First, the good news. I’ve made some progress today.
The not-so-good news is that today’s progress amounts to 30 words that I probably won’t delete before evening.
On the other hand, I expect I’ll have more words finished at day’s end than I started with. That’s better than some days. But not as good as some others.
If that all sounds rather vague, I’m not surprised. I’ve been feeling rather vague today. Maybe the weather has something to do with that.
It’s a gray, overcast drizzly sort of day. Ideal for not going outside and working on a sunburn. And with that profound thought, I present links to vaguely-related posts:
Folks who saw virtue in unquestioning devotion to established values didn’t like the 1960s. No institution, custom or belief seemed safe from scrutiny.
Even the idea of progress — a cherished heirloom from the Age of Enlightenment — was challenged, disputed, and ultimately rejected.
Visions of a technotopia, where our greatest challenge was deciding how to spend our leisure time, were fading.
Hopes for nuclear power’s abundant clean energy were giving way to fears of an atomic holocaust and reactor meltdowns. Assuming that pollution didn’t kill us first. (July 28, 2017; February 17, 2017)
Perhaps even more disturbing for social Luddites, the nation’s youth seemed ill-suited for their assigned role as torchbearers for liberty, conformity and suburban living.
Earnest articles and op-eds warned that television was rotting the minds of America’s youth. And popular music was subverting values which so many held dear:
“…Creature comfort goals
They only numb my soul
And make it hard for me to see….”
(“Pleasant Valley Sunday” The Monkees (1967))
“…If the mind is baffled
When the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer?…”
(“Who Will Answer?” Ed Ames (1967))
“…Go ahead and hate your neighbour
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end….”
(“One Tin Soldier” Dennis Lambert, Brian Potter (1969))
Some felt it was the end of civilization as they knew it. I think they were right.1
America has changed. So has the world. I think some changes were improvements. Some aren’t turning out as well as I’d hoped. And many are simply change: which happens, whether we like it or not.
I’m cautiously optimistic about our future, partly because I know a bit about our past.
The Walls of Troy
That’s part of Troy VII’s acropolis: what’s left of it after the Trojan War and Late Bronze Age collapse.
Until around the 19th century, most folks thought the Trojan War had happened pretty much the way Homer described it in the Iliad: the non-mythic parts at any rate.
Then some European scholars took what they’d been learning about ancient history, and compared that to Homer’s account. Parts, at least, didn’t match what they expected. Either their educated guesses were wrong, or Homer’s epic poem was basically fictional.
Quite a few decided that they knew more about history than some ancient chap. Some also figured the Iliad, fictional or not, was composed by some other poet.
Academic one-upmanship — it’s a real word — followed. A humorist’s opinion probably made as much sense as many: Homer didn’t compose the Iliad. It was some other Greek in Homer’s day — whose name was Homer.
There’s still considerable debate about how much of the Iliad is strictly factual. Even Thucydides figured Homer had stretched the facts a bit, and that’s another topic.
I think poets of ancient Greece were a bit like today’s screenwriters: more interested in drama and spectacle than accountant-like precision.
Professional scholars weren’t the only folks who wondered if Troy really existed: and if it did, where we might find “the lofty gates of Troy.”
Frank Calvert, an Englishman born in Malta, learned about Hisarlik, a hill in what’s now northwestern Turkey that might conceal Troy’s ruins.
Frank and his brother Frederick bought a farm that included part of the hill. They uncovered part of what Frank thought was Troy.
A German archeologist, Heinrich Schliemann, met Calvert and thought the Englishman was right. Schliemann dug into the hill and uncovered what had been a city. More exactly, he excavated Trojan ruins from at least two periods.
Schliemann had also, regrettably, obliterated what we are pretty sure had been significant parts of the city. Archeologists are much more careful these days. As I keep saying, we do learn. Eventually.
It’s still not unanimous, but these days most academics think Troy was real and Hisarlik is where the city used to be.2
The Trojan War was real, too, and almost certainly part of the Late Bronze Age Collapse. We haven’t had a catastrophe quite like it since. (November 3, 2017)
“Nothing Stands Still”
Descendants of folks who survived the Collapse eventually returned and lived where Troy had been.
