Thoughts of the Saints on Prayer

When the Holy Rosary is said well, it gives Jesus and Mary more glory and is more meritorious than any other prayer.
-St. Louis de Montfort

Be not afraid to tell Jesus that you love Him; even though it be without feeling, this is the way to oblige Him to help you, and carry you like a little child too feeble to walk.
-St. Therese of Lisieux

Before prayer, endeavor to realize whose Presence you are approaching, and to whom you are about to speak. We can never fully understand how we ought to behave towards God, before whom the angels tremble.
-St. Teresa of Avila

There is no other remedy for this evil of giving up prayer than to begin again.
-St. Teresa of Jesus

He who does not meditate acts as one who never looks into the mirror and so does not bother to put himself in order, since he can be dirty without knowing it. The person who meditates and turns his thoughts to God who is the mirror of the soul, seeks to know his defects and tries to correct them, moderates himself in his impulses and puts his conscience in order.
-St. Pio of Pietrelcina

You don’t know how to pray? Put yourself in the presence of God, and as soon as you have said, ‘Lord, I don’t know how to pray!” you can be sure you have already begun.
-St. Josemaria Escriva

We do not have to talk very much in order to pray well. We know that God is there in His holy tabernacle; let us open our hearts to Him; let us rejoice in His Presence: This is the best prayer.
-St. John Vianney

Do nothing at all unless you begin with prayer.
-St Ephraem the Syrian

Roger Scruton on the Trouble with Individualism

An old interview with Scruton from 1991:

A few words of explanation: like many conservative scholars, Scruton uses the word “individual” in two distinct ways and expects his listeners to understand his meaning. On one hand, he sometimes uses “individual” to mean simply a human person- the thing that exists even prior to the reception of social knowledge.

The term “individual” is also used, however, to refer to a person who has morally and psychologically developed in such a way as to be specially cognizant of their own individuality. Scruton uses this sense of “individual” more generously than some others do. In his usage, just about any person who grows up in a human social environment will become an individual in this sense.

Other philosophers, such as Chantal Delsol, sometimes use this sense of “individual” in a more restrictive way, applying it only to persons with the more radical sense of autonomy that is peculiar to Western culture. In either case, individuality is regarded as a civilizational achievement. In Scruton’s wider sense, it is an achievement of every civilization. In Delsol’s stricter sense, it is a hallmark of the Western heritage.

Advice to a Student, by St. Thomas Aquinas

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education, St. Thomas Aquinas

Because you have asked me, my brother John, most dear to me in Christ, how to set about acquiring the treasure of knowledge, this is the advice I pass on to you: that you should choose to enter by the small rivers, and not go right away into the sea, because you should move from easy things to difficult things.

Such is therefore my advice on your way of life: I suggest you be slow to speak, and slow to go to the room where people chat. Embrace purity of conscience; do not stop making time for prayer.

Love to be in your room frequently, if you wish to be led to the wine cellar.

Show yourself to be likeable to all, or at least try; but do not show yourself as too familiar with anyone; because too much familiarity breeds contempt and will slow you in your studies; and do not get involved in any way in the deeds and words of worldly people.

Above all, avoid idle conversations; do not forget to follow the steps of holy and approved men.

Never mind who says what, but commit to memory what is said that is true: work to understand what you read, and make yourself sure of doubtful points.

Put whatever you can into the cupboard of your mind as if you were trying to fill a cup.

“Seek not the things that are higher than you.”

Follow the steps of blessed Dominic, who produced marvelous shoots, flowers, and fruits in the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts for as long as life was his companion.

If you follow these things, you will attain to whatever you desire.

Farewell.

Part 3: Liberalism vs. Community

A final communitarian critique of liberalism is that, without a prior notion of the good, rights are undiscoverable and doomed to arbitrariness. The liberal studiously avoids positing such a good, while emphasizing rights. A lack of meta-ethical grounding helps account for the instability of liberal tenants: the phenomena that accounts for why “the liberals of today are the conservatives of tomorrow.”

With the exception of temporary tumults, social change in illiberal society tends to progress organically, and at times, imperceptibly. Conventions are relatively stable. In liberal states, however, conventions are ceaselessly undermined‒ this is not true of every custom at once, but only those marked along the territory of bitterly contested issues, which is an always shifting territory.

This shifting occurs for multiple reasons, two of which are discussed here. First, there is the refusal to ground rights talk in permanent ontological facts. Second, there is a notion of open-mindedness that tends to close itself off from the possibility that conventions are the contingent‒ but valuable‒ expressions of permanent things. Old ideas are not leant additional weight on grounds of their antiquity.

In the liberal mind, politics determines ethics‒ a move that flips the traditional ethical treatise on its head. But why does this shift occur? With the relation between moral conduct and a metaphysical logos eliminated, ethical theory is left without grounding. Nevertheless, modernity understands it is crucial to avoid nihilism. Social equilibrium must be preserved. Enter political theory, which proceeds to fill the ethical space. Liberty and equality, no longer mere prescriptions that limit government action, become the pervasive standards by which social behavior is judged. Institutions, manners, and old beliefs are subjected to this appraisal that seeks to “rationalize” all social order, remaking it in the image of abstractions.

