The need to think


There was a time, not so distant, when philosophy was discouraged and theology was excluded from our university. Some insisted that an education enlightened by the Classics is wasteful! Not thinking critically is advantageous to  ‘Big Brother’ seeking to impress us with a fallacious salvific presence. This is part of our story: we cannot ignore its impact, but this does not mean that we have learned from it.

The Classics offer insights unavailable to those unlucky enough to ignore them. For example, ‘hubris’ (hybris) speaks of a personality undermined by excessive overconfidence. Hubris proves a frequent theme in Greek mythology, often portrayed as a hero’s fatal flaw that leads to disaster. ‘Icarus’ is one example. Attempting to escape from Crete, his father, ‘Daedalus’, made him wings made of feathers and wax. Despite being warned by his father, Icarus flew too close to the sun: his waxed wings melted and tumbling into the sea, he drowned. 

Self-importance undermines lucidity and hinders our ability to notice the chaos it causes. Pretentious talk shows presume otherwise, but lest we forget, this illusion sustains their presence and seals their pockets. Rushing to prove ourselves better, we dismiss the mistakes committed by others. The consequences will not differ, but pride strengthens our arrogance as social media manipulates our need to feel part of something greater, contradictorily strengthening self-centredness.  

Outfoxed by an imposed illusion, now a déjà vu for most, people chatter unceasingly and often uselessly. An insight that some attribute to Plato, while others attribute to Saul Bellow, accompanies: ‘Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools because they have to say something’. Enlightening our preaching, our insistence to say something neither enriches nor satisfies. We mark our chattering with ‘likes’ or ‘friends’, often concerning people we hardly know: we would not even recognise them if we bumped into them! 

A desired ailment envelops us: an apathy that prevents us from recognising each other’s faces as screens blare our eyes and our voices are reduced to babbling: a listen-less epidemic made worse by COVID-19: a ‘sign of our times’ offering us ‘opportunities’ (Kairos) to sustain the Kingdom’s mysterious workings within our hearts - to reverse the hollowness that assails us. This ‘Kairos’ identifies with an experienced ‘self-emptying’ witnessing the Magister focused on His willingness to be less so that others can have life: “I assure you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces a large crop” (John 12,24). 

As disciples, we cannot afford to identify with a sterility that evokes Orwell’s barrenness, “You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty, and then we shall fill you with ourselves”, which utters a condemnation indicative of ‘consuming time’ (Kronos) and its ability to absorb life. Revolt to this bleakness relates to a lived-out intimacy with the Magister and our ability to share it with others. 

Martin


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