But the city never fully recovered. Partly, I think, because the river which flowed past Troy kept carrying water and sediment to the sea.
The site’s a few miles inland now. Troy’s natural harbor long since filled in and became farmland.
The Hellespont is still part of an important trade route, but today’s major east-west crossing point is Istanbul. Another three millennia or so, and some other place may be the region’s major metropolis. It’s like the fellow said:
“πάντα χωρεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει”
“Everything changes and nothing stands still.”
(Heraclitus, As quoted by Plato in “Cratylus”)
Learning From the Past: Or Not
Our cultures and tech change. So do our jobs, roles we play in society. But human nature doesn’t change. Not that I can see. Whether that’s hopeful or not may depend on attitude:
“Perhaps the cause of our contemporary pessimism is our tendency to view history as a turbulent stream of conflicts — between individuals in economic life, between groups in politics, between creeds in religion, between states in war. … History has been too often a picture of the bloody stream. The history of civilization is a record of what happened on the banks.”
(Will Durant, As quoted in “The Gentle Philosopher” (2006) by John Little at Will Durant Foundation)
“What experience and history teach is this — that nations and governments have never learned anything from history, or acted upon any lessons they might have drawn from it.”
(“Lectures on the Philosophy of History,” Georg Hegel (ca. 1830s) Introduction, as translated by H. B. Nisbet (1975))
The Durant and Santayana quotes are closer to what I think than Hegel’s. I am quite sure that we’re not doomed to ignorance and futility.
But I can appreciate Hegel’s viewpoint.
The Enlightenment was in progress when Hegel was growing up. Enlightenment ideals, valuing liberty and reason, offered hope for a better future. (November 6, 2016)
As an adult, Hegel saw the French Revolution’s bright promise of Enlightened and rational government produce the Cult of Reason and mass executions.
Napoleon sorted that mess out. He had been a military commander for the Revolutionary government before having himself elected Emperor of the French.
Meanwhile, Europe’s other leaders continued having their subjects slaughter each other in a seemingly-endless succession of turf wars. Napoleon followed suit, which brings me back to Hegel. He saw Napoleon just before the Battle of Jena-Auerstedt.
Hegel was a 30-something university professor at the time. Napoleon won, adding the Kingdom of Prussia to the French Empire.
Hegel’s brother joined Napoleon’s army and was killed a half-dozen years later, when Napoleon learned why invading Russia is a bad idea.
German states joined other countries for the War of the Sixth Coalition. Or War of Liberation, depending on who’s telling the story.
Hegel published the second volume of “Wissenschaft der Logik,” “Science of Logic” around that time.
The War of the Sixth Coalition ended in 1814. Napoleon was exiled to Elba, ushering in an era of peace — which lasted until the War of the Seventh Coalition in 1815.
Several wars, epidemics and a cholera pandemic later, Hegel was living in Berlin. He got sick and died. Doctors said it was cholera, possibly because the disease had reached Berlin by that time.
A lifetime immersed in Europe’s turf wars, epidemics and politics might leave anyone a trifle less than optimistic about humanity’s capacity for learning from mistakes.
“…The Future, Far as Human Eye Could See….”
“…For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be…
“…Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furl’d
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world….”
(“Locksley Hall,” Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1835))
I’m not sure why I think Tennyson’s imagined “Federation of the world” isn’t entirely a poetic pipe dream.
I’ve known folks around my age, with similar backgrounds, and some who aren’t, who apparently feel that government leaders don’t learn, or can’t. Others see climate change, genetically modified organisms, vaccines or the Internet as a dire threat.
There’s probably considerable overlap among those groups.
I think folks who fear that it’s the end of civilization as we know it — are right.
