Kreeft Re: Kant

The other day I was flipping through one of my philosophy books by Peter Kreeft in search of something entirely different when I chanced across a passage about Immanuel Kant. I was very gleeful at my find and saved the page so I could share it with everyone.

As if everyone in the class reads my blog. In fact, I am quite sure that less than 50% of the class even cares what the rest writes on their blogs. Actually, if anyone else in the class reads my blog I will be surprised.

I mean, they haven't commented on anything. Granted, that's a smart move. I was under the impression last semester that Dr. Brewton had mandated we were all to use Blogger so we could comment on everyone else'se blog. So I commented on someone's blog. I promptly felt like a creepy stalker and have wanted to delete that comment ever since. (Is it possible to do so?) I wondered if I should post another comment apologizing, decided that would be equally creepy, pondered apologizing in person, and decided that would be really creepy. I have settled for pretending it never happened and trying not to randomly freak out in said person's presence.

Here's to hoping said person has forgotten it entirely.

ANYWAY, back to the business at hand. A Refutation of Moral Relativism, by Peter Kreeft, page 48-49:

"[Kant] called his most important idea his "Copernican revolution in philosophy". That was the notion that the human mind makes the truth instead of discovering it, that truth is formed by the human mind. And that includes moral truth. Kant called true morality "autonomous", that is, man-made rather than "heteronomous", made by another, by God. So our will makes the moral law, not God's. We make it; we don't discover it. I'd call that subjectivism. It's nine-thenths of the way to moral relativism. It's not yet moral relativism because Kant also believed that all minds necessarily worked the same way and created the same morality-- like logic or math. So morality was universal and necessary for Kant but not objective."

Of course, the temptation with such a values system as subjectivism is that if you have made up your own morality, you can change it whenever and whyever you want. (Is 'whyever' a word? If not, it should be. It sounds cool.) And so, to continue with our journey into Kreeft:

"Kant tried to prevent that, but he failed. He tried to prevent it by arguing that I can't logically succeed in creating my own morality contrary to the universal Golden Rule, and absolute "Categorical Imperative". It's logically inconsistent to will that everyone lie or steal when I do. But he failed because why should I care about logic if I made that up too?"

You have to admit, it makes sense in a rather chilling way... And so Kant seems to have realized the destructive tide his theory would unleash, and tried to stem it. However, he should have known it wouldn't work. Because along came Hegel, who destroyed the last bit of objective reality Kant still allowed. To wit:

"Kant called it "things in themselves". He believed that this was something real but unknowable. Hegel argued: if it's unknowable, if we can't know it, then how can you know it's there? Knowing the unknowable enough to know it exists- that's a self-contradiction. Kant tried to limit thought, to draw a border to thought; but to do that, you have to think both sides of the border."

As if attempting (and doing a good job of it) to destroy common belief in objective reality were not enough, Hegel didn't stop there, but further postulated an idea that helped form relativism: "universal process. Everything flose; everything is in flux. Truth itself evolves, even God evolves, through human history, according to Hegel."

And then popped up Mr. Doom-and-Gloom, Friedrich Nietzsche, who announced, "God is dead." I find it darkly ironic and amusing, in a schadenfreude sort of way, that he said a man would go insane without God, which he did.

Have you made it all the way through this blog post? Congratulations! I would give you a big gold star if I could.

However, since I can't, I'll give you this picture from Catholic Memes:

In Pace Christi,

Elyse

True Art Is Incomprehensible

...Or, at least, so saith the article on TVTropes. My favorite of the examples given: that from Thud! by Terry Pratchett (since I have actually read that book), where Sergeants Colon and Nobbs, while investigating an art theft, notice two pieces by a certain Daniellarina Pouter: (1) Don't Talk to Me About Mondays, which consists of a pile of rags, and (2) Freedom, which consists of a stake to which Ms. Pouter had been nailed after Lord Vetinari saw the previous piece.

Ahh.... I knew there was a reason I loved Lord Vetinari, in addition to his addiction to insanely complex crossword puzzles.

Don't be alarmed. Ms. Pouter was delighted and is apparently now planning to nail herself to a wide variety of objects in the near future, as part of a special exhibition. Oh, Pterry, you...

Anyway, so today we covered the French poet Charles Baudelaire. He was a great fan of Edgar Allan Poe, so that explains a lot. He seems to be best classified as a horror poet, if there is such a genre as horror poetry. If there's not, I am greatly surprised. Anyway, he apprently looked for the beauty in the most unglamorous of objects, and glorified such revolting things as a decaying corpse. O.o

I mean, really. Are you serious?

To tell the truth, I got about halfway through Carrion before going, "Ugh, I can't take any more of this." I generally have a strong stomach for such things, unless it is completely pointless, excessive, or prolonged (made it through biology lab, and only felt the urge to throw up once we starting taking apart cow eyeballs in search of the retinae and once another boy managed to shove his fist down a cow aorta).
I am not at all bothered by spiders, and once when we had an infestation of rats in the barn (I live on a farm, for all you uninitiated out there) I was the one having to carry the (huge) corpses out to go throw them in the field. Sometimes there would be three or four a day. And these were RATS, not mice. Mice generally don't grow to be a foot long, y'know. The only one that made me jump I refer to as the Thanksgiving Day Horror (since it was on Thanksgiving Day, of course). I picked it up, and, to put it mildly... the bottom fell out. With lots of bonus, wriggly, pale worms. I'll leave the rest to your imagination... Pleasant dreams tonight!

Anyway, I realized that I had actually once read poetry of this sort before, and so naturally, since I love giving people nightmares apparently, I must share it.
First off, it was written by a man who lived from about 306 to 373 AD, known as St. Ephrem. He is chronologically the second Doctor of the Church; more Doctors have been added since I got my 700-page book entitled The 33 Doctors of the Church, but I most pathetically cannot remember how many and who. Hmm, sounds like I need a new book.
Oh, and a Doctor of the Church is a person- not necessarily a man!- who has been given that special distinction in recognition of their writings on theology, spirituality, etc. Let's see if I can rustle up an icon of St. Ephrem to show you all...

This is the best picture I could find that would actually LOAD, stupid thing. There's a much better one in my book, but it's black and white and I am not attempting to scan it in and then upload it to my computer and then upload it to my blog, blah, blah, blah, as it would take twenty minutes and this suffices.

Back to what I originally wanted to say! An excerpt from his poetry appears in my book, and it sounds strikingly modern in light of what we read by Baudelaire today. Here's how it goes (I doubt there are any copyright issues on writings from the 4th century):

There lie those who improved their complexions,

And artfully disguised their faces;

There lie those who painted their eyelids,

And the worm corrodes their eyes...

