Mitsuyo Maeda > Carlos Gracie Sr. > Carlos Gracie Junior > Jean Jacques Machado > Eddie Bravo > Denny Prokopos > Alex Canders
Saturday, December 24, 2022
Faixa Marrom
Mitsuyo Maeda > Carlos Gracie Sr. > Carlos Gracie Junior > Jean Jacques Machado > Eddie Bravo > Denny Prokopos > Alex Canders
Thursday, December 22, 2022
Three Carols for Nativity
Three of outstanding carols for the Christmas season.
1 In the Dark Night
A traditional Ukrainian koliady (carol): this is just heart-rendering in its simple beauty expressed in the Ukrainian language. The theme of a bright light in darkness is particularly poignant as Ukraine itself is presently plunged into darkness by the war. This holiday, I wish for peace: among Ukrainians, with brother Russians, and for the world.
In the dark night, above Bethlehem, a bright star shined out, covering the Holy Land. The Most Pure Virgin, the Holy Bride, in a poor cave gave birth to a Son. [Chorus] Sleep Jesus, sleep my little baby, Sleep my little star, About your fate, my little sweet, To you I will sing. She gently kissed and swaddled him, She put him to bed, and quietly started to sing, You will grow up, my Son, you’ll become a grown-up, And you will go out into the world, my baby. Sleep Jesus, sleep my sweet little baby, Sleep my little star, About your fate, my little sweet, To you I will sing. The Love of the Lord and God’s truth, You will bring faith to the world, to your people, The truth will live on, the shackles of sin will be shattered, [But my child], on Golgotha, my child will die. Sleep Jesus, sleep my sweet little baby, Sleep my little star, About your fate, my little sweet, To you I will sing. Sleep, Jesus, sleep my sweet little baby, Sleep my rose blossom, With hope on You The entire world is watching!
2 The Cherry Tree Carol
An Old English carol based on medieval legends about the Holy Family. This version is rendered in modern English and accompanied by a simple harp (Anonymous4 does another version that is a cappella in Old English, but something about this short version with the harp is just pleasant to the ears and to the soul).
When Joseph was an old man,An old man was he,He married Virgin MaryThe Queen of Galilee.He married Virgin MaryThe Queen of Galilee.
Joseph and Mary walkedThrough an orchard good,There were cherries, there were berries,As red as any blood.There were cherries, there were berries,As red as any blood.
Then Mary spoke to JosephSo meek and so mild:"Joseph, gather me some cherries,For I am with child.""Joseph, gather me some cherries,For I am with child."
Then Joseph grew in anger,In anger grew he,"Let the father of thy babyGather cherries for thee!"Let the father of thy babyGather cherries for thee!
Then Jesus spoke a few words,A few words spoke he:"Let my mother have some cherries,Bow low down, cherry tree.""Let my mother have some cherries,Bow low down, cherry tree."
The cherry tree bowed low down,Bowed low down to the ground,And Mary gathered cherriesWhile Joseph stood around.And Mary gathered cherriesWhile Joseph stood around.
Then Joseph took MaryAll on his right knee,"My Lord, what have I done?Have mercy on me.""My Lord, what have I done?Have mercy on me."
Then Joseph took MaryAll on his left knee,"Pray tell me, little Baby,When thy birthday will it be?"Pray tell me, little Baby,When thy birthday will it be?
"On the Sixth day of JanuaryMy birthday it will be,And the stars in the elementsWill tremble with glee."And the stars in the elementsWill tremble with glee."
As Joseph was a-walkingHe heard an angel sing,"Tonight shall be the birth timeOf Christ our Heav'nly King.""Tonight shall be the birth timeOf Christ our Heav'nly King."
"He neither shall be bornIn house nor in hall,Nor in the place of Paradise,But in an ox's stall."Nor in the place of Paradise,But in an ox's stall."