But unlike many, I think that’s a good thing. Partly because I think we may finally have seen the end of Western civilization’s empire-collapse-rebuild cycle. (April 15, 2018; February 5, 2017; July 24, 2016)
And partly because I think God didn’t botch humanity’s design. (July 23, 2017)
“We Should Work Together”
We’re made “in the image of God,” matter and spirit, body and soul. Each of us is a person, made from the stuff of this world and filled with God’s’ ‘breath.’ (Genesis 1:26–27, 2:7; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 355, 357, 362-368)
God gave us dominion over this world, and let us decide how we’ll act. The first of us made a really bad decision. We’ve been dealing with its consequences ever since. The mess we’re in isn’t God’s fault. (Genesis 1:26; Catechism, 390, 396-401)
Our circumstances have changed, but not our nature. We still have “dominion” — and the responsibilities that go with it. (January 21, 2018; August 20, 2017)
What we decide to do is still up to us. We all have free will. We can decide that loving our neighbor, and seeing everyone as a neighbor, makes sense. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 6:3110:25–27, 29–37; Catechism, 1704, 1730, 1789)
That’s not easy for me. But easy or not, I think it’s a good idea. So is passing along what we’ve learned, and some of our goals.
“…In this sense the future belongs to you young people, just as it once belonged to the generation of those who are now adults…. …To you belongs responsibility for what will one day become reality together with yourselves, but which still lies in the future….”
(“Dilecti Amici,” St. John Paul II (March 21, 1985))
“…The answer to the fear which darkens human existence at the end of the twentieth century is the common effort to build the civilization of love, founded on the universal values of peace, solidarity, justice, and liberty….”
(“To the United Nations Organization,” St. John Paul II (October 5, 1995))
Building a close approximation of St. John Paul II’s “civilization of love” will take many generations of hard work, and willingness to remember that truth and love matter.
“…For our part, the desire for such dialogue, which can lead to truth through love alone, excludes no one, though an appropriate measure of prudence must undoubtedly be exercised. We include those who cultivate outstanding qualities of the human spirit, but do not yet acknowledge the Source of these qualities. We include those who oppress the Church and harass her in manifold ways. Since God the Father is the origin and purpose of all men, we are all called to be brothers. Therefore, if we have been summoned to the same destiny, human and divine, we can and we should work together without violence and deceit in order to build up the world in genuine peace.…”
(“Gaudium et spes,” Second Vatican Council, Bl. Paul VI (December 7, 1965) [emphasis mine])
Working together to build a better world.
It won’t be easy, but I think it’ll be worth the effort:
My first serious try at writing a book started several years back, if you count thinking about how I’d do it and learning about ‘book length’ style and format conventions.
Actual writing, entering and saving words, started about a month ago. (April 3, 2018)
I wrote well over a thousand words during one day: re-read it the next, and started over. My progress, such as it, has been like that ever since.
I’ll get a few hundred words written one day and re-write that down to nearly nothing the next. Some days I leave rewriting, if any, until anther time.
Other days I delete more than I write. For me, that’s progress. I could worry that I’m not following some famous or respected author’s method. But that doesn’t make sense to me.
Some of the best ‘how to’ advice I’ve seen was from a published author who described the usual ‘organize your time/information/desk/whatever’ stuff.
He said folks should try whatever seems reasonable to see if it works. And that the ‘right’ way to write is the one that works for a particular author.
That make sense. To me, anyway.
Yesterday I ended the day’s writing with a bit over two dozen more words saved than when I’d started. That’s good news.
So, in a very different way, is an ongoing visit from #2 daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. I’ll be enjoying their being here again today, and don’t expect to get much writing done until after brillig. If then.
I therefore will stop writing, post this, share the following excerpt and inevitable links to more of this blog — and enjoy the visit.
“…’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.”
(Jabberwocky,” Lewis Carroll (1871) via Wikipedia)
I occasionally run into Christians who shun science, see it as an enemy of faith, or make up their own version. They’re almost certainly sincere, but I don’t share their views.
Refusing to learn about the wonders and beauties surrounding us seems like a poor way of showing admiration for God’s work.
Seeking truth, using our God-given brains, is a good idea. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 159, 214-217, 283, 294, 341)
So is remembering that ethics matter. (Catechism, 2292-2296)
The basics of what’s ethical are simple. I should love God and my neighbor, and see everyone as my neighbor. (Matthew 5:43–44, 22:36–40; Mark 12:28–31; Luke 10:25–37; Catechism, 1706, 1776, 1789, 1825, 1849-1851, 1955)
Our rules work better if they follow those basic principles. The principles don’t change. Our rules must, as our tech and cultures change. (February 5, 2017)
Reanimated Pig Brains
(From Reuters, via BBC News, used w/o permission.)
