My letter to God

(P.S. I wrote this about a year ago on a winter retreat. I'm posting it here because I just read it again and was struck by how much-and how little-has changed since then as far as my beliefs and questions are concerned)

Dear God,

So much has happened since I last wrote you a letter (but since you're omniscient I'll spare you the details). The emotional and psychological turmoil of my first year in college has subsided but I find that I still have so many questions. If I ever felt that I had 'arrived' in terms of my quest for a reasonable faith that was an illusion. There is no 'moving on'; the questions are ever before me. I have read many books and perhaps I have a clearer sense of what is at stake with regard to various arguments and I have learned of new facts that have to be taken into account but I still have little sense of how it will all fit together.

Can it be shown that Christian theism is the best interpretation of reality? Is there anything that can be said historically about the Resurrection that sets it apart from other miracles? What relevance will theology continue to hold in a world become strange because of new technologies and new science? Will the naturalistic picture of reality prevail? Do I really have no more reason to accept Christianity than the adherents of any other faith?

With these questions not resolved, it is hard for me to go further and commit to a specific Christian praxis. Assuming that you exist, what are you like? Does intercessory prayer change you, or should I just accept that you have a plan and it is unfolding? Should I be worried that I'm not getting enough 'Word time' or prayer, or are those culturally conditioned extras secondary to the overarching goal of simply reflecting on you as best we can? I think that I will be spending my life addressing all these 'big questions' but what do I do in the meantime?

I guess it's easy to go along with the praxis of the evangelical subculture I find myself in, but who knows where I'll eventually end up? Right now I'm pretty sure that words like 'sin', 'redemption', 'resurrection' and so on will feature in my account of ultimate reality, but who really knows? All I can do is start from where I am and just keep going. I have so much to learn.

Deep down inside I've never really doubted you. The light and hope that the Christian vision gives me is too precious. And somehow I know that my response to your ultimate reality involves fulfilling a plan that you have for my life. There is sin in my heart that I must fight against, and I know that too often I rationalize and try to convince myself that I'm a better person, when in reality I am petty and selfish and self-pitying. I do want to fall in love with a girl but am I ready to love in return?

This is but a fraction of the issues I deal with but you know my heart, so much better than I know myself. Somehow I will find my way in this world and hopefully it will turn out to be your way. In the midst of all the questioning and uncertainty there have been moments of simple beauty, when I get the strong sense that your hand is indeed guiding. Ultimately I believe in you because this is a good world and all good things must have a source. In the face of the beauty and the mystery, all I can really say in closing is: thank you.

JD

Approaches to the study of philosophy

Of making many books there is no end,
And much study is a weariness of the flesh
Ecclesiastes 12:12

Even bibliophiles like myself can appreciate the truth of those words. And in some ways the greater your intellectual ambitions the worse it gets, because you become more and more aware that you will never read everything important in even one field of inquiry, much less all the ones you're interested in. Philosophy is a vast subject with thousands of years of history, hundreds of influential practitioners and thousands of seminal books. There are many ways to partition the field: along subject lines, chronologically, by major movements or schools, etc. How can anyone get a handle on all this, much less hope to make any sort of contribution to the field?

As I see it there are three major approaches to the study of philosophy, distinct yet overlapping, and all have their advantages and disadvantages:

1. The 'Great Thinker' approach: choose a particularly influential, prolific and demanding philosopher from the past or present and devote yourself to the study of their work. Read all their major writings as well as any letters or journal entries which might shed light on their motivations, struggles and breakthroughs. Develop an understanding of their socio-historical context and grapple with the most important interpretations and criticisms of their body of work. In the course of this reading develop your own interpretation and criticism and come to a conclusion about their relevance to the problems and issues which you and others struggle with.

