.................................poder vivir sin aire
como quisiera............................
me encantaria quererte.....................
............................................vivir sin ti
Pero no puedo.............................
...................................sin tu amor
Como quisiera................................
como quisiera..................................
..........................poder vivir sin agua
................................robar......................
Como......................
..............................................
.................................
.............................................
................................
..........................................tierra
...................quisiera
poder vivir sin.......
Thursday, July 28, 2005
I'm going corporate
Yes, it's official. I am joining the corporate world. All that stuff about social justice and ragin' against capitalism, well, that's on hold right now while I try to make mad cash. 
Say...Moltmannian...did you get the memo?
Dude...whah? Theobloggoliciasaurus?
Um...excuse me...I'd like my textus receptus with my stapler.
Say...Moltmannian...did you get the memo?
Dude...whah? Theobloggoliciasaurus?
Um...excuse me...I'd like my textus receptus with my stapler.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Hyperreal proliferates
Persistence of History
The Wall Street Journal today ran a lead article about websites like Google and Wayback Machine that archive pages. Years of websites that are currently unavailable because they've been dismantled have been stored away. There is no way now to subvert the strands of time and feign a nonexistence: if you've had a web presence but need to make yourself scarce, you can't. This came up in various court cases, usually about domain and copyright infringement. Rather than "Googling," lawyers simply "Waybacked" to prove particular site owners were at one point in violation of certain codes or statutes, etc.
It appears that even the web world, the sphere of "time-space compression" (David Harvey) cannot escape historicization. History finds a way even there. Of course, it is a strange new history, one where the archive dominates. Rather than a narrative, it is a file.
The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (reprise)
While watching Access Holywood tonight (umm, for research of course), I was informed of a new television drama about the current gulf war. The creator of such classics as NYPD Blue is making a series that documents the trials of soldiers both in the field and off. They want to work in backstory, the struggle of the families, etc, and not just focus on "everyone going to the party / have a real good time / dancin' in the desert / blowin' up the sunshine".
The producers are getting flack mainly because the war is still going on and some find this distasteful and in poor judgment. But I think it's perfectly in order with the logic of our current times for the hyperreal to merge with the real and absorb it. We don't really know or care which one is real and which is the copy.
Baudrillard's little manifesto in response to father Bush's escapades-
- appears to be repeating itself.
The Wall Street Journal today ran a lead article about websites like Google and Wayback Machine that archive pages. Years of websites that are currently unavailable because they've been dismantled have been stored away. There is no way now to subvert the strands of time and feign a nonexistence: if you've had a web presence but need to make yourself scarce, you can't. This came up in various court cases, usually about domain and copyright infringement. Rather than "Googling," lawyers simply "Waybacked" to prove particular site owners were at one point in violation of certain codes or statutes, etc.
It appears that even the web world, the sphere of "time-space compression" (David Harvey) cannot escape historicization. History finds a way even there. Of course, it is a strange new history, one where the archive dominates. Rather than a narrative, it is a file.
The Gulf War Did Not Take Place (reprise)
While watching Access Holywood tonight (umm, for research of course), I was informed of a new television drama about the current gulf war. The creator of such classics as NYPD Blue is making a series that documents the trials of soldiers both in the field and off. They want to work in backstory, the struggle of the families, etc, and not just focus on "everyone going to the party / have a real good time / dancin' in the desert / blowin' up the sunshine".
The producers are getting flack mainly because the war is still going on and some find this distasteful and in poor judgment. But I think it's perfectly in order with the logic of our current times for the hyperreal to merge with the real and absorb it. We don't really know or care which one is real and which is the copy.
Baudrillard's little manifesto in response to father Bush's escapades-
- appears to be repeating itself.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Jeet Kune Do and Postmodernity I
To the uninitiated, Bruce Lee is simply just another martial arts film star, like Jackie Chan or Jet Li. "Was he really any good?" some might ask. "Did he do those stunts? Did someone show him those moves?"
But for those familiar with the world of martial arts, the claim that Lee was one of the greatest martial artists in living memory is a familiar and justifiable one. Not only was he in top physical condition, having devised numerous training methods and exercises that were ahead of their time; he is also credited with developing a revolutionary approach to the martial arts. Jeet Kune Do- the way of the intercepting fist- is a collection of philosophical and methodological innovations that apply to combat arts, and, as many claim, to life more broadly.
