter were most read. Other survey questions were designed to elicit recollections that help us understand what it felt like to participate in samizdat culture, whether as an author or reader, or in some aspect of acquisition or distribution. The many quotations from the survey responses bring to life the intensity of this activity. Receiving a sought-after text with an injunction to return it (or pass it on) the next day might mean reading all through the night to get through hundreds of pages. And while it is intuitive to think of samizdat as walled off from official culture, this study argues persuasively that they were intertwined. There were plenty of gray areas and fuzzy boundaries, too. One owner of samizdat books had several of them confiscated during a KGB search of his apartment, only to find them later for sale in a bookshop.Having begun as a clandestine, makeshift response to the institution of censorship, samizdat became more sophisticated over time, evolving into an institution itself. It arguably contributed to the perestroika reforms and became unnecessary when censorship was given the heave-ho. Subsequently, samizdat activists who had managed the covert production and circulation of entire journals published full accounts of their activity and the operation of their networks. Von Zitzewitz makes good use of these sources and shows admiration for the role these men played. She notes, though, that their detailed descriptions omit names of any of the typists who gave up their leisure hours and nightly sleep for the pleasure of hammering out multiple carbon copies of forbidden literature, usually for no pay. The word typist, given its lowly connotation in both Russian and English, is unfortunate. Typists were samizdat's printing press, and without their commitment and sacrifice the whole enterprise would have collapsed. Von Zitzewitz suggests that it may never have occurred to the samizdat heavyweights to acknowledge them by name. They were just... women. On the other hand, the menial typist designation had its upside. It seems to have resulted in a shorter prison sentence for at least one of them.Von Zitzewitz argues strenuously that samizdat was first and foremost a social network. If you wanted to get hold of, say, The Gulag Archipelago, you needed to know someone with the connections to help you get it. To call samizdat a social network is, of course, to wade into comparisons with today's online social media networks. Von Zitzewitz notes parallels, but she finds that the differences overwhelm the similarities. Samizdat was a social network, but one that depended on mutual trust. (shrink)

The plot of Brian Friel's Molly Sweeney oscillates around the theme of perception, blindness and eye-sight recovery. Although visually impaired, the eponymous character is a self-reliant and independent person who is very active, both professionally and socially. What serves as the source of tragedy in the play is the male desire to compensate for Molly's physical disability perceived as a sign of deficiency and oddity that needs to be normalized. Prompted by her husband, Molly decides to undergo a surgery which (...) gives her a chance to regain sight and, thus, become a part of the world of the visually abled. Yet, subsequent to the operation, Molly cannot adapt herself to the new reality and develops a medical condition called blindsight, which leads to her final alienation and confusion. Focusing predominantly on the main character of the play, this paper examines the ways in which Molly Sweeney experiences the surrounding world and seeks satisfaction and self-fulfilment through physical activities, such as swimming or dancing, which she vividly describes in her monologues. It explores the double nature of Molly who, despite her self-sufficiency, capacity for rebellion and a sense of autonomy, seems prone to male manipulation exercised at first by her father, later by her husband Frank and doctor Rice. Her expression of independence becomes particularly conspicuous in the scene of a party organized the night before her surgery when she performs a wild and frantic hornpipe, which serves as a form of momentary upheaval and a visualization of the outburst of extreme emotions. Although the dance is not presented onstage, it has a crucial function in the play, for it serves as its powerful climax, after which Molly experiences gradual deterioration. Interpreted in the context of the history of Irish dance, the mad hornpipe appears replete with meanings and allusions. Traditionally associated with human sexuality and the female element, dance was often treated by the Irish clergy with a great deal of distrust as a source of evil and moral corruption. Consequently, like in the case of the frenzied reel in another famous Frielian play, Dancing at Lughnasa, the limitless and unrestricted performance in the climactic scene of Molly Sweeney may be seen as a tool of subversion and female opposition to the Irish patriarchal order. It is a unique moment in which the protagonist seizes male power and gains full, though very temporary, control over her life. (shrink)

al-Zarkashī, an ethnic Turk, is an important hadith, fiqh and commentary scholar who lived during the Mamlūks period. He was taught by some of the leading scholars of his era, such as Alā al-Dīn Mughultay (d. 762/1360), Imād al-Dīn Ibn Kashīr (d. 774/1372) ve Jamal al-Dīn al-Asnawī (d. 772/1370), and he grew up under their mentorship. Nevertheless, his only well-known student is Birmāvī (d. 831/1428). Almost half of his works have been related to fiqh and methodology of fiqh, and he (...) has also written some important works in the field of hadith. Among these, especially al-Tadhkira, al-Nukat alā Ibn al-Salāh, al-Nukat alā al-Umda fī al-Ahkām ve al-Icāba are worthy of mention. The work named al-Tadhkira, which we built our work upon, is the first known work to have been preserved in the field. Due to his being a first in his field, he was vastly studied as to how he evaluated the narrations and what kind of procedure he followed. In this work of his, not only the criticism but also the application of the text criticism adds to the importance of the work. Then, on the basis of this work, scholars such as al-Sakhāwī and al-Aclūnī made complementary works on the same subject. Summary: It is inevitable for a person to be shaped by the society he lives in. During the time when al-Zarkashī lived, Egypt was under the rule of the Mamlūks. The history of Mamlūks is examined under two periods: 1. Bahrī or Turkish Mamlūks (745 / 1344 - 794-1391) 2. Burjī or Circassian Mamlūks (784 / 1382 - 923 / 1517) period. Our author lives in both periods. About forty years of his life was in the period of Bahrī and the rest was in the period of Burjī. In both periods, the state did not have a full political authority in the country, but this was not the case in education and training. In fact, on the contrary to the political situation, scientific activities have accelerated by the arrival of many scholars to the land of Mamlūk because of the Mongol invasions coming from the east and the Crusades from the west. The increase of scientific activity was caused not only by the coming of the scholars but also by the support given by the Mamlūk sultans. In fact, they built many new madrasas in addition to the resurrection of the old ones. In addition to madrasas during the Mamlūks period, mosque, hāngāh, ribat and zāwiya are also among the educational places.Hadith, fiqh and Tafsir scholar al-Zarkashī is originally Turkish. He was born in Cairo at 745 under the conditions mentioned above. His family learned of gold and silverworking because of their subsequent settlement to Egypt, and they made their living with this craft. A person who performs this is called Zarkash in Arabic. Muhammad ibn Bahādır, who learned and did this job, was known as al-Zarkashī. al-Zarkashī, known for his love of science since childhood, was trained hadith by Alā al-Dīn Mughultay (d. 762/1360) and Imād al-Dīn Ibn Kashīr (d. 774/1372) in Damascus, and fiqh by al-Asnawī (d. 772/1370). Among his beneficiaries are distinguished personalities such as al-Subkī (d. 756/1355), al-Azraī (d. 783/1381) and al-Bulqīnī (d. 824/1421). The most remarkable of his student is al-Birmāvī (d. 831/1428).It is known that he wrote about fifty works in hadith, tafsir, fiqh, methodology of fiqh and other fields. Especially among these works al-Burhān fī ʻUlūm al-Qur’ān, al-Tadhkira, al-Ijāba, al-Bahr al-Muhīt fî Usūl al-Fiqh ve al-Mansūr fī al-Qawāid is worth mentioning. Studies on al-Burhān and al-Bahr were carried out at the level of Master and PhD.al-Zarkashī did not hesitate to criticize any person for whom he had found his mistake. For example, even though he has a great love for him, and even because of this love, he has been given the name of al-Minhāj, the criticism of al-Nawawī is the clearest indication of the value given to science. Not just him, critics of scholars such as al-Hākim al-Naysābūrī and Ibn ʻAbd al-Barr who are recognized as authority in hadith can also be considered in this framework.The work named al-Tadhkira which we have studied in our work is of importance in that it shows the accumulation of knowledge in the field of hadith. In order to compose this work, it is necessary to have enough information in this field since the riwāyas must be criticized in terms of isnād and text. To compose his work, al-Zarkashī has benefited from about a hundred and forty works related to hadith, tafsir, al-siyar, history, tabakāt, commentary, jarh - taʻdīl, ilal and maghāzī. The use of such works is an effort to reach all sources and right information as much as possible. Some of these sources are basic hadith books such as al-Bukhārī (d. 256/870) al-Sahīh, Muslim (d. 261/875) al- Sahīh, Abū Dāʾūd (d. 275/889) al-Sunan, al-Tirmidhī (d. 279/892) al-Sunan, al-Nasā’ī (d. 303/915) al-Sunan, Ibn Mādja (d. 273/887) al-Sunan, Mālik ibn Anas (d. 179/795) al-Muwatta, Ahmad ibn Hanbal (d. 241/855) al-Musnad, al-Dārimī (d. 255/869) al-Sunan, ʻAbd al-Razzāq al-Sanʻānī (d. 211/826-27) al-Musannaf, Ibn Abī Shayba (d. 235/849) al-Musannaf, Ibn Rāhwayh (d. 238/853) al-Musnad, al- Bazzār (d. 292/905) al-Musnad, Abu Yaʻlā el-Mawsilī (d. 307/919) al-Musnad, Ibn Hibbān (d. 354/965) al-Sahīh, al-Tabarānī (d. 360/971) al-Muʻjam al-Awsat and al-Muʻjam al-Kabīr, al-Hākim al-Naysābūrī (d. 405/1014) al-Mustadrak.al-Zarkashī divided the riwāyas he had studied into eight subjects. These are judgments, wisdom, zuhd, medicine, virtue, prayer, story, words and riwāyas circulating in language. He shares the information he obtains from sources about him after mentioning the riwāyas he will examine. For example, it is mentioned that there is not a hadith which is transmitted as a hadith, it is a word of a sahāba, tābiun or a person. He transferred on the riwāyas the sources mentioned in the sources, but also stated that he did not participate in some information as the place came.The author has evaluated the narrators of the riwāyas from the point of jarh and taʻdīl. He did not only evaluate riwāyas in terms of isnād, but also text criticism. This activity is a distinctive feature of his work.al-Zarkashī gave information about the misrepresentation of the name of the narrators. He also explained the strange words that are difficult to understand in the text. It is a manifestation of his knowledge in the fiqh area that some of the riwāyas that are considered weak are expressed in some sects. The author described some errors about the riwāyas. For example, he stated that a riwāya that is said to be marfūʻ is a mavkūf. al-Zarkashī also included verses, hadiths and poems about the riwāya that he had studied while writing his work or he defended it by saying that it is not the case of a riwāya that is said to be fictitious.Perhaps it is the weakest point of al-Zarkashī’s work not to give any information about some riwāya, only to mention their isnāds. He also found some riwāyas that did not have a reliable isnāds and stated that their meanings are correct. This knowledge has become an enlightening characteristic for later generations.This work has a great significance in showing that the majority of the riwāyas that spread among the people are not hadiths. As a matter of fact, 73% of the riwāyas examined in the work are weak or irrelevant riwāyas. This work of al-Zarkashī is unique. The existence of such a work has not been determined before him. This work constituted the basis of the works written by scholars such as al-Sakhāwī and al-Aclūnī in the same subject after him. (shrink)

