Daddy listened to his church members--actually to everyone in the community--better than he did to his three sons. Many of you might say the same thing about your fathers. Fathers often engage in more genuine dialogue on the job than they do at home. One reason is that, like my father, there are many dads who spend precious little of their time at home, and when they do get home, they are already talked out and tired. Maybe that is the reason. I don’t know. I do know that Daddy rarely seemed to hear me, and that there was so much I wanted to say. But, before I really got started trying to make some sort of connection, Daddy would stop me with clear dogmatic instructions guaranteed to get my life moving on the right track--before he even knew what I was attempting to say. He was good at discouraging dialogue.
For the first thirty years of my life I felt that he never really heard much I was trying to say. Across the next thirty-three we had a few times when we heard each other and responded to what we heard. Sometimes we argued late into the night, long after others had gone to bed, closing their doors to shut out some of our fierce and loud efforts to understand and to reconcile. And there were times--rare times--of confession. Daddy actually listened as I confessed fears, weaknesses, disappointment, and anger. To my amazement, on two or three occasions, Daddy confessed the same to me. On those occasions I was thrilled that he treated me as a real person, as a confidant, as someone he loved and trusted.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Chapter 5/1
The DIALECTIC at Home
Home is where life gets itself together (or pulls itself apart). Home is our first school. Rebel against it as we may, the DIALECTIC of home life cannot be shaken. It shapes our thought, habit and action more than we are aware of. We are much more like our parents than we suppose. On the other hand, to the degree that we rebel against parental example, it is that example that is calling the shots, telling us what we do not want to become. As with most of us, I was a parent, perhaps even a grandparent, before my DIALECTICal relationship with home came into focus.
Are You Listening?
Deep into his sermon, he would lean over the pulpit and ask, "Dear hearts tonight, are you listening?" That was a long time ago but I can still hear him addressing his congregation with that old-timey phrase of endearment. Daddy used the rhetoric of a bygone era, but everyone in the church knew that they were dear to him, and, we knew he wanted us to pay attention because his sermons were punctuated repeatedly with, "Are you listening?” After all, what is the point of preaching if nobody is listening?
And what about us? What can we accomplish in our conversations if no one is listening? If we are going to live with each other, we will have to listen, hear, and acknowledge each other. If I don't listen, or at least look, I may not realize it when you are hurting and that you are about to go under unless someone comes to your rescue. If I don't listen, I may not realize how much you care, or even that you care, about me or about whatever might be the issue at hand at any given time. If we don't listen to each other, we each merely speak our own respective and reciprocal monologues. Except when presented by professional entertainers, most monologues quickly become boring. We need dialogue. We need to hear each other.
Daddy's, "Dear hearts tonight," (he didn't often use this term with the Sunday morning crowd) "are you listening," was not a strictly rhetorical question; he actually wanted to see it in their eyes, their posture, and even in the expression of their faces; he wanted to know that they were engaged with him.
Yet the sermons–as most sermons--were monologues. He would not have appreciated it if someone had spoken out with an answer; his question was more a device to maintain or recover attention. On the other hand, I might be wrong, as I have been so many times about Daddy. It is too late now for me to ask him, but although he didn't expect spoken response he might have actually welcomed it; he might have welcomed the opportunity to engage in true dialogue about the Christian gospel. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that he might have welcomed it. But neither he nor the congregation of six or eight hundred people expected it because that is not part of the accepted pattern of public worship. I wonder what might happen if immediate spoken feedback became an expected part in the sermon?
On the other hand, if the preacher is to expect his congregation to listen, he had better have been listening to them during the week. If he doesn't know their problems, hopes, fears, dreams, doubts, excitements, moral dilemmas, existential crises, laughter and tears, his sermon may miss the people completely. They may continue to come, thinking it is somehow important that they be in church Sunday morning, but it will not be long before they stop listening with any sense of expectation and hope. Preaching will be boring--an accurate description of altogether too many Sunday mornings. Again, what about all the rest of us and all the talking we do? If you don't listen to me, why should I listen to you.
Home is where life gets itself together (or pulls itself apart). Home is our first school. Rebel against it as we may, the DIALECTIC of home life cannot be shaken. It shapes our thought, habit and action more than we are aware of. We are much more like our parents than we suppose. On the other hand, to the degree that we rebel against parental example, it is that example that is calling the shots, telling us what we do not want to become. As with most of us, I was a parent, perhaps even a grandparent, before my DIALECTICal relationship with home came into focus.
Are You Listening?
Deep into his sermon, he would lean over the pulpit and ask, "Dear hearts tonight, are you listening?" That was a long time ago but I can still hear him addressing his congregation with that old-timey phrase of endearment. Daddy used the rhetoric of a bygone era, but everyone in the church knew that they were dear to him, and, we knew he wanted us to pay attention because his sermons were punctuated repeatedly with, "Are you listening?” After all, what is the point of preaching if nobody is listening?
