All kidding aside

For all who are interested, I stumbled upon a site at which it is actually worth taking time out of your overly-scheduled day to look. Thomas Merton, one of my own personal heroes, lived the Christian journey in a dynamic fashion, subtle yet powerful, and this site contains varied information on his life and works. It's quite innovative, I must say.

Friends are a gift

I've decided that since many of the previous entries on this page are abstract and/or very technical that I would go ahead and just land back on planet earth and say a few things about a good friend of mine. You know, sing his praises a bit. Talk about what a nice guy he is and all that and express my love for him to sort of heighten the world's awareness of what a stellar opportunity we have to be graced by his presence. I'd just like to take a moment in time and stop, let my mouth speak out of the abundance of my heart and tell you that I have a friend, and while he may not be close to me nor I close to him, he remains a friend nevertheless and no ocean in the world, no matter how ample, is a boundary too great for us. He's a brilliant guy who is in a tough place right now, and I wish I could come to his assistance. In the end though, he will make it through. We all know that. He's a living example of Nietzsche's dictum "What does not kill us make us stronger." He has made it through worse and will continue to press on. Hang in there man. We love you. Oh, here's his blog while we're at it, in case you are not yet acquanted with our man. I urge you to visit.

The Pope, Billy Graham, and Oral Roberts

The Pope, Billy Graham, and Oral Roberts were in a plane crash over the Atlantic Ocean. Tragically they all died and went to the pearly gates together. St. Peter was surprised to see them. "Oh, dear! We weren't expecting you and your quarters aren't ready yet. We can't take you in and we can't send you back!" Getting an idea, he picked up the celestial phone and called Lucifer. "I have three gentlemen who are ours, but their places aren't ready yet. Could you put them up for a couple of days? I'll owe you one." The Devil reluctantly agreed.

Two days later, St. Peter got a call. "Pete, this is Lucifer. You have to come get these three guys that are yours. This Pope guy is forgiving everybody, the Graham fellow is saving everybody, and Oral Roberts has raised enough money to buy air conditioning!"

Thanks: http://www.basicjokes.com/

Chad Vader

On a serious note friends, you should consider this.

He's Chad, Darth Vader's clumsy, uninspired younger brother.

Eggs Benedict

Welcome friends, to Friday's Eggs Benedict. Viola.

"Last week at Germany's University of Regensburg, which as you know is a safety school, Pope Benedict gave an address in which he discussed Islam's concept of jihad by quoting 14th century Byzantine emperor Manuel Paleologos II. Ya know if you're going to make a wholesale generalization, say it in German. It gives it that extra 'oomph.'" -- Jon Stewart

We'll do this every Friday. Enjoy.

Look into my eyes

"Welcome, to the desert of the real," says Morpheus to newly-awoken friend Thomas Anderson in the film The Matrix. Anderson's skin is a blinding white hue, and all across his spine, head, and chest nodes arise out of his body, naked and exposed, to the surface. The nodes lead into his cranal cavity and central nervous system; they are signs of a world that once existed for Anderson, they are the result of a complex system of wiring and mechanical configuration which guided, perhaps even controlled, his brain waves and bodily functions since the moment of his birth. He has been used his entire life. The only value that Anderson took was proportionate to what he was able to produce for an energy-based, machine-lead infrastructure. "Why do my eyes hurt?" Anderson says as he attempts to focus his vision, distorted and blurred from decades of stasis. "Because you have never used them," is Morpheus' reply. "Because you have never used them."

You see, Mr. Anderson never before thought to question his life as a computer-hacking, 30 year-old teenager. Prior to this day, he was a testament to mediocre subsistance, and that presented no problems to the exent of his concern. Unknown to him, there was a rich stratum of meaning awaiting his moment of first wonder, a wealth pulsing with life that pre-dates his incarnation and will outlive him, although he will pass by it and be edept to enter into it. Anderson's story will be incorperated with that of this other world. His inclusion depends solely upon energy garnered from his own will's desire. The proper place for such a will can only be his soul, and that desire's bemouned destination, the other world. His new-found heart's desire leads him across the threshold of the now, into a reflective 'other' state, and back into the now with incredible perspective and insight. Mr. Anderson's mind is no longer under the guise of a mechanical, cyber-intelligence. He has discovered, by a friendly helping-hand, his own thoughts and autonomy. He is now able to take up his responsability as human person, Anderson embodies his own limited, interior state. He realizes that he is not, as the cyber-intelligence thinks befitting, a being for the proliferation of resources, but a being in and of himself. Freed from someone else's sick remedy for individual development, he can now live. "Welcome to the real world."

Not to scare you away. Those who have made it this far are brave. Stay with me here. I have been reflecting quite a bit the last couple of weeks, and much like Thomas Anderson, the position of man in this world, even in philosophical discourse intrigues me. Shall we share in a few thoughts? Good. Let's start with the simple notion that man is valuable. No one could refute this and be called a sane person. Everyone is here in agreement, all philosophies, all cultures, all religions. From Nietzsche to Ghandi, and back again. We all have an accord on this point. But, I ask, from where does this value come and in what does it consist? Because, this is the curcial point on which the axis of our contemporary world rotates. Is it, as so many people are like to say, an intrinsic value? That is, does man's worth exhibit itself in the sole fact that he is human person? That he loves, thinks, breathes, watches the sunset and sits in awe of it's beauty. Or, is it on the other hand, an inherent worth that comes about because of man's role in a greater scheme? I've been delving into philosophy for the last 5 years or so, and I've come to a place in my reflection, albeit perhaps humble and/or shallow, that many of the greater philosophies at work on planet earth today and in the past century threaten this notion of the intrinsic value of man:

Hegel's phenomenology of spirit envisions philosophy as a dialectical history that is, through different expressions of the human spirit, in a constant state of arriving at an answer. Man is thus an agent for bringing about the truth. Marx proposes that man takes on a dulled, deadened state when he is drawn by the necessity to survive. Work and fabrication are underlined in this philsophy. That is, man is judged by his part in the production of a worker's paradise, not in the mere fact that he is human. The various philosophies too in the background of modern science, e.g. logical positivism, image the value of man in some way as a result of his role as the discoverer of miniscule and unapparent realities, as the witness to a mathematically ordered world that shows no interest or meaning vis-á-vis person-based ethics. These philosophies are ultimately driven to master nature in an attempt to overcome it and reach toward perfection. But again, man is not worthy becuase he simply is. He is valuable in the event that he acts as aid in a cause. He has value according to what he does, what he produces, (inherent) not according to what he is (intrinsic). In Kant, too, the only intrinsic good is a good will willing. And, even though Kant is the last to speak of manipulation of person's towards an ideal end, humanity is again an agent of ethics, not a necessarily good being.

Case in point: The notion of inherent human value is widespread and commonplace today. This is a grave danger. Not only on a personal level with reguard to individual thought, etc. But, on a more ample scale. History shows that people easily become disposable and defaced if they are a cog in the wheel of a machine. It is worth it. The sacrifice is sufficient means to the ideal end. Am I saying that ideals are bad? Well, let's take into account that as Francis Schaeffer says "Ideas have legs" and to accompany his thought, ideals are a greater extent or degree of ideas, which can manipulate and gather people behind its lead. So, 'Ideals have bodyguards' should do. In addition, much of post-enlightenment culture today is urged by the notion that man is not enough as he is. He thus involves himself in the creation of a paridise. Nice things, surrounded by abundant beauty. A big house, gorgeous wife, luxury. What does one to to acquire this life? He must work and work and when he's finished work some more, providing that he hasn't old money. Man is much more than we make him out to be. We have become so wrapped-up in our own ends, that we never stop to find ourself on a passage through this life. We do not appreciate man for who he is, and thus we do not value him as person because we do not know man. Just take note of day-to-day life in modern, technological socities. We drive our cars constantly, we sit in front of computer screens, televisions, we sit on airplanes, we play video games, watch films, and heat our tv dinners up in the microwaves so we can keep going and don't waste time at the dinner table. All of this we take on at the expense of a glance in the eyes of the other. In this process, we have lost our sight and are at times unable to even see ourselves in the mirror. Coincidence? I think not.

Thanks to the thoughts of Professor Lucas Lucas, teacher of the Philosophy of Man course at the Gregorian University.

Rome sweet Rome (Rerun: 22 Dec. 2005)

Rome sweet Rome (Rerun from 22 Dec. 2005) Pretext: During Christmas break last year. I was back in the States.

Hmm, my time before the break. Where do I begin? There's just so much to tell. As I sit here and listen to Italian Radio via Internet, I am missing the streets of Rome already, the sites, the sounds, the people. It is a city full of a certain lovable busyness that is difficult to display with words. Ever-so important Italian businessmen vested in tightly fit pin-striped suites fill the streets every morning, hair slicked-back, sporting the latest in fashionable, pointy footwear, which I maintian must surely be stolen from Santa's Elves, painted black, and given the fiting Italian stamp of phony authenticity (Warning! Do not think about that phrase before driving or the use of heavy machinery, may cause confusion and loss of limbs).

Everyday, day and night, both men and women of all persuasions are seen barrelling through the narrow streets on their vespas, which sound more to me like landscaping equipment than transportation. But, nevertheless, everything is always at least a little in retardo from the buses and trains to appointments and even the arrival of the check at restaraunts. It seems to me that things would actually get done and remain somewhat organized were it not for the 13 coffee/smoke breaks that they take every, oh let's say hour or so, and due to these countless pause throughout the day, I think everyone must come back to their work anew having forgotten where they left off nearly having to start over, hence the disorginization.

The efficiency and work ethic are mindblowing. They call Rome the Eternal City, which is a beautiful and fiting name, but I am here to tell you that I had no idea of what an eternity actually was until I tried to get some matters of business done in this city while in a hurry. Incredible! But not to fear, because here come the carabinieri, the local law enforcement, to set everyone straight with their rigur and discipline-led lives. I mean no one earns that military-style blue berets for nothng, right? Sadly not so, for said carabinieri, whose social sentament I would compare to the ROTC crowd in high school, are among the most lazy of the bunch, taking just as many breaks during the day and even passing their breaks and naps in marked cars as part of the day's work. Alas, like the others, they are seemingly too busy doing nothing all day to actually being doing anything useful.

This would all be overwealmingly sad for someone like myself to discover were it not for the other aspect of Italian daily life that breads the phrase dolce di fare niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. Instead of days spent at work at all times in both body, mind, and spirit in a somewhat mechanical way such as we see many times in the States, it is not a rare thing to walk down the street on any given day and peak into a shop or restaraunt only to see the workers, their customers, and managers conversing in a playful way with one another. We in the States have lost sight I think of eachother, we are so caught up in doing and making that we forget about people as they are, not slaves to some worklord, but as beautiful, life-giving creatures. We forget many times to experience the others around us, hence to experience life. Don't get me wrong, much of life in the US is dynamic and progressive. This is, however, my humble observance of two modes of approaching life everyday. I can only hope that the Italian way rubs off on me. As for Rome itself, it is a city that does sleep and even sleeps a little during the day, a city that sports cigarette-smoking, drunken priests and prostitues present at mass, a city that accepts all those who wish to pass through and changes all those who do so. I love it. Every second.

(p.s. awwwe. Look how cute I was, trying to be witty).