"He neither shall be clothedIn purple nor in cloth,But in the bare white linenThat useth babies all."But in the bare white linenThat useth babies all."
"He neither shall be rockedIn silver nor in gold,But in a wooden mangerThat rests upon the mold."But in a wooden mangerThat rests upon the mold."
As Joseph was a-walkingAnd an angel did sing,And Mary's child at midnightWas born to be our King.And Mary's child at midnightWas born to be our King.
Then be ye glad ye peopleThis night of all the year,And light ye up your candlesFor his star it shineth clear.And light ye up your candlesFor his star it shineth clear.
3 Georgian Alilo
If you get some Georgians together for a holiday there will be singing (also, alcohol in my experience). I can't understand a word when they do, but its pretty cool.
Since Georgian is such an interesting language, I list here the lyrics / transliteration / translation from comments:
ალილო და ჰოი ალილო და ჰოო alilo da hoi alilo da hoo Hallelujah Hallelujah ქრისტეს მახარობელნი ვართ ქრისტეშობას მოგილოცავთოო krist’es makharobelni vart krist’eshobas mogilotsavtoo We are heralds of Christ wishing you a Merry Christmas ოცდახუთსა დეკემბერსა ქრისტეიშვა ბეთლემშინაო otsdakhutsa dek’embersa krist’eishva betlemshinao On the twenty-fifth of December, Christ was born in Bethlehem ანგელოზნი უგალობენ დიდება მაღალთა შინაო angelozni ugaloben dideba maghalta shinao Angels sing praises to the highest of the house ეს რომ მწყემსებმა გაიგგეს მივიდნენ და თავანი სცეს მას es rom mts’q’emsebma gaigges mividnen da tavani stses mas Pastors heard the good news and they went to worship Him. ვარსკვლავები ბრწყინვალებენ ანათებენ ბეთლემსაოო varsk’vlavebi brts’q’invaleben anateben betlemsaoo The stars are shining, Illuminating Belém! შორი ქვენიდან მოსულმა მოგვებმა ძღვენი შესწირეს shori kvenidan mosulma mogvebma dzghveni shests’ires Coming from distant lands, The magicians gave Him a gift ქრისტეს მახარობელნი ვართ ქრისტეშობას მოგილოცავთო krist’es makharobelni vart krist’eshobas mogilotsavto We are heralds of Christ wishing you a Merry Christmas ოცდახუთსა დეკემბერსა ქრისტე იშვა ბეთლემშინაო otsdakhutsa dek’embersa krist’e ishva betlemshinao On the twenty-fifth of December, Christ was born in Bethlehem
While Christmas is properly celebrated on January 7, being an American, I'm stuck with this weekend ending the season. Fortunately I am not stuck with the commercial music/dreck that American culture imposes on the season: the 12 days of Christmas until Epiphany/Theophany are still a good time to continue to enjoy this fine singing with all that behind us.
Sunday, August 28, 2022
DakhaBrakha
A barely related side note: as a case study in creative folk-culture appropriation to modern forms, I recommend the Ukrainian musical film Hutsulka Ksenya. The plot revolves a young American whose late father leaves him his fortune on the condition he marry a Ukrainian woman. Distinctly unenthusiastic he visits the Carpathian region (presumably Zakarpattia Oblast, from which the Pavlik family emigrated) and falls for a young Hutsul woman.... I won't say more, its a terribly creative film and thoroughly enjoyable.
Hutsuls, as an aside, are not strictly speaking Ukrainians in the ethno-cultural sense, but in the broader sense of Ukraine as a multi-cultural nation. An interesting point that is far from clear - I suppose deliberately - in the movie and a contributor to the present crisis.
Wednesday, August 17, 2022
Isaac of Syria in Dostoevsky
My second (and more careful) read of Brothers Karamazov (this time the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation) established it as the most influential piece of world literature I have to date encountered. I regard it as the pinnacle of modern forms, but also amongst the most piercing of critiques of modernity as such. For years I have re-read it in part and in full, as well as numerous commentaries on the novel, Dostovesky's corpus en toto, and of course works on Dosteovsky himself more generally. Of the latter, I cannot imagine a finer literary biography than the work of the late Joseph Frank.