And what about us? What can we accomplish in our conversations if no one is listening? If we are going to live with each other, we will have to listen, hear, and acknowledge each other. If I don't listen, or at least look, I may not realize it when you are hurting and that you are about to go under unless someone comes to your rescue. If I don't listen, I may not realize how much you care, or even that you care, about me or about whatever might be the issue at hand at any given time. If we don't listen to each other, we each merely speak our own respective and reciprocal monologues. Except when presented by professional entertainers, most monologues quickly become boring. We need dialogue. We need to hear each other.
Daddy's, "Dear hearts tonight," (he didn't often use this term with the Sunday morning crowd) "are you listening," was not a strictly rhetorical question; he actually wanted to see it in their eyes, their posture, and even in the expression of their faces; he wanted to know that they were engaged with him.
Yet the sermons–as most sermons--were monologues. He would not have appreciated it if someone had spoken out with an answer; his question was more a device to maintain or recover attention. On the other hand, I might be wrong, as I have been so many times about Daddy. It is too late now for me to ask him, but although he didn't expect spoken response he might have actually welcomed it; he might have welcomed the opportunity to engage in true dialogue about the Christian gospel. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that he might have welcomed it. But neither he nor the congregation of six or eight hundred people expected it because that is not part of the accepted pattern of public worship. I wonder what might happen if immediate spoken feedback became an expected part in the sermon?
On the other hand, if the preacher is to expect his congregation to listen, he had better have been listening to them during the week. If he doesn't know their problems, hopes, fears, dreams, doubts, excitements, moral dilemmas, existential crises, laughter and tears, his sermon may miss the people completely. They may continue to come, thinking it is somehow important that they be in church Sunday morning, but it will not be long before they stop listening with any sense of expectation and hope. Preaching will be boring--an accurate description of altogether too many Sunday mornings. Again, what about all the rest of us and all the talking we do? If you don't listen to me, why should I listen to you.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Chapter 4/11
Conversational DIALECTIC
Although some would distinguish conversation from the DIALECTIC, in the broad sense, conversation is an aspect of the DIALECTIC. The Socratic dialogues, although conversational in appearance, are more focused than an ordinary conversation. Whereas it is normal for a conversation to make many shifts of subject matter and operate on varying levels of intensity, the Socratic dialogue sticks to the subject, pursues an objective, and excludes discussion of trivia. In this sense, the DIALECTIC and conversation can be distinguished. Nonetheless there is value in recognizing the DIALECTICal character of free conversation.
In a conversation, varying points of view emerge, and are sometimes challenged by someone of another persuasion. Even the common free associational shifts of topic make the important contribution of bringing up topics and perspectives that have not before been considered by some of the participants. The DIALECTIC is involved wherever differing positions are recognized and dealt with.
Although some would distinguish conversation from the DIALECTIC, in the broad sense, conversation is an aspect of the DIALECTIC. The Socratic dialogues, although conversational in appearance, are more focused than an ordinary conversation. Whereas it is normal for a conversation to make many shifts of subject matter and operate on varying levels of intensity, the Socratic dialogue sticks to the subject, pursues an objective, and excludes discussion of trivia. In this sense, the DIALECTIC and conversation can be distinguished. Nonetheless there is value in recognizing the DIALECTICal character of free conversation.
In a conversation, varying points of view emerge, and are sometimes challenged by someone of another persuasion. Even the common free associational shifts of topic make the important contribution of bringing up topics and perspectives that have not before been considered by some of the participants. The DIALECTIC is involved wherever differing positions are recognized and dealt with.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Chapter 4/10
On one hand, the pattern is more complex that I have described, but on the other hand, it can be understood more simply: Hegel started with Being vs. Nonbeing and synthesized these with Becoming. We might look at black, white, and gray (or colors); male, female, and the reproduction of the species; truth, falsehood, and the fuzzy, ambiguous mix and mess that is the reality in which we live.
We must remember that the antithesis is not always the opposite of the thesis. For instance, if paper is the thesis, what would we understand as its opposite? Canvas, pencil, fire? Depending on the context, many things might be understood as the antithesis of paper, although not necessarily its opposite?
The synthesis may be only a slight modification of the original thesis, it may be the midpoint between thesis and antithesis, or anywhere between. It might even be much closer to the original antithesis than to the original thesis. Nonetheless, because the synthesis is a more satisfactory position than either of the earlier options, it becomes the new thesis.
The process is ongoing. Man marries woman, they have a child. The child grows up, marries, has a child, and the process moves along. One nation wars with another until some resolution is accomplished, then after a period of calm, the resolution is challenged. This, Hegel believed, is the pattern of all reality.
The root reason for this is that all is related, everything is connected, and we cannot escape all the others–personal and impersonal--in our relational world. We are not absolute; we cannot isolate ourselves. We are linked inextricably with each other, with the entire ecosystem.