One, Mad Hornpipe: Dance as a Tool of Subversion in Brian Friel's Molly Sweeney The plot of Brian Friel's Molly Sweeney oscillates around the theme of perception, blindness and eye-sight recovery. Although visually impaired, the eponymous character is a self-reliant and independent person who is very active, both professionally and socially. What serves as the source of tragedy in the play is the male desire to compensate for Molly's physical disability perceived as a sign of deficiency and oddity that needs (...) to be normalized. Prompted by her husband, Molly decides to undergo a surgery which gives her a chance to regain sight and, thus, become a part of the world of the visually abled. Yet, subsequent to the operation, Molly cannot adapt herself to the new reality and develops a medical condition called blindsight, which leads to her final alienation and confusion.Focusing predominantly on the main character of the play, this paper examines the ways in which Molly Sweeney experiences the surrounding world and seeks satisfaction and self-fulfilment through physical activities, such as swimming or dancing, which she vividly describes in her monologues. It explores the double nature of Molly who, despite her self-sufficiency, capacity for rebellion and a sense of autonomy, seems prone to male manipulation exercised at first by her father, later by her husband Frank and doctor Rice. Her expression of independence becomes particularly conspicuous in the scene of a party organized the night before her surgery when she performs a wild and frantic hornpipe, which serves as a form of momentary upheaval and a visualization of the outburst of extreme emotions. Although the dance is not presented onstage, it has a crucial function in the play, for it serves as its powerful climax, after which Molly experiences gradual deterioration.Interpreted in the context of the history of Irish dance, the mad hornpipe appears replete with meanings and allusions. Traditionally associated with human sexuality and the female element, dance was often treated by the Irish clergy with a great deal of distrust as a source of evil and moral corruption. Consequently, like in the case of the frenzied reel in another famous Frielian play, Dancing at Lughnasa, the limitless and unrestricted performance in the climactic scene of Molly Sweeney may be seen as a tool of subversion and female opposition to the Irish patriarchal order. It is a unique moment in which the protagonist seizes male power and gains full, though very temporary, control over her life. (shrink)

SUMMARY1 The rational soul becomes the constant and dimensionless Euclidean point in all experience - defining the situations in which it finds itself, but itself undefined and undefinable in any situation. It is in nature but not of nature. Just as the dimensionless Euclidean point can occupy infinite positions on a line and yet remain unaltered, so the immortal, active intellect remains unaffected by the world in which it finds itself. It is not influenced by age, sense data, sickness or (...) death. It is the knower whose nature is pure knowing or reason. This is in great part the basic assumption that runs through the history of Aristotelean and modern symbolic logics24.The rational soul grasps identity, reasons consistently, and knows objectively for though it is in the world it is not of the world. Thus it is unnecessary and impossible to relate its truth to time or place or condition. As the source of understanding it need not be understood. It understands in that it knows. It is this which places the objective knower and observer outside of all systems of knowledge that it creates in philosophy, science and theology, and frees it from subjective interpretation. It is the absolute observer beyond self-observation.252 Language, values, and meanings reflect the absolute viewpoint of the dimensionless observer beyond the necessity of observation. The task of this observer is to know trie world just as the task of the animal and plant soul is motion and reproduction. The rational soul performs its task beyond nature as surely as animals and plants perform their tasks in nature. This is why it is possible to discuss the necessary evolution of living organisms in nature, but unnecessary to discuss the necessary or unnecessary nature of the evolution of this discussion. This is one of the reasons why determinism or predestination which seem so clearly applicable to nature, need not be applied to theories of determinism and predestination. These are principles grasped in reality beyond nature and totally inapplicable to the non-natural spirit that comprehends their essences. Thus self-reflexive questions about the questioner are as irrelevant as would be questions historically of “in what sense might the definition of dimensionless point itself be dimensioned or dimension-less?”26 Questions, on the other hand, that relate to the observed world are important for they can be truly answered (where questions as to the nature of the questioner cannot). In this view reality is not nature, but rather it is from reality that the objective observer, philosopher, scientist, and theologian understands and controls nature.3 Logic, the science of reason, is the science of all sciences. It reflects the pure and innate rational nature of the knowing intellect or soul. It is pure form beyond nature. Its realm is that of first principles or axioms. These too are in the world but not of it, as with Plato's eidos and Aristotle's universals. They are clear, true and self-evident. This explains the on going use of axiomatized revelations in studies in the natural and social sciences, the arts and the humanities. In symbolic logics, natural languages are in and of the world, but meta-languages are the constructs of pure intellectual activity and thus not natural. The abstract tends to become the more real, the less it can be found in nature. Rational souls, however, share a common reality that is as universal for Frege as it was for Aristotle.274 The occidental object tradition in general breaks out of the nature continuum by withdrawing into reality where the intellect knows and manipulates the world in philosophy, science, and theology from its position in and understanding of reality. Nature is a sub-set of reality and not vice versa. Axioms are the laws and determinants of nature and logic, but they are not nature.28 This means that at the basis of the occidental continuum of nature there is a qualitative and irreducible dichotomy of reality vs. nature. This has been most useful in the history of occidental science, but it produces a world view in which nature may lose the race with reality. SUMMARY IIIn the first portion of my paper, I discussed the implications of the Euclidean egg for philosophy and science as nature is understood and manipulated from reality. I shall now turn to what I see as the implications of the three-legged chicken view that the human intellect is in and of nature and that reality is a perspective in nature and is not simply the other of an irreducible qualitative dichotomy. Although there are an endless number of such implications that I could explore, the following, it seems to me are the most important:1 In the natural continuum there is no “dimensionless real” which can serve either as the locus of an external observer or a fixed position in nature. There is no perspective which is not an aspect of that upon which it is a perspective. The Chinese sage, for example, is one who sees himself/herself as one with or within natural process. This is expressed in a number of ways. Fung Yu-lan speaks of the difference between having no knowledge and having no-knowledge.34 Within such a continuum there can be no abstracting out of the absolute and unchanging. The nameless is the source of the named. First principles are the process itself and these principles are the alternation of opposites:“The Nameless is the origin of Heaven and Earth;The Named is the mother of all things.Therefore let there always be non-being so we may see their subtlety, And let there always be being so we may see their outcome. The two are the same.“352 An empty mind is not a blank mind. Where Aristotle viewed the mind as a blank tablet at birth to be filled by sense experience, Hsun Tzu speaks of its emptiness. It is the emptiness of the Tao itself:“The mind is constantly storing up things, and yet it is said to be empty. The mind is constantly marked by diversity, and yet it is said to be unified. The mind is constantly moving, and yet it is said to be still. Inevitably it will see things for itself. And although the objects it perceives may be many and diverse, if its acuity is of the highest level, it cannot become divided within itself.”36The nature in which and of which the mind is both perspective and aspect remains a totality. Being a totality, it is empty of itself just as any part of a whole, while a part of the whole, is empty of the whole. My ideas of myself are both of myself and empty of myself. This point can be illustrated with the simple example of knowing and speaking about two hands – one of which is mine, and the second of which belongs to someone else. 1 can objectify the second hand and fill my blank mind with information and observations about it, but I continue to remain outside of it –the arbiter in my statements of its nature and reality. However, in knowing my own hand, the hand known is also the knower and what I know represents a perspective upon an aspective of a totality of which “I–my–hand” are aspects. Being an aspect of the whole is being empty of the whole. If mind is in and of nature, any perspective on nature is an aspect of the whole. A blank mind is an unnatural mind outside of nature, filling up with impressions of nature. An empty mind is nature viewing nature as aspect and perspective. The occidental would be ashamed to reach old age and still have a blank mind. The Chinese sage would be ashamed to reach old age and still not recognize that the mind is empty.3 If mind is in nature and like nature, then language too reflects natural flow and change and process. It is one thing for me to talk about myself and another for me to talk about someone else. In the case of the latter, I may insist that objectively this other subject fits into this or that category and even administer tests to determine that it does do indeed so. But when I talk about myself, the speaker and the object of speech are one and the same. The terms I select do represent a dichotomy of sorts, but it is one of aspect and perspective and not subject and object. When I say “this is my hand” for example, the words create distinctions which are aspects of awareness but do not create an / that is or is not my hand. Language does not model or even represent reality as opposed to nature. It makes reality possible as something that nature says or thinks. Reality through language is an aspect of nature and thus a perspective upon itself as aspect. This is an important distinction that translators often miss.4 Logic in this natural continuum is concerned with distinctions in a very different sense. As a consequence of the unity of nature and mind, three kinds of distinction in experience are manifested: (a) Those distinctions which come into being as aspects of the changing world.The 10,000 things are in this sense aspects and not separate “identities” as some philosophers and scientists presuppose.37 (b) Those distinctions which come into being as aspects of the human mind. These are impressions of and thoughts about the infinite distinctions of which the restless mind is capable, (c) Those distinctions which come into being by way of the mind's use of symbols. These are the distinctions which permit us to stabilize and store our experiences, preserve the answers to our questions, and name the world into compartments and relationships.Implicit in these three assumptions which connect the distinguishing mind to the unity of a nature of'10,000‘ aspects, is an inferential process of aspect to perspective to knowledge to understanding to attitude to action/response. The reasoning mind synthesizes some aspect of experience in nature with a perspective upon this aspect. This synthesis, in turn, is an aspect of mind and the reasoning process proceeds from it to a perspective upon it which is knowledge and understanding. Knowledge and understanding in turn are aspects of thinking and the reasoning process proceeds from them to a perspective upon them which is an attitude. Attitude in turn is an aspect of thinking and the reasoning process proceeds from it to a perspective upon it which is reflected in the reasoning individual's actions and responses. This inferential process is a continuum which proceeds from aspects of experience to perspectives in thought to action and response. In this sequence an aspect is always connected by a perspective which becomes an aspect, until action/non-action, response occurs. This is as applicable to the details of life as it is to mastering life as a whole. When this inference process is incomplete many problems may result, ranging from action without understanding to the confusion of aspect and perspective with one another or to “obsession with distinctions.”38In practice this is a logic of paradox. The human being is aware that he or she is a living-dying aspect of nature, but an aspect which is also a perspective upon nature's aspects of living and dying. This paradox is the process around which a profound logic of aspect/perspective is developed by the sage. This view of logic within a continuum does not mean that there is no principle of identity, contradiction or excluded middle present – as some Chinese and European philosophers assume.These principles are also implicit in the knowing of my hand versus the knowing of the hand of another. However, the content, meaning, and application of these principles may vary just as when I say propriety, I mean propriety, and when the Chinese says li he means li but the context, meaning and application of the term may differ in each case.5 Aspect logic as it relates mind to nature in a cosmological totality is a series of syntheses in a cyclic continuum organizing thinking in phases. Each phase is an aspect/perspective synthesis which becomes an aspect of a further aspect/perspective synthesis. This progression might be described thusly: The synthesis of nature/human which is Tao (non-being) translates into the aspects of being (the 10,000 things), and as such is a synthesis of aspect and perspective. This synthesis of aspect and perspective translates into an aspect of ideas and as such is a synthesis of perception and conception. This synthesis of perception and conception translates into an aspect of knowledge, and as such is a synthesis of knowledge and understanding (understanding is a perspective upon knowledge) i.e., no-knowledge. This synthesis of knowledge and understanding translates into an aspect of purpose, and as such is a synthesis of purpose and action. The perspective here on action is aesthetic and/or moral. This synthesis of purpose and actions translates again into an aspect of nature and as such is a synthesis beyond individual aspects and perspective, i.e. Tao. Thus there is a cyclic dynamic in the system which remains open to further development.Tai Chen in his Inquiry Into Goodness connects this cycle of syntheses with wisdom and benevolence:Because there are mind and intelligence, the superior man knows that the perfection of the Way of Man depends completely upon nature. When he looks at the signs of the natural (Cheng), he knows the beginning of things; when he cherishes the virtue of supreme illumination, (Shen-ming), he knows the end of things. Proceeding from mind and intelligence to the attainment of the virtue of supreme intelligence, [the superior man] in his treatment of things in the world will cause the world to return to [the principles of] benevolence; and in his treatment of the capability inherent in things, he will cause the world to follow wisdom (Chih).39. (shrink)