There lie those who were enemies,

And their bones are mingled together.

 

I could go into an interesting analysis of the thought process behind make-up and its ultimate futility here (I don't go in for that sort of thing, partly because I abhor stuff being on my face like that), but on second thoughts I don't think I will.

 

I really do go in for brutally and embarrassingly honest in this blog, don't I?

 

In Pace Christi,

 

Elyse

Goethe, Not Gotye

...And, let me tell you, "Somebody That I Used To Know" isn't a bad song, but once you get it stuck in your head it becomes the most annoying thing. Grr.

Anyway! Today I shall attempt to not rant and to focus on a single text. My success rate at this sort of thing has not been so good (I was making notes for this when you called on me, Dr. Brewton, so I wasn't doodling).

It hasn't been a good few days to be a German-minded person. In history yesterday the Rhine-Danube line between Roman civilization and Germanic barbarism was brought up. Several derogatory remarks about Germans were muttered by various members of the class. It didn't really bother me, since I am used to people regarding Germans, and particularly German Catholics, as a bigoted, backwards, and benighted bunch (how's that for alliteration?), but I was kind of amused. I highly doubt they knew my family comes from Bavaria.

To compound my frustration, we are doing Goethe. Not that there is anything wrong with doing Goethe, it's just that we are doing Faust, and I'd much rather do The Erl-King (or, Der Erl-Koenig, as Goethe wrote it). I have a weird fascination for Der Erl-Koenig, which I shall relate in a little bit. First, I have to bash our literature book for its COMPLETE and UTTER FAILURE. It shall never arise from its ashes of shame and humilitation... *cue screenshot of Azula*

My point about the literature book is that it offered a pronunciation guide for the work. Not in itself a bad thing, seeing as how most people flail and kevail over foreign words and mangle them. (Me and French, for example. French and I do not agree. It's a German/French dog/cat sort of thing.) BUT THE PRONUNCIATION GUIDE WAS WRONG. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. I could only laugh in bewilderment at what they were saying the words should sound like.

For instance: they said Goethe should be pronounced 'GAY-tuh'. No joke. I snorted at that. They got the consonants right, and that's about it. German vowels are more complex than English vowels. We tend to reduce everything to a schwa and get on with our lives. It doesn't work that way in German. The 'oe' in Goethe does not sound like a long o or like 'oy' (as it does in Sindarin), but is meant to represent o-umlaut (an o with two little marks over it). The o-umlaut sound is made by making the sound for 'eh' in one's throat but by shaping the lips in the o position. This yields a weird sound that has no relation in English. (There is also u-umlaut and a-umlaut, for your information.)

So there was my rant about the pronunciation guide. Sorry, Dr. Brewton, but it seems that no matter what I do I end up ranting about something or other. *sigh*

Goethe was basically to German what Shakespeare was to English. As a matter of fact, they have named the Goethe Institut after him. (No, it's not supposed to have an e at the end of 'Institut'. It's the German spelling of that word.) The Goethe Institut spreads German language, arts, and culture. 2013 is the Year of Wagner. If you don't know anything about Wagner... *sigh* Oh, yeah. I forget that not everyone has taken six years of German or 14 years of piano.

He was a very famous German composer of operas, etc., okay? He did Lohengrin and the Niebelungenlied (whence, some people claim, Tolkien got the idea for the One Ring). "The Ride of the Valkyries" song? Yeah, he did that.

Anyway! I should now explain my weird fascination with Goethe's Der Erl-Koenig. I won't annoy you with the German version, as much as I'd love to. But I think I should inflict the full length of a literal English translation upon you all. Because I have troll tendencies. XD

Who is riding, so late, through night and wind?

It is the father with his child.

He has the boy well in his arm

He holds him safely, he keeps him warm.

"My son, why do you hide your face so anxiously?"

"Father, do you not see the Erl-King?

The Erl-King with his crown and tail?"

"My son, it's a wisp of fog."

"You dear child, come, go with me!

Very lovely games I'll play with you;

Many colourful flowers are on the shore,

My mother has many golden robes."

 

"My father, my father, and don't you hear

What Erl-King quietly promises me?"

"Be calm, stay calm, my child;

The wind is rustling through withered leaves."

 

"Do you want to come with me, pretty boy?

My daughters shall wait on you finely;

My daughters will lead the nightly dance,

And rock and dance and sing you to sleep."

"My father, my father, and don't you see there

Erl-King's daughters in the gloomy place?"

"My son, my son, I see it clearly:

There shimmer the old willows so grey."

"I love you, your beautiful form entices me;

And if you're not willing, then I'll use force."

"My father, my father, he's grabbing me now!

Erl-King has done me some harm!"

It horrifies the father; he swiftly rides on,

He holds the moaning child in his arms,

Reaches the yard with trouble and hardship;

In his arms, the child was dead.

 

Charming little story, isn't it? If it was too much for you to decipher, it's basically about a father riding home late one night with his son. The boy tells the father he can see an evil woodland fairy king, the Erl-King, and that the Erl-King is trying to take him away. The father dismisses this as fog, trees, etc. Finally, the child shrieks that the Erl-King has got him. The father spurs the horse on; they reach the courtyard of their house, and the father finds that his child is dead in his arms.

 

Lovely poem, really. I mean, it's really something you should read as a bedtime story for your little ones. And is it the Erl-King, or is it merely the child's hallucinations? No one knows. That's the thing.

 

Now, there is a bit of a debate about the meaning and etymology of 'Erl-King'. Apparently, it was supposed to be 'Elf-King' (which would have been Elfen-Koenig), but as it stands it means King of the Alders/Elders/however you want to spell it. An elder tree. In fact, the same sort of tree that the ultimate wand in Harry Potter's world, the Elder Wand, is made out of!

 

MIND. BLOWN.

 

As a matter of fact, when I was reading The Deathly Hallows, the Erl-King was all I could think of during that part. I was like, "Uh-oh, it's an elder tree, that's a bad sign- everyone knows that means the Erl-King!" But of course few people actually know this.

 

WHY do I know so much about Der Erl-Koenig, though, you ask? Well. Through highschool (yes, the entire four years), I had a ginormous piano book composed solely of works by Franz Liszt. I have no idea why I picked Liszt. Actually, I do. When I still went to a private elementary school (so I couldn't have been any older than eight or so), the music teacher showed us a movie about Liszt's life. I can't remember anything about it now, except for that he had a weird and violent style of playing the piano.

