Quote: Ecclesiastes

Everything that happens in this world happens at the time God chooses.
He sets the time for birth and the time for death,
the time for planting and the time for pulling up,
the time for killing and the time for healing,
the time for tearing down and the time for building…
(Ecclesiastes v.3)

I decided to weave this Bible quote into my post today because it’s one that I hear every year at our Leavers’ Mass – except this year, it’s my class that are leaving, and, as part of my Chaplaincy Prefect duties, I’m, for want of any other title, the Director of Liturgy.

Too, English weather continues to be a downer, though at least it means I’m missing nothing with my mornings inside revision books and my afternoons buzzing around my computer.

It may not be Spring yet, but it will come.

Imaginary Penguins

(Adapted from a piece of classwork)

Oliver Jeffers’ book ‘Lost and Found’ depicts a little boy finding a penguin and setting about returning him to the South Pole. But is that what the penguin wants?
  

 

 

 

 

This raises the question of the meaning behind books – especially children’s pictures: is this penguin, with its symbolism of friendship and loneliness, simply imaginary?

To begin with, what does this mean? We know something as imaginary as not physically existing – one might argue that fairies are not real because we do not see them – in the context of the book, the boy may see the penguin, but other people in his world may not. (Of course, theists raise these questions of God Himself, that He exists without being seen.)

Thus, the penguin is an imaginary entity created by himself to satisfy the missing pieces of the boy.

If the penguin is simply imaginary, that is, in itself, one has to take a great leap of a priori faith to believe in the existence of something not verifiable by empirical evidence. The book suggests there is a penguin – how do we, ‘real-lifers’, use science and observation to prove that, outside of the boy, the penguin is in existence?

To us, the concept of penguin exists (and we apply this to the context of the book automatically); I, personally, would argue that this penguin is imaginary, but not simply imaginary. This penguin has a chance of existing – we see that via the picture-prose – but does so only in the boy’s mind in the context of the story. Elsewhere, for instance in a story about a zoo, the same penguin may well exist.

Certainly, whilst the statement is non-cognitive and doesn’t require proof to its being spoken, the statement is meaningful. I know what I have asked – both in the context of the real world (that is: this is a picture book with an imaginary boy and an imaginary penguin and an imaginary journey to the Pole, but I am aware of that, outside the temporality of this created world) and in the inner context of the imaginary world: that is, this physical boy may be conjuring up an imaginary penguin to serve his lonely aspirations.

Is the penguin imaginary? That depends on opinion and how far one is willing to extend into the realm of the fiction.

The English Catholic Novel’s Place in Modern Society

Steven Oliver, author of Smoke in the Sanctuary (and, coincidentally  my Head of School), gave a talk a couple of weeks ago on the English Catholic Novel, and thus I have had some to time to contemplate whether this specific genre can still be of interest to modern day readers of all ages.

To begin with, firstthings.com (which also provides a more in-depth discussion of the topic) defines the English Catholic Novel (ECN) as “a work of substantial literary merit in which Catholic theology and thought have a significant presence within the narrative” (by an Englishman), which sums it up quite nicely. It’s what it says on the cover.

The deeply religious probably take great comfort from sharing their ideas, rules and experiences. I don’t mean this in disagreement of the genre, but that I like the idea of novels published to unite a community of faith.

There can be, however, problems with a religious approach to writing. One question is of how easy it can be to craft and publish an ECN. Sure, one might start off with a priest protagonist and church-based location and one’s book is likely to fall into that category – at first glance. However, there are many books that fall into the ECN category without having any outwardly religious connotations. ‘Brideshead Revisited’ and ‘Lord of the Rings’ are two, very diverse in themselves.

Conversely, one could set up a scenario based on faith, but reject the premise with plot and characters  not reconciled by religion or faith. Thus, it appears that the ECN is more than something with features of the Catholic faith, but with a distinct Christian element to it.

I’d say it depends on the author.

The idea of a Catholic novel must depend on the author’s own definition, in addition to whether other readers of the genre would accept it in. But I reiterate that the author’s opinion is paramount. To create a story but have it mistaken for a different genre would, of course, be the epitome of frustration for the writer.

And, once one accepts that, one starts to apply the ideology and themes. For instance, in Triangle, my MC and his sister are Catholics and, whilst not being the most faithful of people, do tend to adhere to their faith. Yet, even during a discussion of morality, one could argue that these themes are not deep enough to warrant calling it an ECN. (I’d probably have to agree; it is a chick lit romance, after all!)

Nevertheless, I would be intrigued to see how far into the ECN category Triangle might rate. I fall into two of the categories: English and [almost] Catholic – but I understand that it’s the novel that has the greatest weight itself. Religion was important right from the genesis of the novel – and religion does have quite a point in several of the later chapters to influence the way the romance goes. Since I have been thinking about such religious themes, it’s fair to say that I have wanted to include them more and more, even in the more subtle way of writers like Tolkien.

