I've done some more thinking about God this trip. I was experiencing gratitude for the journey I have thus far experienced in my life of faith - or in my life illuminated by faith. Having received it from my forebears, I have come to own my faith, even as I realize more and more each day how much "my" faith redefines and claims me.
Unity and agency have consumed my thoughts about faith this trip on a couple of my walks and rides. Unity has become the foundation of my new faith home, of late. Agency presents my mind with far more misgivings, so that I begin to wonder whether agency is more useful as a way to anthropomorphize God than it is a way to describe God.
Agency (at least agency as we understand it) involves the ability to affect action - not in some way that merely calls the nature of the thing so affected the agency of divinity (a la Clockmaker) - but action that in some sense reflects the consciousness of divinity. Agency is God's action in the world that reflects and results from the consciousness of God. Judaism and Christianity call this God's will.
And because the universe is a closed system, the way we think of God's agency must change or die, because the present concept of divine agency violates the observable laws of the known universe - at least in terms of Newtonian if not necessarily in terms of quantum physics. What is more, any conception of direct divine intervention in human affairs must account for the apparent amoral (or immoral) caprice or indifference that prompted the Greeks to imagine a divine game of dice on Mount Olympus.
One handy fallback position invokes the tawdry "God's ways are not our ways" cliche, a meaningless attempt at theodicy that ignores the imago Dei aspect of the Jewish tradition and incarnation of the Christian conception of God. Philip Clayton calls God's agency the push of the divine Spirit communicating with human beings, who must decide to act or not on these experiences of divine nudging. I begin to wonder if our (religious adherents') inability to comprehend God's agency stems not from the inadequacy of our theodicy, but from a misapprehension of how agency might "work" from a perspective that takes seriously a spectrum of existence from quantum to cosmic.
To put it another way, I propose to consider agency from a perspective of unity of all existence, at all levels of existence. From such a perspective, the human agent ceases to be the primary referent for agency. In fact, such a unifying perspective not only allows for a reconsideration of divine agency, it transforms our comprehension of human agency itself.
Ironically, the best way for me to begin such a project involves reexamining our notions of human agency, as well as our notions of selfhood. My chief assumption about my own agency involves my creation of a reality outside myself that initially takes form within myself - in my mind or in my will. I think; therefore it is. I want to do something and I do that something.
I think of this process most powerfully in any act of creativity, art or handiwork. I conceive and design a bookcase; I build a bookcase. What I conceived in my mind, I brought into the reality I share with others as an object that more or less reflects my original conception. The act of composing a text (poetry, prose, or a play) involves this process of willing some idea into action or reality.
This will-to-action process serves as a basic definition of agency for any agent we could consider. Such a definition links agency to consciousness, which is why an inanimate object could not exercise agency. This definition also leads to the notion at any animate creature could exercise some form of agency - exerting some form of change on it's environment based on conscious or instinctive will.
But I do not have to explore the boundaries of this definition (sea anemones, a virus or plankton) to expose some serious dilemmas attendant to this definition of agency. And the immediate problem this conception of agency faces is the ubiquitous relational nature of all possible forms of agency.
Take for instance the example of an author composing a text. The language, grammatical conventions, style, form, models of inspiration, and potential recipients of the text (including the author) all precede and inform the text before the "author" conceives it. In the case of language, grammar, literary form, and cultural context, these preconditions of the text bind the text in a way that dictates what any author can conceive or create.
Any agency an author might exercise would be culturally and relationally contingent to such an extent that to consider the text solely the creation of an author-agent would require an act of Herculean myopic blindness in perspective. How else could any other reader ever understand or appreciate such a creation? Yet this blindness to relational and cultural contingency results from the ubiquity of the phenomenon itself: we can no longer see what pervades our existence. Here is the chief problem with our notion not only of agency, but of our understanding of the individual self.
Not only human will, but human identity lies in the vast context of relational and cultural contingency. We cannot comprehend ourselves other than relationally. Cultural norms and values define the spectrum of possible manifestations of self and give comprehensibility to any possible manifestation of self. Any personality trait lies within a spectrum of similar manifestations of this trait. We do not understand these traits other than in comparison these other manifestations. Any self is only comprehensible as a self in terms of it's relationship to others.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Thomas Jefferson Questions
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Smith Mountain Lake State Park, Virginia
Enough of that.
I wanted to write about my experience at Monticello before the trip is over. I want to write about several things that struck me about the place and about the man:
1. The ways in which we are trapped by our time and the ways in which we are able to transcend our time. It would also be important to think about the many ways in which my own time hems me in as well as creates new opportunities to launch me into transcendence.
2. The necessity of reading, reflection and tireless observation to feed a hungry mind.
3. The fleeting nature of achievement and what it means to truly succeed. Jefferson listed his top three achievements when designing the epitaph on his grave monument - serving two terms as president of the United States did not make the list. And on a related note - Jefferson listed his occupation in the 1800 census as "farmer" and felt profoundly humbled by his appointment to follow Dr. Franklin as US Ambassador to France.