There are many summaries on the web, so I won't belabor one. For a definitive introduction, I direct the reader to Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do, one of the most helpful martial books ever written. I will, however, review a few elements that pertain to this post:
Lee was dissatisfied with complex, "flowery," and smug approaches to the martial arts. Simplicity, efficiency, pragmatism became the mantras of his method. He critiqued the guarded traditions of "pure" and "authoritative" styles (e.g., Chang Chuan, Wing Chun, Tien Shan Pai, Choy Li Fut, etc.), believing they had come to stultify growth, innovation and development. Practitioners were burdened with learning and mastering thousands of movements kept alive less for their practicability and combat effectiveness than because of their being part of the tradition. Modern exponents were repeating movements designed for radically different combat contexts, like fighting with armor or on horseback or barefoot. After coming to the U.S. (Seattle and San Francisco), Lee began a productive career of writing, teaching and training, setting out these principles through what he initially called Jun Fan Kung Fu. (It was only much later, after much deserved fame in the martial arts world, that Lee came to the screen- with Fists of Fury (also called Chinese Connection) as his debut which initiated a new tradition of martial arts films.) Lee received much criticism from teachers back in China, as well as prominent martial artists in the U.S., for his perceived cheekiness, subverting tradition and iconoclastically dismantling the edifice of ossified and totalizing martial arts systems. Needless to say, he made a lot of enemies (later to feed into conspiracy theories surrounding his untimely death).
Lee demonstrating his famed "One-Inch Punch"
In many ways Lee's approach served as progenitor to the mixed-martial arts craze going on today, and to the popularity of events like the Ultimate Fighting Championship, which pits various styles and approaches against each other in a "real" fight setting. Schools teaching "JKD concepts" have cropped up everywhere, along with a (counterintuitive) obsession with lineage ("I was trained by X, one of Lee's original students...").
In some ways Lee's was seen as a truly "American" approach, cutting back the extraneous and traditional in the name of pragmatism and effectiveness. There may be something to this. But what strikes me are the postmodern undertones to his project (Lee was doing his work in the 60s-70s). He questioned the view of tradition as pristine, self-enclosed, and able to be passed on without alteration. He challenged conventional canons on martial art technique and training. Application of his method seemed to celebrate diversity and plurality (many have mistaken Jeet Kune Do as a hodgepodge or random sampling of different styles. While this is not the case, there are certain underlying principles that value diversity and that can lend this impression.) Pragmatism and practice served as touchstones over against the authority of tradition, origin, or aesthetics. His injunctions to "use no way as a way" or to "seek to be like water, formless and utterly adaptable," while admittedly Zen-inspired, seem akin to the shifting, transient sands of our current pomo playground.
In a later post, I want to explore the relationship of JKD to tradition, and hazard a way to think about this relationship that, while not only being helpful for martial arts practitioners, may be of use to philosophers in general.
But for those familiar with the world of martial arts, the claim that Lee was one of the greatest martial artists in living memory is a familiar and justifiable one. Not only was he in top physical condition, having devised numerous training methods and exercises that were ahead of their time; he is also credited with developing a revolutionary approach to the martial arts. Jeet Kune Do- the way of the intercepting fist- is a collection of philosophical and methodological innovations that apply to combat arts, and, as many claim, to life more broadly.
There are many summaries on the web, so I won't belabor one. For a definitive introduction, I direct the reader to Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do, one of the most helpful martial books ever written. I will, however, review a few elements that pertain to this post:
Lee was dissatisfied with complex, "flowery," and smug approaches to the martial arts. Simplicity, efficiency, pragmatism became the mantras of his method. He critiqued the guarded traditions of "pure" and "authoritative" styles (e.g., Chang Chuan, Wing Chun, Tien Shan Pai, Choy Li Fut, etc.), believing they had come to stultify growth, innovation and development. Practitioners were burdened with learning and mastering thousands of movements kept alive less for their practicability and combat effectiveness than because of their being part of the tradition. Modern exponents were repeating movements designed for radically different combat contexts, like fighting with armor or on horseback or barefoot. After coming to the U.S. (Seattle and San Francisco), Lee began a productive career of writing, teaching and training, setting out these principles through what he initially called Jun Fan Kung Fu. (It was only much later, after much deserved fame in the martial arts world, that Lee came to the screen- with Fists of Fury (also called Chinese Connection) as his debut which initiated a new tradition of martial arts films.) Lee received much criticism from teachers back in China, as well as prominent martial artists in the U.S., for his perceived cheekiness, subverting tradition and iconoclastically dismantling the edifice of ossified and totalizing martial arts systems. Needless to say, he made a lot of enemies (later to feed into conspiracy theories surrounding his untimely death).