Applying my situation to logic, one could argue that more novels fall into the English Catholic Novel genre than writers would admit. So why are they not as well known or used in labelling a book?

Simple: the ECN market is quite a small one, for the fact that not many people in society today would outwardly admit to reading novels which might place a label over their heads. Too, to say one is writing a book with Catholic themes may be enough to turn a whole segment of readers away. Even in the community of a Catholic school, such as that within which I have matured, the word can cause a *look* to pass amongst fellows.

It has been suggested by modern writers that this form of novel is something that cannot be recreated in a modern secular society. In 1982, one critic referred to his book on the Catholic novel as an “elegy for an apparently dying form.” Not the best of omens….

However, that is not to say that the ECN is ‘dead’ to the world of writing or to those who want to read it. As proven with
the release of The Hobbit, battles of good against evil (rooted in a belief in the good of one’s self if nothing else) are still some of the most popular threads of plot. After all, there’s a bit within most of us that wants the good protagonist to conquer the bad antagonist. I think that even novels that others might say ‘scream Catholicism’, about clergy and church activities, are accessible to those outside of the Catholic Church. Regardless of content (though I do agree that this is important) a well-written novel is still a well-written novel and a pleasing read for anyone who chooses to. Recently, there’s even been the adaptation of G. K. Chesterton’s Father Brown on TV, starring one of my favourite actors, Mark Williams.

With the large amount of novelists and genres that exist in the world today, the ECN is just less obvious than it has been in other – possibly more puritan – centuries.

Forgiveness is a Wonderful Thing

Yesterday, I happened upon someone whom I hadn’t seen in months. There was no prearranged meeting, he just happened to turn up at an event I was doing. But, at the distance – our distance, in fact, that way we had so conjured – I was anticipating the moments when we would speak again with both delight and fear.

I had done him a great wrong once.

As much as I wanted to share my updates with him, I had no idea that he would even want to look at me. After all, I might well have not done so, had our positions been reversed.

So, I moved closer with my breath catching in my throat.

He turned those unreadable, turquoise eyes upon me. A thousand universes flittered through my mind. I would have this one chance to show him that I was so sorry (for words would do no good).

He grinned. We’ve known each other for six years and it felt as if the ice had broken again.

Forgiveness would be silvery, were it a colour. This photograph is on old one of mine of a painting I did. (I don’t have the colour photograph to hand)

Although it, in retrospect, was shorter than I ever would have liked, we talked for a full conversation. After that, I felt lighter than I had in ages.

All my darkness had been blanched away by the light. It may be an odd metaphor, but, like being born again, I had emerged from the water, cold, but refreshed, and utterly good. After three months of doubt and furor, my hand has finally penetrated the invisible glass casing surrounding me from the better world.

Moreover, I had seen it in my disturbing prescience.

Yet, the fact I had guessed it was going to come no more dampened the feelings of relief; forgiveness is a wonderful thing – both for the forgiver and the forgiven – in that one mistake is struck through with a red pen of sorts, wiped from the mind, hearts and voices of those involved, and replaced with something new and clean: a different view.

This is what I love about being a Christian! To think that Jesus would take all the agony of our sins and make forgiveness a possibility is an incredible thought.

Animus of the Soul

A small essay I came up with today, in response to feedback on one of my Soul + Afterlife Philosophy essays that suggested I use the Catechism’s definition of soul as an argument for the Christian perspective. However, my own metaphysics (which I like to think of as my Philosophy speciality) contrasted a couple of ideas I discovered there and so I needed to readdress the matter of human and internal metaphysics.

Of course, I’d value any opinions and views.

I have before noted that the soul plays a part in the ‘essence’ of mankind by supplying emotion and instinct to the mind in order to create a conscience that has its place in decision-making. I may have to double-back on the topic a little, that is if we are to suppose in a third metaphysical part of a human, beyond the spiritual, yet wrapped up quite within it: heart. Or, rather, what the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) calls ‘heart’.
It is in the language used where I come across one of my disagreements. ‘Heart’, to me, implies the physical organ that pumps blood around the body. Thus, if we are to adopt the theory of the CCC, I require a second term. Whilst the Latin word animus has its purposes in many translations, here I choose it for the state of emotion.

Now we come to my second disagreement. State. Granted, the CCC suggests that the animus is necessary in order to choose whether to follow God or not; yes, this may be so, but this is a great conscious decision, which I belief involves more of the mind that the Church allows for. Why? Because the mind is a very selfish thing. Even when looking at it from a Cognitive viewpoint that the computer requires self-sufficiency and the warmth of other monitors, we see that it is in human instinct (or ‘programming’) that we look to ourselves.

