The Water Is Wide

The Truth in the Lie

2010-03-09T22:21:03-06:00

If, as Pablo Picasso alleged, "Art is the lie that tells the truth," what is a novel that is a lie that tells a lie? Something far less than art, I suppose.

Someone sent me a link to a short piece that describes a novel that I told a writer she would never write. Although the novel's not been published and may never be, at least the author has secured an agent, who, I presume, is peddling it to prospective publishers. Therefore, I've been shown to be wrong about the fact of the writer's stamina. She persevered to complete the novel. Whether that was an admirable accomplishment or an exercise in futility remains to be seen.

On the other hand, the description of the plot suggests that the novelist, whom I knew years ago, has concocted a plot line that purports to reveal lessons learned, yet instead appears to refashion the facts not merely to conceal the truth, but to create a completely false lesson of life, a lesson that seeks to ennoble the protagonist when she should have been humbled. An author might lie to herself and get away with it, but lying to the reader seldom works, especially when at least one reader is the child who sees that the emperor has no clothes and is more than willing to point that fact out.

Flannery O'Connor, a true artist and one of America's most gifted novelists, once said, "The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it emotionally."

If this unfortunate novel ever sees the light of day, we'll see who has the the ability to stomach the truth.

As Civilization Decays, Christianity Overcomes?

2010-03-08T11:02:24-06:00

I've heard more than one right-wing blogger over the past decade, including some evangelical Protestant Christians, refer to Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and assert that - as Rome once was - so now is the "American Empire" in decline. Although eggheads can (and do) quibble about comparing America to the Roman Empire, there is ample evidence (provided by secular and religious observers alike) of the present existence in modern Western culture of Dr. Carle Zimmerman's "Eight Patterns of Domestic Behavior" that signal the decline of a civilization.

Evangelical Christians referring to Gibbon's work is ironic. Gibbon stated in the last chapter of his book that "I have described the triumph of barbarism and religion." Gibbon was anti-Christian in his view, and believed that Christianity had "sapped" the collective Roman will to serve the survival of the State, and replaced it with the pursuit of purely "personal salvation" through Christ.

In his classic 1948 essay, Christianity and Religion, historian Arnold Toynbee disagreed with Gibbon. Toynbee contended that religion does not serve civilization, but that civilizations serve religion.

If civilizations are the handmaids of religion and if the Greco-Roman civilization served as a good handmaid to Christianity by bringing it to birth before that civilization finally went to pieces, then the civilizations of the third generation may be vain repetitions of the Gentiles. If, so far from its being the historical function of higher religions to minister, as chrysalises, to the cyclic process of the reproduction of civilizations to serve, by their downfalls, as stepping-stones to a progressive process of the revelation of always deeper religious insight, and the gift of ever more grace to act on this insight, then the societies of the species called civilizations will have fulfilled their function when once they have brought a mature higher religion to birth; and, on this showing, our own Western post-Christian secular civilization might at best be a superfluous repetition of the pre- Christian Graeco-Roman one, and at worst a pernicious back-sliding from the path of spiritual progress. In our Western world of to-day, the worship of Leviathan --the self-worship of the tribe-- is a religion to which all of us pay some measure of allegiance; and this tribal religion is, of course, sheer idolatry. Communism, which is another of our latter-day religions, is, I think, a leaf taken from the book of Christianity --a leaf torn out and misread. Democracy is another leaf from the book of Christianity, which has also, I fear, been torn out and, while perhaps not misread, has certainly been half emptied of meaning by being divorced from its Christian context and secularized; and we have obviously, for a number of generations past, been living on spiritual capital, I mean clinging to Christian practice without possessing the Christian belief --and practice unsupported by belief is a wasting asset, as we have suddenly discovered, to our dismay, in this generation.

[...]

On the theory that religion is subservient to civilization, you would expect some new higher religion to come into existence on each occasion, in order to serve the purpose of tiding over the gap between one civilization and another. If the truth is the other way round --if it is civilization that is the means and religion that is the end-- then, once again, a civilization may break down and break up, but the replacement of one higher religion by another will not be a necessary consequence. So far from that, if our secular Western civilization perishes, Christianity may be expected not only to endure but to grow in wisdom and stature as the result of a fresh experience of secular catastrophe.

[...]

And then one may look forward to what may happen when Caesar's empire decays --for Caesar's empire always does decay after a run of a few hundred years. What may happen is that Christianity may be left as the spiritual heir of all the other higher religions, from the post-Sumerian rudiment of one in the worship of Tammuz and Ishtar down to those that in A.D. 1948 are still living separate lives side by side with Christianity, and of all the philosophies from Ikhnaton's to Hegel's; while the Christian Church as an institution may be left as the social heir of all the other churches and all the civilizations.