Fast forward ten or so years, and I still had my weird preference for Liszt over Beethoven. (The horror, I know. I now have a ginormous piano book composed solely of works by Beethoven.) So I got that infamous book. The first song, "By the Lake of Wallenstadt," was really pretty and not too hard and deceived me utterly about the rest of the book.

BECAUSE LISZT WAS A DEMON PIANIST AND APPARENTLY ASSUMED EVERYONE ELSE COULD DO PIANO ACROBATICS JUST LIKE HIM.

He wrote the Hungarian Rhapsodies, okay? I had to learn two of them- the most famous one, No. 2, and the slightly more bearable one, No. 6. (I did like his "La Regatta Venetiana", though. It was a lot of fun to play, and it was only six pages long. Not, say, oh, SIXTEEN, like Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.)
As a matter of fact, my inability to play Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 as it should be played was a big reason why I had a minor bout of hero worship of someone real. (Most of my fangirling, if you want to call it that, safely involves fictional people.) When I was still in high school, Shoals OnStage hosted the 5 Browns here at UNA and they had a concert in Norton Auditorium. Since I imagine most of you know nothing about the 5 Browns, they are a group of five Mormon siblings who all play the piano and attended Juliard simultaneously. They can play 5-piano pieces together at once in perfect timing, all the pianos arranged in a semicircle. AMAZING. They haven't been touring much lately since one of the girls had a baby, but the other two girls keep up a 'modest fashion' blog and my sister checks it regularly. Anyway, one of them, Gregory Brown, played Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.
And did it perfectly.

MIND. BLOWN.

They autographed stuff and talked with the fans after the concert. My sister of course got her CD's autographed and was happily chatting with them. Me? Standing there awkwardly, wanting desperately to say something like, "Ohmigosh, that was amazing! I've tried to learn Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 and I can't play it anything like that!" However, if I had said that, I would have felt obliged to crawl away under the nearest table and hope the earth opened up and swallowed me. Heaven help me, but I cannot bring myself to talk to people.
They were really nice. It's a pity I couldn't say something.
 

Anyway, Schubert originally set Der Erl-Koenig to music, but Liszt later took his version and changed it up. I've heard Schubert's is scarier to hear since it keeps the triplet pattern all the way through, but Liszt's version is practically a nightmare to play already. I'll DEFINITELY have to find a video so I can give the rest of you nightmares.

 

 

 

The 1-2-3 beat of the triplets is meant to imitate the flying hooves of the horse (at a canter, a horse's hooves strike three beats- only three, since two hooves hit the ground at the same time). Oh, and that rattling upswing and jarring dun-dun-dun on the left hand is eerie, too. A lot of fun to play, if you're of a weird bend of mind, but exhausting and very, very, difficult.

 

My personal creepy fascination with Der Erl-Koenig therefore actually has more to do with the Liszt version of it (and the fact that I now permanently associate the song with a character in my stories that I write), but it remains a creepy fascination that needs to be shared with the class. Because I have troll tendencies and want to give everyone nightmares. Oh, and I think it counts as making the blog interactive, doncha think?

This is a VERY long post. Perhaps I should (again) start a new one? Nah. It'd look really small and sad compared to this one. On with more Goethe!

So in class we discussed why Faust in Goethe's long poem (I'd like to compare it to Marlowe's Faustus and play a game of spot-the-differences) has everything a medieval scholar should want- a scholastic reputation, a devoted pupil, the accolades of the populace, knowledge of practically everything Man Was Meant to Know and a good bit of what Man Was Not Meant to Know. However, he is not happy. Part of the reason could be that he has lost his faith, and is seeking to replace it by dabbling in the black arts.

I think we could sum up Faust's modus vivandi/operandi as being For Science! He craves knowledge for the sake of knowledge; he has made it his First Thing. However, knowledge alone cannot give happiness or satisfy the soul, so it is no wonder he has fallen to the pits of despair.

This is more or less what most people think of when they hear the word 'chemistry'. Without actually putting it in those words, they assume it works on magical and unknowable principles. They also like to assume that it involves lots of brightly colored 'potions' and explosions. Reality is much more mundane.

I would like to take the moment to identify Faust as having Genre Blindness of the highest degree. As most readers of fantasy novels could tell you, summoning and controlling spirits is NEVER a good idea. After all, it's what turned Carsaib into Durza the Shade in the Eragon series (*sarcasm mode* oh, beg pardon, I suppose I should call it the Inheritance Cycle). The bargain is NEVER a good idea. Almost every time, the spirits escape control, take over the sorcerer/alchemist/mad scientist/whatever he calls himself, and procede to wreak havoc upon the world.

I mean, Faust doesn't even see what's the big deal with signing a contract in blood! I mean, seriously, dude, NEVER sign a contract in your own blood. Bad things always, always ensue. That's what happens (spoilers!) in Fire Emblem Radiant Dawn. TWICE. First, Pelleas signs a contract and ensures that you have to fight Micaiah and her pathetic Dawn Brigade, and then that you have to actually use them. And they were useless. Then you learn that Naesala, the Raven King, who is decidely not useless, had a blood contract himself. However, he didn't sign it himself; he is practically the king of cunning and would never have been tricked into that. He inherited it from the previous king. He does promise to tell Tibarn how he inherited the throne, but the conversation apparently never happens. Pity. I would have liked to know.

When Dr. Brewton asked if we could give any contemporary examples of a Faustian bargain, I couldn't think of a contemporary one, but I can give one from a movie! In fact, the first thing I thought of was The Empire Strikes Back, where Lando Calrissian makes a deal with Darth Vader. Vader, of course, keeps demanding more and more of him: "Pray I do not alter the bargain further."

Boys and girls, the moral of this story is: NEVER bargain with demons or Sith lords. They always get the better end of the bargain.

 

 What? It's an awesome picture! Not to mention, I think the Nazgul beat the Sith any day. The Sith are infamous for going all Drunk On The Dark Side and dying by being thrown down reactor shafts. They are also incredibly hammy. Meanwhile, the Nazgul are genuinely terrifying (they easily beat the Great Flaming Eyeball of Sauron in this respect) and can only be killed in extremely special circumstances.

Anyway. I'd also like to quote Gandalf on Faustian bargains: "Perilous to us all are the devices of an art deeper than that which we ourselves possess." (I may not have the wording exactly right. My brother has borrowed The Two Towers and I can't find where he's hidden it.) C'mon, people, Gandalf is always right about these things...

I'd also like to state that, having made his eponymous bargain with Mephistopheles (what a name) for the ultimate knowledge of the world and the demon's service, Faust then undergoes a rapid Motive Decay and just wants to experience all the pleasures in the world. His asking Mephistopheles to apparently kill him once he hits self-complacency is puzzling, though. I just don't understand Faust's mind. Which is probably a good thing, since I'd imagine is a dark place, full of, of course, Things Man Was Not Meant To Know.

