Esther 4.10-14

Posts Tagged ‘Blaise Pascal’

The Devil’s Dictionary

In Speculations and Discrete Thoughts on 26 June 2010 at 19:54

I recently bought a Dover Thrift Edition of The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. For $3.50, I am very happy with my purchase.* This thin volume, whose definitions are usually maxims in disguise, satisfies the appetite for aphoristic writing I have been cultivating since my sophomore year at St. John’s College, thanks largely to Solomon and Francis Bacon.  My favorite entry for the moment is

Education, n. That which discloses to the wise and disguises from the foolish their lack of understanding.

It has a touch of Socratic, but even more of Pascalian, irony. See, for example, the middle of Pensée 327 (my translation):

The sciences have two extremes that touch each other. The first is the pure natural ignorance, in which all men find themselves at birth. The second extreme is the one reached by great souls who, after having rigorously passed through all that men can know, find that they know nothing, and encounter the very same ignorance they left behind; but this is a knowing ignorance, acquainted with itself. Those between the two—who have moved on from the natural ignorance and been unable to arrive at the other—they have some hint of this self-important science, and pretend to be knowledgeable. It is those who trouble the world and judge everything poorly.

The entry from Bierce and the pensée from Pascal overlap, but (as I consider it more) they are obviously thought out in very different spirits. In the end, though Bierce has the bite of wit and concision, I can’t say that I prefer it to Pascal et al.  He is just too odious sometimes, too dark. As I thumb through some of the other entries,† I find the same feelings building up for Bierce that I have for other aphorists such as La Rochefoucauld and Nietzsche—a blend of admiration and contempt—

for all of what they write is written well,
but much of what they think is black as hell.

Some of the entries betray a blackness in him that cannot be excused by the usefulness of satire. Being wary of the corrosive effect of wit and pessimism, I’ll keep The Devil’s Dictionary on hand for special occasions, but only holding it at a distance.

* I know what one of my readers might be saying: “Philip, you should be careful with that book! Look at its title!” But relax. Just because a book is called a “dictionary” doesn’t mean that it’s evil!
See entries for delusion, emotion, evangelist, extinction, and oblivion, to name a few.

On Augustine’s Confessions: his wager among the books

In Scholarship on 22 January 2010 at 16:38

Along Augustine’s long road toward submission to biblical authority, he comes to a place where he takes up the Academic philosophers’ recommendation to suspend belief about some matters until certainty arises. The astronomers are adequate to expose the dubious character of the Manichæan fables, but this does not give him enough reason to take up the Bible again. He also does not hold on to the Academics, for the same reason that he says he did not overly admire Cicero’s Hortensius, given in Book III, Chapter iv:

Perchance it was that book I was stirred up, and enkindled, and inflamed by: this thing only in such a heat of zeal took me off, that the Name of Christ was not in it. For this Name, according to thy mercy, O Lord, this Name of my Savior thy Son, had my tender heart even together with my mother’s milk devoutly drunken in, and charily treasured up: so that what book soever was without that Name, though never so learned, politely and truly penned, did not altogether take my approbation.

So now two elements have come into focus:—unwillingness both to rejoin the Manichæans and to submit wholeheartedly to the Academic philosophers. But the lack of will toward these two sects does not adequately account for his decision to join the Church in Milan as a catechumen. This seems to come out of nowhere. Augustine, at this point, has not submitted himself to catholic doctrine, nor accepted the claims of the Bible’s legitimacy or authority. To this point he writes the following in Book V, Chapter xiv:

For first of all the things began to appear unto me as possible to be defended: and the Catholic faith, in defense of which I thought nothing could be answered to the Manichæans’ arguments, I now concluded with myself, might well be maintained without absurdity: especially after I had heard one or two hard places of the Old Testament resolved now and then; which when I understood literally, I was slain. Many places therefore of those books having been spiritually expounded, I blamed mine own desperate conceit, whereby I had believed, that the Law and the Prophets could no way be upheld against those that hated and scorned them.

Ambrose’s preaching had at least exposed Augustine to alternate possibilities for biblical interpretation, though not supplied him with adequate counter-argument or refutation of the Manichæans. Augustine has only the possibility of a refutation. He doubts that the Manichæans accurately describe the natural world, that biblical doctrines necessarily lead to absurdity, and that the philosophers can offer him the wisdom that he craves. There are many possibilities, but no feelings of certainty, no signs of necessity.

Yet did I not resolve for all this, that the Catholic way might be held safely; seeing it might be able both copiously and not absurdly, to answer some objections made against it: nor yet did I conceive that my former way ought to be condemned, because that both sides of the defence were equal. For although the Catholic party seemed to me not to be overthrown, yet it appeared not to be altogether victorious.

Philosophically, Augustine has the negative. This might mean that he is an Academic philosopher par excellence.  But when considered psychologically, he might say of himself merely that he is unwilling. He has been unwilling toward the Manichæans and the Academic philosophers, and now it is clear that he is equally unwilling toward the Church.  Rather than a philosophical virtue, Augustine seems to think his unwillingness is a sign of intellectual failure.

And so there remains a little confusion about his decision to join the Church as a catechumen. Why would he make this move? Why would he submit himself to biblical doctrine without the positive, without the will, and without faith?