In the absence of metaphysical grounding, moral prescriptions are reduced to taboos‒ in the final analysis, arbitrary. Rights claims become equally arbitrary, of course, but for liberal political theory (which takes over the ethical space) it is axiomatic that rights are prior to duties. When alleged rights collide with taboos‒ the eviscerated morality still adhered to, once reductivism has dismissed tradition with a derisive snicker‒ taboos eventually lose.

Taboos are reinforced primarily by a sense of “weirdness.” Liberalism, however, nearly defines itself in the language of open-mindedness, or at least in opposition to close-mindedness. In practice, this means the sense of “weirdness” is itself suspect, and perhaps treated as weird. A relative lack of it is, ceteris paribus, a sign of epistemic virtue. The radicalization of rights is founded chiefly upon these two steps: the elimination of logos (and thus, the reduction of morality to taboos), and the erosion of taboos.

Thus, society progresses inexorably in the direction of pure freedom. Liberalism is powerless to stop this march. It cannot stabilize itself, because an equilibrium could only rest on taboos that are untenable as such. The communitarian points out that, with rights rendered as arbitrary as they are supreme, the performance of duty‒ upon which social order largely rests‒ is doomed to marginalization. Instead, society approaches the condition of anti-social atomistic bubbles, and all becomes politics.

One objection to this critique is that it is not applicable to moderate liberalisms, since these rests upon a meta-ethical foundation, while nevertheless giving pride of place to rights over duties. The liberal may also appeal to epistemic humility, pointing out the difficulties inherent in discerning the good, and particularly in arriving at a rich conception of it. The durability of taboos‒ the strongest of which are rooted deeply in moral intuitions‒ might also be pointed out.

Another liberal objection is founded on the grounds of pluralism. Mass mobility and rapid communication mean that large communities include widely divergent concepts of the good. In order to reconcile this fact with social order, liberalism is prescribed: instead of aiming at the good, government must operate according to procedural rationality in a value-neutral manner. Teleology is banned from public reason. The only proper “end” of government is to maximize the social space for the fulfillment of self-chosen goods.

This latter objection is worth looking at more closely, because it is perhaps the most common reason why the liberal order is accepted as the only live option for a modern state. There are two kinds of responses available to the communitarian. The first is to deny that liberalism is particularly tolerant; the second is to make the case that an illiberal order can practice tolerance and accommodate pluralism.

The rationalistic implementation of “equal freedom” tends to marginalize illiberal institutions and ways of life. Illiberal modes of living are progressively pushed into the private sphere, where they cannot impinge on social interactions.

Goals conflict, so they cannot be equally favored. The attempt to make freedom equal and absolute means that goals that affect others in ways that matter must often be suppressed, leaving as permissible only those that can be satisfied without interfering with a technically rational system of production, distribution, and control. Examples of the latter include career, consumption, and personal indulgences that do not have too many side effects. Goals that cannot be readily accommodated within this liberal grid are rejected and suppressed as intolerant or otherwise antisocial.

The measure of a state’s tolerance is not so much its own conception of the good. Rather, it is its willingness to accommodate diverse conceptions. Since liberalism does not contain its own effective limiting principle, and it cannot truly import an illiberal one, the liberal state tends to become more overtly intolerant over time. With the phrase “individual freedom” on its lips, the liberal state gently but inexorably expands its reach into every nook and cranny of social living. Modes of life that are “irrational” by market or bureaucratic standards are pushed to the margins as intolerant. “Tolerance” itself becomes a tool of homogenization.

Is the conservative communitarian able to accommodate pluralism or even the fact of moral evil, whilst approaching politics with a conception of the good that is prior to rights? There are a few arguments to this effect. First, the conservative may realize that the attempt to eradicate evil through public policy tends to generate its own evils, which may be worse than those which occasioned the intervention. Second, if the conservative is a virtue ethicist, he might maintain that policy ought to give persons the moral space needed to cultivate virtue. Third, this virtue ethicist, especially if Aristotelian, may hold that virtuous choice is shaped by phronesis‒ prudence‒ which is concerned with particulars. Whereas law tends to be general and formulaic, the moral life is situated and largely non-formulaic. Thus, law is a clumsy tool in the service of virtue, only useful in curtailing the more obvious transgressions, in which particularist concerns tend to disappear. Fourth and finally, a teleological conception of the good is compatible with a modest teleology of politics. The communitarian need not hold that political life is immediately concerned with the bona vita in its entirety.

Bearing this in mind, it should be remarked that the communitarian state, in its practices, must frequently be indistinguishable from a moderately liberal one. At least, this is the case for any realistic version of communitarianism. The fact of pluralism excludes narrowly sectarian, ethnic, or ideological government, and any other government with very rich notions of the good. The objection from pluralism is intractably fatal to such politics.

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[1]Kalb, James. “After Liberalism: Notes Toward Reconstruction.” Intercollegiate Review 47:1. Spring 2012.

Part 2: Liberalism vs. Community

Tags

Chantal Delsol, liberalism, Phillipe Beneton

Another communitarian critique of liberalism is that, in raising the atomistic individual to pre-eminent importance and exalting arbitrary choice, it empties individuality and choice of significance and even intelligibility. The awareness of this is a principle basis for the existential crisis of late modernity. Not surprisingly, this crisis is most exemplified by the existentialists, who are largely pre-occupied with the hunt for a livable existence they regard as, nevertheless, hopelessly and objectively meaningless.