So from where does this nature to turn to God come from? Whilst the CCC states that it lies in the animus, the heart, I think this puts too much weight on the heart as the core of human essence.

In the times of the Greek philosophers, there still existed a term called ‘ensoulment’ – that is when the soul entered the body during the first nine months of life. With or without religion, the soul appears to be the key consistently. Thus, it is to the soul that I turn. I have always imagined the soul to be rooted or entwined with the physical heart, but it is possible that soul in itself (anima, to use the Latin) actually has no fixed position in the body and no fixed physical equivalent, thus it is able to roam throughout. That card is still to be played, in my opinion.

For the moment, let us keep that the soul and physical heart are connected across the metaphysical-physical boundary. Where, then, does the animus come in? Because of the soul, I still stand that no animus is truly needed as an individual state; that is, that it comes directly from the soul. Whilst the conscience relies on both soul and mind, the animus relies on soul alone, but must transfer itself to the conscious mind, otherwise a believer would not have the ability to use their free will. I know that I choose God – why? I don’t truly know. To say it feels ‘right’ is not quite the best answer, but maybe that is the emotion brought from Him and channelled through the animus of the soul.

It’s possible.

Faith is Key

One of my photographs, a favourite of mine.

Faith is different from belief.

To quote Gustave Weigel, faith is ‘the Catholic’s response to an intellectual message communicated by God’. You know that your friend will catch you if you fall, but you’d rather not fall. In a way, it’s about trusting beyond empiricism. Many Christians possess the belief but they don’t put that faith into action. I believe that it’s that response to whatever we feel God is telling us to do that makes someone grab hold of faith. Conversely, faith is key to put our belief into actions, but God will help us all in every way for that to happen.

Recently, I have had to put a lot of trust in God. My closest friend abandoned me to work far away, just before this set of university applications, when I could do with his comforting words the most. He was an utter man of faith and, fairly, I guess I was using his faith to bolster my own, instead of building it up myself. Now he is gone, I require my own faith to grow out of belief.

How have I gone about doing this? Well, I find that prayer is a good way of connecting with God; I have been using prayer the most to cleanse my head of the manic thoughts that have possessed me recently. Reading the Bible is another way to bring one’s self closer to the Truth and its positive aspects.

In addition, being around others who believe is really refreshing, since a lot of my peer group are the typical teenagers who do not want to even consider the arguments that God exists. The Year of Faith started last week, and it is through this – and the community of Catholics I know if I spread my fingers wide enough – that I hope to back up my tired belief with some faith-in-action. I think that we truly experience God through what we do as a Christian to help others, be they spiritually-minded or not.

I am thankful for the people whom I meet in my everyday life. My Philosophy tutor, especially, has helped to reinforce what I know and love. Wherever I end up at University, it will be because God has placed me there for a reason, so that I might do his work. I know where I want to be, but I am putting my trust and faith into God. More recently, I have felt His warmth near me. In some ways, this could be counted as a religious experience. My religious experience.

 

There’s Something About That Bad Feeling

I firmly believe that I have Extrasensory Perception. ESP, the ‘Sixth Sense’ or paranormal psychology, can come in many forms, telepathy, psychic ability, telekinesis…

Though a low-level psychic ability could be interpreted as many things- under the umbrella-sky that is paranormal psychology- I believe that, in me, it comes as the ability to know. Just know is all I can say as an explanation. If I receive an email/phone call slagging me off (believe me, I used to get a lot of these) or one with a rejection inside its folds, I suddenly get an eerie feeling, hesitating, procrastinating. I know there’s something ominous about the piece before I’ve even read the subject line.

How can this realistically happen?

It might be my anxiety and paranoid uncertainty; I become incredibly twitchy in new situations where I don’t know anyone; also, I don’t like talking on the phone and will not pick up if I don’t know who’s ringing me. Behavioural conditioning and bad memories are the most likely causes of interaction anxiety.

Of course, I’m not against coincidences, but, as a believer in both God and a fate-laden path, I’m prone to looking at a situation with eyes that slant towards everything happening for a reason. If I have been given some sort of ESP, it’ll be so that I could use it for good (note my use of merely suggestive conditional) or so that I am able to enhance my living of life with these feelings, as muted and negative as they might turn out to be.

On the other hand, it’s equally fair to state that we could all be considered people with ESP, a humanity that ‘sees’ what’s coming. It’s common to expect the worst. We remember bad memories better than good ones because they have left a bigger impact on our lives. A bad year that we remember is often just more eventful than a ‘good’ year. This is reasonable justification. From an Evolutionary perspective, as animals, we hold ourselves alert to danger; we are more likely to suspect danger because, if we don’t, we are more likely to die.

