Maybe We Should Yell at Them

Feminists get to yell at men who offer chivalry that they don't want. But what about women who want chivalry and aren't offered any? I mean, poor, poor men--they are clearly the victims here (slight sarcasm here)--this would just mean that they end up getting yelled at from both sides. But really--just because I believe in traditional gender roles, I don't get to yell, but have to stand up in a bus in my painful high-heeled sandals, holding on for dear life, shooting as evil of glances as I can muster to all men on the bus.

On Evites

I have never sent an evite. Not gonna lie, my name's been attached to one or two in the past. But there is really a problem with evites. The thing is, it is not an invitation to a particular person, but rather to a mess of people. I don't like going to places where just large numbers of people are wanted; I prefer to be in situations where I, as a particular person, am wanted. People who send evites are essentially saying, "Come along if you like. It was no trouble to add your name to this list and you're just as wanted as the next person." It is a democratizing, impersonal, and, frankly, abhorrent manner of invitation, if we can even call it that.

On God's Glory

I recently heard a theologically inadequate sermon about God's glory. The pastor preached on the text that God does not share His glory with another, implying that that means that we must always testify to God's goodness "in our own lives." 2 primary problems: 1) This preaching has no place for suffering. It can make no sense of God's glory shining through in the dark nights of our soul, in our identifying with Christ's sufferings, etc. But, as we can see through the connectedness of the mysteries of the Rosary, Christ's sorrows are connected with His joys, luminosity (!), and glory. 2) This preacher couldn't really make sense of the Christian's connection to God's glory. The preaching was a sort of "I must disappear so Christ can appear" gospel. Where really the case is that I must allow Him to make me truly myself, a self that wills in accord with truth. Really, giving God glory isn't just testifying to His glory (although that is part of it and clearly good). Rather, giving God glory occurs through our acts of willing along with Him (which, naturally, involves the necessary and rather painful chastising of our own wills). It is in us fulfilling our vocations and callings that God receives glory. He has chosen to receive glory from us--not just us talking about Him, but us living with and for and in and through Him.

Sacramentalism as Contra-Nominalism

Sacramentalism acknowledges the connection between the physical thing and the grace that it effects. This is against a sort of nominalist tendency to distinguish between the word and its referrent. There is a disconnect in nominalism from the physical experience and the reality (and an agnosticism toward the existence of the reality itself).

A Bit of [Over the Top] Nostalgia on the Eve of Another Year

Goodness gracious, in this, my nineteenth year of getting ready for the first day of school, I still get that nervous stomach ache, wondering who I'll be friends with and who I'll sit by in class, and I still hate change, as much as I love school. I remember some of my first-day-of-school outfits from when I was little--the strong primary-colors-striped dress, the fuchsia sleeveless sweater and flowered coolots, the brown skort that I was going to wear until my father vetoed it, claiming that it looked like a mini-skirt (I think there were tears on that one...).


My mom took pictures of my sister and I, carrying our lunchboxes, leaving the house for the school bus (the school bus where I learned the ways of the world insofar as I know them at all); later she and my dad would drop me off at school and settle me into my dorm room (she always made up my bed for me). Except for the years I was homeschooled--I didn't have to worry about first-day outfits and there were no pictures or stomach aches. Alas, this is probably the beginning of my last year of classes, and, hence, worth noting well.

On Woman's Approach to Vocation

In Manliness, Harvey Mansfield asserts that women tend toward sarcasm as a form of humor because they undercut others rather than [manfully] assert themselves with humor the way that men do. From Edith Stein's philosophy of woman and JP2's theology of the body, we know that women ought to bring their femininity to their vocation (their ability to bear children as integral to that). I wonder if part of what a woman brings to her vocation isn't a lightness regarding that work (an approach that Michael Oakeshott identifies as play, as opposed to work). Perhaps this lightness derives from women's close connection to the really weighty things of life--childbearing, life, relationships, etc. that enables them to prioritize more effectively than men do. And perhaps this lightness and teasing, which Mansfield identifies as sarcasm, is geared toward upsetting men's off-balanced priorities and re-orienting them to prize relationships over ideas. Just some speculation...

On Tradition and Love

I wonder if tradition and love are antithetical to, or at least in tension with, one another. In Fiddler on the Roof, we see that love is a revolutionary force that forces tradition to bend (and almost break). Love pushes against the tradition of matchmaking and questions the tie of marriage to the community (by asserting that that tie is beneficial, but not necessary). Perhaps love supplements tradition by bringing the universal to bear on tradition--by maintaining that even the stranger is a person worth loving (worth loving not as a stranger or as an other, but worth loving as a neighbor or as one's own people).

