D.T. Suzuki
Choosing belief over doubt has profound, eternal consequences for practicing Christians, while for religious Jews and Moslems alike, faith in God is the cornerstone of righteousness. Yet elsewhere in the world, revered spiritual traditions exist in which the struggle between belief and unbelief is of little importance. Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki is an eloquent international spokesman for one of these traditions: the Japanese variant of Buddhism known as Zen. A widely traveled Japanese scholar, Suzuki taught in that country's university system, translated several Eastern philosophical works into English, and corresponded widely with Christian contemplatives such as Thomas Merton. Through his books and lectures, Suzuki became Zen's leading voice in America during the mid-20th century. His Introduction to Zen Buddhism, published in 1956, not only offers an overview of the historical background of Zen philosophy and practice, but succeeds in conveying something of its seemingly inexpressible essence.
From An Introduction to Zen Buddhism
Is Zen a religion? It is not a religion in the sense that the term is popularly understood; for Zen has no God to worship, no ceremonial rites to observe, no future abode to which the dead are destined, and, last of all, Zen has no soul whose welfare is to be looked after by somebody else and whose immortality is a matter of intense concern with some people. Zen is free from all these dogmatic and "religious" encumbrances. ...
As to all those images of various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas and Devas and other beings that one comes across in Zen temples, they are like so many pieces of wood or stone or metal; they are like camellias, azaleas, or stone lanterns in my garden. Make obeisance to the camellia now in full bloom, and worship it if you like, Zen would say. There is as much religion in so doing as in bowing to the various Buddhist gods, or as sprinkling holy water, or as participating in the Lord's Supper. All those pious deeds considered to be meritorious or sanctifying by most so-called religiously minded people are artificialities in the eyes of Zen. It boldly declares that "the immaculate Yogins do not enter Nirvana and the precept-violating monks do not go to hell". This, to ordinary minds, is a contradiction of the common law of moral life, but herein lies the truth and the life of Zen. Zen is the spirit of a man. Zen believes in its inner purity and goodness. Whatever is superadded or violently torn away, injures the wholesomeness of the spirit. Zen, therefore, is emphatically against all religious conventionalism. ...
"Absolute faith is placed in a man's inner being. For whatever authority there is in Zen, all comes from within."
Zen, therefore, does not ask us to concentrate our thought on the idea that dog is God, or that three pounds of flax are divine. When Zen does this, it commits itself to a definite system of philosophy, and there is no more Zen. Zen just feels fire warm and ice cold, because when it freezes, we shiver and welcome fire. The feeling is all in all, as Faust declares; all our theorization fails to touch reality. But "the feeling" here must be understood in its deepest sense or in its purest form. Even to say that "This is the feeling" means that Zen is no more there. Zen defies all concept-making. That is why Zen is difficult to grasp. ...
The truth is, Zen is extremely elusive as far as its outward aspects are concerned; when you think you have caught a glimpse of it, it is no more there; from afar it looks so approachable, but as soon as you come near it you see it even further away from you than before. Unless, therefore, you devote some years of earnest study to the understanding of its primary principles, it is not to be expected that you will begin to have a fair grasp of Zen.
"The way to ascend unto God is to descend into one's self"; — these are Hugo's words. "If thou wishest to search out the deep things of God, search out the depths of thine own spirit"; — this comes from Richard of St. Victor. When all these deep things are searched out there is after all no "self" where you can descend, there is no "spirit", no "God" whose depths are to be fathomed. Why? Because Zen is a bottomless abyss. Zen declares, though in somewhat different manner: "Nothing really exists throughout the triple world; where do you wish to see the mind (or spirit, *hsin*)? The four elements are all empty in their ultimate nature; where could the Buddha's abode be? — but lo! the truth is unfolding itself right before your eye. This is all there is to it — and indeed nothing more!" A minute's hesitation and Zen is irrevocably lost. All the Buddhas of the past, present, and future may try to make you catch it once more, and yet it is a thousand miles away. "Mind-murder" and "self-intoxication", forsooth! Zen has no time to bother itself with such criticisms.
The critics may mean that the mind is hypnotized by Zen to a state of unconsciousness, and that when this obtains, the favourite Buddhist doctrine of Emptiness, Sunyata, is realized, where the subject is not conscious of an objective world or of himself, being lost in one vast emptiness, whatever this may be. This interpretation again fails to hit Zen aright. It is true that there are some such expressions in Zen as might suggest this kind of interpretation, but to understand Zen we must take a leap here. The "vast emptiness" must be traversed. The subject must be awakened from a state of unconsciousness if he does not wish to be buried alive. Zen is attained only when "self-intoxication" is abandoned and the "drunkard" is really awakened to his deeper self. If the mind is ever to be "murdered", leave the work in the hand of Zen; for it is Zen that will restore the murdered and lifeless one into the state of eternal life. "Be born again, be awakened from the dream, rise from the death, O ye drunkards!" Zen would exclaim. Do not try, therefore, to see Zen with the eyes bandaged; and your hands are too unsteady to take hold of it. And remember I am not indulging in figures of speech.