Lee demonstrating his famed "One-Inch Punch"
In many ways Lee's approach served as progenitor to the mixed-martial arts craze going on today, and to the popularity of events like the Ultimate Fighting Championship, which pits various styles and approaches against each other in a "real" fight setting. Schools teaching "JKD concepts" have cropped up everywhere, along with a (counterintuitive) obsession with lineage ("I was trained by X, one of Lee's original students...").
In some ways Lee's was seen as a truly "American" approach, cutting back the extraneous and traditional in the name of pragmatism and effectiveness. There may be something to this. But what strikes me are the postmodern undertones to his project (Lee was doing his work in the 60s-70s). He questioned the view of tradition as pristine, self-enclosed, and able to be passed on without alteration. He challenged conventional canons on martial art technique and training. Application of his method seemed to celebrate diversity and plurality (many have mistaken Jeet Kune Do as a hodgepodge or random sampling of different styles. While this is not the case, there are certain underlying principles that value diversity and that can lend this impression.) Pragmatism and practice served as touchstones over against the authority of tradition, origin, or aesthetics. His injunctions to "use no way as a way" or to "seek to be like water, formless and utterly adaptable," while admittedly Zen-inspired, seem akin to the shifting, transient sands of our current pomo playground.
In a later post, I want to explore the relationship of JKD to tradition, and hazard a way to think about this relationship that, while not only being helpful for martial arts practitioners, may be of use to philosophers in general.
Friday, July 15, 2005
diggin' in the dirt
One of the reasons I decided not to become a pastor was that I didn't want to inflict myself on others. Let me explain.
Within all the discussion of the requisite training and skills necessary for the ministry, it seems to me that one of the central traits often not given adequate attention is "people skills". A close second, and somewhat related, is emotional health.
At my seminary, there was one--maybe two--required course(s) dealing with counseling, and very little of the course material was focused on oneself. In other words, it was still about skills, about how to deal with "them," rather than fostering self-awareness about one's own issues. Most courses focused on content- Greek, exegesis, theology, church administration--all great and important things, but in my mind less important than what I want to address here.
Over the years I've encountered a few too many pastors who I don't think should be pastors. The immediate reason pertained to the more "surface" issue noted above, people skills. These pastors were shy, awkward, and apparently uncomfortable making conversation or interacting with people. This made me (and others with whom I conferred) uncomfortable--the awkwardness usually transfers. While perhaps well-intentioned, these pastors communicated a lack of concern for those with whom they interacted. They exuded an aura that conveyed "I'd rather be in my study" or "I'd rather be with those few people I know well" or even "I'd rather be watching the game".
I'm not being shallow here. I really think there are personality types and people with certain ways they interact socially who should not go into a line of work where their top priority is relationships. Yes, I know today we've got all our trendy divisions of labor: executive pastor, teaching pastor, administrative pastor, etc, etc. Granted, someone might operate successfully in a less people-oriented type of pastoral role (in my mind an oxymoron). But, in general, most pastoral positions involve interacting with, guiding and caring for a group of people who--if you are doing things right--will begin to work through their own baggage, go through painful growing experiences, and be in need of pastoring.
Because of this, pastors must be, to put it simply, good with people. They need to be able to be hospitable, to "shoot the breeze," to have deep conversation, to counsel, to hang out, to reconcile, apologize and forgive. This is the "people skills" aspect. Though I do not wish to re-assert the stereotype that studious, introverted people cannot be any of the aforementioned things, I've encountered a few too many pastors who are the latter without the former. (I've got a separate rant, by the way, for the buddy-buddy pastor who can chat your ear off and "kick it" with you but who's unreflective, a non-learner, and unable to teach. So, I'm not knocking the studious pastors.) I've met the pastors who seem shyer than I am, who don't know what to say, who seem aloof and detached. This is unacceptable.
The second aspect goes deeper, so it's less readily apparent. Pastors need to be working on their emotional maturity or emotional quotient. They need to be people who have spent time digging in the dirt of their past, of their baggage, of their own issues. How else do you expect to lead people through their own growth along such paths?