There is much, much more food for thought (and for the soul) in Toynbee's essay.

I think that the critics, religious and secular, who cite Gibbon are correct in her belief that America (and Western culture) is in decline. As Toynbee asserts, "Caesar's empire" always falls after a few hundred years' run. His contention that the "secular worship" of the Leviathan, as well as the separation of democracy from its Christian roots and its secularization, have doomed the "democratic empire," is compelling, notwithstanding current "Neo-conservative" views to the contrary (best articulated in Francis Fukuyama's The End of History and the Last Man). Obviously, we won't know until we look back from the future, will we? I don't imagine many Romans realized they were in the the end game while they were playing it.

Maybe, as has been speculated by others, Pope Benedict XVI is preparing Christianity (as embodied in the Roman Catholic Church, at any rate) for a new "Dark Ages." Maybe, once this "pernicious back-sliding from the path of spiritual progress" of a civilization is destroyed, a more powerful Christianity eventually will emerge and move forward.

A final note: in a portion of Toynbee's essay that is not included in this post, he utters his oft-quoted phrase "It [the Roman Empire] died not by murder, but by suicide." So will ours.

Reagan, Relativism and Insufferable Pretentiousness

2010-02-24T22:16:56-06:00

I had dinner a few years ago with a another lawyer and two lobbyists/public relations "specialists" from Washington, D.C. The other lawyer was a died-in-the-wool Southern liberal of the "old school" (meaning late 60's, early '70's vintage) who still believes that he and his ilk are the "New Elite," destined to rule the world by dint of their superior performance on standardized tests. The two lobbyists, a man and a woman, were veterans of both the Reagan and George H.W. Bush Administrations. The dinner conversation became more lively with each bottle of wine consumed.

My leftward leaning lawyer acquaintance told us that he was living and working in Europe for much of the 1980's and was "embarrassed" that Reagan was our President. He said that to Reagan was too simplistic, to folksy, too unsophisticated for European tastes. He said he had a hard time looking his European friends in the eye during that time period. I responded that it's hard to look a man in the eye when your nose is shoved up his ass. The Republican operatives sat back grinning, letting me do the heavy lifting. That was fine by me.

As I reminded my liberal dinner companion, one of the major aspects of Reagan's legacy was his rejuvenation of the idea (fallen out of favor in the 20 years preceding his election) that there exist basic principles that are correct for all people at all times. He rejected "moral relativism," not in a cruel or hateful way, but nevertheless, with determination. He articulated, in terms that non-intellectuals could understand, the central idea that America must adhere to and promote the basic principles upon which this country was founded and which are embodied in our Declaration of Independence and our federal Constitution. These principles are not merely "opinions" or "preferences," on a par with other principles or preferences; they are fundamental principles that the people who founded this nation believed were more worthy of acceptance than principles that opposed, and that continue to oppose, them. They are "good" in an absolute sense, and they are superior to contrary principles.

Moral relativism holds that no specific values ought to be considered to be superior to any other specific values, in an absolute sense. Perhaps in a given situation at a given time, a particular value ought to prevail, but in other circumstances, at other times, other principles could prevail. There is no such thing as a value that is "absolutely correct," other than the value that no value is absolutely correct. Of course, moral relativism, when applied to political values, undermines liberal democracy itself. Yet, for many reasons, relativism will continue to be embraced and promoted by many in our individualistic society. Certainly, the concept of relativism seems to hold sway in Western Europe, at leas that part of it that is not becoming, through a demographic freight train that is barreling down the tracks, Muslim. Muslims don't seem to buy off on relativism.

Those Americans who did not live through the period from John F. Kennedy's assassination until the end of the dreary administration of "Lust-In-His-Heart" James Earl Carter may not understand the miasma that encompassed America at the time Reagan first ran for President. Moral relativism had so seeped into the intellectual and cultural elites of the US (not to mention the rest of the "civilized" world) that the American people were being advised by many of their own most-influential political and intellectual leaders that we had failed to achieve the ideals in which we professed to believe; that those ideals were not achievable by us, and, therefore they were not achievable by others whose "cultures" were less amenable to their adoption than was ours; that they were not entitled to preference over other principles; and that only our unjustified arrogance led us to continue to proclaim their superiority. Moreover, these same doomsayers, by their words and their actions, told us that we were a declining power, bereft of the right to assert our supremacy or the supremacy of the principles of our political system. Carter's administration was the embodiment of this vapid and demoralizing "settle in for the decline and fall" viewpoint.