I might multiply many such criticisms if it were necessary, but I hope that the above have sufficiently prepared the reader's mind for the following, more positive statements concerning Zen. The basic idea of Zen is to come in touch with the inner workings of our being, and to do so in the most direct way possible, without resorting to anything external or superadded. Therefore, anything that has the semblance of an external authority is rejected by Zen. Absolute faith is placed in a man's own inner being. For whatever authority there is in Zen, all comes from within. This is true in the strictest sense of the word. Even the reasoning faculty is not considered final or absolute. On the contrary, it hinders the mind from coming into the directest communication with itself. The intellect accomplishes its mission when it works as an intermediary, and Zen has nothing to do with the intermediary except when it desires to communicate itself to others. For this reason all the scriptures are merely tentative and provisory; there is in them no finality. The central fact of life as it is lived is what Zen aims to grasp, and this in the most direct and most vital manner. Zen professes itself to be the spirit of Buddhism, but in fact it is the spirit of all religions and philosophies. When Zen is thoroughly understood, absolute peace of mind is attained, and a man lives as he ought to live. What more may we hope? ...
From An Introduction to Zen Buddhism by Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki, edited by Ch. Humphreys, with a foreword by C.G. Jung. Copyright © 1991 Grove Atlantic, Inc.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
JOSEF PIEPER ON PHILOSOPHY
Josef Pieper, defines and defends philosophy as the search for and love of wisdom. True philosophy is not the work of joyless academics pondering over esoteric writings that have no relation to real life. Rather, the philosophical act, in which all reasonable men can participate, begins in wonder at what is, and gratitude for what is given, and ends in love.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Rediscovering Modesty from Within
Rediscovering Modesty from Within (by DR. Peter Kwasniewski )
"Modesty is a type of temperance. It tempers, it makes rational, the way we move our body, our playful actions, our style of clothing, and more fundamentally, the passions of the soul that underlie these things.1 According to St. Thomas Aquinas, the notion of "modesty" in dress, speech, or behavior is derived from the notion of moderation, of doing something in a fitting, well-considered manner that observes a mean between extremes.2 In this instance, the extremes are shamelessness (the more common) and prudery or unhealthy inhibition. Like all moral virtues, it gives not only an aptitude for wanting and choosing what is right in this regard, but it urges us to do so; it becomes a second nature, an energetic disposition. And, Thomas would remind us, modesty helps us to enjoy rightly the lesser goods of the body; there is no question of choking legitimate passions when person, place, and time call for it. The modest person is one whose actions and appearance consistently reflect self-mastery, good judgment of what is appropriate, a firm command over feelings, a serene ability to express and to "be" oneself without self-advertisement. Hence, true modesty begins in the soul and only later catches the eye's or ear's notice.
The German philosopher Peter Wust speaks of the proper attitude a person should take to his own existence, and while this sounds quite abstract, it seems to me that we must begin here if we are going to understand modesty. "Piety towards oneself surrounds the self like a delicate membrane, which must be kept safe from harm if we want to protect our souls from being laid open to great dangers." This piety is concerned with "values, which are, as it were, a heavenly trust within us which we are bound to defend whenever a hostile power threatens to profane them."3 "Our soul in its ultimate depths is a secret, and this is the inner chamber of the soul which we are, up to a certain point, obliged to preserve religiously. Reverence for ourselves forbids us to unveil the sanctuary of our souls with a rash and impious hand, and to do so would be a real profanation and show an unforgivable lack of modesty."4 Many in the Western world, it seems, ignore the need for, or attack the idea of, such an inner modesty, which is the true cause and ground for outward modesty. "The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is sound, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is not sound, your whole body will be full of darkness" (Mt. 6:22-23). Gabriel Marcel comments: "Against this modesty [of the spirit], in fact, the most active and most opposite powers of our age have made alliance."5
There are different aspects of the virtue of modesty, and it's unfortunate that only the most elementary kind, decency of dress, has tended to receive the name, although one still catches a hint of the older meaning when a man who does not put himself forward is described as "modest." The deeper, inward modesty consists in regulating one's entire life in a manner that is calm, gentle, reverent, and pure. Putting on modest clothing or avoiding immodest dances is not enough; countless men and women have shown a riotous immodesty in private, despite a pristine public demeanor. Research on the prim and proper Victorians has shown that beneath their apparent reserve was a welter of unchastity. Obviously, it is not enough to have the trappings of virtue. One must interiorize virtue, it must become the guiding principle of one's desires and thoughts. Only in this way will the outward dimension correspond to the inward and vice versa.
