Lessons in Doubt

In the play, Doubt: a Parable, there are many themes raised, but one prodominant question is whether or not Father Flynn touched any of the boys, specifically Donald Muller.  He denies this, and it's never officially stated in the play, but our small group in class found a variety of examples that hint at the opposite.

It starts when Father Flynn says that the reason Donald had alcohol on his breath wasn't because he gave it to the boy, but because he caught the boy drinking the alter wine.  He didn't want to report the incident because he thought that would look bad on the perish, and the cardinals (or whoever is the next highest level, I'm not sure) would look down upon Sister Aloysius because she is the principle of the school.

Later on, when Father Flynn is having a conversation with Sister James in the courtyard, he attempts to justify his actions, claiming that there were "circumstances beyond your knowledge."  He also seems to have interest in only one boy (Donald), as seen when he asks Sister James how he is doing in her class.  When she turns the conversation to Sister Aloysius showing concern because she cares about the child, Father Flynn replies with frustration, "Its me that cares about that boy."  Even at the end of the scene, there is a large black crow (sometimes seen as a symbol of one's conscious), which he yells at to be quiet.  This could be that either his conscious is telling him to go to Sister Aloysius and explain what happened with the alter wine (thereby clearing his name if he is, in fact, innocent), or it could be telling him that he knows what he did was wrong, and he should simply come clean with it and take the consequences.

Later, Sister Aloysius calls Father Flynn into her office.  When she can't coerce a confession out of him (using evidence such as the alcohol on Donald's breath and the fact that Father Flynn had been through five perishes in the last three years), he turns offensive and starts to verbally attack her, rather than turning defensive, as someone who is hurt from the accusations would have.  When she says that she is going to call someone higher up, he stops her.

Finally, when Sister Aloysius calls Father Flynn into her office for the last time, she lies by telling him that she called his previous perish.  She tells him if he doesn't want to lose everything, he will ask for a transfer, which he later does.  If he hadn't been guilty of something, he would have continued to fight her, but I doubt (no pun intended) that he would have transfered for the sole reason that he was tired of putting up with her accusations, as some others (not necessarily in the class) seem to believe.

Ivan's Inquisitor

As a class, we decided that as humans, we desire bread, someone to worship, a community of worship without discord, and something to live for.  But what about the freedom of choice?  Is it something we desire, or simply something that, especially as Americans, we've always known and therefore take it for granted?

Ivan's Grand Inquisitor comments that the freedom of choice conflicts with happiness.  He tells the prisoner that by taking away the people's freedom of choice, he thinks he is making them happier because he believes that people don't actually want their freedom, but they want to believe they still have it.  So he gives them the impression of freedom without the responsibility of it, because he also believes that nothing has made man more upset than freedom.

In contrast, the Inquisitor challenges his prisoner of not caring for the people by giving them their freedom.  While Jesus didn't give people what they desired to be happy, he instead gave them what He thought they needed.  He resisted the three temptations, and the Inquisitor shows his contempt of these actions clearly to the prisoner.

But why take everything out on the prisoner?  Is it simply because the Inquisitor witnessed the miracle of him raising the child from the dead?  If that is the only proof, does that therefore mean that this prisoner must be Jesus, come back for Judgement Day?

Ivan has told his opinion throughout his stories in 'The Rebellion' that people are cruel to each other and cannot love their neighbors.  And yet, people still need to follow others; they need a leader.  Like when we choose what we are going to wear.  Day by day is our own choice (unless there is something specific going on such as the 'color day' my high school used to do in which each class would wear a different school color), but our overall wardrobe carries trends set by others, from people in our high school to people in the fashion industry.

Point is, almost every person I know feels like they are an individual.  They do what they want, when they want, and don't necessarily care who knows about it or what anyone thinks about it.  But with everyone telling our generation to 'find ourselves' and 'be unique', if everyone thinks they are unique, does that mean we're all conforming in our uniqueness?  Because eventually, people will always choose what makes them comfortable (which is usually following the crowd and not being someone who stands out), rather than decide what would be best for themselves.

Morning Devotional

I meant to post this a long time ago, like many of the notes that I take in class, but it's never too late.  Anyway, this is from when we read "The Enchiridion" by Epictetus.  I found eight things that I found really meaningful to me that I could work into my mornings (or nights, since mornings don't usually go too well for me).

#8:  "Don't demand that things happen as you wish, but wish that they happen as they do happen, and you will go on well."

In other words, one shouldn't dwell on dreams, but instead stick with reality, otherwise we might lose ourselves.

#9:  "Sickness is a hindrance to the body, but not to your ability to choose, unless that is your choice."

I took this to mean you have the choice to look past misfortunes as minor obstacles, or you can look at misfortunes and see them as an unclimbable wall.

#10:  "With every accident, ask yourself what abilities you have for making a proper use of it....  If you hear unpleasant language, you will find patience."

With this and the other examples given, it seems to mean that by asking yourself what abilities (or virtues) you have, you will help yourself enhance your virtues, and lead to a more fulfilling life.