When I run my seminary some day, counseling (i.e. therapy for every student!) will be a required part of the program for ministry preparation. Individual counseling, small group discipleship and spiritual formation, caring for others, mentoring and being mentored--the works. In my view, facilitating the growing and maturing in grace is the top priority for institutions preparing spiritual leaders. Of course scriptural knowledge is essential and practical ministry skills are key, but forging a soul (or creating a space where God can forge it) should be first. There are too many people out there in ministry with their crap just leaking out, spewing out everywhere and infecting their relationships and the churches they influence. Sometimes only its effects are palpable while the source remains undetected.
Of course it's not about perfection, or having all your crap together. But it is about having made significant headway, having done some major house-cleaning, setting things in order. It's about having been on a path to wholeness for some time, having a firm foundation.
If you're a pastor or headed that way, and you haven't spent some time in counseling exploring your damage and seeking healing, I hope you make that choice. "But God hasn't called me to counseling yet. I've been called to ministry. I'm passionate and ready to serve." Well, consider this your call- God has reached through cyberspace and smacked your ass upside the head. Get your ass into counseling. Even if you're one of that 5% who truly have no deep-seated psychological issues, a little self-awareness never hurt anybody.
So, back to me. Though I like to think I've got fairly decent people skills, I do think I'm one of those people who partially fulfills the studious, introvert, shy and not-so-good-with-people mold. I've worked at it, done a lot to come out of my shell. But it's not good enough for what I believe the pastoral role requires. I'm not going to be one of those jackasses who makes others feel excluded or unwelcome because I'm hesitant to talk to them or can't find the words. Having encountered wonderfully gifted pastors who effortlessly mingle and talk and embrace, I'm confident I can leave the task to better men and women.
And while I've spent my share of time sorting through my baggage and own crap, there's more there. At this point it's too much to pour out on others. If the people skills, the surface attribute, were in place, I might be able to massage things to keep my crap under wraps effectively enough to minister well. But I am not in a place yet to, in the immortal words of Apone, "Secure that shit, Hudson!" And I'd have to say a few too many pastors I've encountered are not in that place either. Whether as drill sergeants barking orders and terrorizing their colleagues, or as passive-aggressive people-pleasers who let their insecurities rot the system and destroy morale, there are far too many idiots with serious emotional problems who could benefit from therapy before being in positions where their emotional/relational health is to be the central asset they bring to the job.
Now, I know things are more complicated than this, and, if I'd really felt an overwhelming call to the pastorate I'd probably be writing now about how you have to tough it out in the trenches of ministry and be healed in the process. There is something to that. A certain amount of healing and maturity will only come through the tensions of conflict resolution, negotiation, and partnering with others. A lot of the people skills pastors need will be acquired as they pastor. Since I felt a call in another direction it may be too easy for me to bash those heading for the pastorate who I deem unworthy. But I still firmly believe a substantial foundation of people skills and emotional health must be in place before one commences such a role. At the risk of criticism, I'll stand by my rant for the time being, happy to nuance it should that become necessary.
Within all the discussion of the requisite training and skills necessary for the ministry, it seems to me that one of the central traits often not given adequate attention is "people skills". A close second, and somewhat related, is emotional health.
At my seminary, there was one--maybe two--required course(s) dealing with counseling, and very little of the course material was focused on oneself. In other words, it was still about skills, about how to deal with "them," rather than fostering self-awareness about one's own issues. Most courses focused on content- Greek, exegesis, theology, church administration--all great and important things, but in my mind less important than what I want to address here.
Over the years I've encountered a few too many pastors who I don't think should be pastors. The immediate reason pertained to the more "surface" issue noted above, people skills. These pastors were shy, awkward, and apparently uncomfortable making conversation or interacting with people. This made me (and others with whom I conferred) uncomfortable--the awkwardness usually transfers. While perhaps well-intentioned, these pastors communicated a lack of concern for those with whom they interacted. They exuded an aura that conveyed "I'd rather be in my study" or "I'd rather be with those few people I know well" or even "I'd rather be watching the game".