On recurring theme is an attempt to uncover the influences behind the portrait of the staretz Zosima. Many figures have been sited, including the famous Tikon of Zadonsk, of which there is an entire book dedicated to the topic. To my mind, however, the most obvious parallel to the teachings of Zosima is the 7th century ascetic Isaac of Syria. There could not be more clear parallels between his ascetic writings and the long chapter on Zosima's homilies in Karamazov. I liberally quote from two sites with supporting details and illustrations
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There is an interesting connection between St Isaac of Syria and Dostoevsky. The latter owned an 1858 edition of the Slavonic translation of the Homilies by St Paisius Velichkovsky (Victor Terras, A Karamazov Companion: Commentary on the Genesis, Language, and Style of Dostoevsky’s Novel [Madison: U of Wisconsin, 1981], p. 22). Furthermore, Dostoevsky mentions St Isaac’s Ascetical Homilies by name twice in The Brothers Karamazov. The first time is in Part I, Book III, Chapter 1, ‘In the Servants’ Quarters’, where the narrator observes that Grigory Vasilievich, Fyodor Karamazov’s manservant, ‘somewhere obtained a copy of the homilies and sermons of “Our God-bearing Father, Isaac the Syrian”, which he read persistently over many years, understanding almost nothing at all of it, but perhaps precisely for that reason prizing and loving it all the more’ (Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky [NY: Vintage, 1991], p. 96). Dostoevsky then mentions the book again in 4.11.8, this time in the rather more sinister context of Ivan’s third meeting with Smerdyakov, when the latter 'took from the table that thick, yellow book, the only one lying on it, the one Ivan had noticed as he came in, and placed it on top of the bills. The title of the book was The Homilies of Our Father among the Saints, Isaac the Syrian. Ivan Fyodorovich read it mechanically' (Dostoevsky, p. 625).
But more importantly, Victor Terras has pinpointed a number of St Isaac’s teachings that make a definite appearance in the words of Elder Zosima in II.VI.3, especially in (g) ‘Of Prayer, Love, and the Touching of Other Worlds’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 318-20), and (i) ‘Of Hell and Hell Fire: A Mystical Discourse’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 322-4). Terras quotes the following passage from ‘Homily Twenty-Seven’ as being ‘important for the argument of The Brothers Karamazov’ (Terras, p. 23):
Sin, Gehenna, and Death do not exist at all with God, for they are effects, not substances. Sin is the fruit of free will. There was a time when sin did not exist, and there will be a time when it will not exist. Gehenna is the fruit of sin. At some point in time it had a beginning, but its end is not known. Death, however, is a dispensation of the wisdom of the Creator. It will rule only a short time over nature; then it will be totally abolished. Satan’s name derives from voluntarily turning aside [the Syriac etymological meaning of satan] from the truth; it is not an indication that he exists as such naturally. (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133)
Terras may, however, be on the wrong trail with this particular passage, though not perhaps with the rest of his parallels, since according to a note in the translation, this particular homily only exists in Syriac (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133), and does not appear to have been available in any translation Dostoevsky would have read (Introduction, Ascetical Homilies, pp. lxxvi-lxxvii). Another interesting, though less important, discrepancy, is that Pevear and Volokhonsky, in their note on the name of St Paisius (he is referenced in I.I.5 [Dostoevsky, p. 27], and footnoted on p. 780 of Pevear’s and Volokhonsky’s translation), date Dostoevsky’s edition of the Elder’s translation of St Isaac to 1854 rather than 1858. Furthermore, J.M.E. Featherstone lists among St Paisius's works, Svjatago otca našego Isaaka Sirina episkopa byvšago ninevijskago, slova duxovno-podvižničeskija perevedennyja s grečeskago.... (Moscow, 1854), thus making Pevear and Volokhonsky's date more likely, it would seem ('Select Bibliography', The Life of Paisij Velyčkovs'kyj, trans. J.M.E. Featherstone [Cambridge, MA: Harvard U, 1989], p. 163 ).