Sensemaking has recently been identified as a driver of society developments, in particular in the context of designing a reasonable, valuable, and fair life. Since the construction of meaning is a crucial momentum in sensemaking processes, the authors investigate how meaning can be constructed in a sustaining form by utilizing digital means of expression, articulation, sharing of information, and creation of artscience artefacts. The authors report on results of exploring cyber-physical-systems with performative methodologies in the context of (...) sensemaking to identify sensemaking processes of entering digital environments and share meaning-making activities through interaction. The collected data from two artscience studies reveal that activities beyond cognition facilitate sensemaking. Aesthetics and embodiment in performing actions are understood to play a role in sensemaking and subsequently effect on the construction of meaning. To investigate the role of the body and aesthetics in sensemaking in digital environments, we were particularly interested in sensemaking through embodied agency and aesthetic awareness, drawing from kinesthetic awareness of performance artists. In the performative activities digital behavior recognition and human task behavior were coupled, on the one hand by performers exploring digital environments actively reflecting on their performative process, on the other hand by a performance artist and choreographer creating performative experiences for audiences. It has been demonstrated in cyber-physical settings and can be utilized in upcoming developments further integrating virtual and physical worlds. (shrink)

Human rights belong to individuals in virtue of their common humanity. Yet it is an important question whether human rights entail or comport with the possession of what I call group-specific rights, or rights that individuals possess only because they belong to a particular group. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights says they do. Article 15 asserts the right to nationality, or citizenship. Unless one believes that the only citizenship compatible with a universal human rights regime is cosmopolitan citizenship (...) in a world state – a conception of citizenship that is not countenanced by the UDHR – one must interpret the human right to citizenship as a universal right to a particular group right. Other UN Conventions affirm the right of national minorities and indigenous people to cultural autonomy.[1] In these cases the right attributed to the group is understood as protecting an individually held human right to freedom of religion, association, or cultural expression. Because these individual rights are exercised collectively and exclusively, they ensure that individual members of a particular group have the freedom to act unhindered by outsiders. However, groups often view their right to freedom of religion, association, and cultural expression in an entirely different way. Not only do they wish that their individual members be free from outside interference but they wish to be freely self-determining as a group. That is, they wish to collectively define their own identity, including the identity of their individual members, according to the dominant views of the majority. This right to collective self-determination entitles a group to limit the full exercise of its members’ human right to act as they wish whenever the group determines that this exercise endangers the identity of the group. In these cases, the internal threat to the group’s cultural identity posed by the heterodox practices of its own members appears to be indistinguishable from the external threat to the group’s cultural autonomy posed by outsiders. I shall argue that groups are sometimes morally entitled to limit the exercise of their members' human rights under certain conditions.[2] In some respects the notion of limitation operant here is familiar to us from our own understanding of what liberal democratic societies legitimately demand of their citizens. No right – human or otherwise – is exercised unconditionally, since rights sometimes conflict with one another and their possession is contingent upon respecting the rights of others, which normally involves accepting some limitations on what may be said or done. Laws merely codify how the majority understands these limits. Also, many philosophers have argued that the meaning of human rights is far from settled, so that even a liberal democratic interpretation of rights of the sort that is contained in the first article of the UDHR is far from being universally accepted.[3] Leaving aside the possibility that human rights do not entail the extensive liberty associated with a liberal understanding of them,[4] I shall argue that groups can sometimes be morally justified to limit the expressive liberty of their individual members so long as they are both ontologically and morally legitimate and provide dissenters with reasonable opportunities for exit. [1] These include the Convention Concerning Indigenous and Tribal Peoples in Independent Countries and the Declaration of Rights of Persons Belonging to National or Ethnic, Religious or Linguistic Minorities. [2] Following Thomas Pogge, I regard human rights as claims that individuals raise against institutions that are supposed to guarantee them the conditions and resources necessary for leading a minimally decent human life. Because institutions are imperfect and fallible, assessing their compliance with human rights involves weighing their overall success along a number of variables which normally preclude simple judgments that fall into the either/or of fully satisfying or fully violating a human right. An institution may perform reasonably well in insuring that almost all of the persons on whom it is imposed are relatively successful in enjoying human right X but not human right Y; likewise, it may insure that some persons on whom it is imposed have greater success in enjoying a human right than others. [3] Article 1 states that “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.” This article can be given a distinctly liberal interpretation if “equal” is understood as “same” and “rights” are understood in to include political rights to equal participation in government and “freedom to manifest his religion or belief in teaching practice, worship, and observance” “in public or private”. [4] There has been an extensive debate over whether human rights, understood as claims that individuals raise against the social institutions that are imposed on them, reflect a conception of individual self-assertion that is universally valid for all societies or only for liberal societies that have embarked upon a Western course of modernization. Some, like John Rawls, have sought to circumvent this impasse by defining the list of universally valid human rights minimally, and in terms that do not imply robust notions of freedom and equality of the sort associated with the Western liberal constitutional tradition. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response to Eva Alerby and Cecilia Ferm, “Learning Music: Embodied Experience in the Life-World”C. Victor FungThe authors' choice of using phenomenology as a foundation of their inquiry is appropriate and appealing. They have, to a great extent, achieved their goal to explain music learning from a life-world approach. Descriptions of absolute musicality and relativistic musicality in the opening paragraphs remind me of the good old "nature versus (...) nurture" argument. Do the authors intend to relate musicality to musical ability or aptitude as defined by psychologists? If musicality is "the ability to make something of one's own," does it mean that the authors have taken on a relativistic view and believe that musicality can be acquired?At the onset of the essay, musicality is described as emotional or cognitive phenomena. I would be interested to know what role a psychomotor phenomenon plays in musicality. The authors later describe "motor knowledge" in the context of Merleau-Ponty's "maximum grip." Does it mean that "motor knowledge" or "maximum grip" in music is outside the realm of musicality?I have attempted to follow the authors' logic in answering the question: What is learning of music? The authors postulate that "knowledge does not always, and not in any way automatically, become exactly the same as the learning situation aimed for" and that "the aim of music education is to produce music knowledge." These propositions lead me to believe that the learning of music occurs in experiencing all types of musical activities, regardless of the musician's level of proficiency. In all types of musical activities, including different performances of the same repertoire by the same performer, the musician would find new knowledge that is being produced in his/her body. Therefore, I agree with the authors in that "bodily experience is the foundation for learning."I would like to respond to the issue of whether music learning occurs within [End Page 206] or outside of the human being. I enjoy reading how the authors borrow Merleau-Ponty's analogy of the blind man and his stick. They put it so beautifully that "the piano becomes an extension of the pianist's body, and the pianist can 'feel' its limitation." This leads me to ponder if there could be further extensions beyond the physical piano. We know that pianists make the strings in the piano vibrate through a lever mechanism. These vibrations travel through the air and arrive at the audience's ears. Then the vibrating energies are transmitted as electrical energies in the audience's nerve cells. The audience in turn may behave differently after such a complex transmission of energies at a performance. My question is: Is there an end to the "extension" of a musician's body? If so, where should it end? There is no doubt that the pianist relates to the world and learns about the world through the piano. Could the pianist learn about the world through the vibrations that the piano strings generate, through the air, and through the audience's hearing mechanism, brain cells, and behaviors? Is this what the authors meant by "the human ego is boundaryless and cannot be localized, and the ego is immanent in the whole system"? Regardless of how far the "extension" goes, how do we know if an "extension" has occurred? How can we validate an "extension" of a musician's ego"?It seems to me that the authors' discussions have focused on the tactile extension of the body. If the body can be extended like the stick for the blind man, would the air surrounding the blind man, including its smell, temperature, humidity, wind, and sound, be his extension too? When this question is transferred to a musician, would the total context of the musical event be the musician's extension of the body too? By "total context," I mean the cultural context, the environment (smell, temperature,...), and the people in the musical event.We are certain that music learning takes place when experiences and knowledge are incorporated in the body. We still have not solved the problem of whether music learning occurs within or outside of the human being, because the boundary of the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The “Magic” of Music:Archaic Dreams in Romantic Aesthetics and an Education in AestheticsAlexandra Kertz-WelzelO, then I close my eyes to all the strife of the world—and withdraw quietly into the land of music, as into the land of belief, where all our doubts and our sufferings are lost in a resounding sea....1Music serves many different functions in human life, accompanying everyday activities such as working, shopping, or (...) watching TV, as well as creating an individual world of sounds in which to relax, to enjoy life, or just to escape into one's dreams. Tia DeNora describes this personal use of music as a technology for the self and quotes Mireille, a contract cleaner, who thinks that "everybody should listen to music. It helps you to be calm, relaxed, to see your life differently."2This desire to change minds or moods and perhaps to be personally transformed by music also motivates adolescents to listen to their music giving them a strong feeling of self-identity and helping to relieve boredom, get through difficult times, or reduce tension.3 Although this obviously everyday use of music is usually different from the life-changing strong experiences with music which Robert Panzarella4 or Alf Gabrielsson5 investigate in their research, it nevertheless shows the natural human desire to use music to transform emotions or experience life more intensively. Certainly, adolescents do have different kinds [End Page 77] of intensive and even ecstatic experiences with music; for example, while attending a rock concert with its pseudo-religious implications, or a Friday night dance party with friends, or while making music in a band. Gabrielsson quotes the description of a young woman, attending an outdoor concert of Prince:One feels so free somehow. At concerts one can dance, jump, scream and sing as much as one wants. You are like a part of it all, not just a spectator. Throughout the whole concert the audience was in total ecstasy. It was only one thing that mattered: the music! You are filled with the wonderful feeling that everything is all right, that you are living only for what is happening 'right now.' You are in a way 'intoxicated with joy."... You don't think about what you are doing. You do what you feel like, without even thinking about it.6This desire for intensive or even ecstatic experiences through music is not only an aspect of individual life, it is also an important issue in the history of music and aesthetics from ancient times. One origin of music and art can be found in the relationship of music with religion and ritual, using sound's emotional and ecstatic power to connect the world of human beings and the sacred. Music as magic and a means of ecstasy was a frequent conceptualization in ancient Egypt, as well as in Greece, in the rites of ancient Celts and early Christians, and also in non-Western religions today.7 Priests or shamans among the Australian Aborigines, Native Americans, and West-African tribes use the emotional power of music to evoke trance in their contemporary practices.Unfortunately, the aesthetics of Western European art music, especially since the eighteenth century, tends to eliminate this sensual "magic"8 of music only to replace an ecstatic way of experiencing music with a more intellectual approach. The idea of absolute music or the aesthetics of formalism attempts to establish a "pure" approach to listening without feeling, imagination, or sensuality. It is a claim to elitism which might be one reason why it is difficult for students to be affected by Western European art music, since it appears to be far away from their own world of intensive music experience. Not only the way of listening and performing Western European art music, but also the music itself may prevent students from further involvement in "classical" music and having the kind of intensive experiences their "own" music offers them. If a goal of music education is not only to involve students in art music but also to deepen and enhance their lives through aesthetic experiences, it may be reasonable to start with their musical experiences and to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS 353 proportionalism that Finnis's theological argument exploits. In this regard, there is no moral theory, good or bad, which overreaches so far as proportionalism does. Princeton University Princeton, New Jersey ROBERT P. GEORGE Faithful Persuasion: In Aid of a Rhetoric of Christian Theology. By DAVID S. CUNNINGHAM. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991. Pp. xvii + 312. $29.95 (cloth) ; $16.95 (paper). The relation between (...) words and the Word has always been of in· terest in Christian theology. Earlier in this century a school of writers approached " the Bible as literature " with a view to bringing Scripture into a more persuasive relation with literature at large, but their insistence on the rigorous exclusion of dogmatic elements from literary scrutiny impoverished their work. A later set of procedures and perspectives on rhetoric and language in their relation to reality was bet· ter able to allow the utterances of a text's speakers their own integrity, whether sacred or secular. In any case, a thematic interpretation of the founding texts of Christianity, influenced by Aristotle's Rhetoricwhere form is a means for persuasively communicating an idea-content -had long predominated in ecclesial usage, germane as it was to the didactic concerns of the Church. An alternative tradition, more indebted to Aristotle's Poetics, where form, content, and functions are treated as factors making for the indissoluble whole which is the literary work, has been less conspicuous-though its offer of initiation into the " world " of the sacred writers gives it great exegetical potential. The text's "word " should be encountered at the level of its own patterned imagery and wrought design. In the appreciation of the Gospels this has become in recent decades a commonplace. However, as the T. S. Eliot scholar Helen Gardner warned, one should not so react against the older approach as to treat the biblical text as the product of a disembodied imagination, rather than a human being writing a work that might make his readers "wise unto salvation." David S. Cunningham's Faithful Persuasion extends this discussion of the propriety or impropriety of a rhetorical approach to Scripture to the discourse of Christian theology as a whole. The intent is a laudable one but its execution vitiated, to my mind, by the excessive concessions to scepticism from which the author sets out. Because his theological epistemology, aware of the limitations of the propositions in which we assert the truths of faith, will grant those assertions no more than a 354 BOOK REVIEWS (continuously) revisable character, he falls back on an account of theology as rhetoric so as to make the best of a bad job. For persuasion is what we use when we know demonstration is hopeless. As a result, Professor Cunningham's study, which could most usefully have "placed" a variety of theologies of past, present, and, prospectively, future on the spectrum of (onto-) logic, poetic, and rhetoric, concludes instead that theology must regard itself as rhetorical or perish! This inevitably narrows the several services theologies of different kinds can perform for the Church. Imagine how biblical studies would be reduced were the exegete only to treat his text as paraenesis, and never as history or as a symbolic world. Nonetheless, on the way from its (as I find) unsatisfactory startingpoint and to its depressing conclusion, Faithful Persuasion has worthwhile points to make about a number of authors (of various periods) and topics, though it might have made them more persuasively (its author's key term) had the intended audience (middle-brow or academic?) been more clearly viewed in advance. AIDAN NICHOLS, O.P. Blackfriars Cambridge, England Church and Culture: German Catholic Theology, 1860-1914. By THOMAS FRANKLIN O'MEARA, O.P. Notre Dame/London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991. Pp. x + 260. $35.95 (cloth). " In 1925, Baden's Kultusminister, a Protestant, began an address to the Gorresgesellschaft in Heidelberg by describing this era: ' Brave men like Hertling, Schell, Julius Bachem, and Carl Muth, shook the German Catholic world in order to lead it out of its fortress, to lead it again into the midst of the life and activity of the entire people, even when this seemed at... (shrink)