The modesty most required for the basic health of society — dressing and comporting oneself in a manner that will not excite undue attention from the opposite sex — has been discarded in modern Western societies, and its opposite flaunted. Many earnest Christians, and sadly, even Catholics who sincerely want to lead a life of sexual purity, seem to be unaware of the link between a chaste heart and a chaste appearance, between commitment of will and presentation of body, an ignorance all the more surprising in that the connection has been understood in every age other than ours. There are, for example, young Catholics who try to be pure but who continue to dress as their secular peers do, in provocative or inappropriate styles of clothing. One sees this vividly at World Youth Days, where, in addition to immodesty, an astonishing lack of awareness of what is appropriate for a sacred and solemn event is all too common. Obviously, warm weather and long hikes have to be taken into account, but there are modest and immodest solutions to any situation. Who has not been struck by old black and white photographs of pioneer settlers who, in the midst of sweltering summer heat, wore multi-layered, full-length outfits? I don't suggest we return to that, but I do say that we could heed their example of propriety and stamina.
Habitual lovers of pleasure dress as they do for a reason, even if they could not articulate it: they live for physical comfort, and anything which could cause discomfort or inconvenience or interfere with the experience of pleasure is to be rejected out of hand. For the hedonist the question of competing values never arises because he or she does not seem to think that there are any other values. Thus clothing will be chosen with only two criteria in mind: first, comfort; second, the provocative, even erotic, effect it may have on others. Clearly, as a small part of sound asceticism, Christians ought to reject this sort of pampering of and pandering to the body. St. Paul describes the believer as one who is "always carrying in [his] body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies" (2 Cor. 4:10). We cannot pretend that how we treat ourselves bodily, how we eat and dress and look and move, whether we do so with restraint or abandon, with polite regard or thoughtlessness, with responsibility or naiveté, are spiritually irrelevant "fine points." On the contrary, they are essential. They, too, will either manifest the life of Jesus to the world, or promote a contrary spirit. How someone treats, displays, and makes use of the body reveals much about the workings of the soul: who a man is, who he thinks he is, what he thinks about, what he wants. In more ways than people realize, looks are not deceiving; "the medium is the message."
We read in 1 Tim. 2:8-10:
(2:8) I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling; (2:9) also that women should adorn themselves modestly and sensibly in seemly apparel, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly attire (2:10) but by good deeds, as befits women who profess religion.
It is as if St. Paul were saying there is a way of behaving and appearing which is inseparable from the Christian way of life; it is one of the marks of the believer in the world. Modesty, like peacefulness, though primarily a good of the soul, does not stop at the soul, but has an effect on all aspects of social life. The Christian needs to give the world this example. The very absence of excess is worthy of making its presence known. Modesty is a deep human need that is only rejected at great expense to integrity and legitimate self-love. How many women are there whose dignity is wounded, and whose memory is loaded with one incident after another of men using them? They have suffered much on that account, on account of poor upbringing, poor education, poor advice. They needed modesty, which is so closely bound up with the fact and the feeling of human dignity. Now that they have suffered from its absence, they need it even more to recover their dignity, their sense of worth, of being a person who deserves to be loved for her own sake. Everyone wants to be loved as a person, not a thing — a who, not a what.
The Christian is called upon to proclaim the primacy of the human over the animal, and with it, the inviolable sacredness of a body that receives life and movement from an immortal soul fashioned after the image of God. "The Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being" (Gen. 2:7). "Thou didst knit me together in my mother's womb . . . My frame was not hidden from thee, when I was being made in secret, intricately wrought in the depths of the earth" (Ps. 139:13, 15). The body is a creation of almighty God, the temple of his Spirit, washed and anointed in baptism, promised a share of bliss in the final resurrection. Our appearance and way of behaving should bear witness to the uniquely Catholic truth that both celibacy and marriage prize the human body as a worthy offering of love, a channel of grace, a sacred sign, when consecrated by the sacraments of Jesus Christ. "The body is not meant for immortality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body" (1 Cor. 6:13).
Whether we speak of an organic body, a political body, or the Mystical Body, each in its own way is a unity composed of many distinct parts in hierarchical order and relationship. The human person is, in a sense, a hierarchy of elements of personhood: there are many layers or levels to me, and not all of them should stand in the forefront. Radical egalitarianism is an error no less in the personal than in the social sphere. The bodily dimension of a person carries with it sacramental significance, above all the naked body, as John Paul II has explained in his audiences on the original unity of man and woman. The naked body is the most expressive gift spouses give to each other. In giving it they give themselves, since the body is not something I "possess" as if it were my property, but a true part of who I am. The human person is not "in" a body but is bodily. "Why are there so many members in a natural body — hands, feet, mouth, and the like?" asks St. Thomas. "They serve the soul's variety of activities. The soul itself is the cause and principle of these members, and what they are, the soul is virtually. For the body is made for the soul, and not the other way around. The natural body is a certain fullness of the soul."7 Hence, the body, far more than any other gift that can be given, ought to be unwrapped and taken only by him or her to whom it has been solemnly vowed, even as the blessed Eucharist, which contains the true body of our Lord, is to be received only by the baptized, those who are wedded to Christ in charity. A man's body, teaches St. Paul, no longer belongs to him, but to his wife, and her body to him (1 Cor. 7:4).