I'm not being shallow here. I really think there are personality types and people with certain ways they interact socially who should not go into a line of work where their top priority is relationships. Yes, I know today we've got all our trendy divisions of labor: executive pastor, teaching pastor, administrative pastor, etc, etc. Granted, someone might operate successfully in a less people-oriented type of pastoral role (in my mind an oxymoron). But, in general, most pastoral positions involve interacting with, guiding and caring for a group of people who--if you are doing things right--will begin to work through their own baggage, go through painful growing experiences, and be in need of pastoring.
Because of this, pastors must be, to put it simply, good with people. They need to be able to be hospitable, to "shoot the breeze," to have deep conversation, to counsel, to hang out, to reconcile, apologize and forgive. This is the "people skills" aspect. Though I do not wish to re-assert the stereotype that studious, introverted people cannot be any of the aforementioned things, I've encountered a few too many pastors who are the latter without the former. (I've got a separate rant, by the way, for the buddy-buddy pastor who can chat your ear off and "kick it" with you but who's unreflective, a non-learner, and unable to teach. So, I'm not knocking the studious pastors.) I've met the pastors who seem shyer than I am, who don't know what to say, who seem aloof and detached. This is unacceptable.
The second aspect goes deeper, so it's less readily apparent. Pastors need to be working on their emotional maturity or emotional quotient. They need to be people who have spent time digging in the dirt of their past, of their baggage, of their own issues. How else do you expect to lead people through their own growth along such paths?
When I run my seminary some day, counseling (i.e. therapy for every student!) will be a required part of the program for ministry preparation. Individual counseling, small group discipleship and spiritual formation, caring for others, mentoring and being mentored--the works. In my view, facilitating the growing and maturing in grace is the top priority for institutions preparing spiritual leaders. Of course scriptural knowledge is essential and practical ministry skills are key, but forging a soul (or creating a space where God can forge it) should be first. There are too many people out there in ministry with their crap just leaking out, spewing out everywhere and infecting their relationships and the churches they influence. Sometimes only its effects are palpable while the source remains undetected.
Of course it's not about perfection, or having all your crap together. But it is about having made significant headway, having done some major house-cleaning, setting things in order. It's about having been on a path to wholeness for some time, having a firm foundation.
If you're a pastor or headed that way, and you haven't spent some time in counseling exploring your damage and seeking healing, I hope you make that choice. "But God hasn't called me to counseling yet. I've been called to ministry. I'm passionate and ready to serve." Well, consider this your call- God has reached through cyberspace and smacked your ass upside the head. Get your ass into counseling. Even if you're one of that 5% who truly have no deep-seated psychological issues, a little self-awareness never hurt anybody.
So, back to me. Though I like to think I've got fairly decent people skills, I do think I'm one of those people who partially fulfills the studious, introvert, shy and not-so-good-with-people mold. I've worked at it, done a lot to come out of my shell. But it's not good enough for what I believe the pastoral role requires. I'm not going to be one of those jackasses who makes others feel excluded or unwelcome because I'm hesitant to talk to them or can't find the words. Having encountered wonderfully gifted pastors who effortlessly mingle and talk and embrace, I'm confident I can leave the task to better men and women.
And while I've spent my share of time sorting through my baggage and own crap, there's more there. At this point it's too much to pour out on others. If the people skills, the surface attribute, were in place, I might be able to massage things to keep my crap under wraps effectively enough to minister well. But I am not in a place yet to, in the immortal words of Apone, "Secure that shit, Hudson!" And I'd have to say a few too many pastors I've encountered are not in that place either. Whether as drill sergeants barking orders and terrorizing their colleagues, or as passive-aggressive people-pleasers who let their insecurities rot the system and destroy morale, there are far too many idiots with serious emotional problems who could benefit from therapy before being in positions where their emotional/relational health is to be the central asset they bring to the job.
Now, I know things are more complicated than this, and, if I'd really felt an overwhelming call to the pastorate I'd probably be writing now about how you have to tough it out in the trenches of ministry and be healed in the process. There is something to that. A certain amount of healing and maturity will only come through the tensions of conflict resolution, negotiation, and partnering with others. A lot of the people skills pastors need will be acquired as they pastor. Since I felt a call in another direction it may be too easy for me to bash those heading for the pastorate who I deem unworthy. But I still firmly believe a substantial foundation of people skills and emotional health must be in place before one commences such a role. At the risk of criticism, I'll stand by my rant for the time being, happy to nuance it should that become necessary.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
What would Machiavelli say?