Mephistopheles himself gives riddling answers. It reminds me of Gollum and of Smaug, not entirely inappropriately. Gollum, however, is Creepy Awesome and Nightmare Fuel in ways that Mephistopheles, the demon in gentleman's clothes with a rapier, will never be able to achieve, and Smaug, well...

 

Let's just say even I find this gif hypnotizing, and leave it at that.

In Pace Christi,

Elyse

Gaudeamus, Igitur

I should probably share what I meant by the song, "Gaudeamus Igitur". I'll see if I can find a good video of it, but in case I can't, I'll see if I can rustle up the lyrics. Hope you know Latin! XD As I mentioned, it's a song made up by German university students in the 14th Century or so. Ooh, look! I found both the Latin and the English lyrics. I don't suppose anyone wants the German lyrics (Lasst Uns Also Froehlich Sein)...? No? Oh, all right.

 

Gaudeamus igitur, Juvenes dum sumus; Post icundum iuventutem, Post molestam senectutem Nos habebit humus.	Let us therefore rejoice, While we are young; After our youth, After a troublesome old age The ground will hold us.
Vita nostra brevis est, Brevi finietur; Venit mors velociter, Rapit nos atrociter; Nemini parcetur.	Our life is brief, It will shortly end; Death comes quickly, Cruelly snatches us; No-one is spared.
Ubi sint qui ante nos In mundo fuere? Vadite ad superos, Transite in inferos Hos si vis videre.	Where are those who before us Existed in the world? You may go up to the gods, You may cross into the underworld If you wish to see them.
Vivat academia, Vivant professores, Vivat membrum quodlibet, Vivat membra quaelibet; Semper sint in flore!	Long live the university, Long live the teachers, Long live each male student, Long live each female student; May they always flourish!
Vivat et republica Et qui illam regit. Vivat nostra civitas, Maecenatum caritas Quae nos hic protegit.	Long live the state And those who rule it. Long live our city, And the charity of benefactors Which protects us here.
Vivant omnes virgines, Faciles, formosae! Vivant et mulieres, Tenerae, amabiles, Bonae, laboriosae.	Long live all young women, Easy and beautiful! Long live wives as well, Tender, loveable, Honest, hardworking.
Pereat tristitia, Pereant osores. Pereat diabolus, Quivis antiburschius Atque irrisores!	Perish sadness, Perish haters. Perish the devil, Whoever is against the student fraternity, As well those who mock us!
Quis confluxus hodie Academicorum? E longinquo convenerunt, Protinusque successerunt In commune forum.	Who has gathered now Of the university? They gather from long distances, Immediately joining Our common forum.
Vivat nostra societas, Vivant studiosi! Crescat una veritas, Floreat fraternitas, Patriae prosperitas.	Long live our fellowship, Long live the studious! May truth and honesty thrive, Flourish with our fraternity, And our homeland be prosperous.
Alma Mater floreat, Quae nos educavit; Caros et commilitones, Dissitas in regiones Sparsos, congregavit.	May our Alma Mater thrive, That which educated us; Dear ones and comrades, Who we let scatter afar, Let us assemble. Okay, and now it's thrown the text box off. Oh, joy. Anyway, so I was wrong. It wasn't so much about students complaining about their homework and their professors as it is about the shortness of life and their determination to enjoy it while they can. Which leads us to the comparison that they, like Dr. Faust, want to feel  as much as they can. Let's see if I can find a video of it and restore my wonky text box.   



Well, I aligned my text box again, but the embedded video player is off. If it doesn't play, anyway, just look it up on YouTube and you'll find tons of videos. If you're interested, which I highly doubt.

 

How's that for interactive, Dr. Brewton???

 

In Pace Christi,

 

Elyse

3rd Official Blog Post - The Saner Version

I can't promise that this will be the sane version, but it shall at least be saner. I promise not to go off into a rant about Abraham Lincoln this time, I swear.

In other words, READ THIS ONE, not the other one, unless you want brutal honesty. This is the polite version.

Until Dr. Brewton tells me otherwise, I shall only write about those pieces of literature about which I can find something meaningful to say. So here goes. *deep breath*

Unfortunately, we did not make it around to discussing Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence today, which is rather curious and also disappointing. I think the class's opinions on it would have been interesting. (Class's? Class'? I always feel the extra 's' is advisable in order to emphasize the presence of the apostrophe. Plus, I pronounce it that way, anyway. Minor Grammar Nazi tangent.) In fact, I think we could have interesting opinions on a lot of things. That's why I liked literature discussions from last semester so much. We actually got to talk and debate things.

Anyway, I would like to say that, rereading the Declaration, I was astonished at the dignity, clarity, and proper formality of the diction in it. I know we modern people think the way they used to write in the late 1700's kind of stilted and funny (I was cracking myself up inappropriately through half of Equiano's writings), but if you look past that the Declaration is a true work of art. Today's mode of thinking has little grasp of the sacred or of the important role formality and solemnity play in life, so it was very nice seeing the solemnity of the Declaration.
And look at its organization! The first sentence tells you everything you need to know about it. It begins: "When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the Powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation." The American colonists are going to separate from Britain. However, they're going to be fair and give all their reasons why. Firstly, though, they're going to explain why they have the right to do so, and they have recourse to Nature's God, the Creator Who endowed all men with Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. And then we go into a long, long list of abuses and usurpations.
Having listed all these, Thomas Jefferson then explains how they begged for these wrongs to be redressed, and how nothing came of it. Therefore, the delegates have no choice other than to separate from England.
When I was smaller, I found it hard to understand how the Declaration made us a separate country. Now that I am older and have put away (some) childish things, I understand better. When you speak a thing, when you write something, why else would you speak it or write it, if not to make it true? You want it to cause some kind of effect, certainly, unless you're just walking down the street singing "Doo-Wah-Diddy" for whatever reason. (That was the first song title that came to me. Don't blame me if it gets stuck in your head!)
Words have power. They are sacred. When those words were written, something... I won't say magical, but something definite occurred, and we were no longer Great Britain, but America. The English might not have acknowledged it for a while, but we knew who and what we were.
We just have to remember that now.
Perhaps the tradition of reading the Declaration every 4th of July should be renewed, now, should it not...