I just wanted to highlight briefly this interesting connection. At an even deeper level, however, it has been picked up on, for one, by Archimandrite Vasileios of Iveron. Having considered the ‘artistic’ gifts of St Isaac and the spiritual insight of Dostoevsky, he concludes, ‘Thus, whether you read Abba Isaac, or Dostoevsky, in the end you get the same message, grace and consolation’ (‘Από τον Αββά Ισαάκ’, p. 100).
source: http://logismoitouaaron.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-glory-of-orientst-isaac-syrian.html
On recurring theme is an attempt to uncover the influences behind the portrait of the staretz Zosima. Many figures have been sited, including the famous Tikon of Zadonsk, of which there is an entire book dedicated to the topic. To my mind, however, the most obvious parallel to the teachings of Zosima is the 7th century ascetic Isaac of Syria. There could not be more clear parallels between his ascetic writings and the long chapter on Zosima's homilies in Karamazov. I liberally quote from two sites with supporting details and illustrations
------------------
There is an interesting connection between St Isaac of Syria and Dostoevsky. The latter owned an 1858 edition of the Slavonic translation of the Homilies by St Paisius Velichkovsky (Victor Terras, A Karamazov Companion: Commentary on the Genesis, Language, and Style of Dostoevsky’s Novel [Madison: U of Wisconsin, 1981], p. 22). Furthermore, Dostoevsky mentions St Isaac’s Ascetical Homilies by name twice in The Brothers Karamazov. The first time is in Part I, Book III, Chapter 1, ‘In the Servants’ Quarters’, where the narrator observes that Grigory Vasilievich, Fyodor Karamazov’s manservant, ‘somewhere obtained a copy of the homilies and sermons of “Our God-bearing Father, Isaac the Syrian”, which he read persistently over many years, understanding almost nothing at all of it, but perhaps precisely for that reason prizing and loving it all the more’ (Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky [NY: Vintage, 1991], p. 96). Dostoevsky then mentions the book again in 4.11.8, this time in the rather more sinister context of Ivan’s third meeting with Smerdyakov, when the latter 'took from the table that thick, yellow book, the only one lying on it, the one Ivan had noticed as he came in, and placed it on top of the bills. The title of the book was The Homilies of Our Father among the Saints, Isaac the Syrian. Ivan Fyodorovich read it mechanically' (Dostoevsky, p. 625).
But more importantly, Victor Terras has pinpointed a number of St Isaac’s teachings that make a definite appearance in the words of Elder Zosima in II.VI.3, especially in (g) ‘Of Prayer, Love, and the Touching of Other Worlds’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 318-20), and (i) ‘Of Hell and Hell Fire: A Mystical Discourse’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 322-4). Terras quotes the following passage from ‘Homily Twenty-Seven’ as being ‘important for the argument of The Brothers Karamazov’ (Terras, p. 23):
Sin, Gehenna, and Death do not exist at all with God, for they are effects, not substances. Sin is the fruit of free will. There was a time when sin did not exist, and there will be a time when it will not exist. Gehenna is the fruit of sin. At some point in time it had a beginning, but its end is not known. Death, however, is a dispensation of the wisdom of the Creator. It will rule only a short time over nature; then it will be totally abolished. Satan’s name derives from voluntarily turning aside [the Syriac etymological meaning of satan] from the truth; it is not an indication that he exists as such naturally. (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133)
Terras may, however, be on the wrong trail with this particular passage, though not perhaps with the rest of his parallels, since according to a note in the translation, this particular homily only exists in Syriac (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133), and does not appear to have been available in any translation Dostoevsky would have read (Introduction, Ascetical Homilies, pp. lxxvi-lxxvii). Another interesting, though less important, discrepancy, is that Pevear and Volokhonsky, in their note on the name of St Paisius (he is referenced in I.I.5 [Dostoevsky, p. 27], and footnoted on p. 780 of Pevear’s and Volokhonsky’s translation), date Dostoevsky’s edition of the Elder’s translation of St Isaac to 1854 rather than 1858. Furthermore, J.M.E. Featherstone lists among St Paisius's works, Svjatago otca našego Isaaka Sirina episkopa byvšago ninevijskago, slova duxovno-podvižničeskija perevedennyja s grečeskago.... (Moscow, 1854), thus making Pevear and Volokhonsky's date more likely, it would seem ('Select Bibliography', The Life of Paisij Velyčkovs'kyj, trans. J.M.E. Featherstone [Cambridge, MA: Harvard U, 1989], p. 163 ).