1980 brought us Reagan, and the tide turned. He may not have been as sophisticated in his outward manner as Kennedy or Roosevelt. He might have sounded even "folksy" (although anyone who listened to Carter or, even worse, Johnson, had little to criticize by way of comparison). Yet, he spoke plainly and clearly. While he was firm, he was not mean spirited (as much political discussion has become since he left office). The majority of the American people liked both him AND the ideas he expressed. They struck a fundamental chord. He pushed the country back to the center, where most Americans feel most comfortable. More importantly, however, he told that majority that America and its political values were still great ones, worthy of our dedication to them, and, if required, of our sacrifice to protect and promote them. He gave us hope. He energized us. Frankly, I think he saved us from a downward spiral.

The only thing that embarrassed me was that I wasted valuable time listening to a would-be intellectual "strike a pose" and insult our other dinner guests by berating a man for whom they worked and in whose ideas they believed, because, I assumed, that man didn't wear an Armani suit, puff French cigarettes, and affect a mid-Atlantic accent. If Reagan embarrassed him so much, I couldn't imagine how he could bear the then-current shame of George W. Hell, why wasn't he living, right now, in a cozy little villa in the south of France with Elton John?

The lobbyists took it all in good stride, but then the leftard was their client and they had to let it slide. As long as he paid his bills promptly, much wrongheadedness would be tolerated. I'm not as forgiving...but I'm working on it.

My Humility Attests To My Awesomeness

2010-02-23T17:29:57-06:00

From a post on today's First Things blog by R.R. Reno:

In a healthy democratic culture, we don’t need cultural and political therapists or conflict resolution experts to manage our political differences. Instead, we need intelligent partisans who struggle to realize their competing visions of the common good, but do so with a sober recognition of their own limitations, as well as an appreciation for the intelligence and good intentions of their opponents.

Starting with "a sober recognition of our own limitations" seems to me to be the best course. The rest seems that it might flow from the recognition of your own limitations. Of course, that requires humility, which seems to be in short supply these days.

We Change In Ways Our Lives Demand

2010-02-20T22:58:09-06:00

When I began blogging over six years ago, I did so anonymously. I developed a small following as an advocate for a secular, yet traditional, conservative point of view, a blogger who would (as one brilliant young female English writer put it) "flame roast leftards and forons with glee." With anonymity comes not only false courage, but a lack of civility. When I returned to the Church, I left the anonymity behind, if not, entirely, the flame roasting, although I'm working on it.

There was another benefit to the seeming "freedom" of anonymity, and it was the "freedom" to bare the heart as well as the beast, within. As long as you're anonymous, if a reader thinks you are a sentimental sap, then no more harm is done to your ego than arises from the fact that another reader thinks you're an abject ass.

I recall posting on my anonymous blog a love letter to my wife on our wedding anniversary. It was a video of Jackson Browne singing "Anything Can Happen," a video that Browne's music publisher has been tracking down and forcing Youtube to take down for years. One of the reasons I love repeatedly posting the video is that I know that it will soon be deleted by Youtube and, shortly thereafter, will be uploaded by another rebel without a conscience.

There's a much deeper reason I love the song, however, and that has to do with its lyrics. While Browne fashions his video in the form of a polemic against the violence that reigned in the late 1980s in El Salvador, Northern Ireland, and Tiananmen Square, the lyrics just as clearly tell the story of "the secret wars we call our lives." My wife and I have been together for over thirty-five years, we've changed in ways our lives demand, and we know that in our secret wars, anything can happen.

Yet, there are moments that I can clearly recall of us looking at one another and communicating unspoken, unconditional love. Such moments are frozen in my mind and have carried me through--and will continue to carry me through--until "the end of this war."

I also distinctly recall the very first comment that was made to that post. It was left by a twenty-something soldier who was a noted blogger himself and generally a fan of my blog. He said, "Dude. That was so gay."

No, Dude, I retorted. It was flamingly heterosexual.

Two weeks out to another anniversary, and I still hear the hope in her voice, see the light on her face. Ah well, at least we didn't ruin two couples.

Lyrics | Jackson Browne lyrics - Anything Can Happen lyrics

Ash Wednesday

2010-02-17T08:49:31-06:00

Thomas Merton's Prayer:

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Funnyman

2010-02-01T22:54:10-06:00

True story:

A lawyer hosts a holiday party at his home. Standing in the kitchen (where people often gravitate) with two other couples (the lawyer's wife was entertaining guests elsewhere in the home) the lawyer is telling a story of having a conversation with other lawyers, one of whom was an ardent feminist. In the course of that conversation, the lawyer had expressed the wish that a certain government official he had dealt with had "possessed a little more testosterone" (meaning, in this case, personal courage) and the feminist had jumped all over him for implying that only men had courage. The lawyer had apologized to the female colleague by observing that she was certainly correct and that she obviously possessed far more testosterone than any male he knew.

