Saturday, August 9, 2008

The Things We Say

I am always curious about language, especially the logical extrapolations of statements people make. How we choose the words we speak or write is so imperative to how we are understood, and for being one who is so critical of how words are used, often, I am really quite terrible at expressing my own thoughts. One thing I am plagued with in life is my insufferably incredulous nature, especially about statements seemingly innocent at the surface that seem to claim a great virtue or evil or edge on truth. This is not just in regards to religion or philosophical topics, but in regards to myriad topics.

In the real world we really don't have the time to thoroughly think about the statements we make in great depths, and I don't really think that one can hold this human fault or shortcoming against anybody. But what if someone asks you the question you hadn't thought of in regards to your statement? When I ask questions which I too often do, most people just think I am an ass or "great, here goes Paul again". One friend of mine asked if I got some pleasure out of watching people squirm when I ask these questions. My response was no. My goal is to more fully understand the world so I can become a richer spirit that has at its worst attempted to step outside itself, not so I can squash the spirit of others. Although this is my goal the outcome is usually one of nausea and generalized anxiety.

I can honestly say, also, that my motive in my gazillion questions is to try to open windows for people to step outside themselves or their context to view the world. For some this might seem an admirable thing; for others, in a way, this is arrogant or comes off as such, I suppose, as it assumes that I have a view that no one else does. That is not my goal.

One of my favorite such statements I referred to in the first paragraph is this or something to this effect: "the statement or claim that no person can claim to know an absolute truth is itself a statement of absolute truth thus a statement that disproves itself". Of course, if the statement disproves itself, it proves its thesis.

Another statement, that I find more relative to our lives today at least in the U.S., is the statement "these people have died for our freedom". I have always wondered if those who make this statement realize the complexity of such a statement in regards to the statement itself and the context in which it is made.

I would love to hear comments on what this statement means to anyone who reads this.




4 comments:

Brad and Beth said...

Dude. I'm sure you know that I have spent a lot of time thinking about that statement. I've got lots to say about it, but I'll do that another time.

My wife's aunt, uncle and cousin were here this weekend. He saw a book I was reading laying around and asked me about it, and the ensuing conversation led us to the phenomenon (or something) of this sort of discussion, the sort of which has been happening between you and me and others on- and offline. A member of his family is having a very difficult time with end of life stuff, the day-to-day routine of trying to take care of his wife's and his deteriorating conditions. Family members are trying to help him with that, but he is extremely ungrateful. My uncle (I call him mine, too) gave some insight as to why his father is struggling so much, and it's precisely for reasons quite opposite of the nature or point of this blog. He is, in my personal estimation, delusional, convinced that his own worldview is the way everyone else needs to see it. He's also realizing, it seems, now that what he thought about his life coming to an end is not turning out to be so, and therefore is crushing himself (and those around him!) with manipulative, poisonous, passive-aggressive gossip about people who don't believe what he does. This is faith. Really? Yes! Everyone has faith in something, and the fruit of it clearly points to nature (or health) of its roots. And, it's unfortunate that people of faith as a group (which, as I've just claimed, though, distinguishes no one, but for argument's sake, refers to folks who believe in "a higher power") get tagged with attributes of any or all of the others (whichever is most convenient for an argument against them). I mentioned to my uncle that because of your challenging questions, Paul, I'm learning and discovering far more about who I am and what I believe than I ever would trying to engage with the man I mentioned above. And, I know that you are not asking these questions in order to make anyone squirm, although (wouldn't you say?) nine folks out of ten likely do at some of your queries. :-) I'm certainly in that majority, but that is my stuff. And, frankly, if I wasn't squirming, I'd be stuck, or maybe I wouldn't even notice the shackles with with one bum idea, illusion, or misconception restrains me.

So, before you feel all too warm and fuzzy for my thanks (really, thank you), here's a proposal. Your faith is willing to be put to the test (your a scientist for crying out loud, right, so, gladly, even), which is something that cannot describe almost any given "Christian" today. You better watch out, because that does not go unnoticed. The Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways (I couldn't come up with a better way to say it), and, as Tim Keller describes it, it's out of the joy of community with the God the Father and Jesus the Son, that it does so. The book my uncle saw laying around is N.T. Wright's (he is one of, if not the top of, the world's New Testament scholars) Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church. There are some pretty radical proposals that he makes, dismantling "traditional" notions and interpretations of how the Bible answers pretty big existential questions. So, in the spirit of "here goes Brad, again," I feel, considering where this discussion has been, this book is a fantastic (at the very least) intellectual exercise that gets way deep into all that Jesus is...which, interestingly enough, brings me to the statement for which you originally asked for comment that I said I'd discuss another time! It's just that this one is a little more focused: "this man has died for my freedom." Wright has taken, as you mentioned, "the complexity of such a statement in regards to the statement itself and the context in which it is made (which, quite abstractly, though not inexplicably, transcends time and rationality)" quite seriously.

I guess the list of books that we have to read and discuss just keeps on growing. And I got sucked into a blog entry again! Coffee soon?

Paul Perryman said...

I have to say I hadn't thought of the parallel of this question to the death of Christ. I would like to here more on that note, especially in regards to how we interpret how we respond to the soldiers who sacrifice their lives voluntarily (although that is arguable at some levels) and the collateral damage that is not so voluntary.

Thanks Bradley.

Brad and Beth said...

I was logging on this morning to write another quick hopeful future discussion topic, then saw you'd been on already. That would be a fun talk!

What I was coming to mention was...dang! I just can't remember. I'll hope it comes back around.

Something else, though, is that this reading has inspired me to coin a new term: Resurrection Ecology. I googled it and it is an actual scientific term used to describe bringing species that were extinct back into being, somehow (I didn't read much further about it). After paring it with "theology of", no links made any sort of definition of such a term the way I'm envisioning, which is: a theological perspective on the cycles which not only sustain life, but enable it to overcome catastrophe, disaster, annihilation, to recover, regrow, and regenerate into often grander or more resilient flora and fauna--or, further, exploring the notion that the living world's capabilities to do such is a reflection of what is promised in the coming new creation. Seems like fascinating PhD work to me! Anyway, that's still not the thing I was trying to think of...

Brad and Beth said...

Okay, so I'm getting a little carried away here today, but anyway. Wanted something down to refer to when we get a chance to sit down again.

I remembered what I wanted to talk about earlier. You and others have mentioned that the selective witnessing of healing or miracles, or the exclusive experiencing of the perceived presence of God in various forms as absurd, offensive, and/or far outside of the scope of any God who could be described as rational, reasonable and all-loving. This seems to be a bit of a conundrum (if I've used that word correctly) because we do not find ourselves quite so upset about the others' experiencing far more ruthless suffering through the likes of warfare, cycles of terrifying abuse, the anguish of infertility, etc. We don't wish ourselves to experience everything someone else does, so why are we so exclusively jealous about the "God" moments that they may experience? Are we willing, then, to desire all of their self, or otherwise, described moments of Godlessness, too? It is impossible (that would be agreeable, eh?) that everyone can experience everything exactly as everyone else does? Then we wouldn't need to be together because we would already know everyone else's story. Isn't the point to celebrate the triumphs and share the burdens of trial of each of our loved ones? By sharing our different perspectives and experience, can't we begin to make some conclusions corporately about how the world, and God in it, works? It seems a little presumptuous to say that because I have not experienced something quite like you have, that it must not be true at all.

Of course, I suppose it goes without saying, but, I may have misunderstood your concern or question. What are your thoughts?