It is worth dwelling on the special sacramental bond uniting husband and wife and the all-encompassing modesty, the sensitivity of soul, it demands. Modesty is an essential virtue not because the body or the passions are shameful in themselves. It is their very natural goodness and their potential as ministers of grace that imposes a duty to protect them from abuse, manipulation, and disorder. Think of the beautiful words of St. Paul, so exalted, so full of God's love for all that he has made and redeemed: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body" (1 Cor. 6:19-20). Human beings are called upon to guard the secret of their personhood, a precious gift from God, a mystery not indiscriminate public consumption. To the courting, the betrothed, the newlywed, the lifelong pair, a heavenly trust is given and they are bound to defend it against hostile powers that threaten to profane it. At their core man and woman are secrets to be shared in love. The inner chamber cannot be left open as a public playground; it should be treated with a reverence like that with which we approach the sanctuary and tabernacle of a church.
The virtue of religion, whereby we give back to the infinite God what we are able to give, includes the offering up to him of our persons, our bodies and souls, in faithful love. This is why modesty is both a consequence and a safeguard of religion. Holiness, we read in St. Thomas, denotes two things: being clean and being firm.8 "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God": blessed are they who firmly preserve their purity of soul and body, for the sake of loving God with their whole being. The sight of God, the great goal and joy of Christian life, is the ultimate reason we must keep our hearts, our words, our movements and appearance, pure, undefiled, simple, restrained. In so doing, our way of life is conformed to that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and makes present in a fallen, soiled world something of the bright innocence, the serene peace, the incorruptible freshness of the Holy Spirit."
Notes
1. See Summa Theologiae [ST] II-II, q. 160 on modesty in general, and qq. 168-169 on the species of modesty that concern external actions and appearance. As these discussions fall within the larger treatise on temperance (qq. 141-170), modesty has to be understood in connection with the larger human responsibility of training and perfecting the concupiscible appetite, the power of loving pleasant things and bearing unpleasant ones.
2. See ST I-II, q. 70, a. 3: "Man is well disposed in respect of that which is below him, as regards external action, by modesty, whereby we observe the mode in all our words and deeds." ST II-II, q. 120, a. 2: "Modesty, which is reckoned a part of temperance, moderates man's outward life — for instance, in his deportment, dress or the like."
3. Quoted in Gabriel Marcel, Being and Having: An Existentialist Diary (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 223.
4. Ibid., 224.
5. Ibid., 224.
6. Indeed, in an way unusual for chant, the Gregorian melody turns up at the end of that statement, as if asking a question — or, perhaps, prompting an examination of conscience.
7. Commentary on Ephesians, ch. 1, lec. 8.
8. ST II-II, q. 81, a. 8.
Dr. Peter Kwasniewski teaches philosophy and theology at the International Theological Institute in Gaming, Austria, about ninety miles from Vienna. He received his BA from Thomas Aquinas College and his PhD in philosophy from The Catholic University of America. He lives in Gaming with his wife Clarissa and their children Julian and Rose.
© 2003 Ignatius Press
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"Modesty is a type of temperance. It tempers, it makes rational, the way we move our body, our playful actions, our style of clothing, and more fundamentally, the passions of the soul that underlie these things.1 According to St. Thomas Aquinas, the notion of "modesty" in dress, speech, or behavior is derived from the notion of moderation, of doing something in a fitting, well-considered manner that observes a mean between extremes.2 In this instance, the extremes are shamelessness (the more common) and prudery or unhealthy inhibition. Like all moral virtues, it gives not only an aptitude for wanting and choosing what is right in this regard, but it urges us to do so; it becomes a second nature, an energetic disposition. And, Thomas would remind us, modesty helps us to enjoy rightly the lesser goods of the body; there is no question of choking legitimate passions when person, place, and time call for it. The modest person is one whose actions and appearance consistently reflect self-mastery, good judgment of what is appropriate, a firm command over feelings, a serene ability to express and to "be" oneself without self-advertisement. Hence, true modesty begins in the soul and only later catches the eye's or ear's notice.
The German philosopher Peter Wust speaks of the proper attitude a person should take to his own existence, and while this sounds quite abstract, it seems to me that we must begin here if we are going to understand modesty. "Piety towards oneself surrounds the self like a delicate membrane, which must be kept safe from harm if we want to protect our souls from being laid open to great dangers." This piety is concerned with "values, which are, as it were, a heavenly trust within us which we are bound to defend whenever a hostile power threatens to profane them."3 "Our soul in its ultimate depths is a secret, and this is the inner chamber of the soul which we are, up to a certain point, obliged to preserve religiously. Reverence for ourselves forbids us to unveil the sanctuary of our souls with a rash and impious hand, and to do so would be a real profanation and show an unforgivable lack of modesty."4 Many in the Western world, it seems, ignore the need for, or attack the idea of, such an inner modesty, which is the true cause and ground for outward modesty. "The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is sound, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is not sound, your whole body will be full of darkness" (Mt. 6:22-23). Gabriel Marcel comments: "Against this modesty [of the spirit], in fact, the most active and most opposite powers of our age have made alliance."5
There are different aspects of the virtue of modesty, and it's unfortunate that only the most elementary kind, decency of dress, has tended to receive the name, although one still catches a hint of the older meaning when a man who does not put himself forward is described as "modest." The deeper, inward modesty consists in regulating one's entire life in a manner that is calm, gentle, reverent, and pure. Putting on modest clothing or avoiding immodest dances is not enough; countless men and women have shown a riotous immodesty in private, despite a pristine public demeanor. Research on the prim and proper Victorians has shown that beneath their apparent reserve was a welter of unchastity. Obviously, it is not enough to have the trappings of virtue. One must interiorize virtue, it must become the guiding principle of one's desires and thoughts. Only in this way will the outward dimension correspond to the inward and vice versa.