I just wanted to highlight briefly this interesting connection. At an even deeper level, however, it has been picked up on, for one, by Archimandrite Vasileios of Iveron. Having considered the ‘artistic’ gifts of St Isaac and the spiritual insight of Dostoevsky, he concludes, ‘Thus, whether you read Abba Isaac, or Dostoevsky, in the end you get the same message, grace and consolation’ (‘Από τον Αββά Ισαάκ’, p. 100).
source: http://logismoitouaaron.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-glory-of-orientst-isaac-syrian.html
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Though the teachings of Elder Zosima from Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karmazov seem exotic to many western readers and possibly unorthodox, they in fact show a remarkable similarity to those of a favorite 7th century eastern saint, St Isaac the Syrian. We know that Dostoevsky owned a newly-available translation of St Isaac’s Ascetical Homilies, and this volume is in fact mentioned by name twice in the novel, though in seemingly inconsequential contexts. Dostoevsky was no doubt deeply affected by the saint’s spirituality, and I think Zosima’s principle views in fact reflect and are indebted to those of St Isaac. Below I will list some of these distinctive views, with illustrating quotes from both the fictional Elder Zosima and St Isaac himself. (And note: these were simply the quotes that I could find very easily; I’m sure more digging would find even more striking parallels)
Love for all creation:
Elder Zosima: “Love God’s creation, love every atom of it separately, and love it also as a whole; love every green leaf, every ray of God’s light; love the animals and the plants and love every inanimate object. If you come to love all things, you will perceive God’s mystery inherent in all things; once you have perceived it, you will understand it better and better every day. And finally you will love the whole world with a total, universal love.”
St Isaac: “What is a merciful heart? It is a heart on fire for the whole of creation, for humanity, for the birds, for the animals, for demons, and for all that exists. By the recollection of them the eyes of a merciful person pour forth tears in abundance. By the strong and vehement mercy that grips such a person’s heart, and by such great compassion, the heart is humbled and one cannot bear to hear or to see any injury or slight sorrow in any in creation. For this reason, such a person offers up tearful prayer continually even for irrational beasts, for the enemies of the truth, and for those who harm her or him, that they be protected and receive mercy. And in like manner such a person prays for the family of reptiles because of the great compassion that burns without measure in a heart that is in the likeness of God.”
Responsibility for all:
Elder Zosima: “There is only one salvation for you: take yourself up, and make yourself responsible for all the sins of men. For indeed it is so, my friend, and the moment you make yourself sincerely responsible for everything and everyone, you will see at once that it is really so, that it is you who are guilty on behalf of all and for all. Whereas by shifting your own laziness and powerlessness onto others, you will end by sharing in Satan’s pride and murmuring against God. ”
St Isaac: “Be a partaker of the sufferings of all…Rebuke no one, revile no one, not even those who live very wickedly. Spread your cloak over those who fall into sin, each and every one, and shield them. And if you cannot take the fault on yourself and accept punishment in their place, do not destroy their character.”
