The Alexandrian

Steampunk is an interesting new subculture to be aware of in places that reflect modern trends. This style makes a nearly-Chestertonian, paradoxical attempt to reconcile opposites: the breakaway from the bourgeois (the “punk”) and a return to Victorian formality (the era of “steam”). Not only that, but it attempts to bring together both extremes of artifacts in past centuries: both the obvious practicality of bare metal, gears, chains, screws; and the equally apparent ostentation of lace, well-finished wood, polished brass, ferns and leather-bound books. Ultimately, it is an attempt to take modern technology and to embed it in the appearances of an earlier age.

I think this can be a very Catholic attitude, not only because of our timeless heritage and our ability to incorporate the tradition of earlier ages, but also because it displays a respect for creation – specifically, the artifacts which are our own creations. Steampunk aims for beauty, practicality and durability – a combination which is all but lost in a consumerist society that depends upon plastics, convenience and disposability.

Of course, much of steampunk is merely for show, and does not offer the durability it advertises. It’s a good start, though, and something I’ll be interested in following over the next few years. Though not to the extent of dressing in a top hat, as some have done.

Just so all of you have more of a chance to get together your writing and art projects, we’ve extended the deadline for the summer issue to July 15th, rather than July 1st. So you have almost a month from today to get something together!

And a reminder – if you’ve been having problems finding a submission because of the limitations of the theme for each issue, this issue is themeless, so give it a shot!

So, just yesterday, I was contacted by the house director who had directed my being-kicked-out-of-the-mission a couple of years ago, back when we were both in Honduras at a certain mission which will remain nameless. More recently, this mission group decided to extend itself further by beginning a school in Liberia, to which they sent several Honduran and American volunteers.

It seems that my old house director, a full-time American volunteer for many years, and his Honduran wife have been kicked out of the mission now, themselves. Why? One of the Honduran men – a guy to whom I gave English lessons not too long ago – was recently arrested and incarcerated for threatening and raping (repetitively over a period of several months) a 13-year-old Nigerian girl in the mission. He later procured abortifacients for her (as well as prostitutes for himself). So… one would think that the organizers of the mission would want to do something to eradicate this behaviour and protect their children, right?

Not yet. They have yet to be convinced that anything at all is wrong with the mission as it stands. It would be much more convenient if the girl would only lie about her age, and admit that she had seduced the man. Because she won’t, and because my house director and his wife stood up for her and let the rapist be arrested, they are now expelled.

Anyway, pray for missions around the world that call themselves Catholic.

While I initially wanted to finish the classes for my MA in a single year (by taking classes through the summer, and writing my thesis from home afterwards), this is not what’s going to be happening. Instead, I’m working through the summer and will be taking a class and writing my thesis in the fall, and taking another class in the spring. Now for the exciting part: I’ve been asked to teach a class this fall (and spring, if the fall goes well). The class is Philosophy of the Human Person, and I pretty much have been given total freedom over what I will be presenting. This leaves me of course in the unenviable position of deciding, from among works that were written through the course of millennia, which are the most important and worth teaching to freshmen in three-hour sessions on Tuesday nights. Sigh.

Besides that, I’m working as the editorial assistant in putting together a new journal of philosophy that will be published from here. You can see the prototype of the website here. I’ve just put it on our site temporarily.

Speaking of our site, I’ve been rather annoyed at the GoDaddy commercials that keep coming out, so I think I’m going to switch to Bluehost as this service expires. Bluehost is based in Utah, actually, and they have some strict anti-pornography laws there, so I think they are not likely to fall into the same problems that I see with GoDaddy. Any suggestions?

Other than that, I’m living with a family over the summer and helping them out a little in exchange for room and board. It’s a lot of fun, and they have such a different way of life than I’m used to, so I’m learning a lot as well. They are very spontaneous, and have been known to suddenly pack up and set out on a trip – most recently, to Connecticut – with very little notice. It’s fine, though, and great to be with a family again.

I miss Canada, and living in the country, and having a vehicle to drive and siblings to frustrate and the Toronto parties and the March for Life and all; say a prayer and don’t forget about me!

Recently, I was thinking about how some people never really experience any kind of direct spiritual revelation. They can live exceedingly good lives, follow God to the best of their abilities (most of the time) and even assume positions of responsibility and importance in the Church. Are they somehow inferior or foundationless since they have never really felt the supernatural? I don’t think so.

On the one hand, it would be easy to equate their experience to those of St. John of the Cross or even Mother Teresa of Calcutta: God may choose not to reveal Himself to them in order to test and strengthen their ability to give without expecting return. Many people, after an initial conversion, lose their first sense of spiritual joy and experience dryness and loneliness.

What of those who never experienced an initial conversion and subsequent spiritual ‘high’? Some people have a very gradual growth in their faith, though they attain extraordinary levels of holiness. Their whole lives seem to be empty of the wonderful spiritual consolations so often given the mystics.

I think that such people’s lives can be more fruitfully compared to St. Peter’s. St. Peter, during the most wonderful spiritual experiences, somehow fails to see more than the practical side of things, but nevertheless obeys God and works to bring about His will. During the Transfiguration, for instance, he cannot simply allow himself to be silenced by Christ’s glory and majesty – rather, he suggests setting up tents for the three magnificent figures. He is frightened by the thought of Christ going to Jerusalem, because he knows the political situation there would be dangerous. He worries about saving his own skin when Christ is being tried by the high priest. He has no qualms about entering the empty tomb after the Resurrection, and seeing exactly what the facts of the matter are.