(“The scientists used pumps, heaters, and bags of artificial blood to restore circulation to the pig brains”
(BBC News))
“Researchers at Yale University have restored circulation to the brains of decapitated pigs, and kept the organs alive for several hours.
“Their aim is to develop a way of studying intact human brains in the lab for medical research.
“Although there is no evidence that the animals were aware, there is concern that some degree of consciousness might have remained.
“Details of the study were presented at a brain science ethics meeting held at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda in Maryland on 28 March….”
Yale University neuroscientist Nenad Sestan and other researches plugged over a hundred pig brains into a system that pumped blood through them.
They kept at least some alive for up to 36 hours. “Alive” in this case means that “billions of individual cells in the brains were found to be healthy and capable of normal activity.” (Antonio Regalado, MIT Technology Review (April 25, 2018))
That’s impressive, since the pigs had been decapitated about four hours before researchers plugged the brains into a fresh blood supply.
But it’s not the first time researchers have kept detached brains alive. Detached heads, at any rate. Experiments in the 19th century showed that heads could be removed, given another source of oxygenated blood, and show signs of life.
Keeping just the brain alive is easier with invertebrates, since they don’t use oxygen as fast as mammals or birds.1
Ethical Aspects of Flatlined Pigs
I’m uneasy about this research, but not because I think pigs are people. Or think the pigs were being mistreated.
The scientists looked for complex neural activity with a sort of porcine EEG.
The electrodes picked up signals, sparking “both alarm and excitement in the lab.” The signals were from nearby equipment, not the brains. The pig brains were ‘flatlined.’2
I’m reasonably sure the pigs weren’t feeling pain. That’s good news.
I think using animals and plants for research can be a good ideas, and that making animals suffer needlessly isn’t. (Catechism, 2415-2418)
The not-so-good news is that folks do, sometimes, mistreat critters. And people. Ethics matter, particularly while experimenting with humans. (November 11, 2016)
“Outlandish?”
I think, and hope, we’ll pay attention to what these scientists said:
“If researchers could create brain tissue in the laboratory that might appear to have conscious experiences or subjective phenomenal states, would that tissue deserve any of the protections routinely given to human or animal research subjects?
This question might seem outlandish. Certainly, today’s experimental models are far from having such capabilities. But various models are now being developed…”
(“The ethics of experimenting with human brain tissue,”3 Nature (April 25, 2018))
I think they’re right. Wondering about legal rights and protections for preserved brains seems “outlandish.” Nobody’s successfully kept a human brain alive and conscious outside the body. Yet.
But it’s not the B movie “mad scientist” scenario it was in my youth. I’ll get back to that.
Brain Backups
(From Getty Images, via BBC News, used w/o permission.)
(“Nectome aims to preserve biomolecules in the brain to let memories be saved after death”
(BBC News))
“A company attempting to map people’s brains so their memories can be stored in computers has lost its link to one of the United States’ top universities.
“US start-up Nectome revealed its brain back-up plan last month, warning at the time that the process involved would be ‘100% fatal’.
“A number of neuroscientists subsequently poured scorn on the plan.
“The Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) has now announced that it is severing ties with the project….”
Recording someone’s memory isn’t as crazy an idea as it might seem.
Researchers at Berkeley used fMRI and software to detect what folks saw while watching movie trailers.
The technology isn’t even close to letting us record dreams for playback, or see what a coma patient is thinking.
The reconstructed videos are barely recognizable. And the process won’t work unless the person being scanned has seen the video at least once before.4
Results of that research was published in 2011. We’ve learned a bit more about how the brain works since then, but still don’t have ‘dreamcorders.’
I think folks at Nectome are right. We will be able to detect and record neural connections well enough to piece together someone’s memories. Eventually.
We’re not there yet. Not even close.
Netcome’s research uses mice, not people. That, I gather, isn’t what bothers MIT.
It’s what Netcome plans to do after working with mice. Their goal is preserving and recording exactly what’s stored in someone’s brain — at the moment of death.5
And Netcome’s process kills the brain that’s being recorded.