Pros: the work of great philosophers like Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Plotinus, Maimonides, Spinoza, Descartes, Leibniz, Hume, Kant and more recently Pierce, James, Dewey, Russell, Whitehead, etc. is extraordinarily fertile and stimulating, suggestive of ways to think about problems in a wide range of subfields. By understanding their thought you gain a greater (even essential) understanding of the schools they are associated with (Plato for Platonism or Pierce for Pragmatism, for example). The two greatest advantages, however, are personal: by struggling to comprehend the great philosophers and 'think their thoughts after them' you learn tacitly how to do philosophy yourself whether you agree with their ideas or not; what's more, there is a sense of camaraderie when reading the works of a single philosopher. You feel like you are participating in a conversation about life's important issues. Nodding in agreement and talking back are both part of the conversation. As Miguel de Unamuno stressed so fervently, philosophy is not an affair of 'man' in the abstract. It is always the product of and for real, particular, flesh-and-blood human beings. Approaching the abstract questions of philosophy by means of a single great writer humanizes the process. You are encouraged to know that the one who you are studying was a frail, flawed human being just like you.

Cons: because philosophers are vulnerable, frail, flawed human beings their work, however insightful and rigorous, will be flawed and partial also. You will not find gems of insight on every page of their work: at least some of it will be tedious, outrageous or even incomprehensible. They will not always discuss the questions you happen to be most interested in at the time, so it takes patience and perseverance to continue to try to get the most complete sense you can of their work. There is the temptation to decontextualize them and ignore previous influences or clear manifestations of the bias of a certain historical period. There is also the temptation to exaggerate their significance or their originality. One thing I have found surprising in reading some of the most seminal works of philosophy is how many references there are to previous and contemporary work, even from the time before citing bibliography became the norm. For all their importance it's crucial not to forget that they form one link in a very long chain of inquiry. Though it is perfectly legitimate to espouse the philosophy of a particular great thinker as the most fruitful perspective on human experience, this should never be done slavishly or (dare I say it) religiously.

Example: Locke by Edward Feser

2. The 'movement' approach: pick out a particular school of thought in philosophy, such as Platonism, Aristotelianism, Scholasticism, Romanticism, Pragmatism, etc. Become acquainted with the main ideas and figures behind the movement, determine the crisis (or crises) the movement tried to resolve and assess the adequacy of its response. Note the presence of contemporary, rival movements that tried to solve the same problem and judge which did a superior job. Finally, assess their impact on later schools and their importance for contemporary problems.

Pros: unlike the 'Great Thinker' approach you get a better sense of the collective, interactive nature of philosophy. By studying the output of the movement as a whole you develop an appreciation for the unity-in-diversity that results as many different people tackle the same problem (or problems) in similar but not identical ways. You develop a sense of nuance: no one person has a monopoly on truth or the right way to arrive at it, even though there is hope for some sort of consensus or at least mutual understanding. The sense of philosophy as conversation is enhanced compared to the 'Great Thinker' approach. Finally, you develop an understanding of the evolution of philosophical thought over time.

Cons: to focus on a movement as a whole you necessarily sacrifice depth for breadth. Because a good part of your exposure to the literature of the movement will be through the secondary literature there is a temptation (but also a necessity) to generalize, which is often perilous when it comes to learning how individuals tackle difficult philosophical questions.

Example: Philosophy Before Socrates by Richard McKirahan

3. The 'Great Questions' approach: if you have a philosophical bent at all you probably find yourself asking the so-called big questions (this is probably the reason you got interested in philosophy in the first place): does God exist? why should I be moral? what is the meaning of life? do human beings have free will? You survey the different approaches to tackling these questions throughout history with greater emphasis on the most current discussions, especially as these bring the latest findings from other disciplines relevant to the question into the picture. This is philosophy as the marketplace of ideas: try to find the philosopher or movement (or any combination of these) with the best answer or at least the best approach to a particular question.

Pros: if one particular question is gnawing at you it can be very comforting and even exhilarating to dive headlong into addressing it rather than take the time and effort to master the thought of one particular philosophy or a whole movement or school. You can skip the preamble and go straight to the meat and potatoes: what are they offering? Is it any good? You can focus on the particular arguments and take them on their own terms. Finally this is probably the approach which is most obviously 'practical' for other than academic purposes.

Cons: the temptations to generalize and decontextualize are greatest with this approach. You tend to assume that a particular philosopher is speaking to people just like you and with similar motivations to those you bring to the subject. In the rush to 'get to the bottom' of a particular issue you can lose sight of philosophy as an ongoing conversation which reinvents itself in each new generation. Frustration with the lack of consensus and open-endedness of the questions may engender frustration with philosophy in general, whereas taking the time to get acquainted with individual philosophers and how they work would instill patience and humility.