I'm proud to claim personal acquaintance with one of the shapers of the world of tomorrow. I can't assume he's part of the Pentaverate, but he is clearly part of a group with mad power and influence, one of the architects of the new highways and byways upon which we shall one day tread.
All I'm saying is, sign me up for "wetwear" as soon as it becomes affordable.
I'm ready.
All I'm saying is, sign me up for "wetwear" as soon as it becomes affordable.
I'm ready.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
"You had me at Hillel"
When Jerry Maguire first came out, MarianEvans actually mis-heard Renee Zellweger's famous line, interpreting it as the title above suggests. Of course, given the odd nature of such a statement, Evans realized she was mistaken in her hearing. But I think her mistake is understandable, considering Zellweger's pinched, swollen-faced, puffy-cheeked visage, which has an indellible effect on her enunciation: "theeank youuu fer yer cyunsideraaation" .
But just imagine if this line had been used. What would be different? What might this film have been about? What is the plot? Who is Cruise's character? What's the story? Please, give me your ideas.
(On a different note, this line would be a fantastic title for a Jewish student union singles' mixer.)
But just imagine if this line had been used. What would be different? What might this film have been about? What is the plot? Who is Cruise's character? What's the story? Please, give me your ideas.
(On a different note, this line would be a fantastic title for a Jewish student union singles' mixer.)
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Monday, July 04, 2005
Self-commentary on aforementioned
While listening to Badiou, I was filled with mild fear and horror that his position stemmed from a superficial reading of Paul. It really seemed like he was advocating an almost Sunday-school version: the Bible says we are all one, so we shouldn't worry about differences, (can't we all just get along, blah blah blah). This was further complicated by the radical disjunction he saw between Paul and tradition ("Paul is not a philosopher"). Interestingly, this was not unlike the position advocated by Marion at the Lumen Christi lecture (cf. Gaunilo's summary). Christianity, it is claimed, is something opposed to and irreconcilable with philosophy. Thus, with Paul, we have a pristine, radically different perspective that establishes with (frustrating) simplicity an alternative to today's dominant model. (This smacks a little too much of the "Christ against culture" model.)
At any rate, I have to believe that Badiou means something more complex and nuanced, if only for the reason that he's freakin schmaht and well-read and been studying this shizznit for a while! He can't be advocating what he seems to be advocating. We've got to read between the layers. I'm not sure what all this means just yet, but his link to Lacan at the end saved his presentation by sufficiently complexifying it.
At any rate, I have to believe that Badiou means something more complex and nuanced, if only for the reason that he's freakin schmaht and well-read and been studying this shizznit for a while! He can't be advocating what he seems to be advocating. We've got to read between the layers. I'm not sure what all this means just yet, but his link to Lacan at the end saved his presentation by sufficiently complexifying it.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Ethical universalism, transcendence of otherness
A little while back Gaunilo indicated plans to blog on Badiou. Since he has thus forced us into promissory history, perhaps I can help usher in the eschaton (ah naive post-mills) by my own blog on Badiou. Happily, it is not on the text that Gaunilo plans to address, but rather on a lecture given some months back which I attended.
Here's the blurb from the lecture announcement:
---
Alain Badiou, Chair of Philosophy at the Ecole Normale Superieure in Paris, will deliver a lecture entitled "Paul and the Moral Problem: Universalism and Differences."
A very important maxim of Paul is: Do not argue about opinions (Rom. 14.1). We can translate this injunction in more technical language: Do not compromise the Truth by entangling it in the web of opinions and differences. Generally speaking, for a philosophy, or for a philosopher like Socrates, it is a necessity to argue about opinions, to criticize opinions. But precisely: Paul is not a philosopher. The Christian subject is not at all in the field of philosophy. We have to understand-and it is very difficult-that faith is neither an opinion, nor a critique of opinion. The Christian subject is an activist of an Event. And Christian militantism must traverse worldly differences indifferently and avoid all casuistry over customs.
---
Badiou is tall, white-haired, with a healthy (read:round) belly--though otherwise apparently fit. He wore white pants and a white sweatshirt (and maybe white shoes too!). Hey, kinda like in this picture:
He spoke with a fantastic French accent, and was extremely jovial and energetic. He constantly interjected jokes into his address, and had the room in stitches at times. His humor was magnified by his astute use of his accent (inflecting it in just the right ways to appeal to the American ear), as well as by his repeated bouncing around and his chuckling to himself. This was someone who to me embodied joy and fulfillment, an apparently satisfied person.