Love is Paradise on Earth:
Elder Zosima: “”Gentlemen,” I cried suddenly from the bottom of my heart, “look at the divine gifts around us: the clear sky, the fresh air, the tender grass, the birds, nature is beautiful and sinless, and we, we alone, are godless and foolish, and do not understand that life is paradise, for we need only wish to understand, and it will come at once in all its beauty, and we shall embrace each other and weep”
St Isaac: “Paradise is the love of God, wherein is the enjoyment of all blessedness, and there the blessed Paul partook of supernatural nourishment…Wherefore, the man who lives in love reaps life from God, and while yet in this world, he even now breathes the air of the resurrection; in this air the righteous will delight in the resurrection. Love is the Kingdom, whereof the Lord mystically promised His disciples to eat in His Kingdom. For when we hear Him say, “Ye shall eat and drink at the table of my Kingdom,” what do we suppose we shall eat, if not love? Love is sufficient to nourish a man instead of food and drink.”
Non-literal ‘fire’ of hell:
Elder Zosima: “Fathers and teachers, I ask myself: “What is hell?” And I answer thus: “The suffering of being no longer able to love.”…People speak of the material flames of hell. I do not explore this mystery, and I fear it, but I think that if there were material flames, truly people would be glad to have them, for, as I fancy, in material torment they might forget, at least for a moment, their far more terrible spiritual torment. And yet it is impossible to take this spiritual torment from them, for this torment is not external but is within them”
St Isaac: “As for me I say that those who are tormented in hell are tormented by the invasion of love. What is there more bitter and violent than the pains of love? Those who feel they have sinned against love bear in themselves a damnation much heavier than the most dreaded punishments. The suffering with which sinning against love afflicts the heart is more keenly felt than any other torment. It is absurd to assume that the sinners in hell are deprived of God’s love. Love is offered impartially. But by its very power it acts in two ways. It torments sinners, as happens here on earth when we are tormented by the presence of a friend to whom we have been unfaithful. And it gives joy to those who have been faithful. That is what the torment of hell is in my opinion: remorse”
source: https://onancientpaths.wordpress.com/2013/07/27/the-elder-zosima-and-st-isaac-the-syrian/
Monday, April 18, 2022
Intentionality Mind and Nature
Below I quote at length DB Hart on intentionality and the horizon of rational agency. If you take a moment to think about this point, it really ought to be obvious that it is almost certainly correct. And the fact that we can share a meaning and interest in "correctness" as an end - ie, we care about that which is true - underscores the point directly. The only reason this may seem abstruse is the unconscious prejudices we carry from living in a late modern culture founded on reductive models of consciousness that are almost certainly irrational - meaning, wrong.
"Neither doctrine nor metaphysics need be immediately invoked to see the impossibility of rational agency within a sphere of pure nature; a simple phenomenology of what it is we do when we act intentionally should suffice. The rational will, when freely moved, is always purposive; it acts always toward an end: conceived, perceived, imagined, hoped for, resolved upon. Its every act is already, necessarily, an act of recognition, judgment, evaluation, and decision, and is therefore also a tacit or explicit reference to a larger, more transcendent realm of values, meanings, and rational longings. Desire and knowledge are always, in a single impulse, directed to some purpose present to the mind, even if only vaguely. Any act lacking such purposiveness is by definition not an act of rational freedom. There are, moreover, only two possible ways of pursuing a purpose: either as an end in itself or for the sake of an end beyond itself. But no finite object or purpose can wholly attract the rational will in the latter way; no finite thing is desirable simply in itself as an ultimate end. It may, in relative terms, constitute a more compelling end that makes a less compelling end nonetheless instrumentally desirable, but it can never constitute an end in itself. It too requires an end beyond itself to be compelling in any measure; it too can evoke desire only on account of some yet higher, more primordial, more general disposition of reason’s appetites. Even what pleases us most immediately can be intentionally desired only within the context of a rational longing for the Good itself. If not for some always more original orientation toward an always more final end, the will would never act in regard to finite objects at all. Immanent desires are always in a sense deferred toward some more remote, more transcendent purpose. All concretely limited aspirations of the will are sustained within formally limitless aspirations of the will. In the end, then, the only objects of desire that are not reducible to other, more general objects of desire, and that are thus desirable entirely in and of themselves, are those universal, unconditional, and exalted ideals, those transcendentals, that constitute being’s abstract perfections. One may not be, in any given instant, immediately conscious that one’s rational appetites have been excited by these transcendental ends; I am not talking about a psychological state of the empirical ego; but those ends are the constant and pervasive preoccupation of the rational will in the deepest springs of its nature, the source of that “delectable perturbation” that grants us a conceptual grasp of finite things precisely by constantly carrying us restlessly beyond them and thereby denying them even a provisional ultimacy.