Example: The Significance of Free Will by Robert Kane

Of course there are many combinations of these different approaches. Many a dissertation has taken the form 'The Thought of X on Question Y', for example. Those who go on to become professional philosophers will undoubtedly pursue projects from all three angles. But I find that laying out the options like this is helpful for me to decide how to make the best use of my valuable time. Right now I have two projects along the 'Great Thinker' approach I am pursuing, on James Gustafson and C.S. Lewis respectively and one movement project on atheism in general. Already that might be too much, but like I said I'm ambitious.

Review: The Last Superstition

I have never read a book quite like Edward Feser's The Last Superstition. It is presented as a response to the 'New Atheists' (Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens, et al) and one expects something along the lines of the recent manifestos by Keith Ward, John Haught, Alister McGrath, David Myers, Chris Hedges and others. But it is so much more than a retort to the new self-appointed high priests of unbelief. Because while the above writers more or less take for granted the modern framework of thought we inherited from the likes of Descartes, Hobbes, Hume, Locke and Kant and try to rebut the New Atheists on their own terms, Feser argues that modern thought itself is the disease of which their arguments are a symptom. His aim in The Last Superstition is nothing less than to rehabilitate the classical philosophical project that began with Plato and Aristotle and was refined and advanced by Augustine, Thomas Aquinas and the Scholastics.

According to Feser, abandoning Aristotelianism broadly construed was the biggest philosophical mistake in the history of Western thought. Contrary to the standard account we heard in high school and in Philosophy 101 (for those of us who went to college), Aristotle's synthesis was not irrational and metaphysically overweight, which had to be overthrown before science, reason and ethics could advance. Even though some of the specific empirical views held by Aristotle and his followers (on the nature of motion, for example) turned out to be incorrect, the metaphysical categories and concepts he introduced-such as the distinction between material, efficient, formal and final causes, the view of matter as form-plus-essence and the distinction between potentiality and actuality-turn out to be Goldilocks just right for making sense of the world: "The structure of the world just happens to be as complex as he describes it, no more (perhaps) but no less either" (p.72). What's more (again according to Feser), something like an Aristotelian view of causality, matter and mind is indispensable to science itself, if we assume that it is in the business of delivering true knowledge of the empirical world (which is not the sum total of reality, however).

The truly astonishing implications of this view, however, are in the realm of morality and religion. In an Aristotelian framework the existence of God-the personal, transcendent source of being and value-is not just probabilistically likely, but demonstrably certain, the inevitable outcome of certain facts about causality and motion inherent in the framework. As it turns out Aquinas' five ways are much more cogent than skeptics give them credit for (most of whom, as Feser points out, haven't bothered to read past the brief summary in the Summa Contra Gentiles). To take just one example (grossly oversimplified), it is inevitable that the universe have a First Cause that is itself uncaused because of the distinction between essence and existence: we can know what the essence of a rational animal is in terms of the capacity to speak, imagine, etc. without knowing whether any rational animals actually exist. As it turns out all objects we have experience of in the material world are only contingently existent, which is obvious from the fact that things like trees, rocks and even planets and stars are constantly popping in and out of existence. Thus there must be some necessarily existing being to make all these potentially existent beings actually existent. Note that this is not William Lane Craig's cosmological argument that whatever begins to exist must have a cause, which relies on the Big Bang to establish a beginning for the Universe. The cosmos could have existed eternally, it could be a multiverse, it could be a continual cycle of Big Bangs and Big Crunches and this argument would still be valid.