Moving along, we also discussed A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, by Mary Wollstonecraft. I must say, her last name looks very much like an Anglicized German surname. Or, at least, a Germanic-pattern name. I can't help it. I notice these things. That's what happens when you're of a linguistic bent.
I also could not help but be reminded of Jane Austen at her finest while reading the selection. It was in a good way, however. (When I had to read Pride and Prejudice in high school, I expected not to like it. I have an antagonistic relationship with many 'classical' works of literature. However, to my surprise, I really liked it! The movies, both the five-hour version and the more recent ones, are very beloved at our house.) I must confess, I heartily agree with Mrs. Wollstonecraft when she insists that women should be more than petty, pretty dollies who make frivolous conversation and embroider cushions to attract men. (What guy was ever attracted by embroidered cushions, if I may ask?) Women have intellects and wills, just like men- I mean, we're all Men (note the very important capital, feminists)-, and they need to be exercised, just like any muscle, lest they shrivel away.
I can't say for men, seeing as how I am not (obviously) a man and have never broached this discussion with any of that species (that would make for some very awkward conversations with male cousins during the holidays, and I really don't have any guy friends unless I am given the privilege of mentioning a few acquaintances in the honors program- I mean, at least, they've said hi occasionally...). But I would assume that men would prefer to have a wife who can think for herself rather than some silly idiot who is a slave to fashion and who tries her hardest to look attractive, only to fail with time.
Passion fades, looks decay, and what will you have left, then? That is why a husband and a wife need to respect each other, have a good, solid bond of friendship and mutual trust, and actually be people they can get along with. In fact, I'd say those three factors are more important than 'being in love' and should be considered BEFORE the wedding. Being in love is a stupid reason for getting married, if it's the only reason.
(Pardon me while I go destroy several Disney films. They are particularly egregious offenders in this case. I'd like to single out Mulan 2. ONE MONTH! They've only known each other ONE MONTH! You could have said 'one year' and it would have made NO DIFFERENCE to the plot! And what about those three soldiers and the princesses? THREE DAYS! *bangs head until unconsciousness is achieved*)
*deep breath* Okay. I can do this. I promised myself no more ranting.
The concept of women growing more masculine as they become more educated is frankly hilarious to me, so I'll just pass over it in a Ciceronian silence...
As for virtues that are traditionally masculine, I'll give that half a point. Virtues are universally recommended and universally available; after all, what is a virtue but a good habit, cemented by grace? Some virtures, such as compassion and pity, may come more easily to empathetic woman, while other virtues, such as fortitude, may come more easily to man. However, I've never been under the delusion that men can not (or should not) be compassionate and merciful- maybe it's because I've grown up with stories of the martyrs, or of the pity of Bilbo Baggins that saved Middle-earth, or St. Francis of Assisi, whom even the Protestants put statues of out in their gardens. (They do. You know they do. They also like St. Therese of Liseux. At least, they send chain e-mails with prayers to the Little Flower. I have yet to understand this, seeing as how she was a Carmelite nun, and Protestants generally aren't overly fond of nuns. Perhaps someone can enlighten me on this matter?)
I've also had the role models of St. Joan of Arc, St. Frances of Rome (one of the few women sants who wasn't a nun, but rather a wife and mother), St. Giana Beretta Molla, and the list goes on and on...
So, in short, I've always believed both men and women should be strong and virtuous. Perhaps it is because those who have gone before have paved the way for my thinking, and I am indebted to them while taking all their hard work for granted.

Tangent to this discussion is the fact, which Dr. Brewton brought up, that educated women tend to have fewer children, and that stopping to have children in one's 20's often can derail one's career. It is a sad fact, but it is even sadder that women wait so long to have children and then, when they do, they risk their children having some sort of defect. One of my relatives has two children with spina biffida. They are both so very precious and I can't imagine anyone not wanting them because of a congenital problem, but there you have it... Such children are often aborted. It's very, very sad. I guess people could say, "They'd have a hard life; it's better they not live," but at least they would be alive. You put crippled animals out of their misery, but you don't do that to people...
*sad face*
It doesn't help that modern society is told endlessly that children are expensive. Of course children are! I've seen the statistics. But do you know what they are? They are your investment in the future. Your children are your legacy. They carry you on into the future. One day, when you're old and frail, they'll help take care of you. (At least, they should.) They are souls that you have helped create and I can't see how anyone can put a price tag on them.
*sad face again* I need to stop; I'm tearing myself up here. And water is not good for the keyboard.

I'd also like to add this link, because I am tired of hearing about this concept: Overpopulation Is A Myth. I've heard about it in one too many classes here lately and before I snap I should do something constructive, like post a link that only one person will likely see (because he has to) and which no one will likely click on (because they don't want to be persuaded otherwise). I have many links. I am the queen of links. I keep Word documents with lists of links because I'm afraid I'll lose something I could be referencing.
And I still haven't figured out how to hotlink an image, Dr. Brewton. I should just google it, I know, but I never seem to think of it when I'm not in the middle of something... Here. I'll make myself a note, along with my thousands of other notes... Maaaaybe it'll get done.

I envy other people their blogs and their carefully organized and constructed literary critiques. Mine are always so ridiculously informal and I end up overly emotional. I also start addressing people who are not present. Is that a sign of madness?
Of course, madness is to genius near allied, as they say, or however the saying goes... It's not one I use often. I prefer to use: "This is madness, yet there is a method to it," which is actually from Hamlet, would you believe, where King Claudius is observing Hamlet's apparent insanity and thinking, hey, maybe he's just pretending to be nuts, let's ship him off to England and let them kill him there...
Bad idea, Claudius. Baaaaad idea.

In Pace Christi,

Elyse

3rd Official Blog Post - The Rant

Since Dr. Brewton hasn't given us feedback on our blogs yet, I'm going to continue with my assumption that we don't have to discuss every piece of literature we review in class. Goodness knows, I ramble enough as it is. I wrote an entire page of notes for stuff to blog about in class today.

WARNING, brutal honesty ahead! Not necessary about people (except for some dead people), but about my reactions to various pieces of literature and their subjects.

Dr. Brewton's random opening tangent from the other day was that all stories are properly allegories. His example was the Harry Potter series, which, he said, is not really about a school of witchcraft and wizardry, but is more exactly a story of growing up, a coming of age story- a bildungsroman, I think the term is. (I may be wrong.) This made me think of something I saw on TVTropes about the BBC series Being Human.
If you don't know about Being Human (I didn't, either, until I started looking up what other productions the actors from The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey were in), the first three seasons (only watch season one, unless you like watching everything get really, really worse and the entire cast dying) consist of, to put it simply, a ghost, a werewolf, and a vampire trying to act like normal humans. Apparently, they were supposed to be symbolic of, respectively, a shut-in with an abusive past, a person with HIV, and an addict. Seeing as how what happens to the vampire... Granted, they had to kill him off so Aidan Turner could go to TH:AUJ, but still... TVTropes labeled it Unfortunate Implications. I kinda agree.