Risks
MIT’s concern is that someone’s going to see having their brain pickled and analyzed as a step to immortality.
That’s an issue by itself. And another topic.
Valuing life and health is a good idea. Putting it at the top of my priorities isn’t. Neither is having someone kill me. (Catechism, 2113, 2280-2283, 2288-2291)
I don’t see medical research as “tampering with things man was not supposed to know.” But I think MIT’s right. Netcome’s goal is a problem.
More exactly, what will probably happen during Netcome’s research is worrisome.
The problem, as MIT sees it, is that we’re not even close to understanding how memory works. The odds are very good that someone volunteering as a Netcome test subject would end up with a well-preserved, and quite dead, brain.
Experiments with human volunteers can be okay. But not if that means taking “disproportionate or avoidable risks.” (Catechism, 2295)
I think a 100% chance of death is “disproportionate.”
Life and Movies
Virginia Leith’s most memorable role may her portrayal of Jan Compton in “The Brain That Wouldn’t Die.”
Compton lost her head — literally — in an car accident.
Her distraught fiancé, Bill Cortner, revives her head and starts looking for a replacement body. With regrettable results.
The film was made in the late 1950s and released in 1962.
Nobody had technology that could keep someone’s head alive and conscious then. We still don’t.
I don’t see a problem with Bill Cornter’s decision to keep Compton alive, even though she was missing everything from the neck down.
Bill’s first impulse, saving her life, made sense to me. So did his wanting to get a new body for Compton. His decision to find a suitable donor, remove her head and attach Compton’s to the body, was also understandable. But unacceptable.
Medical treatments, including transplants, are okay. If benefits outweigh the risks, and helping one person doesn’t mean maiming or killing another. (Catechism, 2278, 2296)
I haven’t seen the movie in decades, but my memory tells me that Compton wasn’t happy about her post-accident condition. I don’t remember why she felt that way.
Brain in a Vat
Getting back to preserved pig brains and ethics, I think learning more about how brains work is a good idea.
That’s partly because I deal with an autism spectrum disorder, depression and other glitches. (January 7, 2018)
An amazing number of things can go wrong with our brains, and with the connections between our brains and bodies.
I’ll focus on locked-in syndrome. Whether someone would see it as nightmarish or frustrating probably depends on attitude. Either way, being unable to move wouldn’t be good. Even if the person ‘inside’ could still control the eyes.
Add being completely cut off from sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch — and we’ve got a “brain in a vat” situation.6
In principle, someone’s brain could be alive and conscious, completely alone: cut off from all sensation and unable to move. That would be unpleasant, putting it very mildly. But it might be someone’s best chance for recovery after an accident or illness.
Or the person might experience an illusionary body, with virtual reality software replacing sensory and motor connections. Living in a virtual world could be pleasant or not, depending on how well the equipment works.
And whether the folks running the system were trying to help or torment the subject.
We’re not there yet, and may not be for decades. But “brain in a vat” speculations aren’t as hypothetical as they were in the early 1960s.
I think it’s a near-certainty that the question is no longer whether legal rights for detached human brains becomes an issue. It’s when we will need rules for using the tech.
Reason for Concern: Not Fear
Fear, like any emotion, can be useful, a signal that something needs attention.
Feelings, emotions, are real and part of being human. By themselves, they aren’t good or bad. What matters is what we decide. Reasoning is part of being human too. Thinking before deciding makes sense. (Catechism, 1730, 1762-1770, 1778, 1804, 2339)
As Yale’s ‘pig brain’ news spreads from academic papers to supermarket checkout periodicals, some folks may see preserved pig brains as a threat.