Yet, despite his seeming not to see the spiritual side of the things he experienced, Christ gives him a very high position in his Church. “Do you love Me?” Christ asks him, and on receiving a positive answer, He replies not “Happy are you,” but rather, “Feed My sheep.” St. Peter’s calling is not to feel the love of God in the intense way that St. John does; nor is it to have the life-changing conversion of St. Paul. He follows Christ without entirely understanding his calling, but obeying nonetheless. He sees the practical side of things that must be done, but never seems to enjoy the happiness of a mystical experience of God.

In the same way, I think there are people now who are called to live for God entirely without ever really being overwhelmed by His goodness and glory, and through no fault of their own. Rather, like St. Peter, this is their particular challenge and a way for them to grow in faith, hope and love.

Although this is primarily a Canadian blog, we have to admit that we are influenced by things that happen in the States. The recent killing of abortionist George Tiller has led to much discussion about the legitimacy or illegitimacy of such acts. Robbie George, a Catholic philosopher at Princeton, several years ago came out with a very ironic statement:

I am personally opposed to killing abortionists. However, inasmuch as my personal opposition to this practice is rooted in a sectarian (Catholic) religious belief in the sanctity of human life, I am unwilling to impose it on others who may, as a matter of conscience, take a different view. Of course, I am entirely in favor of policies aimed at removing the root causes of violence against abortionists. Indeed, I would go so far as to support mandatory one-week waiting periods, and even nonjudgmental counseling, for people who are contemplating the choice of killing an abortionist. I believe in policies that reduce the urgent need some people feel to kill abortionists while, at the same time, respecting the rights of conscience of my fellow citizens who believe that the killing of abortionists is sometimes a tragic necessity-not a good, but a lesser evil. In short, I am moderately pro-choice.

Recently, however, he has clarified this and proven himself to be “pro-life,” regardless of the circumstances:

Whoever murdered George Tiller has done a gravely wicked thing. The evil of this action is in no way diminished by the blood George Tiller had on his own hands. No private individual had the right to execute judgment against him. We are a nation of laws. Lawless violence breeds only more lawless violence. Rightly or wrongly, George Tilller was acquitted by a jury of his peers. “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.” For the sake of justice and right, the perpetrator of this evil deed must be prosecuted, convicted, and punished. By word and deed, let us teach that violence against abortionists is not the answer to the violence of abortion. Every human life is precious. George Tiller’s life was precious. We do not teach the wrongness of taking human life by wrongfully taking a human life. Let our “weapons” in the fight to defend the lives of abortion’s tiny victims, be chaste weapons of the spirit.

This debate keeps reminding me of A Man for All Seasons (thanks to Andrew for identifying it):

William Roper: So, now you give the Devil the benefit of law!
Sir Thomas More: Yes! What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?
William Roper: Yes, I’d cut down every law in England to do that!
Sir Thomas More: Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned ‘round on you, where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, from coast to coast, Man’s laws, not God’s! And if you cut them down, and you’re just the man to do it, do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I’d give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety’s sake!

Being pro-life, we must be consistent. This doesn’t mean that we must adopt a pacifist’s unnuanced point of view; merely that we must abide by the laws which defend us all. Within these laws, we must do all in our power to defend the innocent, and of course we must also work as hard as we can to perfect the laws and make them better protect the innocent.

This movie came out several years ago, I know (I remember Dr. B. going on about it during literature class at Ave) but I only managed to watch it last week, so pity me and put up with a late review.

On the whole, the movie’s message is to encourage young minds to think independently and “seize the day” – or, in slightly looser terms, think what you want and do what you want.

Like most ideas, however, there is some truth to this: we can’t ever grow in knowledge if we restrict ourselves to the concepts of our fathers. However, at the same time, movies such as this encourage a restriction of our knowledge in many other ways: he glorifies free verse and stream-of-consciousness poetry, rejecting its objective assessment (when he has the boys rip out the introduction to the anthology), and encourages purposely ‘marching out of step.’

Though it is true that one ought to have intellectual independence and creativity, it is also true that such a total rejection of tradition is one which lessens our power over language. “Stream-of-consciousness” writing can be effective, certainly, but it is only one tool among many. Effective poetry often requires re-writing and careful consideration of every word, not merely the first description that comes to mind. Again, metre is not something which weakens poetry, but rather something which strengthens it. (As Dr. B. would say, anything sounds more convincing if you can say it in an iambic pentameter.) Free verse uses only one layer of rhythm – the accents within the words themselves. Formal verse uses at least two layers of rhythm, and the words’ accents are played off the beats of the metre to create more powerful and nuanced emphases.

Finally, one ought to study tradition before moving on to one’s own thought, if only to prevent oneself from re-inventing the wheel. What is the point of struggling for truth which has already been attained? One’s efforts can be so much more well-spent.

Throughout all this platitudinous and self-righteous argument, I guess my point is that the movie encourages one aspect of good thought (independence) to the elimination of all others (especially tradition and form). Interesting movie, but too far from the truth, in my opinion.