You have to be careful when you start saying something in a story symbolizes something. People loved saying that The Lord of the Rings was an allegory for the global situation in the 1950's or so and that the One Ring was meant to stand for nuclear power. Apparently, since Mordor is in the east of Middle-earth it was also supposed to be Communism. These claims did not make Tolkien happy. In his foreword to the book he denies such claims.

Tolkien also wrote an essay on Beowulf, saying, in simplified form, that it has been over-analyzed and should be appreciated as a story. He also wrote On Fairy-Stories. It is a very good read and I highly recommend it.

I also have noted on my sheet of paper with notes I made during class to mention a few things about Lincoln. He was probably mentioned in connection with the Emancipation Proclamation when we were still discussing Olaudah Equiano. I would just like to take a moment to refute the common error that Lincoln freed the slaves. He didn't. At least, he didn't free all the slaves. The Emancipation Proclamation was supposed to free all the slaves in the Confederate States of America. The CSA was another country. Abraham Lincoln had no authority whatsoever to free the slaves therein. (Of course, he believed the CSA didn't exist and that we were all still one big happy family in the Union.) So the South completely ignored him and it didn't affect the slaves in the South at all. Meanwhile, in the North, where there were lots of slaves Lincoln could have freed, they were all left in servitude. Way to go, Abe.
Besides, the Emancipation Proclamation was a purely political move. If the war had been about freeing the slaves, why was it issued on January 1, 1863? The war had been going on for a couple of years by that point. Why was it only released then? The South had been winning up to that point. Great Britain was seriously considering joining the war on our side. Jefferson Davis had even been in contact with the Pope. (He had considered converting to Catholicism as a young man.) The Papal States/Vatican City might have considered acknowledging us as a country.
Then came Antietam. Despite whatever your history books tell you (since history is written by the winners), Antietam was NOT a Union victory. It was the bloodiest day of the War between the States, and it was a draw. However, since the Confederate troops withdrew a bit to rest, the Union used that as an excuse to claim the victory.
Yankees.
Anyway, Lincoln seized upon it as the tactical high ground to release his Proclamation. The Proclamation was a purely political move, designed to remove any moral high ground for the South and to prevent Great Britain from joining the CSA.
Oh, and the North was also sending agents to Europe, especially poor little Ireland, promising jobs to people who would immigrate to the North. Once the people came over here, they were drafted into the army and forced to fight in a war they had no clue over. It was so bad, the Pope started telling Europeans NOT to immigrate to the US.
Yes.
I could also explain how Lincoln was anti-Semitic, and I could find quotes by him which also show that he believed blacks are naturally inferior to whites (unless he changed his opinions in the last few years of his life, which, since he was a politician, I wouldn't put it past him), but I think I've done enough damage here.
*hides as the mob comes with torches and pitchforks*

Nothing was said in class today of Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence. Very curious. However, I would like to say that, rereading the Declaration, I was astonished at the dignity, clarity, and proper formality of the diction in it. I know we modern people think the way they used to write in the late 1700's kind of stilted and funny (I was cracking myself up inappropriately through half of Equiano's writings), but if you look past that the Declaration is a true work of art. Today's mode of thinking has little grasp of the sacred or of the important role formality and solemnity play in life, so it was very nice seeing the solemnity of the Declaration.

Okay, now for Kant.

*cough* Since I read philosophy books for fun (did you ask that question if we could name any true philosopher living today because you knew I could answer it, Dr. Brewton?), I knew his name. And since I read Catholic philosophy books, and since Peter Kreeft is one of my favorite authors, I know as much about Kant as I want to. (If you don't know who Peter Kreeft is, I have half a dozen of his books and there are about a dozen and a half more I don't have. Here's his Wikipedia page. I know you call it Wickedpedia, Dr. Brewton, but it provides a good crash course in new topics.)

Anyway, this is a summation of Kant, as voiced by satan in The Snakebite Letters, by Peter Kreeft: "And what a brilliant stroke of genius it was to use that nice pious moralist Immanuel Kant to pave the way. Nice ironic touch, too, using someone with that first name to put a contraceptive on the mind to keep the Enemy out! He said he intended to "destroy the pretensions of Reason to make way for Faith", but that's like cutting off your head to help your heart." (p.136-137)

I came to a realization when Dr. Brewton was talking about the Categorical Imperative, which he summed up as, "Act as though your actions should be law for all," more or less. I was trying to ascertain how it was harder than the Golden Rule when I suddenly realized that such a standard of action is law for all. I mean, why are these things always phrased in so wishy-washy a fashion? The Golden Rule is nice and soft and squishy. "Treat others as you want to be treated." No threat there. The Categorical Imperative? Intimidating name, slightly stiffer wording, same meaning. Ten Commandments? "THOU SHALT NOT." No compromising, no soft squishiness, and a lovely backdrop of consequences if THOU DOETH.

Pardon me, but I'll go with the Ten Commandments.

So I was reading through Kant's What Is Enlightenment? and could not help but notice, of course, that he was advocating enlightenment (duh), which he defined as the 'emergence from self-incurred minority', minority being defined as being unable to speak or think for oneself. Points to Kant for defining his terms. Defining is a very important thing, ladies and gentlemen; you need to know what, exactly, you are thinking or arguing about in order to retain any clearness of mind.
Of course, Kant is advocating that everyone think for themselves, but he really wants (most likely) everyone to think like him! Otherwise, why would he write his book and pamphlets? Voila! Philosophical judo. And, considering modern society, it merely means that everyone would be conforming to nonconformity. Yes, because we need more people abandoning the faith of their childhood and disbelieving in absolute truth.
This reminds me of a quote by Archbishop Fulton Sheen:

Revolting books against virtue are termed ‘courageous’; those against morality are advertised as ‘daring and forward-looking’; and those against God are called ‘progressive and epoch-making’. It has always been the characteristic of a generation in decay to paint the gates of Hell with the gold of Paradise.

Maybe I need a picture of him, too. Hmm, let's see what's on Catholic Memes. Huh. This is all they have... Go on, click it. Of course, they're all too busy coming up with, "Brace yourselves, Petrus Romanus is coming," which you likely won't get unless you've heard of the prophecies of St. Malachy.

Anyway.