4. The importance of designing one's surroundings to enhance creativity and inspiration (this is one of the most important veins of thought I'd like to pursue.
5. Jefferson's young wife died in childbirth near Vicki's age when she barely survived giving birth to Eli. If Vicki had died then, what would the widower Bo have to say to me now about my relationship to Vicki in the ensuing years of our life together? How could I keep this favor and my deep gratitude for it always before me?
6. How would I design a house tailored to my needs and aspirations? Where would I build this house?
7. What does it say about Jefferson that he bequeathed to Virginia a institution of higher learning, to the Library of Congress the bulk of his substantial personal library, but to his family a crushing debt that forced them to sell his beloved Monticello and nearly all of their belongings?
8. On a related note, I'd like to think some more about Jefferson's decision to build his house with a minimal stairwell and nearly useless dome room...
Now the fire is settling to embers and we are sleeping our last night in the woods on this trip before packing for home tomorrow morning. I'm standing fire vigil and getting a few last thoughts on disk before retiring with my family. We've had a great trip and coming home will be chaotic by comparison.
Smith Mountain Lake State Park, Virginia
Enough of that.
I wanted to write about my experience at Monticello before the trip is over. I want to write about several things that struck me about the place and about the man:
1. The ways in which we are trapped by our time and the ways in which we are able to transcend our time. It would also be important to think about the many ways in which my own time hems me in as well as creates new opportunities to launch me into transcendence.
2. The necessity of reading, reflection and tireless observation to feed a hungry mind.
3. The fleeting nature of achievement and what it means to truly succeed. Jefferson listed his top three achievements when designing the epitaph on his grave monument - serving two terms as president of the United States did not make the list. And on a related note - Jefferson listed his occupation in the 1800 census as "farmer" and felt profoundly humbled by his appointment to follow Dr. Franklin as US Ambassador to France.
4. The importance of designing one's surroundings to enhance creativity and inspiration (this is one of the most important veins of thought I'd like to pursue.
5. Jefferson's young wife died in childbirth near Vicki's age when she barely survived giving birth to Eli. If Vicki had died then, what would the widower Bo have to say to me now about my relationship to Vicki in the ensuing years of our life together? How could I keep this favor and my deep gratitude for it always before me?
6. How would I design a house tailored to my needs and aspirations? Where would I build this house?
7. What does it say about Jefferson that he bequeathed to Virginia a institution of higher learning, to the Library of Congress the bulk of his substantial personal library, but to his family a crushing debt that forced them to sell his beloved Monticello and nearly all of their belongings?
8. On a related note, I'd like to think some more about Jefferson's decision to build his house with a minimal stairwell and nearly useless dome room...
Now the fire is settling to embers and we are sleeping our last night in the woods on this trip before packing for home tomorrow morning. I'm standing fire vigil and getting a few last thoughts on disk before retiring with my family. We've had a great trip and coming home will be chaotic by comparison.
Misty Mountain Musings
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Misty Mountain Campground, Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia
We have holed up here for a few days (since arriving Wednesday night, late), mostly lazing around in the intense heat and humidity. We did get to Charlottesville on Thursday and took the walking tour of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. Ate some ice cream afterwards. The kids spent some time in the pool here and have been glad to have the WiFi access and their iTouches and cell phones. I think we've all read a little bit, except for the boys.
Each of the four mornings we've spent here, I've gotten exactly what I came for - peaceful mornings by a little creek in the woods to read and think in silence, while the cicadas and birds sang to me their love songs. Most nights, Vicki and I have been able to walk together (though it's been a purposeful walk to get points). The kids seem to be getting along well together - especially Eli and Elijah.
We've taken a number of calls from people in our church - about someone threatening suicide, another leaving the church because we aren't the kind of pastors they wanted us to be, the sadnesses attendant to the dissolving of a marriage union, and whether to hold worship in the Grove this morning when it's going to be another scorcher.
For some reason, we have not felt too overwhelmed by this seeming inability to "get away" on our vacation. Thanks to the WiFi, I uploaded Ruthann's sermon notes and Pat's weekly announcements to the church web site on Thursday. Two things come to mind: the community of people we have come to love so much is never far from us, and we are indeed well away here in this place of serenity.
I've finished three books so far on this trip. The first, a collection of sayings of fourth century desert fathers edited by Thomas Merton, has profoundly reminded me of the necessity of humility and patience in my life. Oddly enough, a trip like this gives me the perspective to appreciate the wisdom of these twin foundations of an undivided life.
The second was a follow-up book by Dan Ariely on the nature of human irrationality. He stressed the value of testing our many irrational but cherished assumptions about life and human behavior. He also advocated apologizing, showing our appreciation for others, driving hard through bad experiences without pause, and breaking up good experiences so as not to get used to them and devalue them.
One thing he wrote caught my attention particularly. We often make decisions that repeat earlier decisions we have made, according to his research. We repeat patterns of behavior because we are creatures of habit, but also because we like to affirm things we have already done. When we make rash decisions in the heat of emotion, Ariely has found, we later repeat those rash actions without thinking - or even without the heated emotion that led to the original decision.