I’m no fan of regulations, particularly when they’re written by clueless bureaucrats and politicos. But I think we need rules that spell out what’s legitimate research, and what’s another Tuskegee or Willowbrook waiting to happen. (August 18, 2017)
More of my views of fear, facts, and using our brains:
“The ethics of experimenting with human brain tissue”
Nita A. Farahany, Henry T. Greely, Steven Hyman, Christof Koch, Christine Grady, Sergiu P. Pașca, Nenad Sestan, Paola Arlotta, James L. Bernat, Jonathan Ting, Jeantine E. Lunshof, Eswar P. R. Iyer, Insoo Hyun, Beatrice H. Capestany, George M. Church, Hao Huang, Hongjun Song; Nature (April 25, 2018)
Whether or not I believe in ghosts depends on what’s meant by “believe in” and “ghosts.” And how I see myself, for that matter. I’ll be talking about ghosts and why I think seances are a bad idea. Also, briefly, superstition and metaphysics.
I don’t fear that an ancestral banshee might come to the new world and find me. Or think spirit photographers were selling pictures of ghosts. (April 11, 2018)
If that’s ‘believing in ghosts,’ then I don’t. On the other hand, I’m not a materialist. I think part of me won’t die, no matter what happens to my body.
It’s a Material World, Partly: Body AND Soul
I see the physical world — matter, energy, the structure of time and space — as part of reality. But not all of it. There’s more to me than the oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus in my body.
I’d think there was more, even if I was a strict materialist.
Those six elements only account for about 99% of my mass. Another 0.85%, give or take a bit, is potassium, sulfur, sodium, chlorine, and magnesium.
Trace amounts of pretty much every other element complete the list.
All the more common elements in my body are also common on or near Earth’s surface. But not in quite the same proportions. Earth’s crust has bigger fractions of silicon, aluminum and iron.1
I could fret about Earth’s abundance ratios and Genesis 2:7 not quite matching. But I won’t. Oddly enough, I’ve yet to see a ‘Bible-based’ church denounce chemistry. Or geochemistry. Evolutionary theories have been among their favored foes since the mid-19th century. (February 9, 2018; September 22, 2017)
‘Biblical’ disapproval of post-Jenner medical tech may have been more popular in the 18th century, but it’s still an issue. And another topic. (July 21, 2017; October 16, 2016)
I think my body is part of me.
Like all other humans, I’m made of matter and spirit. This is not a problem. Matter isn’t basically bad. (Genesis 1:27, 31; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 285, 337–349, 355-373, 285, 1703)
My body will die. My soul can’t.
My soul, like every other human’s, is created by God, spiritual and immortal. I’m not more or less “spiritual” than anyone else. I can’t be. We’re equal, but not identical. We’re not supposed to be. (Catechism, 366, 872, 1703, 1880, 1934-1937)
We’re all creatures made from the stuff of this world and God’s ‘breath.’ Each of us is made in the image of God, with a body and “equally endowed with rational souls.” (Catechism, 355-379, 1703, 1934)
“SOUL: The spiritual principle of human beings. The soul is the subject of human consciousness and freedom; soul and body together form one unique human nature. Each human soul is individual and immortal, immediately created by God. The soul does not die with the body, from which it is separated by death, and with which it will be reunited in the final resurrection (363, 366, cf. 1703). (Catechism, Glossary)
Having a spiritual and material nature comes with being human. What I do with these gifts is up to me. (Catechism, 355, 1730-1731)
Death, Life and Being Human
When I die, I’ll still be a human: a dead one.
I won’t necessarily be better off as a disembodied soul. Or basically different.
I’ll be a human whose soul and body aren’t connected. It’s a temporary condition. My soul and resurrected body will be together, eventually, along with every other human’s: in time for the Last Judgment. (Catechism, 990, 1038-1050)
If I’ve got any sense, I’ll be in that “great multitude, which no one could count” Revelation 7:9 mentions. Opting out is an option. But not a good one. (March 11, 2018)
I like being a creature made of matter and spirit.
That’s just as well, since I’m human and always will be. Maybe that seems odd, coming from someone who says he’s a Christian.
I’ve run into interesting notions and assumptions, maybe folklore by now, about life, death and all that.
I’ll never be an angel. Angels are pure spirit, an entirely different sort of creature. Angels are the ones who are agents for God. They’ve got intelligence and will, like we do; so working for God is their choice. Or was. (Catechism, 328-336, 391-395)
They don’t exist in space-time, not the way we do, so my language’s verb tenses don’t quite fit their situation. I’ve got more to say about angels, artistic conventions, and Mycenaean Linear B, but that’s yet another topic, for another day.