I could have lived with what Kant was writing, even his servile flattering of Frederick the Great of Prussia, until he started blaming the clergy for a "crime against human nature, whose original vocation lies preciely in such progress" for binding their believers to a set creed. That's where, I will admit it, I got defensive. I am normally a very timid person who cannot start a conversation with a complete stranger to save my life, but you start attacking my family or my Church or something else I care strongly about (how about my POPE, o Gnostic professor? ...No, I don't mean you, Dr. Brewton), and I get defensive.
Anyway, I couldn't decide whether to start attacking the book or banging my head on my desk. WHY, oh, WHY is there such a widespread disbelief in absolute truth? Truth is, if you want it put simply, nothing more than the conformity between the thing and its description (I am mutilating the definition and am too lazy to walk up two flights of steps to go find the book, but if you want to know, it's The Quiet Light, by Louis de Wohl, and I strongly recommend it). That definition, coupled with the Principle of Non-Contradiction, leads to the conclusion that something like, say, a door, is a door and will remain a door as long as it has the substance/form of a door. I think we can all agree on that. (Except for those people who deny objective reality, of course.) I would bring in the concept of Platonic Ideals, but I'm ranting enough as it is...
The upshot is, if there are permanent, absolute truths, they are not going to evolve and change. They are immutable, because they are perfect as they are. Therefore, they can be summed up in an 'unalterable' creed.
However, the Creed can be further clarified. Early on in the Church history, the word 'Filioque', which means 'and the Son' was added to the Nicene Creed (right in the middle of the phrase: Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum et Vivificantem, Qui ex Patre Filioque procedit. 'And [I believe] in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Giver of Life, Who proceeds from the Father and the Son'). Some of the people in the Byzantine Rite of the Church became upset with this and postulated that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father through the Son. They were likely the ancestors of the people who split with the Pope into the great, unahppy schism that continues until this day.

Isn't this fun, class? You get a free history lesson when you read my blog.

I'd like to add a further quote. This one is from John Martignoni, who is sort of like a diocesan apologist (apologetics is the art, if you will, of defending one's faith) and who runs apologetics articles in our diocese's newspaper, One Voice: "Truth cannot change because it is a person, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever."

Kant also apparently advocated religious freedom. Lol. You know what happens when everyone decides to make up religion for themselves? You get flagellant nutcases and heretics who claim that every sin is permissible and even encouraged since it proves that you believe very strongly that God will forgive you them all (no kidding, Martin Luther said that). And you get early Protestant extremists who hunted down innocent women and murdered them as witches. I believe the statistics are approximately 80,000 in England after the Church's influence was driven out and 100,000 in northern Germany (Bavaria was closer to the Catholic center of Vienna and so lucked out. Yay Bavaria!).
Oh, and in Spain you had the Inquisition (NOOOOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!! ...Sorry.), which handled these cases, examined them, found a lack of evidence, and declared the women innocent. Just saying, but it wasn't Catholics who were responsible for the Salem Witch Trials.

*hides as the mob chases me from hiding place to hiding place*

I've said before that my brutal honesty will cost me my good grades. I should probably stick to literature, shouldn't I? But I'm tired of my faith being attacked on all sides and I want to have my say.

If what you believed was being constantly dragged into question, you'd want to defend it too, wouldn't you?

Oh, and the Puritans came to America for religious freedom, too. On arriving, they promptly denied it to everyone else. The Catholics in Maryland allowed religious freedom for everyone. To thank them, Puritans took over the colony and outlawed Catholicism.

*head bang*

Back to Kant's encouragement of freethinking! Somehow, this term 'freethinking' always leads to thinking that isn't very free, as G. K. Chesterton notes. First you start daring to disbelieve in God, then in absolute truth, then in a world beyond that of mere matter, and then you are drowning in materalism and relativism and you can't even believe in fairies. G. K. Chesterton believed in fairies. No joke. I'd like to say that I do too, just to annoy a few sanctimonious souls. XD

'Course, it depends on what type of fairies. First instinct'd be to say Tolkien's Elves, of course, but then again I've actually read The Silmarillion and I am thinking of the chaos and bloodshed that follow the sons of Feanor...

I AM SO, SO SORRY, DR. BREWTON! I AM MAKING YOU READ THIS HORRIBLE RAMBLING THING! I SHOULD JUST START OVER, SHOULDN'T I?

Yeah, I'll just start over in a different post.

Oh, and I'm also fairly sure the idea of human dignity began long before the Enlightenment. It's always funny how from about 400-800 AD to 1500 AD is miraculously skipped by the educated mind.

From Kant we moved on to the feminist essay, by Mary Wollstonecraft. I found it fascinating that she was the mother of Mary Shelley. I don't know what to say about this. I have always found the feminist movement both amusing and perplexing. I suppose I take freedoms for granted.

Dr. Brewton mentioned that there appears to be a direct correlation between the education level of women and the number of children they bear- that is, that the better educated a woman is, the fewer children she will have. It is a sad fact. I have to suspect that this is due at least partially to women (and men- they're a factor, too) choosing to have money and goods and things over children. Don't you get it? Children are your investment in the future! Bad educations and teachers that advocate materialism aren't helping.

Oh, and masculine virtues! Ha! Virtues are universal. Some come more easily to men than to women, and vice versa, I suppose. Women are naturally more empathetic and compassionate, in my experience. But does that mean men are not supposed to be compassionate? Noooo. So, in fact, women can be strong. In fact, the faith supports that. Time for another quote from Archbishop Fulton Sheen!

Men cannot stand weakness. Men are, in a certain sense, the weaker sex. There is nothing that so much unnerves a man as a woman’s tears. Therefore men need the strength and inspiration of women who do not break in a crisis. They need someone not prostrate at the foot of the Cross, but standing, as Mary stood.

Oh, and how about this one, by Pope Benedict XVI:

It is theologically and anthropologically important for woman to be at the center of Christianity. Through Mary, and other holy women, the feminine element stands at the heart of the Christian religion.

Yay for Papa Ben. I would also like to point out that if society is masculinizing women, it is also feminizing men. This is apparent even in small matters. Have you noticed that beards are not the fashion for men currently? C. S. Lewis remarks upon this in The Screwtape Letters. I could go into how most portrayals of men, particularly fathers, in TV shows, movies, cartoons, etc. are negative (deadbeat dads, abusive husbands, ditzy guys, overprotective dads, wimpy guys who are effiminate and afraid of decision).
This is very sad. I don't guess I can speak for all women, but I wouldn't want a husband I could use as a footstool. I'm more like Rose in Rose in Bloom, by Louisa May Alcott. I would want a husband whom I could respect and trust. A real partner, y'know? I wouldn't want to marry a footstool and then realize my mistake too late, like Sybil in Crusader King. And so I have to approve of the point Mrs. Wollstonecraft is making in her essay that women should be more than polite dollies who can do no more than make conversation and embroider cushions (shades of Pride and Prejudice!!!).