Not only is the existence of God demonstrably certain from an Aristotelian point of view, but this God must necessarily have the characteristics attributed to him by the great monotheistic traditions: omnipotence, omniscience, perfect goodness, etc. Also entailed by Aristotelianism (at least by way of Augustine and Aquinas) are the immortality of the soul and a concept of morality based on natural law. Final causality entails certain ends for every creature which hold true regardless of subjective preference or whim. For example, it is the natural end of a rational animal to seek the truth and when we consider that God is the final cause of everything that exists we realize that it is the natural end of human beings to obtain knowledge of Him and conform to His image. As for the problem of evil, Feser contends that this really has no bearing one way or another on the existence of God because as he sees it the prospect of enjoying the Beatific Vision completely overshadows any finite suffering we experience in this lifetime. Faith, he argues, is not a matter of holding to one's beliefs in the teeth of reason and evidence, but precisely of holding onto the deliverances of reason even in the face of emotional turbulence caused by witnessing apparently undeserved suffering (see for example Paul Manata's musings on the emotional problem of evil).

It is clear from Feser's account that Aristotelian Thomism (Aristotelianism by way of Aquinas and the Scholastics) was a rich, vibrant interpretation of reality with enormous scope and sophistication. What led to its abandonment? As it turns out here too the standard story is misleading. The early modern philosophers did not reject Thomism because it was too traditional or stifling for scientific research (as anyone familiar with the works of Jean Buridan, Nicole D'Oresme and other Scholastic natural philosophers can attest): as a result of the religious wars of the 16th Century and a newly resurgent worldliness there arose among early modern thinkers a desire to overthrow the traditional authority of the Church and rethink the European political project. These thinkers did not give any good arguments for abandoning Aristotelian categories. They did so because it was necessary in order to undermine the theologico-political complex of the Church. In fact, "When one seriously comes to understand the classical philosophical tradition...and not merely the potted caricatures of it that even many professional philosophers, to their shame, tend to rely on-one learns just how contingent and open to question are the various modern, and typically 'naturalistic', philosophical assumptions that most contemporary thinkers (and certainly most secularists) simply take for granted without rational argument." (p.5) The litany of evils brought about in modern philosophy by rejecting Aristotle is long and severe: skepticism about the external world, unsolvable problems of induction and mind-body interaction, free will and personal identity rendered mysterious or even incoherent, the undermining of any justification for morality and natural rights, etc. Most of these problems can be traced not just to the abandonment of Aristotelianism in general, but of final causality in particular and the embrace of a mechanistic conception of matter according to which the only things that are truly real are particles (or fields, or whatever) in constant motion, interacting blindly according to blind, non-teleological principles (as William Hasker described it in The Emergent Self). Abandon final causality, and reason and morality become incoherent.

As is apparent from the above all too brief summary, The Last Superstition is much more than just a response to the New Atheists, and it is certainly not the same kind of response that we have seen from others. It is a brief history of Western philosophy and an exposition of the key ideas and concepts that have informed our understanding of the world since the beginning of civilization. It is also a lucid argument for the existence and nature of God and a primer on the philosophy of mind and science. Feser has a great gift for explaining big ideas in simple, concise language which all philosophers could benefit from. To skeptics he will prove a very frustrating opponent, because he knows the skeptical arguments inside and out and embraces all of modern science, including undiluted evolutionary theory. He has no truck with intelligent design (Paley deserves to be the atheists' whipping boy, in his opinion, because he conceded all the mechanistic assumptions of his opponents and thus lacked the metaphysical grounds for a truly compelling design argument; see pp.110-119) and does not require the Big Bang to be true in order to demonstrate the existence of God, as we saw above. Indeed, his discussion is so comprehensive and enlightening and so consistently tough-minded that 'almost he persuadeth me to become a Thomist'.

Almost, but not quite. I do have a few objections to the book, some minor and some major. For one thing the tone of Feser's book is very, very abrasive. Words like 'stupid', 'evil', 'insane' and 'monstrous' come up frequently to describe his opponents as well as practices he disapproves of, such as homosexuality. To be fair, he does base his abhorrence for the latter on his understanding of natural law morality, but I associate this kind of rhetoric with a person who is very unsure of the validity of his positions. Despite the fact that atheists too use abrasive rhetoric in their manifestos, I definitely prefer on the Christian side to let arguments speak for themselves.