#15:  "Remember that you must behave in life as at a dinner party."

When I first read this, I laughed.  I thought it was completely ridiculous, but once I finished with this specific entry, I realized that it made sense.  It basically talked of the old saying 'good things come to those who wait'.  But this also took it a step further, mentioning that if one could hold out a little more than normal, "you will eventually be a worthy partner of the feasts of the gods."  In other words, the reward will be much better and more satisfying.

#19:  "You may be unconquerable, if you enter into no combat in which it is not in your own control to conquer.... for, if the essence of good consists in things in our control, there will be no room for envy or emulation."

What I thought Epictetus was trying to say was that only things in our control can be given the power to cause happiness.  In other words, we can't control what others receive, and we therefore shouldn't envy what others have.  In it's other examples, he also seems to be saying that power doesn't equal happiness, and we should not wish to have power, but accept it if it comes our way.

#20:  "Remember, that not he who gives ill language or a blow insults, but the principle which represents these things as insulting.  When, therefore, anyone provokes you, be assured that it is your own opinion which provokes you."

In other words, don't give an enemy the power to lower your self- esteem, for you are the only one with the power to allow it to be lowered.  Don't let others' comments get to you, and instead brush them off, realizing the person is likely jealous of what you have.

#42:  "When any person harms you, or speaks badly of you, remember that he acts or speaks from a supposition of its being his duty....  Therefore, if he judges from a wrong appearance, he is the person hurt, since he too is the person deceived."

I really liked this passage (which also goes with #20).  In my opinion, it basically says that if someone insults you, don't take him seriously because you are who you are, and you should stay that way.  The reason he insulted you is because he doesn't know you, and that isn't your fault in any way, shape, or form, so don't let it get you down.

#43:  "Everything has two handles, the one by which it may be carried, the other by which it cannot."

From this sentence, he seems to be saying that we have two options, and only one is right.  But from the example he supports this with, it gave me a different interpretation.  He talks of a brother who 'acts unjustly', and that, even though he was wrong, we should help him anyway because "he was brought up with you."  I'm confused though if he's saying we should help him because he is family, related by blood, or if we should take the high road which will lead to a better life.

LLTM: "Thoughts in Solitude"

I decided to read this prayer by Thomas Merton, which I thought seemed to fit fairly well with The Sparrow and Sandoz's questioning his faith.

The prayer is about asking God for guidance, and although one is not sure where we are in life or what we are doing, what we desire most is to do what we think is right by Him, and because of that, He is pleased by us and will lead us in the right direction, whether we understand the road we're on or not.

The last line before the prayer, the authors of the book ask us to consider an interesting question: Does his trust in God seem to you a daring venture, a sign of weakness, or something else?  And it was that question that got me thinking about Sandoz again.

I think that in both cases, the doubt expressed is the exact opposite of a sign of weakness.  I feel that only through doubt can our faith be strengthened, and by asking God for guidance is the best way to find your faith again.  One line in the prayer mentions that although we may not understand what direction we are headed in, we have to believe that He will guide us.  I found myself really drawn to this because I had a point just like it in my faith journey.

My sophmore year in high school, I was extremely religious.  But my junior, and especially my senior year, I fell away from it.  During the first couple weeks of summer after my senior year, an old friend convinced me to go on a church mission trip with her.  At first I didn't want to, but something kept compelling me to say yes.  I ended up going, and on one of the last nights, I had a huge epiphany; there's no other way to describe it.  I was actually crying for about three hours, although I wasn't exactly sure why.  All I knew is that I had to turn my life around and get away from the things I was doing.  Something kept telling me, 'if you do that, you'll not only be happier with the people you love, but with yourself.'  When I first got back, I went back to doing what I did-- I wasn't around the mission trip people anymore, so it was hard to break away from my habits.  But then I talked to my friend, and remembered what my gut, the voice, maybe even an angel, had said to me, and I started cutting back, then stopped altogether.  It wasn't until I really read this prayer that I realized how much happier I really am with the people I love, and with my journey through faith.

Point is, I don't think this prayer is a daring venture, and definitely not a sign of weakness.  I think that it's a prayer for help, guidance, and something to turn to when you don't think you have anywhere else to go.

Sparrow, part 1

So far, this book has been decently intriguing.  Although the jumping back and forth between before the mission and after has been slightly confusing, what I'm finding most frustrating is the pace of the book.  I enjoy a book that sets up the plot, which might take a little bit of time, but then you get to the point where you can't put it down.  So far, I'm struggling to get there with this book, if it even has a point like that.  But it's proven itself interesting so far, so even though it's taking a while to get through, it's still worth while.