I’m not decided on what I will always believe, both sides being as probable as they are. Does that really explain my bad anxiety when bad things are about to happen, and no anxiety when the event will not bother me?

Lent: A Time For Silence

Despite its sincere title, yes, this is another blog-post about charity, and, to be more specific, my trials towards accomplishing the success of the group I run. (I love fund-raising, but it is bloomin’ hard to organize)!

                                                        

On the afternoon of Friday 23th March 2012, the majority of the Year Sevens (First Years), at a small Catholic Secondary school in Abingdon, were challenged to be silent through their last three lessons, two hours from two ‘til four. The point of this silence, aside from giving some peace to the rest of the school (!), was to raise money for CATHOD in its 50^th year.

I run the Peace and Justice Club at my school. Though it has links to Amnesty International and Rotary, Peace and Justice has a slightly different aim, trying to advocate human rights, especially those of the minority. Throughout the year, we try to put on fundraising events, the money from which goes to various charities. For example, this year, it was the turn of ‘DiabetesUK’, to which the money from the Peace and Justice stall at my school’s Christmas fayre went.

CATHOD- or the CATHolic organisation for Overseas Development- is currently running a ‘Thirst for Change’ campaign, to make drinking water safer and more available in developing countries. From the money we raised, though it has not yet been counted, all will be going towards CATHOD’s fund; so we hope to have taught the Year Sevens more about society’s imbalance as well as the skill of patience when it comes to mind over mouth.

 “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.” (Isaiah)

Our appeal happened to coincide with another charity event to do with water for Third-World countries; World Water Day was the 22^nd March, raising awareness and creating change: as 783 million people still don’t have access to safe drinking water.

Ironically, since it was Lent for myself too, the amount of money I donate in this time has interest; instead of £1, I give £3. What would I do with such money anyway? But that is the point, is it not? Alms-giving has its sacredness.

A friend of mine shows how to 'zip one's lip' for silence.

 

CATHOD website: http://www.cafod.org.uk/?gclid=CM–m7Gc_a4CFUcntAoddQlf0Q

Wateraid website: http://www.wateraid.org/uk/default.asp?gclid=CL2Mh63MyK8CFVEjfAodpjiXaw

Our Lady’s School website: http://www.olab.org.uk/page/default.asp?title=Home&pid=1

 

“The one who speaks in a tongue builds up himself, but the one who prophesies builds up the church. Now I want you all to speak in tongues, but even more to prophesise. The one who prophesies is greater than the one who speaks in tongues…” (I Corinthians)

Bionics and Me

I only just found out today that my late sister had a glass eye.

I was watching a CBBC program this afternoon about two children who were first getting prosthetic limbs: a little girl getting both her legs and one arm, and a boy getting a new electronic arm after his was amputated in an accident.

These bionics, prosthetics are an amazing achievement in science. I found myself wondering at God’s miraculous work here, and the children who frequently have to cope with situations like this. As I understand, children who contract meningitis at an early age have a chance of losing their limbs. It’s a shame, but, on the other hand: look how far science has come to enable ‘elelctronomic nerves’ to move a mechanic arm on impulse!

Bionic Arm (picture from Google)

But what really shocked me today was that knowledge that bionical science had been part of the life of my sister, who was diagnosed with eye-cancer after she was five and who died two years later from a final fit, despite seemingly recovering; like Spanish Flu, or other terrible diseases, the final loss can occur suddenly.

My sister was given a new eye when she lost her own. It was made to be a visual replica of her other eye, in colour, shape, everything a glass eye must be, though her own eye, removed to combat the cancer, would never be able to work anatomically again. Yes, all that shocks me, startles me, since I was too young to know, physically, what was going on; I had never imagined that the Retinoblastoma would have caused more than just the hair-loss (in itself the consequence of treatment rather than the cancer).

This Retinoblastoma cancer is not as common as other cancers, but still as devastating, as it affects young children, most often those under five. However, even when cured, the effects of this cancer (such as my sister’s losing an eye) can last a lifetime throughout the family.

A charity that focuses on children with the cancer Retinoblastoma is CHECT. It’s their 25^th year this year, and they are aiming to raise £250,000. 

This is the website, where all the facts and statistics and fundraising can be found: http://www.chect.org.uk/cms/index.php/signs-and-symptoms/what-might-happen-next/77-news-news/329-fundraise-supporting-us-25th-anniversary

Please take a look and consider supporting this charity, especially since it is one that is close to my heart, which I have been trying to support myself as an extra, but I have, yes, been struggling to keep my promise. There is not enough time in the world for me to fund-raise as much as I’d like. Please consider for yourselves supporting CHECT’s 25 scheme in any way you can, even if that is just giving a little. Let’s help beat all kinds of cancer. It may be a clichéd phrase, but that sentence even includes those less common cancers. Everybody matters.