Among the most capable advocates of the communitarian critique of arbitrary choice are two French thinkers: the political scientist Phillipe Bénéton, and the philosopher Chantal Delsol. Bénéton’s Equality by Default is a critique of liberal individualism, late modern subjectivism, and the radicalization of rights. Bénéton notes, “If every choice contains its own justification, if it has no foundation but pure subjectivity, then the absurd reigns.”[1] Criticizing pure freedom, he writes:

It is important to distinguish between the freedom to choose and the freedom to determine the value of one’s choices. Pure freedom implies both: I am free to choose between nobility and baseness or between courage and cowardice and I am also free to believe that baseness is as good as nobility or cowardice as good as courage…What is significant depends on my will. As concerns me, I am master of the questions that matter, of the things that are worthwhile. Under these conditions, as Charles Taylor forcefully observed, nothing is in itself meaningful and freedom is deprived of all meaning. In order for my freedom to take on meaning, my freedom must be situated within an ordered and hierarchical framework; the choices I make must have some relation to rules that are independent of my will: I can choose between cowardice and courage but the value of my choice is not up to me. In other words, free choice has meaning only if I am not the master of meaning. The spirit of the age does not share this view. Opinion is king; it determines the value of things; each man is himself the master of meaning, the master of a meaning without significance.[2]

Liberty requires autonomy, yet paradoxically becomes vapid if autonomy is too absolute. This is consequent upon the most fundamental facts of man’s being: his contingency, neediness, and finitude. In some manner, the liberal project may be read as a rejection of insufficiency. “…the individual believes himself to be the source of both the questions and the answers, to contain within himself the alpha and the omega, and to provide himself with his points of reference. He wishes to bind himself to others only through a voluntary contract… in other words, he rejects the bonds that preceded him and any debt to which he has not agreed.”[3]

Delsol also notes that individualism correlates with anti-cultural tendencies. It is not difficult to imagine why: culture is inherently aristocratic, lending itself to hierarchy and refinement, and thus, is inimical to pure freedom. Culture also delivers social knowledge to the individual that facilitates intelligible actions. The individual is set in a narrative that is largely not of his or her making, but which situates the individual in comprehensible meanings that render free choices significant.

Once again, the reductivism and universalism of liberal thought are faulted. A reductivist cannot countenance the richer anthropology needed to ground ordered freedom in human nature. The universalist neglects the particularity in which narratives convey knowledge of meaning. Both of these tendencies are corollaries of the atomism that is the principle adversary of communitarian argument in general.

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[1] Bénéton, Phillipe. Equality by Default: An Essay on Modernity as Confinement. ISI Books. Wilmington, DE. Translated by Ralph Hancock. p. 144.

[2] ibid p. 144

[3] Delsol, Chantal. The Unlearned Lessons of the Twentieth Century: An Essay on Late Modernity. ISI Books. Wilimington, DE. Translated by Robin Dick. p. 60

Liberalism vs. Community

Tags

Aristotle, classical liberalism, Edmund Burke, epistemology, G.K. Chesterton, John Rawls, liberalism, Robert Nozick

This is an excerpt from an essay I wrote for one of my classes last semester. I plan to publish most of it in a series of posts. Enjoy:

This paper reviews three principle communitarian arguments against liberalism: first, that liberalism embraces an overly thin view of society; second, that it empties individuality and choice of significance; third, that in making rights prior to the good, liberalism renders rights and government arbitrary.

Classical liberal theory begins from a hypothetical state of nature and sets out to found justice, government, or the social order upon a contract. Contemporary liberalism avoids social contract theory, but begins from a similarly reductive and atomistic analysis. The Rawlsian “original position” is a paradigmatic case, as is Nozick’s claim that there are no social entities, but only “different individual people, with their individual lives.” Among social and political scientists in general, there is a tendency to describe social phenomena in reductive, even physicalist, terms‒ a set of structures or dyads moved by “social forces.” The glue that holds the social order together is self-interest.

For the Aristotelian, however, the polis is an oikas, a home, held together by friendship. Burkean conservatives add that it is a community joining the dead, the living, and generations not yet born. Both of these characterizations make space for‒ and in fact, necessitate‒ humane motives for the sustenance of an authentic order. Likewise, both entail that particularist considerations ought to carry a great deal of weight.

These communitarian insights meld with several important moral facts. Among these, the phenomena of crime-avoidance and gift stand out. Most persons avoid committing serious crimes, not on the basis of utilitarian calculation, but rather, because of moral standpoints that place such crimes beyond consideration. In the act of gift giving, even if reciprocal, self-interest likewise fades into the background, at times disappearing completely. These are two conspicuous instances of a general moral fact: the social space is rich in humane motives.

The complexity and particularity of these humane motives means they are not amenable to liberal thought qua reductivist and universalist. The Burkean favorably acknowledges pietas‒ the love that extends specially to family, and in a manner, to one’s society as a whole, and that differs in kind (not merely in degree) from the generic duty toward humanity. The content of one’s moral obligations can only be deciphered via prudence, which includes the wise consideration of particulars in one’s situatedness. The same is true of the obligations of statesmen. The “original position” of Rawls and other like concoctions can only leave the helmsmen of state morally enfeebled, precisely because blind to history and present alike.