The modesty most required for the basic health of society — dressing and comporting oneself in a manner that will not excite undue attention from the opposite sex — has been discarded in modern Western societies, and its opposite flaunted. Many earnest Christians, and sadly, even Catholics who sincerely want to lead a life of sexual purity, seem to be unaware of the link between a chaste heart and a chaste appearance, between commitment of will and presentation of body, an ignorance all the more surprising in that the connection has been understood in every age other than ours. There are, for example, young Catholics who try to be pure but who continue to dress as their secular peers do, in provocative or inappropriate styles of clothing. One sees this vividly at World Youth Days, where, in addition to immodesty, an astonishing lack of awareness of what is appropriate for a sacred and solemn event is all too common. Obviously, warm weather and long hikes have to be taken into account, but there are modest and immodest solutions to any situation. Who has not been struck by old black and white photographs of pioneer settlers who, in the midst of sweltering summer heat, wore multi-layered, full-length outfits? I don't suggest we return to that, but I do say that we could heed their example of propriety and stamina.
Habitual lovers of pleasure dress as they do for a reason, even if they could not articulate it: they live for physical comfort, and anything which could cause discomfort or inconvenience or interfere with the experience of pleasure is to be rejected out of hand. For the hedonist the question of competing values never arises because he or she does not seem to think that there are any other values. Thus clothing will be chosen with only two criteria in mind: first, comfort; second, the provocative, even erotic, effect it may have on others. Clearly, as a small part of sound asceticism, Christians ought to reject this sort of pampering of and pandering to the body. St. Paul describes the believer as one who is "always carrying in [his] body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies" (2 Cor. 4:10). We cannot pretend that how we treat ourselves bodily, how we eat and dress and look and move, whether we do so with restraint or abandon, with polite regard or thoughtlessness, with responsibility or naiveté, are spiritually irrelevant "fine points." On the contrary, they are essential. They, too, will either manifest the life of Jesus to the world, or promote a contrary spirit. How someone treats, displays, and makes use of the body reveals much about the workings of the soul: who a man is, who he thinks he is, what he thinks about, what he wants. In more ways than people realize, looks are not deceiving; "the medium is the message."
We read in 1 Tim. 2:8-10:
(2:8) I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling; (2:9) also that women should adorn themselves modestly and sensibly in seemly apparel, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly attire (2:10) but by good deeds, as befits women who profess religion.
It is as if St. Paul were saying there is a way of behaving and appearing which is inseparable from the Christian way of life; it is one of the marks of the believer in the world. Modesty, like peacefulness, though primarily a good of the soul, does not stop at the soul, but has an effect on all aspects of social life. The Christian needs to give the world this example. The very absence of excess is worthy of making its presence known. Modesty is a deep human need that is only rejected at great expense to integrity and legitimate self-love. How many women are there whose dignity is wounded, and whose memory is loaded with one incident after another of men using them? They have suffered much on that account, on account of poor upbringing, poor education, poor advice. They needed modesty, which is so closely bound up with the fact and the feeling of human dignity. Now that they have suffered from its absence, they need it even more to recover their dignity, their sense of worth, of being a person who deserves to be loved for her own sake. Everyone wants to be loved as a person, not a thing — a who, not a what.
The Christian is called upon to proclaim the primacy of the human over the animal, and with it, the inviolable sacredness of a body that receives life and movement from an immortal soul fashioned after the image of God. "The Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being" (Gen. 2:7). "Thou didst knit me together in my mother's womb . . . My frame was not hidden from thee, when I was being made in secret, intricately wrought in the depths of the earth" (Ps. 139:13, 15). The body is a creation of almighty God, the temple of his Spirit, washed and anointed in baptism, promised a share of bliss in the final resurrection. Our appearance and way of behaving should bear witness to the uniquely Catholic truth that both celibacy and marriage prize the human body as a worthy offering of love, a channel of grace, a sacred sign, when consecrated by the sacraments of Jesus Christ. "The body is not meant for immortality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body" (1 Cor. 6:13).