In recent years, there has been a remarkable resurgence of interest in classical conceptions of what it means for human beings to lead a good life. Although the primary focus of the return to classical thought has been Aristotle's account of virtue, the ethics of Aquinas has also received much attention. Our understanding of the integrity of Aquinas's thought has clearly benefited from the recovery of the ethics of virtue.Understood from either a natural or a supernatural perspective, (...) the good life according to Aquinas involves the exercise not just of the moral virtues, but also of the intellectual virtues. Following Aristotle, Aquinas divides the intellectual virtues into the practical, which have either doing (prudence) or making (art) as an end, and the theoretical or speculative, which are ordered to knowing for its own sake (understanding, knowledge, and wisdom). One of the intellectual virtues, namely, prudence has received much recent attention. With few exceptions, however, contemporary discussions of Aquinas ignore the complex and nuanced relationships among, and comparisons between, the different sorts of intellectual virtue. Even more striking is the general neglect of the speculative, intellectual virtues and the role of contemplation in the good life.In Virtue's Splendor Professor Hibbs seeks to overcome this neglect, approaching the ethical thought of Thomas Aquinas in terms of the great debate of antiquity and the Middle Ages concerning the rivalry between the active and the contemplative lives, between prudence and wisdom as virtues perfective of human nature. In doing so, he puts before the reader the breadth of Aquinas's vision of the good life. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:AQUINAS ON THE ROLE OF EMOTION IN MORAL JUDGMENT AND ACTIVITY JUDITH BARAD Indiana State University Terre Haute, Indiana MONG PHILOSOPHERS who have discussed the role of emotion in morality there is much disagreement. At one extreme there is a tradition of ethical thinkers, represented by David Hume, who juxtapose reason and emotion and hoM that the choice of ultimate va:1ues is always made by the emotional side of (...) our natul'e. Insisting that emotion, not reason, is the foundation of moral philosophy, Hume says "Reason is, and ought to he, the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any office other than to serve and obey them." 1 Conv:erseily, Immanuel Kant adamantly insists that reason must be the sole determinant of morality. Since morality is stricrtly a rational endeavor, the emotions (or what he more generrully called the incJinations), whethei!.' beneficent or ma1e:fiicent, should never be alilowed to intrude into our moral judgments. Each extreme claims that a part of our nature, respectiv 'e,ly reason or emotion, is not essentirul to the moral life. Hut the be1lief that we shouM sev;er any part of our nature from swch a pervasive area of our lives leads to unfortunate consequen1ces. If we base our understanding of morality on Hume's call for the slavish submission of reason, we can justify all kinds of social exploitation and sensuous indulgence. On the other hand, if we follow Kant's ideal of suppressing our emotions, then bodi1ly desires can appear ba:d to us, and we may irrationaHy disaJfow many human needs, both to ourselv;es and to others. i David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, 3, 3. 397 398.TUDITH BARAD But on this question of the role of emotion in mol'lwl judgment, Aquinas oiooupies a position intermediate between Kant and Hume. He neither dismisses reason as a guide to practical affairs nor regards emotions as mere obstacles to be overcome in form.mating a moral judgment. For Aquinas even though e&ch of the human £acmlties has a unique role to perform, an individual £unctions in his entirety in the moral sphere. This essay will focus on how our emotions can support as well as impruir our moraJ conduct. The purpose of this study is to show thrut emotion may be either 1an impediment or a usefuJ srtimu1us to obj·ectiv;e moral decision malcing, obscuring our morrul judgments or 11einfol'lcing our commitments. Obviously, Hume's argument ·that reason cannot judge or criticize the emotions is very foreign to Aquinas's thought, and no one has yet ruttemp ;!Jed 1to subsume one •ruooount under the other. Afan Donagan, however, has clwimed that Aquinas's moll"al theory " anticipates Kant's metaphysics of morals," because of what " both ~are] found to 1say about motiViation." 2 But, contrary to Donagan 's claim, this study will make clear rlihat in the area of how emotions a:ffrect our moral life ·the two g11eat thinkers pal'lt company. To understand how emotion :liun:ctions mthe moral judgment, we must fust examine what Aquinas means by "emotion." 3 He describes :emotion as a spontaneous.feeling consisting of both a phy;siofogical 1and an affective response to an object.4 He observes that emotion involves virtually ithe en2 Alan Donagan, " Teleology and Consistency in Theories of :Morality as Natural Law," in Georgetown Symposium on Ethics, edited by Rocco Porreca (Lanham, :Md.: University Press of America, 1984), p. 96. a Throughout this paper I will use the word "emotion " for the Latin passia, since " passion" has a more intense connotation in contemporary English than the term employed by Aquinas. "Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica, (Westminster, :Md.: Christian Classics, 1981), I-II, q.22. In the first article of this question, Aquinas says that " Passion... is only in respect of a bodily transmutation." Quoting Damascene in the third article, he says " Passion is a movement of the sensi· tive appetite when we think of good or evil." I have combined both passages to arrive at Aquinas's description of emotion. AQUINAS ON EMOTIONS AND MORALS 399 tire human being: intd1ect, sense cognition, spontaneous volition, and bodily changes. Aquinas bases this position on his hylomorphic... (shrink)

Philosophers of history in the past few decades have been predominantly interested in issues of explanation and narrative discourse. Consequently, they have focused consistently and almost exclusively on the historian’s output, thereby ignoring that historical scholarship is a practice of reading, thinking, discussing, and writing, in which successful performance requires active cultivation of certain skills, attitudes, and virtues. This paper, then, suggests a new agenda for philosophy of history. Inspired by a “performative turn” in the history and philosophy of science, (...) it focuses on the historian’s “doings” and proposes to analyze these performances in terms of epistemic virtue. It argues that historical scholarship is embedded in “practices” or “epistemic cultures,” in which knowledge is created and warranted by means of such virtues as honesty, carefulness, accuracy, and balance. These epistemic virtues, however, are not etched in stone: historians may highlight some of them, exchange one for another, or reinterpret their meaning. On the one hand, this suggests a rich area of research for historians of historiography. To what extent can consensus, conflict, continuity, and change in historical scholarship be explained in terms of epistemic virtue? On the other hand, the proposal outlined in this article raises a couple of philosophical questions. For example, on what grounds can historians choose among epistemic virtues? And what concept of the self comes with the notion of virtue? In addressing these questions, philosophy of history may expand its current scope so as to encompass not only “writings” but also “doings,” that is, the virtuous performances historians recognize as professional conduct. (shrink)