The Burkean description of society also dovetails with the sense of moral obligation toward the future. It does not seem too bold to argue that liberal individualism, by consigning all relevance to the “narrow oligarchy” of those who happen to be currently living‒ to use Chesterton’s phrase‒ should be counted as a remote cause of the debt crises in the West, as well as environmental degradation.

The Burkean notion of community is likewise consonant with the ethical and practical demands of social continuity. In the United States, policy debates often include considerations of the values of the founding fathers. The founders’ beliefs are not treated as boundaries (all acknowledge their flaws), but are nevertheless regarded as beacons. To utterly disregard the founders’ philosophy and begin from scratch is not considered mere intellectual folly‒ it is morally perverse.

The turpitude of a radical break with tradition is located, in part, in the betrayal of past generations. The Burkean receives society as a gift from those who have gone before him. The social inheritance is the fruit of countless reflections, sacrifices, tedious labors, and everyday acts of virtue. Furthermore, this gift is not merely intended for the present; the Burkean knows he takes it as a steward, to be passed down to others. This double responsibility, directed toward the past and the future alike, entails an obligation to continuity. A political community, even with the unanimous approval of every living member, does not have an unlimited right to change, even for the sake of allegedly “solving problems.”

Society is not a machine, a mere instrument with interchangeable parts. It is not to be subjected to the cleverness of tinkerers. Rather, Burke likens the social order to a body‒ change is necessary for its health and survival, but ought to be organic. Convention is respected as a means of likewise respecting the permanent things that are not conventional. This notion of society has the distinct advantage of entrusting communal health to a collective wisdom that is both experiential and reflective, instead of the petty rationality of the ideologue: “the individual is foolish, but the species is wise,” in the words of Burke.

The Symbolism of the Miraculous Medal

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Virgin Mary

The Miraculous Medal is a little catechism that teaches us about Mary.  The design was revealed in an apparition to St. Catherine Laboure, a novice at the time, in 1830.  It was originally called the Medal of the Immaculate Conception, but due to the many miraculous favors that have been granted to those who wear it devoutly, the faithful soon began to call it “The Miraculous Medal.”

What about the symbols on the medal itself?  There are, first of all, some references to the doctrine of the Co-redemption.  This teaching refers to the cooperative role Our Lady had in the redemption achieved by Jesus.  This cooperation was achieved in a manner that was subordinate to and dependent upon Jesus, but was nevertheless real.  The merits of Jesus are completely sufficient for the Redemption, but God chose to honor His Mother by allowing a mere creature to help with this work.  The cooperation of Mary in the Redemption had two high-points: the moment of the Incarnation, and the Passion of Christ.

Jesus redeemed us by consenting to suffer and die with his Body.  This Body, however, was received by the Son in the Incarnation, through the consent of the Virgin Mother: Ecce ancilla Domine, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum; “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord.  Be it done unto me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).  This is the greatest work of God: God becoming man, without ceasing to be God.  It took place, however, through the knowing, willing consent of Mary.  At that moment the Redemption began, and likewise the Co-redemption.  On this point, Bl. Mother Teresa famously pointed out, “Of course Mary is the Co-redemptrix.  She gave Jesus his Body, and Jesus redeemed us with his Body.”

The other climax of the Co-redemption is at Calvary.   Here, Mary suffers at the foot of the Cross in an inexplicable union with her Son.  Like Abraham, she interiorly consents to the sacrifice, docile to the will of God- but no angel intervenes.  She prayerfully attends to this sacrifice, and offers her own Heart in union with her Son.  St. Bonaventure writes, “All the wounds which were scattered over the Body of Jesus were united in the heart of Mary, to torment her in the Passion of her Son.”

There are three symbols on the medal which clearly point to the Co-redemption.  On the obverse side, Our Lady is crushing the head of the Serpent.  This naturally reminds us of the protoevangelium (the “first gospel”), Genesis 3:15.  Here, God promises a redeemer- the seed of a woman.  This “seed,” it is told, will crush the head of the Serpent. By extension we may say the woman crushes him as well, since she is at “enmity” with him and bears the Son who brings about his defeat.

St. Maximilian Kolbe writes, “The conflict with Hell cannot be maintained by men, even the most clever. The Immaculata alone has from God the promise of victory over Satan.  She seeks souls that will consecrate themselves entirely to her, that will become in her hands forceful instruments for the defeat of Satan and the spread of God’s kingdom.”  And St. Pius X said, “Let the storm rage and the sky darken – not for that shall we be dismayed.  If we trust as we should in Mary, we shall recognize in her the Virgin Most Powerful ‘who with virginal foot did crush the head of the serpent’”.

On the reverse side there are two more symbols of the Co-redemption. The most prominent of these is an M, placed under a horizontal bar and a cross.  This represents Mary at the foot of the cross- the bar is believed to refer to the earth in which the cross was planted.