Fiddler on the Roof also raises the question of what is the nature of tradition and what is central to it. For instance, as the Tevya and his family leave Anatevka, their farm, their people, etc., there is still a sense that they will carry their tradition with them. Is it in their scrolls and religious imagery, which they pack up and carry with them? Is it in the way that they leave that they adhere to their tradition? Do they know their tradition more deeply in the very act of leaving itself (for, as one of the character notes, the Jews have often been forced from their place)? Does tradition make sense apart from their land? I think that the message of the film, at least, yes.

These are my people

This is where I come from

We're givin' this life everything we got and then some

It ain't always pretty

but it's real

It's the way we were made

Wouldn't have it any other way

These Are My People

The problem of nationalism is, I think, connected to the problem of home. When we're young (or in love) we say that people are the best ever: you're the best mom in the whole world; you're the most handsome man in the world; America is the best country ever. As we mature, we see that, actually, the thing we love is fraught with errors. But this doesn't mean that we should stop loving it. Rather, we love it not because it is perfect, but rather because it's ours. I love my parents because they're mine. I love my hometown because it's my place. This way you can see the problems with those things that you love and still love them--there is no conflict there.

My Graveyard

The one where I can't be buried because I'm Catholic now. (Unless I become very rich and build a chapel and have it consecrated [I'm not sure about the details.].)

On Proper Conversion

From The Economist, which, incidentally, publishes fine obituaries, on the death of Aaron Jean-Marie Lustiger, cardinal and archbishop, convert from Judaism, on August 5th:

The future cardinal was convinced, even then, that he had not abandoned one iota of his Jewishness. To say he had, he once explained, “is like denying my father and other, my grandfathers and grandmothers”. He had kept the name Aaron as his first name at baptism, only adding Christian ones. ...

He taught himself Hebrew in readiness for his aliyah, or formal return to Israel. Every detail of his funeral, with its two rites, he carefully arranged himself. Then he wrote his epitaph: I was born Jewish. I received the name of my paternal grandfather, Aaron. Having become Christian by faith and baptism, I have remained Jewish. As did the Apostles.

Newman would approve.

On Sacramentalism

Okay, so, admittedly, I have little knowledge on this topic (as I was lately so kindly reminded by a now-dear friend). It seems to me that the Catholic understanding of the sacramental life differs from the Calvinist understanding in that the former sees grace as typically mediated through the physical world, which for the latter that would mean a restriction on the sovereignty of God that cannot be tolerated. God acting through the physical world, then, implies a restriction on His power.


Perhaps this is connected to the distinction between will and being as the foundation for ethics: so Calvinists would root ethics in God's will and allow that that will might act arbitrarily. Calvinists might maintain that seeing ethics as derived from God's being places intolerable limits on God.

For the Record

The best day of my summer (and possibly my life):

My dad took off work and we went, first, on our five-mile walk (that day to my cemetery, which is on a hillside--one of the beautiful places of the earth). Then, we played tennis and picked out an engagement ring for my mom (she sort of proposed to my father, so she had never gotten one). Then we went tubing down our creek. At the end of the day, we watched Braveheart (it was my first time to see the film).

Potato Gun Remix

This is my brother. He is a pain.

Besides the pure delight of a film in which the love of Christianity and beauty and art trumps the rules of Calvinism, A River Runs Through It is also worthwhile for its articulation of the sacramental--it is through engagement with the world and with family through fly fishing that Paul is finally redeemed. He doesn't reject the love of his father and brother, although he cannot fully accept it. And through the [totally depraved and, hence, problem-filled] process of giving and receiving love, the whole family becomes grows in virtue.


Fly fishing represents a respect for tradition and continuity (ironically, it is Paul who never leaves Montana). Although in some ways (such as in not eating his oatmeal), Paul bucks tradition, he finally continues in it, and this is his saving grace.


What rings more true than the wild second-born who also constantly seeks affirmation from the more straight-laced first-born?

Virtue, Liberty and Independence

Frequent rural Pennsylvania commercial on the pop radio station: mobile home sales.

On the Inhumanity of Nametags

I haven't come up with a perfect articulation of my argument against name tags as yet, but as this is only the beginning of my attempts, I have great hope for the future.