On to the arguments. The one striking, elephant-size absence from Feser's book is any discussion of how all these philosophical arguments line up with the Scriptural understanding of God, human nature and morality. Though he explicitly limits his discussion to 'natural' as opposed to 'revealed' theology, it is hard to see his project as distinctively Christian without paying attention to these issues. Though the project of Western theology can be summarized as the marriage of Greek philosophy with Hebrew theology, more than one great theologian has doubted whether the Unmoved Mover of Aristotle and God the Father of Abraham, Isaac and Jesus can be equated. What's more, though he would probably see it as yet another symptom of the modern malaise, higher biblical criticism has had just as much of an influence on contemporary theology and philosophy as the rejection of Aristotelianism. No doubt the two are related, but the objections of the higher critics to the historicity and integrity of the Bible did not all stem from their abandonment of supernaturalism. There are genuine textual difficulties which cast doubt on the exact scope and unfolding of the Exodus, for example and which have genuine theological consequences.

Natural law morality is certainly a rich, sophisticated tradition deserving careful attention. It may turn out, as Feser says, to be the only one which guarantees the objectivity and non-arbitrariness of morality. But I am consistently skeptical of natural law arguments because of the way they have been used throughout history to legitimize degrading, exploitative conditions for certain classes of people, such as slaves and women. In the face of abolitionism, for example, pro-slavery advocates turned to the 'science' of phrenology to establish the fact of the natural inferiority of blacks and hence the naturalness of their subjugation. Many slave-owners were almost paternalistic in this respect, sincerely believing that because of their constitution blacks could not survive or thrive without a master shouting orders at them, backed up by the whip and deprivation. And women throughout history have been discounted from playing active roles in politics, the economy and academics (it is noteworthy that all of the great philosophers Feser refers to are men) because of perceived deficiencies in intellect and temperament. So at the very least great care is required in employing natural law arguments, to make sure that they do not simply reinforce or legitimize an unjust or corrupt status quo.

My third and final major objection has to do with obstacles to truth and the possibility of skepticism. Feser is remarkably confident about the reliability of certain 'common-sense' philosophical intuitions about everyday objects and concepts that lie behind Aristotelianism. This leads him to reject representationism in the philosophy of mind (i.e. the idea that mental states are contingent representations of states in the external world which may or may not actually correspond to those states) and to use the words 'stupid' and 'insane' to describe people who do not share his intuitions about the world. Empirical research, however, has demonstrated that many of our intuitions about how things work are seriously misleading. What's more, people with damage to certain parts of their brain suffer from strange perceptual anomalies which seem to confirm the representationist view of the mind: phantom limbs (when a limb has been amputated but the person retains an awareness of it, as if it were still attached to the body), for example, can best be explained as the persistence of a representation of the limb within the brain even if the limb itself is no longer attached to the body. Despite his careful distinction between metaphysics and science, most neuroscientists today model human cognition as the construction (a word Feser really doesn't like when it comes to knowledge) of a representation of the inner and outer world in the brain (it should be noted, though, that I have not read his book Philosophy of Mind yet so it may be that he deals with these difficulties there). Feser also doesn't discuss the problem of widely varying philosophical intuitions between Occidental and Oriental traditions of thought. I would like to see an argument why an interpretation of the world in terms of Atman, Brahman, Dharma and Samsara is inferior to the Aristotelian synthesis, and if so how Oriental peoples came to have such different philosophical intuitions.

These caveats, however, are an inevitable result of the magnitude of the subjects Feser is dealing with and should not be seen as diminishing his positive achievement in making Aristotelianism seem an attractive and compelling philosophical project. Feser is a brilliant, erudite thinker and The Last Superstition is simply required reading for anyone remotely interested in the question of whether religious belief is rational and whether perhaps atheism is not the great superstition after all. I for one look forward to digging into those footnotes and learning from Plato, Aristotle and Aquinas for myself. I suggest skeptics do the same.

Also posted at CADRE Comments

My greatest fear

What does it mean to be truly vulnerable?

It is easy to frighten ourselves by imagining a wide variety of horrible situations we could find ourselves in (most of which, thankfully, will never happen): a sudden brutal accident that leaves you paralyzed from the waist or neck down (or some other physically debilitating illness), an economic crisis that leaves you (and presumably many others) homeless and hungry, being the victim of a rapist or a kidnapper, dying a martyr in a country with an anti-Christian regime...the list goes on and on. I think a lot about these possibilities sometimes. And while no one likes the prospect of being in intense physical pain or discomfort, that is not what frightens me most about these scenarios.