Below is another symbol likewise referring to the Co-redemption.  This is the Immaculate Heart of Mary, pierced with a sword (Luke 2:35), and the Sacred Heart of Jesus surrounded by a crown of thorns.  The image illustrates the alliance of these two hearts, working out our salvation together.  It likewise means that both of these hearts should be venerated together, and that honoring one honors the other.  St. John Eudes writes:

“Although the Heat of Jesus is distinct from that of Mary, and infinitely surpasses it in excellence and holiness, nevertheless, God has so closely united these two hearts, that we may say with truth, that they are but one heart.  Add to this that Jesus so lives and reigns in Mary, that he is the soul of her soul, the spirit of her spirit, the heart of her heart, so much so, that we might well say that Jesus is enshrined in the Heart of Mary so completely, that in honoring and glorifying her Heart, we honor and glorify Jesus Christ Himself.

The honoring of Mary does not (and cannot) compromise the worship owed to her divine Son, since we treat union with God and His glory as the ultimate end of our acts.  As St. Louis de Montfort writes, “we honour her simply and solely to honour Him all the more perfectly. We go to her only as a way leading to the goal we seek- Jesus, her Son.”

Therefore, as St. Bernard puts it, “Let us not imagine that we obscure the glory of the Son by the great praise we lavish on the Mother; for the more she is honored, the greater is the glory of her Son.”  The Miraculous Medal corresponds especially well to the admonition given by little Bl. Jacinta: “Tell everybody that the Heart of Jesus wants the Immaculate Heart of Mary to be venerated at His side.”

Other doctrines are also contained on the Miraculous Medal. Starting with the first modern Marian apparition (Our Lady of Guadelupe) in the 16th century, each apparition has focused on two key themes: the Immaculate Conception and the spiritual maternity of Our Lady.  The apparition of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal is no exception.  On the obverse side of the medal are the words, “O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to you.”

This refers to the Immaculate Conception- that privilege whereby Mary is “full of grace,” (Luke 1:28) in the words of St. Gabriel.  Her spiritual maternity, which refers to her mediating grace to us, her children, is acknowledged when we say, “pray for us who have recourse to you.”  She is a mother in the order of grace, as Jesus taught when he said to St. John the Apostle, “Son, behold your Mother” (John 19:26).

Mary’s spiritual motherhood toward us is best understood by referring to the divine motherhood she has in relation to Jesus.  What is true of Jesus’ physical presence is also true of His spiritual presence in the Mystical Body, the Church (by analogy).  The Apostles’ Creed says Our Lord was “conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary.”

Jesus is always conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary- including when He is “born” into a human heart through sanctifying grace.  One might look at it this way: Jesus, who has acquired all of our graces, came into the world through Mary.  Hence, all of our graces have come through Mary.

The Blessed Virgin was related to the Incarnation, not in a remote fashion (like St. Ann), but immediately and voluntarily.  We could say that “The Word became Marianized”- Our Lord received His humanity from the Blessed Mother, and redeemed us with that humanity.  At Calvary itself, Our Lady’s union with Jesus was likewise immediate and voluntary.

This treatment of the redemption, however, deals only with the acquisition of graces- the act of objective redemption.  What about the distribution of graces to individual souls?  Is Mary involved in this as well?  “God does not change His ways,” as St. Louis de Montfort puts it.  God the Son came to us the first time through Mary.  He continues to come to us through Mary.  Could we expect anything different?  With the exception of the Holy Trinity, there has never been a union between persons as profound as that between Jesus and Mary.

St. Bernadette, the young seer at Lourdes, says it well.  Someone asked her, “Would you rather see the Virgin Mary, or receive Holy Communion?”  After some thought, she replied, “What a strange question!  Jesus and Mary always go together.”

There is hardly anything more important than to have recourse to Mary.  St. Maximilian Kolbe noted that, “Prayer is powerful beyond limits when we turn to the Immaculate, who is queen even of God’s heart.”  In a famous sermon, St. Bernard delivered this edifying discourse on Our Lady, well worth meditating on piece by piece:

“In dangers, in doubts, in difficulties, think of Mary, call upon Mary. Let not her name depart from your lips, never suffer it to leave your heart. And that you may obtain the assistance of her prayer, neglect not to walk in her footsteps. With her for guide, you shall never go astray; while invoking her, you shall never lose heart; so long as she is in your mind, you are safe from deception; while she holds your hand, you cannot fall; under her protection you have nothing to fear; if she walks before you, you shall not grow weary; if she shows you favor, you shall reach the goal.”

Mary’s spiritual motherhood is also symbolized by the central image on the medal, in which Our Lady stands on top of the globe, with rays emanating from her hands.  These rays stand for the graces which flow to the world from Jesus, through Mary.  In the apparition of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, the rays were coming from rings on Mary’s fingers.  There were some rings, however, which were not emitting any rays.  St. Catherine asked why this was, and Our Lady replied, “These are the graces for which nobody asks.”

There are two more symbols on the medal.  On the reverse side, there are 12 stars, referring to the stars which crown Our Lady in the book of Revelation (Rev 12:1).  This symbolizes her Queenship, which is intimately related to her spiritual and divine maternity, as well as her Immaculate Conception.

St. Francis Anthony Lucera (an 18th century Franciscan friar), reflecting on the Immaculate Conception, wrote of the primacy it gives Our Lady in creation:  “Her appearance on earth was like the first immaculate ray of light…the sun, the moon, the stars, all of nature, the whole visible and invisible world bowed at Her feet as She walked the earth: ‘How beautiful are your sandaled feet, O Daughter of the Prince!’(Song of Songs 7:2)”.