Names are connected to power, as we see in the book of Revelation, when God promises to give those who overcome a white stone with their name written on it. Name tags force all people who have to wear them to grant this power to all those who surround them with no distinction among persons. This self-revelation is not freely given and freely accepted, but rather mandated on both parts. Additionally, there is an element of enforcing sameness in the democratizing and equalizing urge of name tags. It does not allow for distinctions among different people in the audience, but rather assumes that it is the "right" of all in the room to know your name. It eliminates the nuance of social interactions and the mystery involved in the name. Name tags require, furthermore, the hypostatization of the concept that the name reflects, not allowing any room for nicknames or other variations on a name. It doesn't allow people to hear the pronunciation, nor does it capture the variations in pronunciation that are possible. Name tags denigrate the person by affirming that it is not necessary for people to remember the names of others. We might as well all be called cows and have our ears pierced with tags with numbers on them. No need for names really, and numbers are simpler...

On Historicism

Anti-foundationalist philosophy professors like myself do not think that philosophy is as important as Plato and Kant thought it. This is because we do not think that the moral world has a structure that can be discerned by philosophical reflection. We are historicists because we agree with Hegel's thesis that "philosophy is its time, held in thought". What Hegel meant, I take it, was that human social practices in general, and political institutions in particular, are the product of concrete historical situations, and that they have to be judged by reference to the needs created by those situations. There is no way to step outside of human history and look at things under the aspect of eternity.

Philosophy, on this view, is ancillary to historiography. The history of philosophy should be studied in the context of the social situations that created philosophical doctrines and systems, in the same way that we study the history of art and literature. Philosophy is not, and never will be, a science – in the sense of a progressive accumulation of enduring truths.

--Richard Rorty, "Democracy and Philosophy"

Ah! Historicists frighten me, but perhaps even more so does Rorty's assumption that literature and art are confined to that same historicism (I think one aspect of my project will be to encourage the reading of literature in the same way that I think it is possible to read the history of philosophy--i.e. as able to contribute something significant to current political discussions).

P.S. He looks so harmless in this picture, especially with the flowers--one would think that he believed in art and literature...

Closet Kantian

I'm concerned lately that I've unknowingly embraced the Kantian intimacy model of friendship over the Aristotelian virtue model. I previously assumed that technological developments in communication made Aristotle's claim that friendship requires proximity and shared activity obsolete. But perhaps I'm wrong? Or perhaps Kant identifies another aspect of friendship that is worth emphasizing?

I'm really a big fan of the New York Times's recent attention to the hypocrisy involved in chic, ostensibly environmentally friendly people buying water bottles when the water in America is quite alright to drink. Every time I read an article about it (okay, only twice thus far), it warms my heart and reinforces my never-flagging (if naive) faith in the New York Times.

An Old Man Like the Judge Dreaming of the Past

The Judge, or tradition, in the film of Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men, is all we have. Although it, too, is imperfect, at least there are mechanisms within it that limit the corruption and incline it toward virtue. At least there is a portrait on the wall in tradition, to which we owe something, toward which we orient ourselves, and in whose presence we act. Even Stark pays homage to tradition (although his actions undermine it); he remains married to his wife for instance, and he forces his son to play football--an activity praised by the tradition.

The film's treatment of women was interesting and complex. On the one hand, it is only through his wife's encouragement and aid that Stark pulls himself up out of ignorance. Sadie is smart; On the other hand, Anne is not. All of the women allow themselves to be used, to some extent, by Stark (his wife sits for the photograph). Ohh---but the killer line is the two women whining, "Let's not talk about politics," as if avoiding the subject solves the conflict in any way. At least one of them was smoking as she said it.

On Sunday Mornings

Sunday brunch is my favorite time to be out and about (although we more often are in--making french toast or pancakes at our house for brunch). It may be because so many people don't go to church and they feel like it's a free morning (as opposed to Saturday--for which there are lists of errands to do), and they walk in comfortable weekend clothes with sunglasses and a coffee or read the newspaper. Perhaps it's a beautiful holdover from old puritan Sunday laws.

I am Sixteen, Going on Seventeen (or On Regret)

I've either argued or wanted to argue against regret in the past, but goodness gracious, Catholicism changes everything and just now regret seems to be a very healthy stable response to the knowledge of the very deep effects of sin.

Rant (Third in an Occasional Series)

In my (very limited) experience, I've found that men discuss their weight as much as, if not more than, women (excluding the category of 14- t0 16-year-old girls). I find this to be in very poor taste. This must mark the return of the dandys, only with delicacy thrown out the window. Goodness gracious, adhere to the stereotypes!--it is very disconcerting for me to have to reassure male friends that they "look good."

On Editing

You Tiresias
if you know
know damn well
or
else you
don't.

--Pound to Eliot

I knew I liked Bourbon...

...And am willing to rely on a "widely disputed" claim from Wikipedia as a "public reason":

"It is often written that many of the original distillers of bourbon were Pennsylvanians fleeing taxation during and after the Whiskey Rebellion, but this claim is widely disputed."