What I really can't stand to contemplate is the prospect of losing myself.

I like to think I'm a kind, decent person most of the time. Sure, I hold grudges against people and often don't realize when I'm hurting someone through carelessness or selfishness, but I adhere to a robust ethic of general benevolence. As an intellectual person I greatly value the life of the mind and the structures of civilized society: law and order, reliable utilities, opportunities for meaningful employment, etc. I don't like the prospect of hurting other people. I abhor abuse and exploitation of all kinds. I also have a strong sense of fair play: treat others honorably in your business with them, don't take advantage of anyone, always tell the truth.

But then I try to imagine what would happen to me if I were the victim of a terrible accident, thrown in jail for a crime I didn't commit or were thrown out on the street for some reason. I shudder at what I find: either I just 'freeze up' and waste away in depression and self-doubt because I can't cope, or my darker side gets the better of me and I lose my sense of ethics, all that matters is that I personally survive. All of a sudden the lofty ideals of courage, solidarity with the oppressed and self-sacrifice go down the drain and I grasp at anything, no matter how horrifying, if I think it will give me a chance.

My greatest fear is that in a time of crisis all the things I have learned to recognize as distinctively human would be revealed as merely a veneer held in place in a time of plenty and security. We all know that this is not an abstract possibility. In a time of crisis such as a hurricane or political instability people start to loot, beat and trample. They lose all sense of decency in the face of the imperatives of survival, or they irrationally latch onto anything they think will help them survive, even if there is absolutely no reason to think it would.

In short, human beings are radically vulnerable, not just to physical pain and dismemberment but much more tragically to spiritual dismemberment. As Colonel Slade said in Scent of a Woman, there's nothing like the sight of an amputated spirit: Of a human being broken through hardship. A person who's lost the will to live, or at least live decently.

Of course many people do not lose hope in times of trouble but maintain their integrity. There are countless of examples of courageous self-sacrifice that show the strength and endurance of the human spirit. And best of all, we know that Christ through his death (which He endured in obedience to the end) has defeated once and for all the horrors which can bring us down. But the question still remains: if push came to shove, what would I do? Do I truly know myself? Would I cave or would I stand strong? I don't think there's any way to answer that question short of actually being in a crisis. But I pray to God it's the latter.

Goals for the New Year

Though it may not feel that way to everyone (and I feel I have been more fortunate than most), we live in desperate, uncertain times. I received a poignant reminder of that when I came across film critic Roger Ebert's blog and a recent post began like this:

"It's all coming to pieces, isn't it -- the world we live in, the continuity we thought we could count on, the climate, the economy, the fragile peace. The 20th century was called "the American Century," with some reason. I do not believe the 21st century will belong to anybody, and it may not last for 100 years of human witness...The weather is unhinged. It is no longer a question of global warming. It is a question of what in the hell is happening?...The economy is going to get worse. We may have no idea how much worse. The greed and corruption at the economy's core reached a scale unimaginable at the time of the Great Depression. Even responsible banks are threatened, because they cannot borrow and are fearful of lending."

This is a man who has lived through some pretty interesting times: oil shocks, recessions, international crises...and this is how his long experience prompts him to respond to events unfolding at the close of the first decade of this new century. It suggests that our times truly deserve the label 'unprecendented'. The only thing we can be sure of is that we can't be sure of anything, except perhaps increased human suffering and the unraveling of decades of progress in trade relations, globalization and prosperity.

How does one even begin to respond? What if anything can we hope for in the New Year? Can 2009 be anything but a black mark on the world calendar?

Whenever I feel overwhelmed by the immensity of the challenges we all face, I think of the exchange between Gandalf and Frodo in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. When Frodo fully realizes the enormity of the events that the finding of the Ring has set in motion, and the bleak prospects for all people of good will, he cries out in despair: "I wish it need not have happened in my time." "So do I," says Gandalf. "And so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." Now more than ever I feel the need to change the only things I can change given my situation: my own habits and attitudes. I suspect that many others feel the same way. There is nothing we can do to alleviate the global economic crisis, and going back to business as usual may not be such a good thing anyway. For too long prosperity in Western countries and now increasingly in emerging countries like India and China has been fueled by greed and unsustainable patterns of consumption. What we can do is change our own approach to consumption: does our work fuel a lifestyle of overspending and reliance on increasingly fragile networks of services? Can we instead begin to work for the good of our communities and promote sustainable lifestyle choices?