The final image is found on the obverse side, on which the year “1830” is engraved.  This, of course, is the year of the apparition.  What is its significance, however?  The answer is uncertain, but the opinion I favor is that it signifies the beginning of the Age of Mary.  From 1830 onward, there have been a large number of approved Marian apparitions, and they have taken place on every continent.  There has been many extraordinarily Marian saints: St. Maximilian, St. Pio, Bl. Mother Teresa and Bl. John Paul II are the most obvious examples.  This period has also seen many Marian popes.

What is the point of this Age of Mary?  Centuries ago, many saints spoke of such an age eventually arriving.  In this time, the greatest saints will live and will combat the many terrible evils of their age.  As the world becomes more turbulent and hostile, the saints God raises up will be more heroic than ever.  At its climax, the Age of Mary will see the Triumph of the Immaculate Heart, when most of the world will finally be converted.  It will be a time of peace for the world, and holiness for its inhabitants.  This is the time St. Louis de Montfort yearned for when he said, “When will souls breathe Mary as the body breathes air?” There is no definitive proof that this is the meaning of “1830” on the medal, but I hold it tentatively as a pious opinion.

When I was a friar, my favorite parts of the habit were the Miraculous Medal, worn over the heart, and the Holy Rosary.  Every friar valued the Miraculous Medal immensely (knowledgable as we were, in the thought of St. Maximilian Kolbe), and was eager to give them to as many people as possible.  These medals are “bullets” in the battle for souls.

Part 4: Scientism and Ultramodernism

Tags

postmodernism, scientism, ultramodernism

The final installment of this series; this is where the earlier segments all come together, as I draw out the implications for ethics and social philosophy. Afterwards, I plan on posting lighter reads for a few weeks. For now, I hope you enjoy this:

Contemporary scientism, unlike its rationalist predecessors, eschews the notion that reason can supply reasonable ends for man or society. While forsaking the task of prescription, scientism nevertheless continues to uphold science as the arbiter of all knowledge worthy of the name. Thus, questions of ends, significance, meaning, and valuation are consigned to the realm of irrationality. Scientism retreats to the domain of description, but not without leaving a scorched earth in its wake.

Ultramodernism takes the “rational” critique of non-scientific knowledge and turns it against rationalism itself, purporting to show the un-tenability of knowledge in any “logocentric” sense. Even science itself may be reduced to scorched earth. If there is any knowledge remaining, it is generally trivial, local, or highly provisional‒ with the sole exception, seemingly, of the progressive politics that serves as the Archimedean point of the whole enterprise.

In either case, politics determines ethics‒ a move that turns the traditional ethical treatise on its head. But why does this move occur? With the relation between moral conduct and a metaphysical logos eliminated, ethical theory is left without grounding. Nevertheless, late modernity understands it is crucial to avoid nihilism. Social equilibrium must be preserved. Enter political theory, which proceeds to fill the ethical space.

The virtues of late modernity, inspired by liberal political theory, tend to aim at the magnification of an arbitrary self-will that is reconciled with social cohesion (that is, the actualization of the self-will of others): self-esteem, authenticity, tolerance, epistemic and moral autonomy, etc. Private associations and personal behavior are judged by the standards of liberty and equality‒ principles formerly limited to prescribing government action.

Both ultramodernist and scientistic accounts reject and demythologize traditional, or even liberal, claims to authority. A key theme among feminist thinkers is that social hierarchies are maintained through myths of their bases in nature.[1] Among postmodernists in general, the act of choosing among theories and narratives is regarded as an exercise of power;[2] A similar tale is popular with existentialists who regard all meaning as created.[3] Baudrillard exemplifies the path of repudiation, when he writes that: “Science accounts for things previously encircled and formalized so as to be sure to obey it. ‘Objectivity’ is nothing less than a system of defense and imposed ignorance, whose goal is to preserve this vicious circle intact.”[4]

Scientistic thinking, on the other hand, analyzes all social institutions as agglomerations of individuals working out the “coordination problem,” in pursuit of rational self-interest. Hence, there is a penchant among political scientists to disregard the notion of a common good, as well as other concepts long held as pillars of social thought, but that cannot find a home in an atomistic, reductivist worldview. Philosophers do little better, and sometimes worse. Churchland reduces ethics to “social problem solving”[5]‒ a commonplace among scientistic thinkers in general, most of whom place the source and summit of ethics in evolutionary biology.

All of this converges toward a “civilized barbarity”‒ a phenomena much discussed in continental Europe, but which has received far less attention in the United States.[6] In the milieu of civilized barbarity, important questions tend to be reduced to questions of power. Politics is no longer an outgrowth of culture, itself rooted in cultus‒ reverence or worship. The scientistic philosopher knows nothing of reverence, and the ultramodernist heritage is largely a repudiation of it. In this setting, politics becomes a matter of “who gets what, when and how,” to use Lasswell’s famous definition.