Whether we speak of an organic body, a political body, or the Mystical Body, each in its own way is a unity composed of many distinct parts in hierarchical order and relationship. The human person is, in a sense, a hierarchy of elements of personhood: there are many layers or levels to me, and not all of them should stand in the forefront. Radical egalitarianism is an error no less in the personal than in the social sphere. The bodily dimension of a person carries with it sacramental significance, above all the naked body, as John Paul II has explained in his audiences on the original unity of man and woman. The naked body is the most expressive gift spouses give to each other. In giving it they give themselves, since the body is not something I "possess" as if it were my property, but a true part of who I am. The human person is not "in" a body but is bodily. "Why are there so many members in a natural body — hands, feet, mouth, and the like?" asks St. Thomas. "They serve the soul's variety of activities. The soul itself is the cause and principle of these members, and what they are, the soul is virtually. For the body is made for the soul, and not the other way around. The natural body is a certain fullness of the soul."7 Hence, the body, far more than any other gift that can be given, ought to be unwrapped and taken only by him or her to whom it has been solemnly vowed, even as the blessed Eucharist, which contains the true body of our Lord, is to be received only by the baptized, those who are wedded to Christ in charity. A man's body, teaches St. Paul, no longer belongs to him, but to his wife, and her body to him (1 Cor. 7:4).
It is worth dwelling on the special sacramental bond uniting husband and wife and the all-encompassing modesty, the sensitivity of soul, it demands. Modesty is an essential virtue not because the body or the passions are shameful in themselves. It is their very natural goodness and their potential as ministers of grace that imposes a duty to protect them from abuse, manipulation, and disorder. Think of the beautiful words of St. Paul, so exalted, so full of God's love for all that he has made and redeemed: "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God? You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body" (1 Cor. 6:19-20). Human beings are called upon to guard the secret of their personhood, a precious gift from God, a mystery not indiscriminate public consumption. To the courting, the betrothed, the newlywed, the lifelong pair, a heavenly trust is given and they are bound to defend it against hostile powers that threaten to profane it. At their core man and woman are secrets to be shared in love. The inner chamber cannot be left open as a public playground; it should be treated with a reverence like that with which we approach the sanctuary and tabernacle of a church.
The virtue of religion, whereby we give back to the infinite God what we are able to give, includes the offering up to him of our persons, our bodies and souls, in faithful love. This is why modesty is both a consequence and a safeguard of religion. Holiness, we read in St. Thomas, denotes two things: being clean and being firm.8 "Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God": blessed are they who firmly preserve their purity of soul and body, for the sake of loving God with their whole being. The sight of God, the great goal and joy of Christian life, is the ultimate reason we must keep our hearts, our words, our movements and appearance, pure, undefiled, simple, restrained. In so doing, our way of life is conformed to that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and makes present in a fallen, soiled world something of the bright innocence, the serene peace, the incorruptible freshness of the Holy Spirit."
Notes
1. See Summa Theologiae [ST] II-II, q. 160 on modesty in general, and qq. 168-169 on the species of modesty that concern external actions and appearance. As these discussions fall within the larger treatise on temperance (qq. 141-170), modesty has to be understood in connection with the larger human responsibility of training and perfecting the concupiscible appetite, the power of loving pleasant things and bearing unpleasant ones.
2. See ST I-II, q. 70, a. 3: "Man is well disposed in respect of that which is below him, as regards external action, by modesty, whereby we observe the mode in all our words and deeds." ST II-II, q. 120, a. 2: "Modesty, which is reckoned a part of temperance, moderates man's outward life — for instance, in his deportment, dress or the like."
3. Quoted in Gabriel Marcel, Being and Having: An Existentialist Diary (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 223.
4. Ibid., 224.
5. Ibid., 224.
6. Indeed, in an way unusual for chant, the Gregorian melody turns up at the end of that statement, as if asking a question — or, perhaps, prompting an examination of conscience.
7. Commentary on Ephesians, ch. 1, lec. 8.
8. ST II-II, q. 81, a. 8.
Dr. Peter Kwasniewski teaches philosophy and theology at the International Theological Institute in Gaming, Austria, about ninety miles from Vienna. He received his BA from Thomas Aquinas College and his PhD in philosophy from The Catholic University of America. He lives in Gaming with his wife Clarissa and their children Julian and Rose.
© 2003 Ignatius Press
This item 5865 digitally provided courtesy of CatholicCulture.org
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Saturday, February 24, 2007
GABRIEL MARCEL
Gabriel (-Honoré) Marcel
First published Tue Nov 16, 2004; substantive revision Wed Nov 17, 2004
Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973) was a philosopher, drama critic, playwright and musician. He converted to Catholicism in 1929 and his philosophy was later described as “Christian Existentialism” (most famously in Jean-Paul Sartre's “Existentialism is a Humanism”) a term he initially endorsed but later repudiated. In addition to his numerous philosophical publications, he was the author of some thirty dramatic works. Marcel gave the Gifford Lectures in Aberdeen in 1949-1950, which appeared in print as the two-volume The Mystery of Being, and the William James Lectures at Harvard in 1961-1962, which were collected and published as The Existential Background of Human Dignity.