Anyone interested in the question of how we can collectively change course should read Bill McKibben's fantastic Deep Economy. If there is only one book I recommend reading in the new year, it is that one. But now is the time to get personal. What follows are my own goals for 2009, for the perusal of anyone who is interested.

I divide my goals into two basic categories: projects I want to complete and virtues I want to cultivate. In light of our uncertain times I stress the latter more than the former, though I think the projects are plausible enough given my situation.

Projects

1) Complete my senior thesis on a schedule that doesn't require me to cram towards the end. I want to write the best thesis I can and that involves setting aside a certain time every day only for that.
2) Complete my first full-length marketable screenplay. This is an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula that focuses on Jonathan Harker. It is a narrative of the loss and restoration of faith; loss of faith in the ephemeral trappings of 'civilized' society and a renewal of faith in courage, friendship and self-sacrificial love.
3) Keep up a steady output of writing on topics that interest me academically and personally: theology, philosophy, ethics, film, environmental economics, etc.
4) Get into the best shape of my life by graduation. I want to lose at least 15 pounds, reduce my body fat and increase my power, strength and endurance (this is an ongoing investment in health, of course, and one of the best ways to insulate oneself from troubled times since if you're healthy you won't need expensive medical care you may not be able to afford).
5) Learn a variety of 'real world' skills: this does not mean I doubt the importance and useful of my philosophical training and studies. On the contrary, I consider developing the following skills to be a necessary implication of the philosophical mandate to right living.

• First aid
• Basic gardening/food storage
  
• Basic carpentry/plumbing
• Basic engineering (how to use a generator, etc.)
• Cooking
• Self-defense

Virtues

1) Frugality. I know the last thing politicians want is for the American consumer to cut back personal spending even more. But the truth is that the current devaluation of the economy is bringing it more closely in line with our real, material production base. What we had over the past decades was largely the illusion of wealth. What we need to do is bring our spending more in line with what we actually need. For me this involves thinking carefully about every dollar I spend, whether on food outside the dining halls, buying extracurricular books, borrowing movies or going to the cinema, etc. The truth is that a lot of my spending over my years in college has been superfluous: I spend money on food because I don't get the dining hall in time, I borrow movies because I have to see that movie and not another one right now, etc. I want to develop a habit of carefully guarding my money and spending only when I am sure that the purchase will be a good, indispensable investment.
2) Time-management. Time is precious and everyone could stand to make better use of it. For me this involves cutting down on the time I spend randomly browsing the Internet, whether Youtube clips, news or blogs. That is the single greatest source of wasted time, as I'm sure it is for many others in college. But more generally developing the virtue of time management means being always mindful of the best use I can make of my time.
3) Health consciousness. In line with my fitness goal, I want to change my attitude toward food, so that eating healthy doesn't seem like a sacrifice, to be 'rewarded' with the occasional overindulgence on sweets and junk food. I want to be hungry for healthy food, and eager to exercise. I also want to sent a goal of getting 8 hours of sleep a night, no matter what.
4) Aesthetics. In line with with my goal of managing my time better, I want to make wise choices when it comes to reading and watching movies, especially the latter. If I spend two hours in front of a screen, I want it to be something thought-provoking, well-made, something beautiful in the best sense of the word.

This year may we all come to a greater realization of how short life is, but also how precious it can be. Happy New Year.

Why should I read this blog?

This blog will document my quest to formulate a definite philosophy of life (see here). I will post once or twice weekly on theology, philosophy, biblical studies, ethics, environmental economics, film, fiction or current events. All posts are in the public domain as long as they are properly cited. Though I may occasionally write a post which just contains musings off the top of my head, most of the posts will be one of the following:

1) A review of a book or film which raises significant questions about the meaning of life, love, faith, evil or God, or which advances the conversation on the topics mentioned above.
2) Commentary or criticism of arguments put forward in the blogosphere on any of the above topics.
3) Musings on comparative theology (i.e. Christian vs. Buddhist understanding of suffering)
4) Multi-part series exploring the meaning of various 'big' words like faith, reason, love, God, etc.
5) Responses to lectures or debates on the above topics.