Culture‒ especially high culture‒ is a civilizational achievement. In modern societies, mass mobility and mass communication ended campfire storytelling, and to differing extents, eroded other traditional means of cultural (including critical) reproduction. Literature rose to fill this gap. Much of the heritage of ultramodernism, however, is to tear down literature itself, in a sweeping deconstruction of culture that takes social goods down into the flames.  Jeffrey Folks writes:

The supreme representative of this rhetoric of self-interest is, of course, Michael Foucalt, although the list of activist theorists who believe that literature is merely a weapon for partisan struggle is long. Aside from Bakhtin and Greenblatt, whom we have already considered, one would have to include Gilles Deleuze, Terry Eagleton, Edward Said, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Barbara Smith, and Jane Tompkins. For all these critics, as for Foucalt, culture is merely a sideshow to the “real” political, economic, and physical existence of human beings.[7]

Needless to say, the scientistic philosopher will agree wholeheartedly with this assessment of the real.

Both of the intellectual tendencies examined in this paper deplete cultural resources and weaken institutional life. But a healthful social order does not subsist on procedure alone, nor on a nihilistic jockeying for the “structures of power.” Western civilization progresses toward a state in which any other conception of politics or social life is increasingly hard to imagine.

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[1] Haslanger, Sally and Sveinsdóttir, Ásta Kristjana “Feminist Metaphysics”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

[2] Anderson, Elizabeth “Feminist Epistemology and Philosophy of Science”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

[3] O’ Flynn, Pauline “The Creation of Meaning: Simone de Beauvoir’s Existentialist Ethics.” Minerva: An Internet Journal of Philosophy 13 (2009) 67

[4] Scuton, Roger “Confessions of a Skeptical Francophile”

[5] Shea, Christopher “Rule Breaker.” The Chronicle of Higher Education. 12 June. 2011

[6] Delsol, Chantal The Unlearned Lessons of the Twentieth Century: An Essay on Late Moderntiy 58, 59

[7] Folks, Jeffrey “The Dangerous Irrelevance of Recent Theory.” Modern Age 48:2 (Spring 2006): 130-139

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Part 3:Scientism and Ultramodernism

Tags

metaphysics, postmodernism, scientism, ultramodernism

This third part focuses on the metaphysics of both scientistic and ultramodernist accounts. Enjoy:

The Enlightenment critique of religion treated the contents of faith as the conclusions of arguments. It set out to rebut these arguments, as well as present positive cases against their conclusions. Later criticisms of religion have generally avoided or downplayed this approach. Instead, critics favor genealogical accounts of religion that purport to explain its origin and persistence, and in so doing, appear to explain it away. Unlike previous Enlightenment arguments, which focus on religious claims regarding the transcendent, Romantic and other later accounts have focused on the sociological or psychological aspects of religion. Marx, Nietzsche, and Wagner were heralds of this approach.

Among ultramodernists, Jacques Lacan likens religion to neuroticism.[1] Gilles Deleuze and Michael Foucault, inspired by Nietzsche, crafted genealogical approaches to knowledge that are as hostile to religious meta-narratives as they are to any other.[2]  Hélène Cixous seems to suggest that traditional theism is instated by a masculine “desire for reality;”[3] she is inspired by Jacques Derrida’s critique of the entire Western metaphysical tradition as shaped by “logocentrism” and “phallocentrism.”

Genealogical accounts of religion have taken different forms in scientistic thought. Comte’s law of progress tries to account for the emergence of theological ways of thinking, as well as the “theological stage” of history being supplanted. More recently, scientistic accounts of religion have claimed that the phenomena will one day be exhaustively accounted for through evolutionary biology or neurology.

Typically, the purveyors of these theories manage to avoid the genetic fallacy. Religious propositions are not regarded as false on the grounds of these explanations. Rather, naturalism is assumed. This naturalism is integral to the modern gnosticism that often accompanies both scientistic and ultramodernist inclinations.

The parousiastic gnostic, mightily displeased with the world, believes the order of being must be changed in a historical process, so that a good world will replace the wretched one we inhabit. Eric Voegelin explicates how naturalism fits into the gnostic outlook:

In order, therefore, that the attempt to create a new world may seem to make sense, the givenness of the order of being must be obliterated; the order of being must be interpreted, rather, as essentially under man’s control. And taking control of being further requires that the transcendent origin of being be obliterated: it requires the decapitation of being‒ the murder of God.[4]

Historically, genealogical accounts of religion‒ while not offered as formal refutations of religious propositions‒ have been used as offensive weapons against theism. “The murder of God is committed speculatively by explaining divine being as the work of man.”[5] But for what reason is the “death of God” needed for the gnostic reconfiguration of being?

Classical theories of knowledge take the existence of knowledge and a (at least roughly) correspondence account of truth as self-evident. Thus, these accounts also posit what is necessary for such to be the case. “…a constructive dimension of knowledge is acknowledged (and not simply admitted but welcomed as ontologically productive), but it is further claimed that the human noetic faculty is connaturally proportioned to the logos structure of the world. Inasmuch as the intellect is capax mundi, it can and does represent existing states of affairs accurately.”[6]

Scientistic thought might be expected to agree wholeheartedly with the basics of this epistemology‒ reality is structured rationally and is accessible to human reason. In fact, in its realist manifestations scientism does operate on this understanding, but always in a manner that eviscerates logos[7] by emptying it of foundation and depth. This goes hand in hand with the dethroning of classical reason and its replacement with instrumental rationalization.