At first glance, there is no sense in it. A reader might be suspicious that Augustine is knowingly omitting from the narrative some reason for making this move. This suspicion should be rejected for two reasons:—first, because part of Augustine’s project is to show how God mercifully moved him throughout his life toward the catholic faith, and so to leave out a known reason for becoming a catechumen would only take away from that project, since all reasons so far have been redeemed and subsumed under God’s gracious plan;—second, because the move is not as unreasonable as the first glance might suggest. To the second point, Descartes in Part III of the Discours says that he will continue to go along with the laws and customs of his country and keep himself in the religion in which he was instructed from his youth, even while claiming to enter into a skeptical project. Maybe Augustine’s thinking matched this. But in case anyone calls the honesty of Descartes’ words into question,* another plausible answer might be found in Pascal’s wager argument. In Pensée 233† he writes,

You wish to go to the faith, and you do not know the way; you wish to be healed from unfaithfulness, and you ask about the cure for it: learn from those who have been bound like you, and who now wager all their goods; these are people who know the way that you wish to follow, and who are cured of an evil of which you wish to be cured. Follow the form through which they began: that is, doing everything as if they believed, taking the holy water, having masses spoken to them, etc.; that will make you believe, even naturally, and you will be rendered compliant.‡ – But this is what I fear. – And why? What do you have to lose?

What Pascal describes may in fact be based on his interpretation of instances like Augustine’s own story, but the anachronism does not take away from the thought behind what is written: What has Augustine got to lose by joining the Church while he waits for a sign giving further direction? Having determined that Manichæanism is a risk, and that the Academic philosophers do not promise what he craves, and knowing that the Church does at least promise such, while being unsure of the substance behind that promise, he is making the gamblers move to stay in the game and wait to see what cards turn up.

Before this point, he had been prevented from such a wager because of the high risks that he had associated with the Bible and biblical doctrine. Ambrose’s preaching, however, changed the stakes. Mirroring Pascal’s account of the relationship between miracles and demonstration in Pensée 842,° this is the pivotal point where Augustine obtains the first half of what is sufficient for his conversion, namely, the lack of conflict between the Bible and his own criteria for reasonableness. Ambrose’s words make it less repugnant to him, and he no longer dismisses it on the basis of the absurdity of its content, as he had done previously because of his Manichæan prejudices. So the thinking that goes into Pascal’s wager now applies, once there is any probability, however slight, given to the claim of the authority of the Bible, since it presents infinite gain to Augustine if true and no loss if false.

More needs to be said for the sermons of Ambrose that effect this wager, and also the large change in Augustine’s hermeneutics that comes from reflection on 2 Corinthians 3.6.

*And rightly, I think, should we suspect Descartes of being less than honest.

My translation.

The verb in French is abêtir, which means to be rendered bête or beastlike. It has connotations to docility, tameness, acquiescence, submission, dullness, silliness, stupidity, and simplicity. Pascal’s use of it here has some shock-value, but I think that he also means what he writes.

°The following is my translation of one of the paragraphs in the middle:

The proofs that Jesus Christ and the apostles draw from the Scriptures are not demonstrative; for they say only that Moses said that a prophet would come; but they do not thereby prove that this is the one, and that was the entire question. These passages, therefore, are used to show that someone is not against the Scriptures, and that there appears to be no conflict, but not that there is agreement. Now, this is sufficient, exclusion of conflict, along with miracles.

The word translated conflict is répugnance in French, here taken in the logical sense of inconsistency, incoherency, incompatibility, impossibility, etc. In Augustine’s case, the last two sentences could be modified: Ambrose’s interpretations are used to show that the Bible is not in conflict with the criteria for reasonableness, and that there appears to be no conflict, but not that there is agreement. Now, this is sufficient, exclusion of conflict, along with submission of the will. So Augustine has the first part, and does not find the second until the garden scene in Milan.

The Likely Project

In About, About This Blog on 8 January 2010 at 02:07

I am beginning this blog without a clear view of its designs and purposes.  I will be in Mississippi this summer (God willing), learning to teach, teaching to learn, learning to learn, and teaching to teach.  I will have plenty to write about, and my boss knows it.  So along with that job I will be required to keep a frequently updated blog about my work, my frustrations and successes, my students, etc.  I expect that I’ll enjoy discovering the habit of public writing again; I used to be quite an avid blogger, and (believe it or not) I never did lose the desire to have others pay attention to what I’ve written.  My work-blog, however, will only ask that I write on some matters and not others.  These others, which include some of the most important themes, will be deemed superfluous. And this is, I guess, the clearest view I can get of this blogs purpose:—the place of my supposedly superfluous speculations and stories.  These articles will be the overflow, likely the products of a peculiar mood that demands something shown for one’s thoughts.

Apropos of this blog’s overall motif—its title, being an allusion to 1 Chronicles 29.15, the Pascal quotes, the French text here and there—I shall not claim much now.  I enjoy French, and so there is French.  I have spent some time reading, translating, and plainly admiring Pascal, and so there is Pascal.  King David, whose words are cited in the Bible reference, is among those whom I most admire in all literary history and historical literature, and so goes the title.  I have plenty to say about all three of these, but none of these opinions will give a better understanding of this blog’s design or purpose, because they are at this point not very well woven into it.  These elements are only here in this combination because I am thus.  The elements of my blog would all fit together more neatly if my soul were a bit more tidy.  I am, however, such a monster of thoughts, memories, interests, habits, sins, graces.  At best a monster can only make monsters.  Should anything come from my contrarieties that has on it the mark of orderliness, peace, purity, perfection, etc., then this can only be due to the intervention of my God.  So I leave the sundry elements of this blog to themselves, hoping that they will all make sense in the end, just as I trust my Lord to take the shattered things in me and make them into something thoroughly whole.

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