What are my qualifications to write on these topics? I bring the unique personal experience of having grown up a fundamentalist Christian but upon careful study having turned not to atheism but a more nuanced, confident Christian faith. I understand and sympathize with those for whom the crisis of faith was just too severe, but I believe that they were irrational to abandon it when they did. I am familiar with most if not all the key arguments employed by both Christians and atheists (as well as many of adherents of other religions) and have been trained in critical thinking by some of the best philosophers and religious scholars in the world (at Princeton University). I will say again though that I still have much to learn and I only offer the few answers I have found so far to whoever is interested. There are probably many conservative Christians who will think I am too liberal as well as liberal Christians or atheists who think I am too conservative. I take that as a good sign, that I am not just following the crowd but am thinking for myself.

Read this blog if you're interested in informed, critical (but not too technical) discussion of important issues in faith and life, if you've been troubled by skeptical arguments you don't know how to answer, if conversely if you do want to challenge yourself with perspectives you may not have considered before.

What's so great about philosophy?

Philosophy has a reputation for being abstract, difficult and irrelevant in the 'real' world. The great journalist and critic G.K. Chesterton thought otherwise: "the most practical and important thing about a man is still his view of the universe." He suggested that "Man can be defined as the animal that makes dogmas." Each of us builds up a certain world-view or 'philosophy of life' over time that informs our decisions and motivates our actions, even if this amounts to the denial of all worldviews and the renunciation of grand narratives. Since both philanthropists and terrorists are motivated by certain beliefs about how the world works it is clearly imperative to subject these beliefs and ideas to critical scrutiny, which is the task of philosophy. As Chesterton put it, "if there is to be mental advance, it must be mental advance in the construction of a definite philosophy of life. And that philosophy of life must be right and the other philosophies wrong."

There are many other reasons why the practice of philosophy is of immediate practical value. I list just a few of them briefly:

1. Originality in art, literature, science or even engineering and architecture arises partly from the ability to take an 'outside' perspective on a particular course of action. One can't conceive of a better way to write a novel, build a bridge or describe gravity without the realization that the current way of doing those things isn't the best or only way. Philosophical training disciplines the imagination and opens our minds to the world of possibilities, a crucially important prerequisite for social criticism as well (maybe the subjugation of women isn't natural or inevitable, for example).

2. Human beings are by nature short-sighted and focused on immediate gratification, even if it endangers their survival in the long run. Philosophy can help us put our aspirations in perspective and develop a habit of delayed gratification in the interest of a greater good. Just imagine if those Wall Street CEOs had taken their eyes off the enormous (and ultimately illusory) profits stemming from bad mortgages and focused on the long term stability and prosperity of their firms. Or if more Americans woke up to the devastating consequences of climate change for future generations.

3. Plato famously claimed that "those who really apply themselves in the right way to philosophy are directly and of their own accord preparing themselves for dying and death." The one thing we can be sure of about life is that it ends, and how we react to that truth and what we think of its significance in the grand scheme of things is the single greatest determinant of our quality of life, whether we are conscious of it or not (as Ernest Becker realized, even the denial of death has enormous repercussions for the culture of a society). Preparing rightly for death is the antidote to all false and dangerous ideologies which promise peace and safety in exchange for freedom and tolerance.

A word of caution is in order, however: philosophy can easily become the handmaid of ideology and be used to legitimize irrational prejudice and hatred. True wisdom for living is very hard to come by. Boethius gives a powerful illustration of this in his depiction of Lady Philosophy: he sees her dressed in a tattered, ragged garment, because men always try to grab hold of her for themselves and think they own her, when in reality all they hold are useless fragments of knowledge. Wisdom is also no more likely to be found in academia than anywhere else, although a properly protected and funded system of higher education is crucial to its safeguarding and transmission.

See here for an article on the advantages, both spiritual and economic, of majoring in philosophy.