1. Biographical Sketch
2. The Broken World and the Functional Person
3. Ontological Exigence
4. Transcendence
5. Being and Having
6. Problem and Mystery
7. Primary and Secondary Reflection
8. The Spirit of Abstraction
9. Disponibilité and Indisponibilité
10. “With”
11. Reciprocity
12. Opinion, Conviction, Belief
13. Creative Fidelity
14. Hope
15. Marcel in Dialogue
First published Tue Nov 16, 2004; substantive revision Wed Nov 17, 2004
Gabriel Marcel (1889-1973) was a philosopher, drama critic, playwright and musician. He converted to Catholicism in 1929 and his philosophy was later described as “Christian Existentialism” (most famously in Jean-Paul Sartre's “Existentialism is a Humanism”) a term he initially endorsed but later repudiated. In addition to his numerous philosophical publications, he was the author of some thirty dramatic works. Marcel gave the Gifford Lectures in Aberdeen in 1949-1950, which appeared in print as the two-volume The Mystery of Being, and the William James Lectures at Harvard in 1961-1962, which were collected and published as The Existential Background of Human Dignity.
1. Biographical Sketch
2. The Broken World and the Functional Person
3. Ontological Exigence
4. Transcendence
5. Being and Having
6. Problem and Mystery
7. Primary and Secondary Reflection
8. The Spirit of Abstraction
9. Disponibilité and Indisponibilité
10. “With”
11. Reciprocity
12. Opinion, Conviction, Belief
13. Creative Fidelity
14. Hope
15. Marcel in Dialogue
Thursday, February 22, 2007
" Eclipse of the Self " by Michael E. Zimmerman
As an adolescent, I learned several epigrammatic sayings so obviously true that they hardly seemed worth preserving as I grew older. One was from the Bible: "Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set ye free." In my intellectual games, I would occasionally use these sayings. Because I was interested in protecting myself from the truth, however, the sayings never affected me. In college, where I became skilled at using philosophical terms, I assumed I was pursuing the truth about myself and the world. In fact, by depending on theories to explain things, I was able to postpone confrontation with the truth. These sayings and theories revealed their proper depth only when I was called on to make decisions which altered my self understanding. After one such decision, when I had experienced how truth could free me from self-imposed bondage, the real meaning of the Biblical epigram manifested itself through me. I say"through" instead of "to" in order to emphasize that the insight did not stand apart from me as a mere concept. It broke in upon me and transformed me. For the first time, I understood the difference between easily acquired intellectual comprehension and hard-won insight. The latter is far more threatening because it involves change. In that moment, I was re-integrated with the world. No longer was I an isolated ego amidst a collection of objects. For a time, I was open to myself and to the world. Everything seemed to be renewed and filled with possibilities. This kind of experience , which happens to all of us, enabled me to understand more profoundly what Martin Heidegger has said about the relation between authentic human existence and Being. This deeper understanding has, in turn, helped me to become more open. As Heidegger used to say, the text speaks only to those who are ready to hear it. We can judge the adequacy of his theory of authenticity only because we can compare it with our own experience.
The topic of this essay is the development of Heidegger's concept of authentic human existence. This concept unites in a unique way two of the major strands of Western philosophy: The theoretical-ontological and the practical-dramatic. The former maintains that philosophy is ontology: The theoretical understanding of Being. The latter holds that philosophy is the quest for self-understanding which results in a dramatic change in one's existence. According to Heidegger, this change allows us to become more fully what we already are: beings who understand what it means for things to be. If we exist in a way true to our own Being, we experience the Being of things far more profoundly than we do by manipulating concepts about Being. Presupposition-laden theories about Being often prevent he philosopher from experiencing the truth directly. Without such experiential insight, however, his work remains second-hand. The true philosopher knows that wisdom comes only when one takes risks and endures suffering.
In Being and Time Heidegger explained that human existence constitutes the openness where beings can be revealed. For Heidegger, for something "to be" means for it to be revealed, uncovered, made manifest. Being refers not to a thing but to the event of being manifest. Without the openness which occurs only through human beings, other beings would persist but they would not be disclosed. Humans exist as this openness in an inauthentic or an authentic way. To be inauthentic means to objectify oneself as a continuing ego-subject, thereby concealing the fact that one is really openness or emptiness. To be authentic means resolving to accept the openness which, paradoxically, one already is. One can be open to other people and to possibilities only when freed from the distortions of egoism. Authenticity means to be most appropriately what one already is.
(This is the beginning of the introduction to a great book on the thought of Martin Heidegger)
The topic of this essay is the development of Heidegger's concept of authentic human existence. This concept unites in a unique way two of the major strands of Western philosophy: The theoretical-ontological and the practical-dramatic. The former maintains that philosophy is ontology: The theoretical understanding of Being. The latter holds that philosophy is the quest for self-understanding which results in a dramatic change in one's existence. According to Heidegger, this change allows us to become more fully what we already are: beings who understand what it means for things to be. If we exist in a way true to our own Being, we experience the Being of things far more profoundly than we do by manipulating concepts about Being. Presupposition-laden theories about Being often prevent he philosopher from experiencing the truth directly. Without such experiential insight, however, his work remains second-hand. The true philosopher knows that wisdom comes only when one takes risks and endures suffering.