al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273) was a scholar of tafsīr, ḥadīth and fiqh. He experienced both Western and Eastern civilizations in the geography of Andalusia and Egypt, respectively. In his famous Tafsīr called al-Jâmi li-Aḥkâm al-Qur’ān, al-Qurṭubī comparatively explained and interpreted all legal verses. Also, in addition to exploring the spesific legal rulings denoted in the Qur’ān and the Sunnah, al-Qurṭubī has largely interpreted the legal norms regarding the issues of jurisprudence. By doing this, al-Qurṭubī contributed to the formation and development of (...) a civil codification activity under a kazuistic format. The casuistic structure of the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān is anlaysed in terms of the form and content in the sample of al-Jâmi. Therefore, neither the similarity or similarity of the schools of the legal exegesis of Qur’ān and of the legal schools nor the disciplines of positive law, but their kazuistic structures, which systems they built and which interpretation methods and techniques they operated on this basis, were evaluated in terms of their original structure. In this direction, the article emphasizes that the casuistic structure of the legal exegesis of Qur’ān is established on and by the Prophet’s sayings and practices. Although, it has been observed that it is a unique tradition, both as form and content, and that the interpretation means are identified with its own unique structure, it has been concluded that the casuistic method is not one of the fundamental elements of both this tradition and Islamic legal thought. This means that the casuistic method is always a tool that can be changed and transformed according to the conditions of time and space.Summary: As it is stated in al-Isrāʾ 17/106: “And (it is) a Qur’ān which we have separated (by intervals) that you might recite it to the people over a prolonged period. And we have sent it down progressive.”, the Qur’ān is revelaed in about twenty-three years by taking into consideration the sociocultural positions of its interlocutors. The Prophet Muḥammad explained the Qur’ān by the virtue of the ayah: “(We sent them) with clear proofs and written ordinances. And We revealed to you the message (i.e. that you may make clear to the people what was sent down to them and that they might give thought.” (an-Naḥl 16/44). Of course, there is no subject integrity in this Qurānic chronology-which also reflects life. As a matter of fact, the issues related to individual and society have been independently analyzed by a casuistic/case-based method and ruled in accordance with the intention of Allāh. It can be seen that the ayahs “They ask you about wine and gambling. Say, ‘In them is great sin and (yet, some) benefit for people. But their sin is greater than their benefit.’ And they ask you what they should spend. Say, ‘The excess (beyond needs).’ Thus Allāh makes clear to you the verses (of revelation) that you might give thought.” (al-Baqara 2/219) and other ayahs such as (al-Baqara 2/186; al-Nisāʾ 4/176; al-Anfāl 8/1) reflect the casuistic method in terms of form and content. This can also be exemplified by the Sunna. For example, when the question “Is it permissible to perform ablutions with sea water?” was posed to Messenger of Allāh. He said that “It’s water is clean and his dead (fish) are lawful “(Abū Dāwūd, “Ṭaḥāra”, 41). By this answer, the Prophet Muḥammad indeed ruled and established a general rule.It can be said that this early example table formed the basis of the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān in terms of origin, source and application, and that its shape and content are often immanent in the examples it contains. In this article, based on the prophetic period, the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān and casuistic structure has been studied with an analytical and critical approach. Again, because the casuistic method is one of the universal concepts of east-west science and cultural life, an interdisciplinary approach was exhibited in this study. The roots of the casuistic method date back to 5000 BC and the legal systems of the society and states of antiquity are examined from this method. This method is chosen and used in the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān. However, this study does not analyse the sameness or the similarity of the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān and the legal schools nor the positive law disciplines, but the casuistic structures used by these, the systems they have built on this basis and the interpretation methods and techniques they have been used and analyzed in terms of their originality.In effect, the article embodies the Qur’ānic exegesis called al-Jâmi li-Aḥkâm al-Qur’ān by al-Qurṭubī (d. 671/1273), a scholar of tafsīr, ḥadīth and fiqh. In addition to the works of the aḥkām al-Qur’āns, which deal with the interpretation of the ayahs related to the subjects of ʿibādāt, muʿāmalāt ve ʿuḳūbāt, many other works have been used in parallel with the development of the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān. al-Qurṭubī, who comparingly explained the legal verses in his tafsīr, investigated the aspects of the Qur’ān and Sunna that indicate the aḥkām, generally interpreted the existing legal norms within the framework of evidence and introduced his own opinions and etasblished his ijtihād. Thus, he benefited from the tafsīr accumulation and contributed to the formation and development of a civil legalization activity with casuistic format. As a matter of fact, the casuistic/case-based method has been used as a codification/tadwīn technique by Western and Eastern legal disciplines and systems. The casuistic method covers both concrete event and abstract ruling methods. In the casuistic method, which is fact-based event, the laws are organized according to all possible events that can be experienced. On the other hand, the abstract method, which is defined as the abstract ruling method, aims to organize the laws in a general and abstract framework. In the article, it is stated that the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān contains both concrete and abstract dimensions in its own way. It has been emphasized that the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān is based on divine revelation (waḥy) and that it is separated from human law as its origin and source, and that this feature is its most faithful characteristic. On this basis, the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān is a separate scholarly tradition and has its own definition, subject and purpose. Its original structure and function have been noted. As a matter of fact, the subject and purpose of the legal exegesis of the Qur’ān always require the tafsīr and taʾwīl of the legal verses having regard to the Qur’ān and Sunna. It is also necessary for the purpose of investigating the ways in which nuṣūṣ (an explicit statement upon which a ruling is based) can refer to the provisions and to resolve the issues related to individuals and society. As a matter of fact, the legal verses function as a guide for humanity until the day of judgment as the inspiration for religious-legal matters; they contain the content and provisions that offer happiness in the two worlds. (shrink)

Few assumptions, argues Mara van der Lugt, are so stagnant, so rigid, so deeply walled in as the assumption that the decision to have children is by default a good thing; that having children is one of the most elevated aspects of human activity, and, indeed, of the human condition. This book is conceived as an open and reflective challenge to that assumption. The author argues that there are two questions in life that every person needs to answer for (...) themselves: one is the question of religion; the other is the question of begetting, a term which she chooses deliberately to restore a sense of 'strangeness and magnitude' to the idea. What does it mean to bring a new creature into the world? Or rather what does it mean to decide to perform an act of creation? What does it mean to make the decision that life is worth living on behalf of a person who cannot be consulted? To ask this question is to interrogate one's own responsibility and commitments, morally, philosophically, and personally. The question of begetting can never be purely one of preference or inclination, however we might wish it to be. This book is the author's attempt to raise some of these questions, if not fully to answer them. It is both a personal and philosophical exercise of filling out that moral background, in full awareness of the things that are at stake, and not in judgment but out of concern and compassion both for creators and created, and for those who are not yet created and those who are not (or not yet) creators. (shrink)

The essential mission of the church is evangelization (EN 14). She establishes her own schools to accomplish this mission. Evangelization aims at the formation of the whole person. In this complete formation, the religion or faith dimension plays an important role in the development of the other aspects of one’s personality in the measure in which it is integrated into general education. The extent to which the Christian message is transmitted through education depends not only on content and methodology but (...) also on the teacher, usually the lay. The Catholic Schools and the lay educators receive from the Church, through the Bishops, this “mandate” of “an apostolic undertaking”. Religious instruction in the Archdiocese of Cebu rests on the religious congregations spread across the province. The congregations pursue mainly their vision, mission, and thrusts. This study sought to review the Catholic Life Formation (CLF) content and strategies of ten representative schools from the Catholic Church and the Catechism for Filipino Catholics to ensure the inclusion of basic doctrine and Faith essentials, evaluate the qualifications and the teaching performance of teachers CLF or Christian Living and propose a model for Cebu Catholic Life Formation Program Scope and Sequence and a corollary Facilitators Formation Program needed to implement it. CLF curriculum of the 10 schools varied greatly in catechetical focus. Review of curriculum content revealed that the essentials of the Faith lacked in organic and systematic manner of presentation. The 10 schools had variance in elements, systems and sequence of exposition, faith exposure and prayer forms lack in connectivity to Church prescriptions. Thus, a Model Cebu CLF Program Scope and Sequence is proposed for the utilization by the Catholic Schools in the Archdiocese of Cebu. Keywords - Cebu Catholic Life Formation, Archdiocese of Cebu. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Seeking the Sources of a Theologian:In Memory of Fr. Roch Kereszty, O.Cist. (1933–2022)Joseph Van House O.Cist.Fr. Roch Kereszty long enjoyed thinking about how, and how much, we can discover the truth about Jesus of Nazareth through historical research into his earthly life. Fr. Roch also often enjoyed indicating that at least part of the answer is that research about a human being can never be content with descriptions (...) of any number of empirical facts or ideas from that person's life. The true goal of one who writes or reads about the life of another is insight into the meaning of that person's life. Such insight is possible some extent while the person's life is ongoing, but it calls for a more decisive kind of assessment after the person's death. The meaning of a life also cannot truly reveal itself when viewed through the lens of an inadequate philosophy or theology. Indeed, Fr. Roch tended to think that philosophy itself is adequate to show that any quest to understand another human being cries out to be structured by love, or at least some form of empathy: I can truly understand another only in my proportion to my ability to discover communion or affinity with that person, to find in him or her another self who is in some deep way similar to my own self.1 [End Page 781] Although Fr. Roch elaborated such ideas to guide historians seeking to write a "biography" of Jesus, and although they make great demands of many kinds, it nevertheless seems fitting to consider them when beginning to memorialize Fr. Roch himself.Last December, God granted Fr. Roch the gift of a passage from this life that was surrounded by the love of many people who had known him on earth. Among them were many who had known him through his theological writings and had found them to offer a special combination of intellectual vigor and personal relevance. It is a blessing now to be able to offer a short memorial for the benefit of his sympathetic readers of the past and the future. Attempting to explain the golden thread that unites his many books and articles seems unreasonable; the writings themselves remain their own best explanation. Such an approach could also perhaps suggest that we are most loved in our productivity rather than in the ways we are dependent on God and others. For both of these reasons, one good way to serve love and communion with a theologian of interest would be to portray him in some of the ways that he himself was loved, fathered forth and shaped, by the One from whom all fatherhood is named. In this essay, then, I offer a simple and very fragmented portrait of the sources of a theologian, the fontes theologi: the different ways that God fathered in Roch Kereszty a theological writer who was a blessing to people who read periodicals such as this one. If I provoke either fresh appreciation of his writings or deeper reflection on the variety and patterns in the ways God leads his children generally (and especially those who are interested in theology), then this act of thanksgiving to God for a good teacher will have been successful.A Reader Raised in RomeIt is suggestive to notice that Fr. Roch was born in central Europe just six years after Joseph Ratzinger, and died seventeen days before him; their lifespans as theologians roughly overlapped and were formed by engagement with many of the same theological movements and crises. This said, moving quickly to the specifics of the person in question, it seems especially natural to attend to the character of Fr. Roch's formal theological education. This education took place in Rome, in the company of a handful of fellow bright young refugee Hungarian Cistercians, from 1957 to 1962 (during which time he also made his solemn vows and was ordained). In those days leading up to the Second Vatican Council, theology in the Roman universities was dominated by an increasingly stale and self-contained Neo-Scholasticism. The Benedictine Athenaeum of Sant'Anselmo, where young Roch and his [End... (shrink)