Badiou indicated early on that the Pauline/Christian tradition was not one to which he subscribes in any "personal" sense. Yet, he firmly believes the Pauline ethic, as he understands it, offers a productive counterpoint to moral philosophy and the resulting modern, democratic tradition. The latter two are, in Badiou's book, bankrupt, or at least seriously flawed.
I'll try to summarize the gist of his thoughts:
Moral philosophy is about taking account of the Other, which means taking account of differences. Modern, democratic morality affirms the individual, and the existence of multiple, distinct cultures. All cultures are good and have equal rights if they respect all other cultures and respect life. Thus, tolerance and human rights are the two pillars of democratic morality. The definition of freedom that emerges is the ability to express one's own (respect of individual) creative power (respect of life). A correlate is the freedom to satisfy one's own desires (fuel for creative potential); this is the ground of happiness.
To this he responds: "If morality is the peaceful organization of differences, then there is no morality in Paul. Paul is an immoralist!"
For Paul, Badiou maintains, there are no differences. There is no concept of otherness. Sameness is the key (Gal 3:28). To grasp the truth of difference, one must go beyond difference, transcending difference, to become indifferent. What about cultural differences? They do not matter. What about the law? The law has no place--"everything is permissible."
There is only one type of relationship in Paul, that of love. This is an immediate and positive relationship. Badiou reminds us that this is distinct from Levinas, who always prioritizes the Other. (For Levinas, we are always bound to the Other, the Other catches us in her gaze, and we are obligated.) For Paul it is a reciprocal relationship of love. (We might say it is a relationship of equals, but this introduces an overdetermined category ("equality") which for us is too burdened with modern notions.)
If there is an Other in Paul, it is the neighbor. We are to love the neighbor, the immediate Other. War is possible with the neighbor, so we are to love precisely where war/contradiction is possible.
"As you love yourself." Here sameness figures in; the relationship to the Other parallels the relationship to the self. Our notion of the self is grounded in the resurrection, which is the affirmation and love of life. (Yes, he got a little fuzzy here.) This connects with his notion of Event. Christian subjectivity is grounded in this event, rather than in a set of principles (philosophy) or law (morality).
What thus emerges is the hope for a new subjectivity, which fosters a paradigm shift that looks beyond differences. It does not ignore but transcends them. "Truth is beyond opinions, not against them."
Badiou sees Paul's "faith, hope, and love" as paralleling Lacan's "real, imaginary, and symbolic". (Here he broke off into a joke (think French accent)- "Lacan...was for meeee... one of my clooosest friends. This means...of couuuurse...that 'ee was an even cloooser enemyyyy!!" Then he'd crack himself up, and we'd all crack up.)
Ok, so to try to re-hash this and make some sense: it seems to me that Badiou sees in Paul a model of a hopeful, imaginative embrace of life that is grounded in our fundamental common humanity--(recall that, for Badiou, who is not a "believer", the resurrection must be taken as figurative). It must lead to the construction of a model of community that is not fixated on differences. It cannot ignore them (eg, I think of the b.s. of the so-called "colorblind society" of Sowell or Steele or DeSouza), but must somehow acknowledge them and instantaneously move on to something new. This new model is, of course, to be determined. Badiou cited Lacan's statement that "fiction is a house for truth" to emphasize the imaginative, constructive character of this project.
We are to have faith in what is true (The Real), our common humanity. We enact this commonality through love, which embodies the structure of how things are, even if not apparent (The Symbolic). In so doing we function in hope, always creatively stretching forward toward new (The Imaginary) postures of relationship based on this truth.
Here's the blurb from the lecture announcement:
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Alain Badiou, Chair of Philosophy at the Ecole Normale Superieure in Paris, will deliver a lecture entitled "Paul and the Moral Problem: Universalism and Differences."
A very important maxim of Paul is: Do not argue about opinions (Rom. 14.1). We can translate this injunction in more technical language: Do not compromise the Truth by entangling it in the web of opinions and differences. Generally speaking, for a philosophy, or for a philosopher like Socrates, it is a necessity to argue about opinions, to criticize opinions. But precisely: Paul is not a philosopher. The Christian subject is not at all in the field of philosophy. We have to understand-and it is very difficult-that faith is neither an opinion, nor a critique of opinion. The Christian subject is an activist of an Event. And Christian militantism must traverse worldly differences indifferently and avoid all casuistry over customs.