This pattern makes a case, Ariely writes, for thinking very carefully when we are angry or sad or carried away emotionally. And for sleeping on a decision we feel the need to make in the sway of these emotions. The decisions we make now set in motion a pattern for the future. We can escape this pattern only by the kind of deep introspection that we typically avoid in our daily life. Patience pays off rich dividends. So say Ariely and the desert fathers.
Another of Ariely's gems involved advice to anyone looking for love. He has little positive to say about dating sites, which cater to the needs of databases, rather than people, and which only confirm our bias for the appearance of beauty. Instead of comparing our statistics, Ariely counsels, we would be far better off engaging in virtual dates, sharing our thoughts and stories and learning about each other - as far as the online dating scene goes.
This counsel seems obvious enough. But it was the canoe metaphor that caught my attention. Ariely wrote that paddling together in a canoe places a couple in a strange and challenging social situation that enables each of them to witness how their potential partner behaves when faced with a challenge - and especially how they treat someone in a relationship when challenged. Very good advice. If they can't find a canoe, any atypical social endeavor would probably do.
The third book, Cormac McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men," examined relationships from an entirely different point of view. In a vicious story, the love of a woman proves fierce and undying. Meeting such a woman results from grace, not planning. The love the results from such an encounter demands only gratitude and appreciation; it refuses to judge but remains true.
Misty Mountain Campground, Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia
We have holed up here for a few days (since arriving Wednesday night, late), mostly lazing around in the intense heat and humidity. We did get to Charlottesville on Thursday and took the walking tour of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello. Ate some ice cream afterwards. The kids spent some time in the pool here and have been glad to have the WiFi access and their iTouches and cell phones. I think we've all read a little bit, except for the boys.
Each of the four mornings we've spent here, I've gotten exactly what I came for - peaceful mornings by a little creek in the woods to read and think in silence, while the cicadas and birds sang to me their love songs. Most nights, Vicki and I have been able to walk together (though it's been a purposeful walk to get points). The kids seem to be getting along well together - especially Eli and Elijah.
We've taken a number of calls from people in our church - about someone threatening suicide, another leaving the church because we aren't the kind of pastors they wanted us to be, the sadnesses attendant to the dissolving of a marriage union, and whether to hold worship in the Grove this morning when it's going to be another scorcher.
For some reason, we have not felt too overwhelmed by this seeming inability to "get away" on our vacation. Thanks to the WiFi, I uploaded Ruthann's sermon notes and Pat's weekly announcements to the church web site on Thursday. Two things come to mind: the community of people we have come to love so much is never far from us, and we are indeed well away here in this place of serenity.
I've finished three books so far on this trip. The first, a collection of sayings of fourth century desert fathers edited by Thomas Merton, has profoundly reminded me of the necessity of humility and patience in my life. Oddly enough, a trip like this gives me the perspective to appreciate the wisdom of these twin foundations of an undivided life.
The second was a follow-up book by Dan Ariely on the nature of human irrationality. He stressed the value of testing our many irrational but cherished assumptions about life and human behavior. He also advocated apologizing, showing our appreciation for others, driving hard through bad experiences without pause, and breaking up good experiences so as not to get used to them and devalue them.
One thing he wrote caught my attention particularly. We often make decisions that repeat earlier decisions we have made, according to his research. We repeat patterns of behavior because we are creatures of habit, but also because we like to affirm things we have already done. When we make rash decisions in the heat of emotion, Ariely has found, we later repeat those rash actions without thinking - or even without the heated emotion that led to the original decision.
This pattern makes a case, Ariely writes, for thinking very carefully when we are angry or sad or carried away emotionally. And for sleeping on a decision we feel the need to make in the sway of these emotions. The decisions we make now set in motion a pattern for the future. We can escape this pattern only by the kind of deep introspection that we typically avoid in our daily life. Patience pays off rich dividends. So say Ariely and the desert fathers.
Another of Ariely's gems involved advice to anyone looking for love. He has little positive to say about dating sites, which cater to the needs of databases, rather than people, and which only confirm our bias for the appearance of beauty. Instead of comparing our statistics, Ariely counsels, we would be far better off engaging in virtual dates, sharing our thoughts and stories and learning about each other - as far as the online dating scene goes.
This counsel seems obvious enough. But it was the canoe metaphor that caught my attention. Ariely wrote that paddling together in a canoe places a couple in a strange and challenging social situation that enables each of them to witness how their potential partner behaves when faced with a challenge - and especially how they treat someone in a relationship when challenged. Very good advice. If they can't find a canoe, any atypical social endeavor would probably do.
The third book, Cormac McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men," examined relationships from an entirely different point of view. In a vicious story, the love of a woman proves fierce and undying. Meeting such a woman results from grace, not planning. The love the results from such an encounter demands only gratitude and appreciation; it refuses to judge but remains true.
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