The banishment of logos is essentially complete in instrumentalist interpretations of theory: the value of a scientific theory, on this view, is found exclusively in its predictive power, as opposed to its ability to accurately describe reality. There is no need to suppose that theoretical entities correlate with real entities. This view is connected with both pragmatism and naturalized epistemology, exemplified by Dewey, C.S. Pierce, and Quine.

For the ultramodernist, “logocentrism” is perhaps the most important and basic factor underlying the metaphysics of the West. Derrida defines it as the notion that, “understanding, meaning, can be given a fixed reference point by grounding it in a logos, some fixed principle or characteristic of reality: in other words, in a presence.”[8] Given this meaning, there are many logos that have been suggested by Western philosophers: God, nature, man, Forms, Geist, etc.

Though not every philosopher with serious ultramodernist inclinations uses the term “logocentrism,” they seem quite united in rejecting anything as logos. This does not mean these thinkers wish to be rid of objective truth. Rather, many‒ seemingly most‒ intend to claim that truth and significance are not, at bottom, grounded in an ultimate ontological principle. This dovetails with a very strong emphasis on particularity, contingency, the partiality of perspectives, etc. Thus, Lyotard’s totalist wish: “Let us wage a war on totality.”[9]

“Logocentrism,” it should be evident by now, is nearly identical to realism with regard to universals, and opposition to it is tied strongly to nominalism.[10] Nominalism runs powerfully through scientism in general, and completely dominates the instrumentalist varieties. The same is true of ultramodernist philosophy in general.

This returns us to the question of the “death of God” and its role in the gnostic system. A theistic logos places strict limits on our ability to reconfigure being. Before the face of a strong and deep ontological foundation to reality, one is presented with both mystery and the possibility of universal knowledge of a kind that, in principle, is not available presupposing gnosticism. The existence of logos circumscribes the possibilities of action, while simultaneously imbuing it with meaning and enabling what is possible.

Nominalism, however, erodes the givenness of the order of being and opens the door for the gnostic struggle to recreate it. This recreation occurs through the reconstitution of knowledge itself; hence, the fittingness of the “gnostic” moniker. Scientism and ultramodernism each wield a shield and a sword in this struggle. The shields are skeptical devices; in the case of scientism, this includes methodological naturalism and a bogus neutrality that justifies a blind autonomy. In this case, the sword‒ exerted to remake the world in the image of Burger King‒ is instrumental rationalization.

Ultramodernism, on the other hand, carries nearly as many shields as it has minds. These include relativism, deconstruction (of both text and author), and even “logophobia”[11] itself. Of particular note, especially in the less crude cases of ultramodernism, is a kind of obsession with particularity. Whether analyzing a text or a social situation, the ultramodernist will insist on the great importance of situadedness, subjectivity, and the vast number of facts involved‒ perhaps an infinite number of discourse relationships, or a vast web of ecological relations. In practice, this emphasis on the infinite number of facts is used to discredit the claims of anyone under the spell of “logocentrism;” in the face of such a bewildering and largely inaccessible world, authoritative knowledge claims are treated as impossible, either totally or nearly so.

Now, however, the ultramodernist draws the sword. She alights on a few salient points in a text, or highlights some small number of facts in a smaller number of anecdotes. Inevitably, the selected tidbits happen to lend support to one progressive program or another, whether feminism, postcolonialism, socialism, etc. The ultramodernist, who moments before was emphasizing particularity and epistemic modesty, quickly draws a sweeping critique of all Western metaphysics (“phallogocentrism”), capitalism, “patriarchy,” or the international political order. All too often, the call for particularity and locality simply means that radicalism‒ of a highly universalist character‒ may be argued for with disproportionately tiny and local evidence.

Whether considering scientism or ultramodernism, the sword is a logos substitute. It is a principle of order and interpretation that makes reality intelligible, even as‒ per gnosticism‒ it seeks to remake it.

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[1] Costello, Stephen J. Hermenuitics and the Psychoanalysis of Religion  154

[2] Molina, Lino “Genealogy: Nietzsche, Deleuze, and Foucault”

[3] Cixous, Hélène “The Laugh of the Medusa”

[4] Voegelin, Eric Science, Politics, and Gnosticism 40

[5] ibid

[6] Guarino, Thomas “Postmodernity and Five Fundamental Theological Issues”

[7] In this paper, logos is used with two distinct meanings: rational arrangement and the ultimate principle underlying this arrangement.

[8] Hale, Jacob Gabriele “Derrida, Van Til and the Metaphysics of Postmodernism”

[9] Milovanovic, Dragan “Dueling Paradigms: Modernist vs. Postmodernist Thought”

[10] ibid: John Ellis, John Caputo, and Christopher Norris seem to interpret Derrida in this way. Also, Scruton in Modern Philosophy 478

[11] A term coined by Eric Voegelin.

Another Blog Worth Checking Out: The Fra Angelico Institute

Tomorrow I will post another excerpt from my semester thesis, but for now:

this is a post from the Fra Angelico Institute: Evgeny Baranov’s Miniature Icons.

The blog is run by clergymen and features articles on art and artists, as well as their thoughts on the Scriptures and papal teachings.