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Badiou is tall, white-haired, with a healthy (read:round) belly--though otherwise apparently fit. He wore white pants and a white sweatshirt (and maybe white shoes too!). Hey, kinda like in this picture:
He spoke with a fantastic French accent, and was extremely jovial and energetic. He constantly interjected jokes into his address, and had the room in stitches at times. His humor was magnified by his astute use of his accent (inflecting it in just the right ways to appeal to the American ear), as well as by his repeated bouncing around and his chuckling to himself. This was someone who to me embodied joy and fulfillment, an apparently satisfied person.
Badiou indicated early on that the Pauline/Christian tradition was not one to which he subscribes in any "personal" sense. Yet, he firmly believes the Pauline ethic, as he understands it, offers a productive counterpoint to moral philosophy and the resulting modern, democratic tradition. The latter two are, in Badiou's book, bankrupt, or at least seriously flawed.
I'll try to summarize the gist of his thoughts:
Moral philosophy is about taking account of the Other, which means taking account of differences. Modern, democratic morality affirms the individual, and the existence of multiple, distinct cultures. All cultures are good and have equal rights if they respect all other cultures and respect life. Thus, tolerance and human rights are the two pillars of democratic morality. The definition of freedom that emerges is the ability to express one's own (respect of individual) creative power (respect of life). A correlate is the freedom to satisfy one's own desires (fuel for creative potential); this is the ground of happiness.
To this he responds: "If morality is the peaceful organization of differences, then there is no morality in Paul. Paul is an immoralist!"
For Paul, Badiou maintains, there are no differences. There is no concept of otherness. Sameness is the key (Gal 3:28). To grasp the truth of difference, one must go beyond difference, transcending difference, to become indifferent. What about cultural differences? They do not matter. What about the law? The law has no place--"everything is permissible."
There is only one type of relationship in Paul, that of love. This is an immediate and positive relationship. Badiou reminds us that this is distinct from Levinas, who always prioritizes the Other. (For Levinas, we are always bound to the Other, the Other catches us in her gaze, and we are obligated.) For Paul it is a reciprocal relationship of love. (We might say it is a relationship of equals, but this introduces an overdetermined category ("equality") which for us is too burdened with modern notions.)
If there is an Other in Paul, it is the neighbor. We are to love the neighbor, the immediate Other. War is possible with the neighbor, so we are to love precisely where war/contradiction is possible.
"As you love yourself." Here sameness figures in; the relationship to the Other parallels the relationship to the self. Our notion of the self is grounded in the resurrection, which is the affirmation and love of life. (Yes, he got a little fuzzy here.) This connects with his notion of Event. Christian subjectivity is grounded in this event, rather than in a set of principles (philosophy) or law (morality).
What thus emerges is the hope for a new subjectivity, which fosters a paradigm shift that looks beyond differences. It does not ignore but transcends them. "Truth is beyond opinions, not against them."
Badiou sees Paul's "faith, hope, and love" as paralleling Lacan's "real, imaginary, and symbolic". (Here he broke off into a joke (think French accent)- "Lacan...was for meeee... one of my clooosest friends. This means...of couuuurse...that 'ee was an even cloooser enemyyyy!!" Then he'd crack himself up, and we'd all crack up.)
Ok, so to try to re-hash this and make some sense: it seems to me that Badiou sees in Paul a model of a hopeful, imaginative embrace of life that is grounded in our fundamental common humanity--(recall that, for Badiou, who is not a "believer", the resurrection must be taken as figurative). It must lead to the construction of a model of community that is not fixated on differences. It cannot ignore them (eg, I think of the b.s. of the so-called "colorblind society" of Sowell or Steele or DeSouza), but must somehow acknowledge them and instantaneously move on to something new. This new model is, of course, to be determined. Badiou cited Lacan's statement that "fiction is a house for truth" to emphasize the imaginative, constructive character of this project.
We are to have faith in what is true (The Real), our common humanity. We enact this commonality through love, which embodies the structure of how things are, even if not apparent (The Symbolic). In so doing we function in hope, always creatively stretching forward toward new (The Imaginary) postures of relationship based on this truth.
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