Michael Nair-Collins and Franklin Miller are right to emphasise that, in order to deliberate responsibly about ethical and legal questions related to brain death and organ donation, it is crucial to answer the question of whether or not ‘brain death’i does indeed mark the biological death of the organism. Nonetheless, I disagree with the authors’ conclusion that brain death does not indicate the death of the human organism. Death can never be defined in merely biological terms, because any biological conception (...) of death relies on metaphysical presuppositions regarding what it means to be an ‘organism as a whole’, rather than an aggregate of cells and tissues. Death is a change in substance —that is, a change from one type of entity to another — not the cessation of all biological life. Organismal death occurs well before all of the organism’s parts irreversibly cease vital activity and decompose into inorganic matter. Biological life in some form can and usually does continue after organismal death at least for a time, with recent evidence indicating that animal cell networks continue to perform complex functions like stress response, immune response and inflammation response up to several days postmortem.1 With external support, many cells and tissues can continue to perform their functions ex vivo for long periods of time or even indefinitely.2 Henrietta Lax died in 1951, but cells derived from her cancerous cervical cells …. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 20 (2000) 54-59 [Access article in PDF] Buddhist Views on Ritual Pactice Mahayana Buddhist Ritual and Ethical Activity in the World John MakranskyBoston College Society of Buddhist Christian Studies Meeting, Orlando, Florida, November 20, 1998 Contemporary attempts to derive a present-day social ethic from traditional Buddhism usually stem from doctrinal understandings and higher practices of meditation, often overlooking Buddhist ritual practice as a source of ethical formation (...) and expression.Philosophical study of Buddhism alone may leave one's capacity for ethical response untouched. Rigorous contemplative practices of Vipassana, Zen, or higher Tibetan meditation are out of the reach of many. Ritual forms have provided ways for Buddhists from all walks of life to become attuned to the same subtle dimensions of body, speech, and mind that higher Buddhist philosophy and meditation engage. Ritual also serves as means to empower and deepen philosophical inquiry and meditation. We do well not to forget the unique power of Buddhist ritual to include the many (not only the elite) in the most profound dimensions of Buddhist ethical understanding, formation, and expression.The relative obscurity of ritual practice in contemporary consideration of Buddhist social ethics may also obscure from view some of Buddhism's past social-ethical expressions, which have sometimes taken symbolic ritual forms, rather than organized social outreach of the sort we are accustomed to identify as social-ethical activity. Buddhist ritual-contemplative forms have been viewed as ways to perform social service within and through the mythico-magical cosmoses of Asian traditions: cosmoses of buddhas, bodhisattvas, and myriad powerful, sacred beings. Since Asian Buddhists understand these cosmoses to interpenetrate our world, many of their ritual-contemplative practices are intended to perform needed social functions, within a broad context of universal salvation: healing, treating pain, treating mental illness, promoting economic well-being, preventing and assisting in disasters, protecting the helpless, easing the transition of death....Contemporary Buddhist ethics tend to de-emphasize the ritualistic and devotional aspects of Buddhism to newly emphasize material resources and strategies for social transformation which can be related to higher Buddhist philosophy. While this is important, there is a danger that contemporary Buddhists, by reinterpreting practice as social service too exclusively in modern, material terms, may dilute rather than reinforce the ontological and epistemological intuitions of Buddhism, losing touch with time-tested means for persons to actually learn to embody an ultimate source of ethical response that transcends ontological assumptions of modern, secular thought. [End Page 54] By experiencing social service as a natural extension of ritual activity, each element of such service symbolically expresses an ultimate source of ethical response within a path of ultimate transformation, reinforcing rather than diluting the deepest intuitions of Buddhism even as Buddhist practice takes new social-ethical expression in our world.As an example, I will focus on one of the earliest and most popular continually practiced Buddhist rituals of Indo-Tibetan Buddhism: the Bhadracaryapranidhana ("resolution of excellent practice") which appears within the Avatamsaka sutra. This practice, further delineated in treatises ascribed to Nagarjuna, Asan(dot)ga, Vasubandhu, S´antideva and many others, consists of seven ritual activities: bowing, offering, confession, ritual rejoicing, requesting teaching, entreating the buddhas to continually manifest, and dedication of karmic merit.The ritual appears at the end of the Avatamsaka sutra, a scripture thousands of folios long in Tibetan translation. What follows is my own condensed commentary on the first portion of the ritual, which aims to correlate its elements with the fuller context of practice and visionary experience described in the sutra as a whole.The ritual takes place set within the nirvanic realms of infinite buddhas, bodhisattvas, and holy beings whose salvific power and activity penetrate all realms of living beings who remain caught in the sufferings of sam.sara. To enter into the ritual is not merely to visualize these intersecting dimensions of nirvanic and samsaric existence, but to have one's body, speech, and mind symbolically entered into the stream of practice of all buddhas and bodhisattvas past, present, and future, to participate through all senses and movements of thought... (shrink)

The topic of self-interest raises large and intractable philosophical questions–most obviously, the question “In what does self-interest consist?” The concept, as opposed to the content of self-interest, however, seems clear enough. Self-interest is interest in one's own good. To act self-interestedly is to act on the motive of advancing one's own good. Whether what one does actually is in one's self-interest depends on whether it actually does advance, or at least, minimize the decline of, one's own good. Though it may (...) be difficult to tell whether a person is motivated by self-interest in a particular instance, and difficult also to determine whether a given act or decision really is in one's self-interest, the meaning of the claims in question seems unproblematic. My main concern in this essay is to make a point about the content of self-interest. Specifically I shall put forward the view that meaningfulness, in a sense I shall elaborate, is an important element of a good life. It follows, then, that it is part of an enlightened self-interest that one wants to secure meaning in one's life, or, at any rate, to allow and promote meaningful activity within it. Accepting this substantial conception of self-interest, however, carries with it a curious consequence: the concept of self-interest which formerly seemed so clear begins to grow fuzzy. Fortunately, it comes to seem less important as well. In Reasons and Persons, Derek Parfit distinguishes three sorts of theories about self-interest–hedonistic theories, preference theories, and what he calls “objective-list theories." Hedonistic theories hold that one's good is a matter of the felt quality of one's experiences. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Three Probes into St. Francis of Assisi's Second Letter to the Faithful1Robert J. Karris, OFMFrancis' Second Letter to the Faithful2 is so rich that it would take a lengthy book to probe most of its treasures. My goal is to make three probes: 1) from a literary analysis of this letter of exhortation, 2) from the results of a more thorough search for the biblical sources behind its eighty-eight (...) lines, and 3) from the insights achieved through literary and theological parallels to its contents.3 I accomplish my goals by going systematically through this letter, which I contend has introduction, positive exhortations, conclusion to positive exhortations and bridge to second part of the letter, negative exhortations, aka polemic, the example story of the unrepentant rich man, and ending.4 At the very beginning, I remind myself and my readers of something that we might take for granted: The dominant figure of this letter is "our Lord Jesus Christ," an expression and reality that pulses through its eighty-eight lines. Take, as [End Page 79] an example, n. 49–50, which are staggering in scope: "And they (who persevere in penance) will be children of the heavenly Father, whose works they are doing. And they are spouses, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ."Methodology: Search for Literary and Theological ParallelsEarly on in my doctoral studies, I learned the importance and value of investigating New Testament texts by means of their literary parallels.5 For example, there were significant interpretive payoffs to be gained by comparing St. Paul's use of polemic in the Pastoral Epistles (1–2 Timothy and Titus) to that employed by the Stoics.6 Paul probably never met a Stoic philosopher in his life, but their means of no-holds-barred polemic was "in the air" he breathed. Daniel J. Harrington expresses well this common methodology in New Testament Studies: "In literature a parallel involves some point or points of similarity between two texts where literary dependence is unlikely or not proved. Parallels to New Testament texts can be taken from any body of literature and from any period of history…"7So what parallels do I suggest as background for the interpretation of Francis' 2LtF? There may be many, since Francis' letter is dealing with fundamental human and Christian realities: sin and virtue. I have selected what I call The Big Three:In his De Virtutibus et Vitiis Liber,8 Alcuin of York (d. 800) wrote a letter to Count Guy, who is engaged in martial activities. Alcuin has followed Guy's request for paternal admonition and prays that his writing may help Guy to perpetual salvation (n. 6). Alcuin writes briefly about 35 topics: wisdom, faith, charity, hope, zeal of reading, peace, mercy, remission, patience, humility, compunction of the heart, confession, repentance, not delaying conversion to God, fear of God, fasting, almsgiving, chastity, avoiding fraud, judges, false witnesses, envy, pride, proneness to anger, not seeking human praise, perseverance in good works, eight principal vices, greed, fornication, avarice, anger, [End Page 80] weariness (acedia), sorrow, cenodoxia (vainglory), and the four virtues.9 It is abundantly clear that Francis does not engage in 35 topics, but his exhortations do overlap with a number of Alcuin's, e.g., almsgiving, judges, perseverance in good works.In his Liber exhortationis,10 Archbishop St. Paulinus of Aquileia (d. 802) wrote to Count or Duke Henry of Fruilli. His treatise has 66 chapters and covers virtually all spiritual and moral topics. Of singular interest is Chapter 8, "On Friendship with God and Keeping God's Commandments." His final chapter is a long prayer to resist the wiles of the devil and to persevere in virtue. Saints Paulinus of Aquileia and Francis of Assisi's 2LtF have numerous points in common.11Archbishop Hincmar of Reims (d. 882) wrote a very polished and regarded letter, De cavendis vitiis et virtutibus exercendis to King Charles the Bald.12 It has ten chapters. The first seven deal chiefly with vices such as avarice, pride, voluptuousness, gluttony, envy, anger, and jealousy. They also encourage virtuous deeds such as almsgiving, works of mercy, fidelity, and prayer. Chapters 8... (shrink)

In French, the verb "to live" designates both being alive and the experience of something. This ambiguity has a philosophical meaning. The task of a phenomenology of life is to describe an originary sense of living from which the very distinction between life in the intransitive sense and life in the transitive, or intentional, sense proceeds. Hans Jonas is one of those rare authors who has tried to give an account of the specificity of life (...) instead of reducing life to categories that are foreign to it. However, the concept of metabolism, by which Jonas characterizes vital activity, attests to a presupposition as to life: life is conceived as self-preservation, that is, as negation of death, in such a way that life is, in the end, not thought on the basis of itself. The aim of this article is to show that life as such must be understood as movement in a radicalized sense, in which the living being is no more the subject than the product. All living beings are in effect characterized by a movement, which nothing can cause to cease, a movement that largely exceeds what is required by the satisfaction of needs and that, because of this, bears witness to an essential incompleteness. This incompleteness reveals that life is originarily bound to a world. Because the world to which the living being relates is essentially non-totalizable and unpresentable, living movement can not essentially complete itself. Thus, in the final analysis, life must be defined as desire, and in virtue of this view, life does not tend toward self-preservation, as we have almost always thought, but toward the manifestation of the world. (shrink)

The topic of self-interest raises large and intractable philosophical questions–most obviously, the question “In what does self-interest consist?” The concept, as opposed to the content of self-interest, however, seems clear enough. Self-interest is interest in one's own good. To act self-interestedly is to act on the motive of advancing one's own good. Whether what one does actually is in one's self-interest depends on whether it actually does advance, or at least, minimize the decline of, one's own good. Though it may (...) be difficult to tell whether a person is motivated by self-interest in a particular instance, and difficult also to determine whether a given act or decision really is in one's self-interest, the meaning of the claims in question seems unproblematic. My main concern in this essay is to make a point about the content of self-interest. Specifically I shall put forward the view that meaningfulness, in a sense I shall elaborate, is an important element of a good life. It follows, then, that it is part of an enlightened self-interest that one wants to secure meaning in one's life, or, at any rate, to allow and promote meaningful activity within it. Accepting this substantial conception of self-interest, however, carries with it a curious consequence: the concept of self-interest which formerly seemed so clear begins to grow fuzzy. Fortunately, it comes to seem less important as well. In Reasons and Persons, Derek Parfit distinguishes three sorts of theories about self-interest–hedonistic theories, preference theories, and what he calls “objective-list theories." Hedonistic theories hold that one's good is a matter of the felt quality of one's experiences. (shrink)

The analytic/synthetic distinction looks simple. It is a distinction between two different kinds of sentence. Synthetic sentences are true in part because of the way the world is, and in part because of what they mean. Analytic sentences - like all bachelors are unmarried and triangles have three sides - are different. They are true in virtue of meaning, so no matter what the world is like, as long as the sentence means what it does, it will be (...) true. -/- This distinction seems powerful because analytic sentences seem to be knowable in a special way. One can know that all bachelors are unmarried, for example, just by thinking about what it means. But many twentieth-century philosophers, with Quine in the lead, argued that there were no analytic sentences, that the idea of analyticity didn't even make sense, and that the analytic/synthetic distinction was therefore an illusion. Others couldn't see how there could fail to be a distinction, however ingenious the arguments of Quine and his supporters. -/- But since the heyday of the debate, things have changed in the philosophy of language. Tools have been refined, confusions cleared up, and most significantly, many philosophers now accept a view of language - semantic externalism - on which it is possible to see how the distinction could fail. One might be tempted to think that ultimately the distinction has fallen for reasons other than those proposed in the original debate. -/- In Truth in Virtue of Meaning, Gillian Russell argues that it hasn't. Using the tools of contemporary philosophy of language, she outlines a view of analytic sentences which is compatible with semantic externalism and defends that view against the old Quinean arguments. She then goes on to draw out the surprising epistemological consequences of her approach. (shrink)