In fact, we cannot even possess the barest rational cognizance of the world we inhabit except insofar as we have always already, in our rational intentions, exceeded the world. Intentional recognition is always already interpretation, and interpretation is always already judgment. The intellect is not a passive mirror reflecting a reality that simply composes itself for us within our experience; rather, intellect is itself an agency that converts the storm of sense-intuitions into a comprehensible order through a constant process of interpretation. And it is able to do this by virtue of its always more original, tacit recognition of an object of rational longing—say, Truth itself—that appears nowhere within the natural order, but toward which the mind nevertheless naturally reaches out, as to its only possible place of final rest. All proximate objects are known to us, and so desired or disregarded or rejected, in light of that anticipated finality. Even to seek to know, to organize experience into reflection, is a venture of the reasoning will toward that absolute horizon of intelligibility. And since truly rational desire can never be a purely spontaneous eruption of the will without purpose, it must exhibit its final cause in the transcendental structure of its operation. Rational experience, from the first, is a movement of rapture, of ecstasy toward ends that must be understood as—because they must necessarily be desired as—nothing less than the perfections of being, ultimately convertible with one another in the fullness of reality’s one source and end. Thus the world as something available to our intentionality comes to us in the interval that lies between the mind’s indivisible unity of apprehension and the irreducibly transcendental horizon of its intention—between, that is, the first cause of movement in the mind and the mind’s natural telos, both of which lie outside the composite totality of nature."
DB Hart, You are Gods. University of Notre Dame Press, April 2022
"Neither doctrine nor metaphysics need be immediately invoked to see the impossibility of rational agency within a sphere of pure nature; a simple phenomenology of what it is we do when we act intentionally should suffice. The rational will, when freely moved, is always purposive; it acts always toward an end: conceived, perceived, imagined, hoped for, resolved upon. Its every act is already, necessarily, an act of recognition, judgment, evaluation, and decision, and is therefore also a tacit or explicit reference to a larger, more transcendent realm of values, meanings, and rational longings. Desire and knowledge are always, in a single impulse, directed to some purpose present to the mind, even if only vaguely. Any act lacking such purposiveness is by definition not an act of rational freedom. There are, moreover, only two possible ways of pursuing a purpose: either as an end in itself or for the sake of an end beyond itself. But no finite object or purpose can wholly attract the rational will in the latter way; no finite thing is desirable simply in itself as an ultimate end. It may, in relative terms, constitute a more compelling end that makes a less compelling end nonetheless instrumentally desirable, but it can never constitute an end in itself. It too requires an end beyond itself to be compelling in any measure; it too can evoke desire only on account of some yet higher, more primordial, more general disposition of reason’s appetites. Even what pleases us most immediately can be intentionally desired only within the context of a rational longing for the Good itself. If not for some always more original orientation toward an always more final end, the will would never act in regard to finite objects at all. Immanent desires are always in a sense deferred toward some more remote, more transcendent purpose. All concretely limited aspirations of the will are sustained within formally limitless aspirations of the will. In the end, then, the only objects of desire that are not reducible to other, more general objects of desire, and that are thus desirable entirely in and of themselves, are those universal, unconditional, and exalted ideals, those transcendentals, that constitute being’s abstract perfections. One may not be, in any given instant, immediately conscious that one’s rational appetites have been excited by these transcendental ends; I am not talking about a psychological state of the empirical ego; but those ends are the constant and pervasive preoccupation of the rational will in the deepest springs of its nature, the source of that “delectable perturbation” that grants us a conceptual grasp of finite things precisely by constantly carrying us restlessly beyond them and thereby denying them even a provisional ultimacy.