As an aside, we can only hold out hope that the Hobbit movies succeed in bringing beards back into fashion. XD
You'll never know if I'm serious about this or not.

In Pace Christi,

Elyse

2nd Official Blog Post

I'm just going to go with the assumption that we don't have to write about every single piece of literature that we have covered so far, okay? Because on some things I really don't have much to say, other than, "What the heck was that?" which pretty much sums up my reactions to the Ramprasand Sen readings this morning. In grade school I had a best friend who was Hindu and I don't know too much more of their religion than that. I was always really respectful of how seriously they took their religion though; it made us Christians look really wishy-washy in comparison...

First at bat is Candide by Voltaire. Since I seem to be viewing all the literature we read in this class on the lookout for the theme of a quest, I see no reason to discontinue that and shall go at these selections with that in mind. At first, the story doesn't seem to be about a quest. It's about a naive boy who falls in love, gets drafted into the army, travels throughout Europe and the New World, undergoes a ridiculously long series of misfortunes (people casually die and come back to life), and finally settles down near Constantinople with some people he has picked up in his journeys. Although it didn't begin as a search for something in particular, when he settles down he has found something, and that is a purpose to his existence.

Candide was told that the world was the best of all possible worlds (as a student in Calculus 3, I wasn't real fond of the mockery of Leibniz, and I am a supporter of Leibniz only to mock Isaac Newton). Therefore, he believes only good things should happen to him and that the world owes him a living. (Hmm, sounds like a lot of people nowadays.) I would like to pause a moment and ask a question of philosophers in general.

WHY MUST YOU ONLY OFFER TWO ALTERNATIVES TO A WORLD VIEW?????

It's always either-or. Either the world is completely evil, chaotic, and purposeless, or the world is wonderful and full of sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and we should all be rolling in milk and honey.

WHY???

Christianity's approach is both-and. Our world was created to be a perfect world. But then it was messed up. Messed up spectacularly, in fact. So therefore it is a very good thing that has gone terribly wrong, just like humanity- in fact, humanity is the reason the world has gone wonky. So there is meaning and purpose to life and the world, but things still get messed up.

Okay, rant over. Candide at the end of his travels meets an old man who works his little farm with his children and therein finds all the contentment and produce he needs to survive. Candide and Co. seize upon this and each work the trade at which they are good. They thrive and become content. Sometimes the idiot philosopher still wants to speculate on stuff; Candide, beyond tired of it all, just says that that is all well and good, but they must continue to work.

It's a nice moral, I admit, and one that I agree with, but the tortuous pattern of reasoning that Voltaire took to get there is beyond me. I must confess a certain animosity towards Voltaire.

And then there came Rousseau. (Turns out I've been misspelling his name. I suppose I'm sorry. I really don't like him, either, on general principles- literally.) Rousseau didn't start out with a quest, either, but he apparently had learned something by the end of his life, because he wrote a book to share his life lessons with everyone. That's probably true of most people. We don't start out as infants looking for the meaning to life; we save that until we're teenagers or having a mid-life crisis.

Nevertheless, you can only live so long before you learn something, and everyone, even if unconsciously, desires a meaning and a purpose, I think. I can't remember the person who said it or even how the quote went exactly, but it went something like this: it's not pain that man hates, but the not knowing why. There's also this, by Friedrich Nietzsche (of all people): "Man can live with almost any how, as long as he has a why."

Rousseau seems to have ended up with the theory that this world is the best of all possible worlds (*sigh*), since he believes that Nature has given us all the most perfect nature possible for us and that society only ruins it. I would like to know what he means by 'Nature'. Does he mean an impersonal, chaotic, random sequence of events that evolved humans out of pond scum, or does he mean Nature as an agent of God, or does he mean some sort of pantheism or paganism? It's a very important point! I'd like to know where he's coming from so I can follow his pattern of thought and thus his argument throughout the reading.

Sadly, he doesn't offer much in the way of clarification. He just wants to talk about his feelings. Seriously, his feelings. I don't know about the rest of you, ladies, but any guy who wants to talk about his feelings is pretty much a big red flag in my books.

Rousseau was, of course, a frontrunner of the Romantic movement. Romanticism was in full or in part a reaction to the preceding period of the Enlightenment, which exalted reason and logic and all that jazz (as parodied in Gulliver's Travels). Any theory which takes something to an extreme will generally be succeeded by a theory that takes the opposite extreme, as this shows.

Again, WHY is it always either-or? It's either logic and reason or feelings and sentiment. Why can't it be both? We are creatures of both bodies and souls- intellects and feelings. We want both. We can't focus on our feelings and gross appetites without leaving our minds and reason behind, and thus losing one half of our selves, and we can't focus on our logic and abstract reason without leaving our hearts and bodies behind, and thus also being torn in two. We're not a race of Spocks or animals.

We're both.

This is why I find heresies depressing, in general.

I would also like to state that I found Rousseau personally disturbing. I am following a policy of Brutal Honesty in this blog, which is politically incorrect in the extreme and may cost me my good grades some day (I think truth should be supported whever it is found), so I'm just going to say that his opening was very egotistical, especially without any explanation of why he thinks he is so wonderful and how there will be another person without him, but even more than that... HE WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD!

Eight years old... and having creepy obsessions with women. And then believing himself in love with two different women at the age of 11-12. YIKES.

This is a very sad demonstration of children growing up way too fast... There is a reason why I on general principles dislike the depictions of children in advertising. Children are innocent and anyone who cares about them should take pains to ensure that they stay innocent. It's like glass- fragile but beautiful. If you hit it, it will shatter instantly, but if you don't touch it, it'll endure forever. (Illustration taken from G. K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy.)

...I have just realized exactly how fundamental that book has become to my way of thinking and looking at the world/life/people. I also realize that this is something to be celebrated.

Three cheers for the Apostle of Common Sense!

It was the best one I could find of him on Catholic Memes.

Perhaps I should say a word about Orthodoxy, since it ties in with the quest for truth them that I have been nattering about on this post. Orthodoxy isn't a story about G. K. Chesterton; it's about his journey for, you guessed it, orthodoxy. He set out to find a religion that made sense to him, and found, when he outlined it, that it was Christianity. He just wanted truth, so he searched for it. And, as it was promised, he sought and found.

In Orthodoxy, he lays out his journey of discovery, and though it might seem ludicrously simple once you have grasped the fact he is making, it's really profound. Some of the simplest things are the most profound, really.

In Pace Christi,

Elyse