What I want to call the “Myth of Performativity” is a theoretical conception, mistakenly attributed to Aristotle, about what distinguishes praxis in the strict sense from other kinds of human activities. According to the Myth, actions constitute pure performances—i.e., a sheer display of ethical virtue—and do not leave behind themselves concrete traces in the world—i.e., any traces significant for appraising their goodness. If that is what performativity would amount to, it can only be mythical. So how can the (...) Myth be a pitfall? The reason is that the Myth takes inspiration from a correct understanding of actions: to differentiate actions from other kinds of human activities—for instance, from productions —it is useful to ascribe a sort of performativity to the former. The Myth becomes, however, a real risk once one distorts the performativity proper to actions and, instead, celebrates pure performativity. And the Myth of Performativity in this latter form becomes an irresistible temptation for those who hold inappropriate views about the political realm and the role assumed therein by certain Promethean activities which are supposed to be performative in a paradigmatic way. In this paper I mean to show that, throughout his work, Taminiaux’s concern remains one and the same: to alert us to the dangerous attractions of the Myth of Performativity. I will expound the above claims in two steps; first, by showing—pace Arendt and Taminiaux—that Aristotle himself had militated against the Myth and, second, by demonstrating that the phenomenology of action casts doubt on the legitimacy of the Myth. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Music Education in an Age of Virtuality and Post-Truth by Paul WoodfordPanagiotis A. KanellopoulosPaul Woodford, Music Education in an Age of Virtuality and Post-Truth (New York, Routledge, 2018)This book is provocative. And challenging. It is written with passion, aiming to induce controversy. And with good reason. For we live in times when populism professes an illusionary sense of community, invoking a seemingly 'anti-systemic' but highly hypocritical, racist, and (...) sexist discourse;1 in times where "bullshitting"2 has advanced to the highest governmental levels in many countries; in times where "authoritarian neoliberal statism"3 becomes the new status quo, inducing a scandalous increase of economic inequalities, forcing large populations to live precarious lives; in times where privatization of educational services in the context of market-oriented practices impose restrictive and ultimately unjust politics of accountability and performativity;4 in times where instrumentalization of educational ends has taken the lead, assisted by a systematic co-option and misappropriation of notions such as excellence and creativity;5 in times, finally, where spaces that allow for "the sharing (out) of the incalculable,"6 forging unknown potentialities in education, life, and thought, are being destroyed. In such times, Paul Woodford has stepped in, reclaiming his right to speak uncompromisingly.Hannah Arendt has written that "[w]hen men [sic] are deprived of the public space--which is constituted by acting together and then fills of its own accord [End Page 108] with the events and stories that develop into history--they retreat into their freedom of thought."7 Woodford refuses to retreat. He writes as a public intellectual of the highest order, committed to upset and not please those in power. A great service that his latest book performs is that it speaks daringly, stirring a debate that helps us all to do away with fear. For as Bertrand Russell has aptly said quite a long time ago, "[I]f thought is to become the possession of many, not the privilege of the few, we must have done with fear. It is fear that holds men [sic] back."8Resisting the "melancholy of inner exile,"9 but not immune to possible accusations of left melancholy, understood as "a refusal to come to terms with the particular character of the present,"10 the author wrote a book that provokes music educators to actively think beyond their sealed and safe world of convictions that is based on ideology-free conceptions of music teaching. Estelle Jorgensen has long ago brought to our attention the urgency of this task: "in an era in which the mindset and political reality have changed dramatically, … there is an urgent need to revisit the political character of music education and the ways in which it needs to address the cultural issues of our day."11Along this pathway, Woodford's book encourages music educators to live and teach as public intellectuals, forging "a democratic purpose for music education"12 that acts against the "anachronistic and formalist conception of music that reduces music education to supply-side economics as children are conceived as either future professional musicians or consumers and not as citizens to be prepared in schools to participate intelligently in the political life of society."13 Woodford articulates a vision of music education "as preparation for adulthood and democratic and global citizenship."14 He strongly advocates an approach that balances performance and creativity-based experiences with a socio-historical study of the social, ideological, and cultural workings of different musics in a wide variety of contexts. He encourages music educators to teach "how music's structural properties and qualities contribute to the shaping of people's perceptions and understandings of themselves and their world,"15 "asking the who, what, when, where, how, to, with, or for whom, and, most importantly of all, why of music."16 He envisions a music classroom that exercises social criticism "directly and self-consciously"17 both through "learning how to make music"18 and through thinking about music. He sees this approach as a tool for raising students' consciousness. Woodford's ultimate vision of music education is one that casts it as a means for cultivating "a justice-oriented" approach... (shrink)

The analysis of the characteristics of the concept φρόνησις (phronesis) in Plotinus’ philosophy inevitably opens a wider discussion about the status and autonomy of ethical theory in Plotinus’ philosophy and about the relationship between contemplative and active life. On the one hand, the paradigmatic interpretations holdthat there is an otherworldly, self-centred and elitist ethics in Plotinus’ philosophy, and on the other, in the recent interpretations, the so-called “ethics of descent”, as opposed to “ethics of ascent”, the autonomy of πρᾶξις (...) is asserted. Without examining φρόνησις with a predefined position about the status of practical ethics in Plotinus, in this article the standpoint on this issue will be formed precisely through an analysis of φρόνησις, as a key axis around which the understanding of practical reasoning and action develops. In this analysis, the connection between φρόνησις and likeness to God, understood as the ultimate goal of life, will be investigated; as well as the relationship between θεωρία and πρᾶξις, considered through the relationship between φρόνησιςand σοφία, as well as through the conception of virtue as ἕξις. The goal is to show to what extent φρόνησις, and thus ethical practice, is dependent on contemplation, that is, whether φρόνησις has an autonomous status or performs an intermediary role between the intellect and the human soul. (shrink)

What did it mean to keep a secret in early medieval England? It was a period during which the experience of secrecy was intensely bound to the belief that God knew all human secrets, yet the secrets of God remained unknowable to human beings. In Bonds of Secrecy, Benjamin A. Saltzman argues that this double-edged conception of secrecy and divinity profoundly affected the way believers acted and thought as subjects under the law, as the devout within monasteries, and as readers (...) before books. One crucial way it did so was by forming an ethical relationship between the self and the world that was fundamentally different from its modern reflex. Whereas today the bearers of secrets might be judged for the consequences of their reticence or disclosure, Saltzman observes, in the early Middle Ages a person attempting to conceal a secret was judged for believing he or she could conceal it from God. In other words, to attempt to hide from God was to become ensnared in a serious sin, but to hide from the world while deliberately and humbly submitting to God's constant observation was often a hallmark of spiritual virtue. Looking to law codes and religious architecture, hagiographies and riddles, Bonds of Secrecy shows how legal and monastic institutions harnessed the pervasive and complex belief in God's omniscience to produce an intense culture of scrutiny and a radical ethics of secrecy founded on the individual's belief that nothing could be hidden from God. According to Saltzman, this ethics of secrecy not only informed early medieval notions of mental activity and ideas about the mind but also profoundly shaped the practices of literary interpretation in ways that can inform our own contemporary approaches to reading texts from the past. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 21.1 (2001) 57-62 [Access article in PDF] In Contrast to Sentimentality: Buddhist and Christian Sobriety Bardwell Smith Carleton College An invitation to reflect on the spiritual disciplines of another tradition is a welcome but difficult assignment. It is welcome because having studied, taught about, and engaged in various forms of Buddhist practice for forty years, I have learned more about what becoming a Christian means than I (...) had anticipated. So much so that I'm tempted to wonder, in Chuang Tzu style, am I a Buddhist-Christian, a Christian-Buddhist, or just another person for whom labels don't suffice? It is difficult because spiritual practice, by exhuming the most elusive levels of human experience, teaches one that the inner life resists all attempts to define, let alone control--which is a good thing, for the more claims made about one's practice, the more self-deception thrives.The one claim I would make about my experiences of Buddhist spiritual practice, through meditation and pilgrimage, is that they have aroused immense gratitude for the fragile gift of life, plus a healthy respect for Buddhism's "three poisons of anger, greed, and ignorance," for they prod us to realize our essential nature. The same is true about the inner life of a Christian, which is why I said "becoming a Christian," for it is a process of unfoldment, not something static or accomplished. In other words, understanding the obstacles to spiritual growth within oneself, yet keeping one's eye on the potential that already exists in one's makeup (the buddha nature, the interdependence of all reality, or the image of god), helps one to persist without seeming to "progress" toward fulfilling this goal.This essay is a personal reflection; it does not attempt to be academic. The learner-seeker in me seeks to become one with what he is teaching-seeking. While teaching himself, he is always being taught by others in the reciprocity of life. Having "forgotten" his essential nature, he seeks to "remember," to become what he already is, painfully aware that he is often living a contradiction. As one talks about spiritual practice, the reference is typically to some activity set apart from ordinary life. Actually, in such practice one seeks to impart greater candor and depth to one's everyday existence through some sort of spiritual discipline, in particular by the act of attending to life through conscious awareness. And though one's inner life resists all tendencies to impose order upon it, discipline can forge channels through which new life breathes. [End Page 57]Before discussing forms of Buddhist practice that have made an impact upon me, it makes sense to note some influences that came earlier and have remained indelible. Combat experience in the Marine Corps, compounded by exposure in North China in 1945-1946 to kinds of suffering I had never imagined, prompted me to see the world and myself from a very different angle. In succeeding years Augustinian, Kierkegaardian, and Niebuhrian reflections on man's capacity for evil and self-deception taught me to regard claims to virtue or innocence with suspicion, to say the least. These were made especially graphic by portrayals of human brutality embodied in the worlds of a Dostoevsky or a Faulkner.When first exposed to Buddhist worldviews at the age of thirty-five, I found a comparable absence of sentimentality. Here too was a compelling awareness of the roots of suffering within each person and as magnified in social institutions and values. It was an awareness and acceptance of violence, evil, and self-deception as an inextricable part of the human experience; of greed, ignorance, anger, and hatred as threads in the tapestry of the human condition, but that a doorway out of this chamber of suffering also exists.In the varieties of Christianity and Buddhism that fed my imagination, I found sober realism coexisting with profound belief in the human capacity for transformation.While Christians and Buddhists depict this tension in their own ways, I detect no basic disagreement. The disease of ignorance and of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 41.3 (2003) 411-412 [Access article in PDF] Deborah Achtenberg. Cognition of Value in Aristotle's Ethics: Promise of Enrichment, Threat of Destruction. Albany: The State University of New York Press, 2002. Pp. xiii + 218. Paper, $20.95.Deborah Achtenberg argues that, for Aristotle, virtue is a disposition to respond to situations with the appropriate emotions, where emotions are understood as perceptions of the value (...) of particulars. To perceive the value of a particular is to perceive that particular as a limit; some limits enable what they limit to be more fully what it is, while other limits do the opposite. My activity in writing this review, for example, is "limited" both by the rules of grammar and by my computer's tendency to crash frequently; one kind of limit enriches my activity, while the other hinders and threatens it (hence Achtenberg's subtitle). An enabling limit is a telos or end; something is a telos of yours if it connects you to a larger context that in some way fulfills or completes you.Achtenberg's interpretation enables her to steer Aristotle clear of a number of persistent false dichotomies. For example: is the doctrine of the mean an uninspiring counsel to do the middling thing, or a vacuous counsel to do whatever one ought to do? Neither, says Achtenberg; rather, it is Aristotle's way of insisting on the flexibility of the virtuous person's [End Page 411] responses. Is Aristotle siding, then, with Odysseus, who suppressed his emotions in order to suit his actions to the demands of the occasion, as against Achilles, who stubbornly followed his emotions regardless of circumstance? No, that dichotomy falls as well: the virtuous person has flexible emotional (not just behavioral) responses, and so can be as adaptable as Odysseus yet as sincere as Achilles.Does Aristotle's ethics have a metaphysical foundation, or is it autonomous? Achtenberg dissolves that dichotomy by distinguishing two different ways in which Aristotle takes ethics to be an "imprecise" science. First, ethics and metaphysics are both imprecise, because they share a common subject-matter (final causation) that is an analogical equivocal and so indefinable. Second, ethics is less precise than metaphysics because ethics can establish that, but not explain why, its claims are true. Metaphysics can explain the why of ethics, but for practical purposes the why is not necessary; so metaphysics is explanatorily but not epistemically prior to ethics.How can Aristotle's particularist-sounding denial that the virtuous person needs rules be reconciled with his insistence that the virtuous person follows a logos? Must we play down the logos passage, or instead conclude that Aristotle is a rule-theorist after all? Once again, neither: in this context, Achtenberg suggests, logos means "analogy," not "rule." Since goodness is an analogical equivocal, perceiving goodness means perceiving analogies. Being transcategorial, these analogies are not definable or codifiable, so the rule-theorists are wrong; but we are grasping something common to all good things, so the particularists are wrong too.Let me close with a couple of criticisms. Once the notion of an enabling limit has been established, Achtenberg seems to accept as unproblematic the inference to the legitimacy of paternalistic legislation: citizens are more free, not less, for being subjected to such coercion. Now on a view that regarded persons primarily as moral patients or recipients, it might be reasonable enough to elide in this way the difference between imposing limits on oneself and having them imposed by external compulsion; but it is harder to see how forcibly imposed limits could be constitutive of a life's being happier when happiness is defined, with Aristotle, as a self-generated activity.I think Achtenberg also fails to catch one false dichotomy. She contrasts Aristotle's theory, which seeks to increase and enhance emotional awareness, with the Stoic theory (as represented by Marcus Aurelius), which seeks to decrease or suppress such awareness. The contrast seems to me misleading. Both Aristotle and the Stoics agree that moral maturation involves... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:342 BOOK REVIEWS (5) What follows for the " critical " and " systematic " dimensions of theology, if, accepting Balthasar's centering of thought in (the paradoxes of) love and beauty, one sees mystery, metaphor, concrete imagery, and indeed "myth" as essential and not "accidental" to all theological meaning? In opening up these questions, O'Hanlon's important book identifies the areas where dialogue with Balthasar's work might best begin, (...) even as it makes its own constructive contribution to theology. John Paul II Institute Washington, D.C. DAVID L. SCHINDLER Goodness and Rightness in Thomas Aquinas's Summa Theologiae. By JAMES F. KEENAN, S.J. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1992. Pp. xii + 212. $25.00 (paper). James Keenan says that he began his work on this book " believing the simple presupposition that goodness describes persons and rightness describes actions" (p. ix). The main focus of the study is the question of whether and to what extent this distinction can be found in the work of Aquinas. The author holds that the understanding of the relation of reason and will in the early work of Aquinas precludes the distinction of goodness and rightness held by the author and other contemporary moralists. Keenan claims, however, to find in the Prima Secundae of the Summa Theologiae a significant shift in Aquinas's notion of the will and its relation to reason, a shift toward an " autonomous will." Keenan states in the Introduction: "The will's autonomy is a necessary condition for understanding moral goodness "; indeed he proceeds to note that " without it there can be no distinction " between goodness and rightness (pp. ix-x). Before commenting on Keenan's work I will first briefly summarize the basic points of the book. The book is divided into four parts. In the first part we see the distinction between goodness and rightness. Keenan explains the distinction: Goodness and badness describe whether or not we strive to the extent we are able to attain rightness in our lives and actions. Rightness and wrongness describe whether or not we attain the end that reason dictates is proper and necessary for our lives and actions (p. ix). Keenan finds the foundation for this distinction in the reasoning of G. E. Moore. A person's actions can he judged right or wrong independently of a consideration of the person's motives. For instance, a BOOK REVIEWS 343 right action might be performed by a good person or by a bad person, the goodness or badness being determined by the motive. There are, then, two distinct moral descriptions; one, goodness or badness, pertains to persons and the other, rightness and wrongness, pertains to actions. Keenan joins several contemporary moral theologians in claiming something which Moore did not, namely, that " a person who performs a wrong action can be called good for performing the action" (p. 6). This assertion is based upon an understanding of goodness as determined " antecedent to action " (p. 15), and likewise as " antecedent to and distinct from rightness" (p. 7). Moral goodness is determined by the motivation, and motivation alone, of the person acting (p. 14). For example, does the person act out of love for God and neighbor, or rather out of a desire for self-aggrandizement? Jn question here is what Keenan calls the " fundamental, formal self-movement of the agent" (p. 14). Rightness on the other hand is a moral description determined by the measure of reason. It describes actions, and can also describe the agent, in terms of right order in relation to the end of human life. In Part II (the second and third chapters) Keenan turns to the supposed shift in the thought of Aquinas regarding reason and will. Keenan finds the early position of Aquinas incompatible with the distinction of goodness and rightness, but the later position compatible with the distinction. Keenan also presents Aquinas's distinction between specification and exercise in the act of the will as crucial to the distinction between goodness and rightness. I will return to this point shortly. Part III (the fourth and fifth chapters) considers Aquinas's treatises on the human act and moral virtue found in Summa Theologiae I-II. Keenan holds that... (shrink)