In fact, we cannot even possess the barest rational cognizance of the world we inhabit except insofar as we have always already, in our rational intentions, exceeded the world. Intentional recognition is always already interpretation, and interpretation is always already judgment. The intellect is not a passive mirror reflecting a reality that simply composes itself for us within our experience; rather, intellect is itself an agency that converts the storm of sense-intuitions into a comprehensible order through a constant process of interpretation. And it is able to do this by virtue of its always more original, tacit recognition of an object of rational longing—say, Truth itself—that appears nowhere within the natural order, but toward which the mind nevertheless naturally reaches out, as to its only possible place of final rest. All proximate objects are known to us, and so desired or disregarded or rejected, in light of that anticipated finality. Even to seek to know, to organize experience into reflection, is a venture of the reasoning will toward that absolute horizon of intelligibility. And since truly rational desire can never be a purely spontaneous eruption of the will without purpose, it must exhibit its final cause in the transcendental structure of its operation. Rational experience, from the first, is a movement of rapture, of ecstasy toward ends that must be understood as—because they must necessarily be desired as—nothing less than the perfections of being, ultimately convertible with one another in the fullness of reality’s one source and end. Thus the world as something available to our intentionality comes to us in the interval that lies between the mind’s indivisible unity of apprehension and the irreducibly transcendental horizon of its intention—between, that is, the first cause of movement in the mind and the mind’s natural telos, both of which lie outside the composite totality of nature."
DB Hart, You are Gods. University of Notre Dame Press, April 2022
Tuesday, March 01, 2022
Mother of Mercy
I think in the western world, art that invokes sacred spaces is, to put it mildly, less than central to the art industry. But in parts of Europe, this is not entirely the case. One region that has a kind of generational explosion of sacred art is western Ukraine, an area that is culturally at an intersection between central and eastern Europe (and where part of my own family is from). To the extent there has been attention paid to these artists, it appears to be largely in Catholic journals - in part I suspect because the region is largely "Greek Catholic" in religion (as again were some of my ancestors), a religion which combines elements of Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy: one might say a fusion, or, perhaps a "confusion", depending on ones perspective. But it clearly has generated a creative energy that re-considers traditional concepts of beauty and meaning in art forms that have often been bound to very strict boundaries of received archetypes.
One of those artists is the young Ivanka Demchuk, whose work invokes centers on abrupt symbolism that interleaves openness, geometric constructs and sparse, but striking, colorations. Shown here is her work Mother of Mercy, a rendering of the Virgin Mary receiving the prayers of her people.
Note the striking use of red within the circle that surrounds the Holy Mother. Here she seems at once in fully incorporated into the very cosmos that encompasses and surrounds us. Yet the interior red also invokes dried blood, as if she is interceding for - absorbing, really - the pain of her people. Whether intentional or not, it certainly is evocative, especially at this time of trauma and fratricidal war impacting Ukraine this image seems poignant, yet terribly relevant. We need more sacred art, not less.
If you read this, please consider donating to humanitarian and non sectarian relief for Ukraine, especially to help refugees. These posts are around for years, so if you stumble on this some time after it is posted, the need is still there and any aid is meaningful.
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