It’s like the 1937 movie said: “You Only Live Once.” Reincarnation doesn’t happen. I get to go through this live once. Or need to, from another viewpoint. (Catechism, 1013, 1020-1050)
Logical Explanations and a Pulsing Tombstone
Uncle Deadly is one of my favorite Muppets. His recent Halloween appearance on The Muppets YouTube channel showcases his witty charm.
Both an actor and vocalist, Uncle Deadly’s interpretation of “Sheik of Araby” was unforgettable:
“…At night when you’re asleep
Into your tent I’ll creep….”
(“Sheik of Araby” lyrics (Fats Domino))
So, for me, was his title role in “Phantom of the Muppet Theater.”
The following “Phantom” dialog makes more sense with an explanation. Not much more, since this was The Muppet Show. Kermit, the Muppet Theater house manager, has been dealing with panicky Muppets.
After a false alarm, Kermit says “…there is no such thing as a phantom. That’s final, period, end of report!” Then Fozzie asks Kermit what’s behind him, and leaves the long-suffering frog:
Kermit “Uh, you will notice that I didn’t fall for their joke. And if it isn’t a joke – I mean, if there is someone or something behind me – there is no doubt a logical explanation for it. So I shall now just turn slowly around and see what is going on here.”
He turns around and faces Uncle Deadly. Kermit“Uh, pardon me, sir, but is there a logical explanation for your presence here?”
Uncle Deadly (cackles) Kermit “Apparently, there is no logical explanation.”
He runs away screaming. Uncle Deadly cackles.
(The Muppet Show, Episode 121: Twiggy (1976))
I think Uncle Deadly’s response was more a ‘nya-ha-ha-ha‘ than a cackle, but that’s not my point. Kermit’s “apparently, there is no logical explanation” remark reflects both the frazzled frog’s inner spirit and a common perception of logic and reality.
Today’s notion that realty includes the material world and nothing else is part of the Enlightenment’s legacy. So is seeing logic and ‘spiritual’ perceptions as incompatible.
I don’t agree, but think generations of Post-Reformation state-run religions, turf wars, famines, plagues and witch hunts — fueled by faith-based propaganda — left a bad taste. (March 9, 2018)
Devoutly daft Christians don’t help.
Neither, I think, do “miraculous” products, apparently-Christian superstitions and folks who believe them. (August 13, 2017; July 23, 2017)
In a way, superstition is religious feeling gone wrong. If I believed that a prayer works if I say the right words with the right gestures, no matter what’s going on inside me — that’d be superstition, and a bad idea. (Catechism, 2110-2111)
Thinking that my soul can’t die doesn’t mean I think a local cemetery was haunted during the 20th century. I do, however, think a local story about the cemetery is true.
A particular tombstone pulsed with a pale radiance at every rising of the full moon: regular as clockwork, for years. I’ve seen the cemetery. Some of the older locals could have shown me the tombstone.
One of them told me how and why the tombstone pulsed with strange radiance at each clear rising of the full moon. And why the tombstone gleams no more in the gloaming.
The ‘haunting’ ended when a supper club on the south edge of town closed. The eldritch pulse was moonlight reflecting off the establishment’s rotating sign. When the sign stopped turning, the tombstone stopped pulsing.
“A Christmas Carol” and Metaphysics
I’ve never chatted with a ghost, or had the opportunity. Meeting a ghost, I probably wouldn’t say what Scrooge did. I’m a real American, living in 21st century Minnesota: not a fictional Englishman residing in 19th century London.
But I’d likely have Scrooge’s doubts about what my senses were telling me.
I think Marley’s questions made sense. So did Scrooge’s replies:
“…’You don’t believe in me,’ observed the Ghost.
‘I don’t,’ said Scrooge.
‘What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Scrooge.
‘Why do you doubt your senses?’
‘Because,’ said Scrooge, ‘a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!’…”
(“A Christmas Carol,” Charles Dickens (1843) via Project Gutenberg)
Maybe “an undigested bit of beef” wouldn’t make someone see Marley. Our sensory organs and brain aren’t quite that unreliable. But hallucinations happen, Quite a lot can go wrong, and occasionally does.2
Scrooge and Marley were discussing what’s real and how we know about it: ontological and epistemological aspects of metaphysics. But without the obfuscatory grandiloquence that arguably gives metaphysics a regrettable reputation.