In Being and Time Heidegger explained that human existence constitutes the openness where beings can be revealed. For Heidegger, for something "to be" means for it to be revealed, uncovered, made manifest. Being refers not to a thing but to the event of being manifest. Without the openness which occurs only through human beings, other beings would persist but they would not be disclosed. Humans exist as this openness in an inauthentic or an authentic way. To be inauthentic means to objectify oneself as a continuing ego-subject, thereby concealing the fact that one is really openness or emptiness. To be authentic means resolving to accept the openness which, paradoxically, one already is. One can be open to other people and to possibilities only when freed from the distortions of egoism. Authenticity means to be most appropriately what one already is.
(This is the beginning of the introduction to a great book on the thought of Martin Heidegger)
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU
"You feel
you are hedged in;
you dream of escape;
but beware of mirages.
Do not run or fly away
in order to get free:
rather dig in the narrow place
which has been given you;
you will find God there and everything.
God does not float on your horizon,
he sleeps in your substance.
Vanity runs, Love digs.
If you fly away from yourself,
your prison will run with you
and will close in
because of the wind of your flight;
if you go deep down into yourself
it will disappear in paradise"
Sunday, February 18, 2007
WHAT IS TRUTH > THE TRUTH OF MAN
The trial of Jesus before Pilate would endure for all time, as the greatest miscarriage of justice to ever afflict Mankind. GOD who emptied Himself and became man now stood humbly before Pilate to be judged by Man . He who at "The End Of Time" would judge all men now stood in Loving submission to Man.
Pilate asked Jesus, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Are you asking this on your own or did somebody tell you about ME ?" "You know I am not a Jew! " Pilate said. "Your own people and the chief priests have brought you to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If it did my followers would have fought to keep the Jewish leaders from handing me over to you. No, my kingdom does not belong to this world." "So you are a king," Pilate replied. "You say that I am a king," Jesus told him. "I was born into this world for this one purpose, to Testify to the Truth, and everyone who belongs to the Truth hears Me." Pilate asked Jesus, "What is truth?"
Pilate asked Jesus the question " What is truth" but Jesus did not reply. We ask ourselves why his silence? I believe the explanation proceeds along these lines. To ask a question is to imply some level of need , concern and care for the answer. The power of the answer to effect change in the one who asks the question is reflective of the depth of that need. When Pilate asked Jesus "What is truth" Jesus response was silence. His silence was not so much a non-answer to Pilate's question as it was his answer to Pilate's lack of any authentic need, concern or care for an answer. Every man has to be on constant guard in his own search for Truth less he become akin to Pilate. Perhaps blogging itself (if it prompts man to reflect on and question what he has previously accepted as truth ) has the potential of overcoming our flawed human propensity of taking for granted and assuming that our own understanding of Truth and Reality is the correct one. This brings to mind Socrates declaration of why he was wiser then other men. " They think they know what they do not know. I don't think I know what I do not know." Socrates self understanding of his own wisdom is the only sane way to proceed.
God did not become man for the sake of giving abstract answers to man's abstract questions. God became man in order to give birth to man's existential questions that would in turn give birth to man's existential answer, in man's actual living of a life, lived in union with the Truth that Jesus lived and testified to. A life lived in communion with the Image and Likeness of GOD within Him. The only "Begotten SON OF GOD" had come into the world to testify to the Truth of Man, through the Life He lived and the Words He spoke.
Pilate asked Jesus, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Are you asking this on your own or did somebody tell you about ME ?" "You know I am not a Jew! " Pilate said. "Your own people and the chief priests have brought you to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom does not belong to this world. If it did my followers would have fought to keep the Jewish leaders from handing me over to you. No, my kingdom does not belong to this world." "So you are a king," Pilate replied. "You say that I am a king," Jesus told him. "I was born into this world for this one purpose, to Testify to the Truth, and everyone who belongs to the Truth hears Me." Pilate asked Jesus, "What is truth?"
Pilate asked Jesus the question " What is truth" but Jesus did not reply. We ask ourselves why his silence? I believe the explanation proceeds along these lines. To ask a question is to imply some level of need , concern and care for the answer. The power of the answer to effect change in the one who asks the question is reflective of the depth of that need. When Pilate asked Jesus "What is truth" Jesus response was silence. His silence was not so much a non-answer to Pilate's question as it was his answer to Pilate's lack of any authentic need, concern or care for an answer. Every man has to be on constant guard in his own search for Truth less he become akin to Pilate. Perhaps blogging itself (if it prompts man to reflect on and question what he has previously accepted as truth ) has the potential of overcoming our flawed human propensity of taking for granted and assuming that our own understanding of Truth and Reality is the correct one. This brings to mind Socrates declaration of why he was wiser then other men. " They think they know what they do not know. I don't think I know what I do not know." Socrates self understanding of his own wisdom is the only sane way to proceed.
God did not become man for the sake of giving abstract answers to man's abstract questions. God became man in order to give birth to man's existential questions that would in turn give birth to man's existential answer, in man's actual living of a life, lived in union with the Truth that Jesus lived and testified to. A life lived in communion with the Image and Likeness of GOD within Him. The only "Begotten SON OF GOD" had come into the world to testify to the Truth of Man, through the Life He lived and the Words He spoke.
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