We must remember that the antithesis is not always the opposite of the thesis. For instance, if paper is the thesis, what would we understand as its opposite? Canvas, pencil, fire? Depending on the context, many things might be understood as the antithesis of paper, although not necessarily its opposite?
The synthesis may be only a slight modification of the original thesis, it may be the midpoint between thesis and antithesis, or anywhere between. It might even be much closer to the original antithesis than to the original thesis. Nonetheless, because the synthesis is a more satisfactory position than either of the earlier options, it becomes the new thesis.
The process is ongoing. Man marries woman, they have a child. The child grows up, marries, has a child, and the process moves along. One nation wars with another until some resolution is accomplished, then after a period of calm, the resolution is challenged. This, Hegel believed, is the pattern of all reality.
The root reason for this is that all is related, everything is connected, and we cannot escape all the others–personal and impersonal--in our relational world. We are not absolute; we cannot isolate ourselves. We are linked inextricably with each other, with the entire ecosystem.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Chapter 4/9
Remember Heraclitus and the unity of opposites (thesis and antithesis)? Remember he said that conflict is the source of everything? Now look at your triangle, at the bottom corners, your thesis and antithesis, and give your attention to the line between them. This line carries their differences, puts them into active conflict, puts our mind into tension. Thought is the business of recognizing both ends of the line–thesis and antithesis–and seeking the best way to resolve the tension between.
The answer may come quickly or it may take hours, months, or years. Meanwhile the thesis and antithesis (antitheses) are in dialogue with each other in a growing DIALECTICal tension. Feeling the tension, you go to a specialist for a second opinion. The new physician sees no need for surgery. Now the tension increases between two medical opinions. What should you do? You trust your family doctor, but the specialist is the best in the state. Weeks pass, weeks of indecision and anxiety. Subconscious tension builds. You lose sleep, become irritable, eat all the time, and your condition worsens.
You decide to go ahead with surgery, but meanwhile you have begun googling for help. Repeatedly you find reference to a new medicine for your problem. You ask your doctor about it. He tells you that surgery and the new medication together would work the best.
After surgery you are given a prescription for the new drug, and within a few months everything has cleared up and you feel like your old self again. You are now at the peak of the Hegelian triangle/triad. You have reached a synthesis of the thesis and antithesis.
Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis–the recurrent pattern of the DIALECTIC according to Georg Hegel. The synthesis does not come about as a gradual progression from a foundational beginning. Rather, it is through the opposition between a thesis with which you take your stand and an antithesis that stands in challenging opposition to it. It is a struggle, tension, uncertainty that rules until a synthesis finally emerges. Rather than a smooth and gradual movement up the side angles, it is more as if the synthesis pops directly up, jumps out of the tension between surgery and the options.
It is a rule of the Hegelian DIALECTIC that every thesis has an antithesis. Moreover, every synthesis comes to be seen as a more satisfying place to take our stand. Thus, it becomes our new thesis. It doesn’t take long to realize that there are new antitheses, and the process starts all over again.
In this book I will not limit the DIALECTIC to the Hegelian version of it, but his systematic logic is very useful. We will refer to it often.
The answer may come quickly or it may take hours, months, or years. Meanwhile the thesis and antithesis (antitheses) are in dialogue with each other in a growing DIALECTICal tension. Feeling the tension, you go to a specialist for a second opinion. The new physician sees no need for surgery. Now the tension increases between two medical opinions. What should you do? You trust your family doctor, but the specialist is the best in the state. Weeks pass, weeks of indecision and anxiety. Subconscious tension builds. You lose sleep, become irritable, eat all the time, and your condition worsens.
You decide to go ahead with surgery, but meanwhile you have begun googling for help. Repeatedly you find reference to a new medicine for your problem. You ask your doctor about it. He tells you that surgery and the new medication together would work the best.
After surgery you are given a prescription for the new drug, and within a few months everything has cleared up and you feel like your old self again. You are now at the peak of the Hegelian triangle/triad. You have reached a synthesis of the thesis and antithesis.
Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis–the recurrent pattern of the DIALECTIC according to Georg Hegel. The synthesis does not come about as a gradual progression from a foundational beginning. Rather, it is through the opposition between a thesis with which you take your stand and an antithesis that stands in challenging opposition to it. It is a struggle, tension, uncertainty that rules until a synthesis finally emerges. Rather than a smooth and gradual movement up the side angles, it is more as if the synthesis pops directly up, jumps out of the tension between surgery and the options.
It is a rule of the Hegelian DIALECTIC that every thesis has an antithesis. Moreover, every synthesis comes to be seen as a more satisfying place to take our stand. Thus, it becomes our new thesis. It doesn’t take long to realize that there are new antitheses, and the process starts all over again.
In this book I will not limit the DIALECTIC to the Hegelian version of it, but his systematic logic is very useful. We will refer to it often.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
