On Concerned Citizens

Loss is felt more keenly than gain. Thus the dragon, confronted with disappearance of the smallest coin from its hoard, is more distracted than by the gain of wagonloads of gold.

            So with intangibles, like respect, admiration, love: the antique idea that all goods (worldly and otherwise) are in limited supply, so that your gain is my loss, is still alive and rhetorical in parliaments today. Concerned citizens complaining.

            Currently we hear of ‘hate speech’. Anyone who disputes my presentation of truth ‘hates’ me and the category to which I belong. ‘Preaching hate’ is the latest manifestation of this cant. One might, for example, belong like some on the Right of politics, to the rich, privileged, or superior category. One might belong like some on the Left to the poor, disadvantaged, or even, God help us, the gay category. Naturally enough, some of the rich are secure enough not to miss a filament of respect; some of the poor leap at the chance to keep bits of respect for themselves alone. As with the dragon, the loss of a fragment of privilege or exclusivity is felt deeply.

            The concepts ‘first’, ‘most excellent’, ‘unique’ are honorifics predicated on exclusivity. What I keep you can’t have.

            Of course, nobody is preaching anything. ‘Preaching’ refers to making known the Gospel, like John the Baptist, who said, ‘He must increase; I must decrease.’ Or as Luke insists in so many ways, the Lord raises the lowly, but casts down the proud.

On Knowledge

St. Paul thought very little of those who aspire to all knowledge and all wisdom. So where do I get off expecting to learn five languages ancient and modern when I can hardly keep out of trouble in English? Some knowledge, like the contents of tax papers ten or twenty years old, is obsolete; some, like the essays from five years of theological study, serve only to remind me of my ignorance.

            You see, I’m divesting my house of paper. Those boxes of precious thoughts from years ago, those financial quagmires, old letters, magazines, even some books — quite some books — have done their time in basement, studio, box and shelf. There’s knowledge I have or have not but hugging the dictionaries clings to a distant age.

            Actually, it might be necessary to know less. Why stop at paper? Do I read the news to be acquainted with every atrocity committed in the year, month, or day? Do the insults, offences, machinations of politics and celebrity intrigue, cheer or fascinate? Do I get a drop of peace here?

            Less knowledge might give a space for breath. Or for knowing, as Aquinas says, what can be taught by the senses.