We also are managing to have thought-provoking discussions in class, trying to figure out what the disaster was that happened.  One of these discussions centered around the question about the limits of faith and despair.  In my opinion, when Sandoz is referring to this boundary, he is reflecting on why God let him survive (the limit of faith) and why He let all the others perish (boundary of despair).  It seems that Sandoz is blaming himself because he views the mission as his idea.  Even though Jimmy was the one who detected the signal, and George helped him with all the calculations that told them it was possible, Sandoz really pushed Anne to come along as well.  So he likely feels responsible for all their deaths, including when he tells Anne that the Society would never allow a mission to occur if they thought it would be a failure.  So it seems to me that Sandoz feels that the limitation of faith was also the limit of the Earth's atmosphere-- once outside of that, and one enters the territory of despair.

I also thought it was interesting when Giulani starts to chastise Sandoz for his self-pity and doubting.  I understand how Sandoz could be doubting his beliefs- it seems logical to me that everyone, at some point, experiences religious doubt.  But I don't think Giulani truly understands why Sandoz is having doubts about God, so I think that Giulani should have gone about critisizing Sandoz a different way, rather than asking him if he thought he was the only one to ever experience doubt.  But it didn't really surprise me that it was a priest who was having these doubts because, like I said earlier, everyone experiences something along those lines, everyone has a low point in their faith at least once.  And it's only through those low points that I feel we can truly strengthen our beliefs.

LLTM: "The Giver"

In eighth grade, we read The Giver by Lois Lowry as a class.  I enjoyed it, so I decided to read the excerpt the book had pulled out, chapters seven and eight.  It begins in the auditorium where the main character, Jonas, receives his adulthood job at the age of twelve.  He will have this job for the rest of his life, or until his successor comes, but the assignment he is given is rare, yet the highest regarded in the community.

I feel that in some ways, life would be a lot easier if the heads of community were to watch us, then decide what areas of society would best suit us.  It would take away the pressure of needing to go to a well-rounded, recognizable college, one that we feel and hope will get us ready for the real world.  It would take away the stress to get good grades, especially in high school, and would allow for a more enjoyable childhood, even if it only lasted twelve years as in the book.

And yet, there are many other ways in which I'm glad I don't live in a society that makes nearly all of my choices for me.  I'm glad I don't live in a community where I'm taught responses or behavioral instincts from when I'm born.  I'm glad I can choose for myself, even though there are many things that I wish I didn't have to choose between and hope that someone could simply make the choice for me.  And then there are the times when I'm scared of making the wrong choice, but I still enjoy that I can leave from all those decisions because I was the only one that could have made them.  Granted, many people have influenced what choices I make, even now as a freshman in college and 250+ miles away from home, but my parents (as much as I'd hate to admit it (so you two can skip the rest of this paragraph and start the next one)) have influenced me greatly, and I appreciate it.

I guess what it boils down to is that while there are some things I wish I didn't have to decide for myself, some choices I wish I didn't have to make, I'm glad that I live in a society that allows me to not only make those choices (and sometimes mistakes), but therefore gives me the ability to learn from them, gain experience, and also gives me the ability to give advise to others through those experiences.

Human? What's that?

What makes us human?  Is it our ability to reason?  Our ability to make decisions?  Our written and remembered history?  Or is it something on a much deeper level, such as having honor or integrity?  What separates our species from all the others?  In summary, our ability to self-reflect, capacity to reason, purposeful behavior, and our capacity to learn (through various forms of communication, multiple perspectives, and our ability to read and write) is what separates us.

So how can we live a fulfilling, happy life?  As Aristotle discusses, we first must learn what the purpose of a human being is, and only by doing that purpose can we achieve the "supreme good of happiness."  He says that we must be more than alive, for plants are also alive.  We must have more that just senses and perceptions, for animals have them as well.  So as humans, we have reasoning and decision- making.  But only by using this ability, and using it well, can we live a fulfilling life.

So if we reason well and make good decisions, we'll be happy and have a fulfilling life?  Not exactly.  The root to happiness, Aristotle claims, is to always act appropriately.  But what is appropriate, and how to we learn to distinguish when to act and when to feel?  Our ability to learn through self-reflect, reasoning, intentional behavior, and imagine alternative futures all gives us the capacity to make decisions about out future and act on it.  It allows us, through phronesis (which tells one how to behave through practical wisdom), to differentiate between was is too much, too little, and just right.  Using an example of friendliness, phronesis tells us that completely ignoring someone may be inappropriate in some situations, but also giving someone a huge hug and a kiss on both cheeks may be inappropriate in another situation.  It tells us that small talk may be what is called for, but little else.  Phronesis explains how to live, but we need sophia (theoretical wisdom) to live well.

So living is practical, but living well is only a theory?  Not necessarily.  For example, to become patient, a person watches what a patient person does, and tries to mimic their behavior in the hopes that they will become patient.  It simply means that for someone who enjoys a certain virtue (patience, compassion, friendliness, etc.), it is easy for them to live a fulfilling life, whereas someone who has to become virtuous (learn patience, compassion, friendliness, etc.), they also must work hard at living a fulfilling life.

It's not impossible to live a fulfilling life; it's not simply a theory.  But the road to a happy life isn't straight by any means, nor is it easy to travel.  There will be many obstacles trying to block the way, but it's still possible to reach that ultimate goal, that 'supreme good'.