All the listeners laughed but one female, the wife of a friend, and herself an ardent feminist. She lashed out.

"You think everything's a joke, don't you?" she said angrily. "Nothing is serious, everything's amusing."

The lawyer stopped laughing and fixed her with a dead-fish stare. "No, I take humorless, self-important assholes very seriously," he said flatly.

The feminist turned beet red, turned on her heel, and stormed off. Her husband glanced at the lawyer, raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and followed his wife. The remaining male in the kitchen was grinning and shaking his head in a manner that indicated that the lawyer was, once again, simply being himself. The friend's wife, the remaining female in the room, looked at him with a wry smile and said "Well played, funny man."

Sometimes, the funny man is halfway decent. Sometimes he's just a prick.

Locked inside your head
Do you realize the things you said
Never made sense?

What It Means To Be Human

2010-01-29T22:37:50-06:00

Strange and wonderful are the "coincidences" of life. My last post reflects upon the idea that we are not made for this earth, and a reader responds to that proposition with a slice of Rilke. Today on First Things appears a post from one of the thinkers I love to read, archbishop Charles Chaput of Denver. The archbishop not only sounds the same theme as I did with much more erudition and insight than I could ever hope to muster, he enhances it with another poem of Rilke's.

Slowly now the evening changes his garments
held for him by a rim of ancient trees;
you gaze: and the landscape divides and leaves you
one sinking and one rising toward the stars.

And you are left, to none belonging wholly,
not so dark as a silent house, nor quite
so surely pledged unto eternity
as that which grows to star and climbs the night.
To you is left (unspeakably confused)
your life, gigantic, ripening, full of fears,
so that it, now hemmed in, now grasping all,
is changed in you by turns to stone and stars.
Philosophers and psychologists have offered a lot of different theories about the nature of the human person. But few have captured the human condition better than Rilke does in those twelve lines. We are creatures made for heaven; but we are born of this earth. We love the beauty of this world; but we sense there is something more behind that beauty. Our longing for that “something” pulls us outside of ourselves.

The whole piece is worth a read. When you're finished you'll understand another truth in which I firmly believe: we need first to look to ourselves before we worry about the "reformation" of others.

Nostalgia For The Unknown Home

2010-01-24T22:31:05-06:00

While walking late one afternoon this past week, the sun was low in the sky and obscured by a thin layer of clouds. I looked up at it and saw it's orange-yellow glow burning behind the white-gray cloud cover and felt something I'd not felt since I was a teenager, walking on crisp fall nights along the streets of my small town. Then, I couldn't explain to myself, much less to anyone else, why I so loved to leave my home after dark and roam the empty streets alone. I'd see the lights through the windows of the houses I'd pass and take comfort in my isolation, my separateness, the darkness that hid me from the light. I was outside, I was looking in, I was separate, I was alone. And the damnedest yearning would grow within me, a longing not to be within the homes I passed, but for something that I could not define yet was intensely important to me.

I would return home filled with a paradoxical mix of melancholy, satisfaction, and contentment. I had absolutely no idea why I was feeling what I felt or what it meant.

In my walk of a few days ago I felt it again. This time, I would describe the yearning as a nostalgia for a place and time I had never consciously experienced, and, moreover, could not describe. It hit me in a moment of absolute stillness, when there was no sound of children playing, automobiles passing, dogs barking, or even wind blowing. A rare moment of prefect stillness. The feeling startled me, overwhelmed me, then passed out of me like the tide moving back out to sea.

I wonder if anyone else ever feels such moments. My wife claims that she does not.

I also sometimes wonder if this is a symptom of the fact that we are not made for this earth, and what we are feeling is nostalgia for a home we unconsciously know we are presently separated from and to where we unconsciously yearn to return.

Brother Wind, Tim O'Brien and some of the best musicians of Ireland, the UK and America

The Road To Hell

2010-01-17T22:23:34-06:00

"It is only the infinite mercy and love of God that has prevented us from tearing ourselves to pieces and destroying His entire creation long ago. People seem to think that it is in some way a proof that no merciful God exists, if we have so many wars. On the contrary, consider how in spite of centuries of sin and greed and lust and cruelty and hatred and avarice and oppression and injustice, spawned and bred by the free wills of men, the human race can still recover, each time, and can still produce man and women who overcome evil with good, hatred with love, greed with charity, lust and cruelty with sanctity. How could all this be possible without the merciful love of God, pouring out His grace upon us? Can there be any doubt where wars come from and where peace comes from, when the children of this world, excluding God from their peace conferences, only manage to bring about greater and greater wars the more they talk about peace?"
--Thomas Merton

“Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”
--Martin Luther King, Jr.