“Aristotle is the father of virtue ethics, and virtue ethics is hot”, Howard Curzer states in the introduction of his Aristotle and the virtues . Aristotelian virtue ethics has attracted so much attention that it has become one of the three major approaches in normative ethics since its revival in post-war Anglo-Saxon philosophy. In his new book, Paul Bloomfield is, like these virtue ethicists, not so much interested in the modern ethical question of how to treat (...) others, but in the ancient Greek question how we should lead a good life. He also adopts from the Greeks the idea that moral virtues are conducive to a happy or well-lived life. The book, however, states that the assumption that the moral life is better than its alternatives should not be taken for granted. For example, as we all know of bad people who seem to be happy and successful, we are in need of an argument that shows why virtue is even necessary for people who only care about their self-interest.Despite his inter .. (shrink)

GraphicalExercise, neurotransmitters, growth factors, myokines, and potential effects on the brain.As human life expectancy increases, cognitive decline and memory impairment threaten independence and quality of life. Therefore, finding prevention and treatment strategies for memory impairment is an important health concern. Moreover, a better understanding of the mechanisms involved underlying memory preservation will enable the development of appropriate pharmaceuticals drugs for those who are activity limited. Exercise training as a non-pharmacological tool, has been known to increase the mean lifespan (...) by maintaining general body health and improving the cardiovascular and nervous systems function. Among different exercise training protocols, aerobic exercise has been reported to prevent the progression of memory decline, provided adequate exertion level, duration, and frequency. Mechanisms underlying exercise training effects on memory performance have not been understood yet. Convergent evidence suggest several direct and indirect mechanisms at molecular and supramolecular levels. The supramolecular level includes improvement in blood circulation, synaptic plasticity and neurogenesis which are under controls of complex molecular signaling of neurotransmitters, neurotrophic factors, exerkines, and epigenetics factors. Among these various factors, irisin/BDNF signaling seems to be one of the important mediators of crosstalk between contracted skeletal muscles and the brain during exercise training. This review provides an affordable and effective method to improve cognitive function in old ages, particularly those who are most vulnerable to neurodegenerative disorders. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:324 BOOK REVIEWS Reading in Communion: Scripture & Ethics in Christian Life. By STEPHEN E. FowL & L. GREGORY JONES. Series: Biblical Foundations in Theology. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co., 1991. Pp. ix + 166. $13.95 (paper). This book represents the collaborative attempt of a biblical scholar and an ethicist to determine the precise sense in which scriptural texts can be taken as normative for the (...) Christian moral life. The collabora· tion is a fruitful one, its results illuminating not only the problem of method in ethics, but issues of biblical hermeneutics as well. This re· sult is not serendipitous; for the authors, the question of how one ought to live the Christian life and the question of how one ought to interpret Scripture are inextricably linked. Indeed, perhaps it would be more accurate to suggest that, on the account that Fowl and Jones supply, these are different formulations of the very same question. There is no rigid demarcation here between the hermeneutical and the ethical realm, no rigorous sorting out of issues appropriate to each field of inquiry. The authors make good on their introductory promise "to write a single text " rather than simply to generate a series of " alternating perspectives " (p. 3). In the very first chapter of the book, certain typical, even dominant, ways of construing the relationship between Scripture and ethics are briefly reviewed and then rejected. Ethics is commonly perceived as being primarily "concerned with right actions and decisions," the authors contend, while the Bible is viewed as a moral guide for the " particular decisions made by isolated individuals " (p. 5). In contrast, Fowl and Jones argue that " Scripture is primarily addressed not to individuals but to specific communities called into being by God " (p. 8). Moreover, our ethical deliberations ought not to be focused on particular decisions and the formulation of moral principles that bear on those decisions, but rather, on " issues of character and the formation of character in and through socially-embodied traditions" (p. 9). The consequences of such a general position are carefully and sen· sitively explored in this first and in subsequent chapters. The authors reject the assumption that one such consequence must be the conclusion that moral behavior is not, after all, ruled behavior, that one cannot formulate and articulate the principles that govern much of what we do. Their position entails the conclusion, rather, that such principles cannot be meaningfully detached from the communally embodied traditions that engender them. Indeed, they have meaning at all only in· sofar as the individuals describing, interpreting and employing these BOOK REVIEWS 325 principles possess the peculiar habits and beliefs characteristic of the :members of a specific community. In the analysis of any given moral situation, then, the discussion of principles will necessarily presuppose.a discussion of character, of the sorts of persons involved in the situation, their moral beliefs and capabilities. It is important to note that this discussion will often take a narrative form, precisely because the delineation of character is most readily accomplished by telling stories about persons, about their communities, their politics and practices, their interests and aspirations. Thus, moral capabilities are formed in " the friendships and prac-.tices " that constitute communal life. In asserting this, the authors defend an important but not terribly controversial claim. What is especially intriguing and insightful about their account, however, is the reIated claim that moral capabilities are also hermeneutical capabilities, that some of the patterns and habits of action acquired by living in a·Community also function as habits of interpretation. "Well-formed·character," Fowl and Jones explain, is crucial not only to "Christians'.ability to live faithfully in the various contexts within which they find themselves," but also to their " ability to read, speak and perform the word of the Lord " (p. 85). Moral virtue is, on their account, a kind of interpretive skill. (If not identical, character and interpretive skill.are, at the very least, formed in the same process, inextricably linked ;together as aspects of "practical wisdom." See page 31.) This result is especially meaningful once it becomes clear that the authors are employing a usefully broadened concept of " interpreta· tion." To interpret a scriptural text can and often... (shrink)

The perceived meaning of life significantly affects the quality of human life. It is of particular significance in borderline situations. One of such situations is the birth of an intellectually disabled child. The article presents the results of the study concerning the perceived meaning of life in the case of parents who bring up a child with limited intellectual abilities. The study included 87 mothers and 65 fathers bringing up an intellectually disabled child. In the (...) studied cases, parents perceived their life as highly meaningful. The results indicated that the perceived meaning of life in the case of parents of intellectually disabled children was related with: suffering experienced by the parents as a result of a limited intellectual ability of their daughter/son, the manner of performing their parental role and the sense of parental identity. (shrink)