“The Oxford Dictionary of Difficult Words” says that “metaphysics” and “metaphysical” can mean “abstract theory or talk with no basis in reality” and “based on abstract (often excessively abstract) reasoning.”
I don’t have a problem with abstract theory. The trick is remembering what’s real, and what isn’t.
I’m interested in — fascinated by — what’s in this universe and the rest of reality, and what might exist.
My interests encourage me to think about what’s real and what’s not, and how sure I can be about what I think I know. That’s metaphysics, but mostly I see it as common sense.
Getting back to Scrooge, Marley, and attitudes, I think Dickens said it best. Scrooge was “a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner.”
I’ve seen Scrooge called a materialist, the sort who thinks physical treasures are important and spiritual ones aren’t. That’s pretty obvious, after the first few paragraphs.
A few folks have said he’s a materialist of the metaphysical variety. I see their point, since Scrooge said he thought Marley might be an indigestion-induced hallucination.
But I suspect Scrooge’s metaphysical musings hadn’t been much deeper than “It’s humbug still! … I won’t believe it:”
“…They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below; as if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the wine-merchant’s cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains.
“…The cellar-door flew open with a booming sound, and then he heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming up the stairs; then coming straight towards his door.
“‘It’s humbug still!’ said Scrooge. ‘I won’t believe it.’
“His colour changed though, when, without a pause, it came on through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it cried, ‘I know him; Marley’s Ghost!’ and fell again….”
(“A Christmas Carol,” Charles Dickens (1843) via Project Gutenberg)
I take spiritual realities seriously and think our souls can’t die, so why wouldn’t I try contacting deceased friends and relatives? What could possibly go wrong?
The Endor Incident
Folks who say ‘it’s good to be king’ may be thinking of kings reigning in tranquil times. Or maybe don’t see leadership’s downside.
1 Samuel 28:3–19 opens with Samuel’s death. Philistine troops are about to attack King Saul’s territory.
“When Saul saw the Philistine camp, he grew afraid and lost heart completely.”
(Samuel 28:5)
I’ll give Saul credit for using proper, by his standards, methods first.
“He consulted the LORD; but the LORD gave no answer, neither in dreams nor by Urim nor through prophets.”
(Samuel 28:6)
That wasn’t the first time Saul had asked for advice and gotten no answer. Thinking about why God wasn’t returning his calls would have made sense. But fearful folks don’t make sense. Not consistently.
Saul, who should have known better, had a medium in Endor arrange an interview with Samuel. The deceased prophet was none too pleased. Understandably, since consulting ghosts and spirits is a bad idea. (Leviticus 19:31, Deuteronomy 18:10–11; Catechism, 2116)
Saul got his question answered. Accurately, too; although I’m pretty sure Saul didn’t like what he learned.
I’ll grant that the medium could have staged Samuel’s appearance, or gotten the attention of someone who’s not one of God’s agents. Not all spiritual beings are ‘good guys.’ (Catechism, 329-330, 391-395, 414)
In this case, though, what Samuel allegedly said was consistent with what God and the prophets said before and after Saul’s time. Saul may have gotten who he asked for.
Three millennia later, folks who should know better still act like they don’t. Which gives me plenty to write about:
“Brain Facts and Figures“ Eric H. Chudler, Neuroscience for Kids, Washington State University
“Appraising the brain’s energy budget“ Marcus E. Raichle, Debra A. Gusnard; PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America) (August 6, 2002)
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Life, the universe and my circumstances permitting. I'm focusing on 'family stories' at the moment. ("A Change of Pace: Family Stories" (11/23/2024))
Blog - David Torkington
Spiritual theologian, author and speaker, specializing in prayer, Christian spirituality and mystical theology [the kind that makes sense-BHG]
I was born in 1951. I'm a husband, father and grandfather. One of the kids graduated from college in December, 2008, and is helping her husband run businesses and raise my granddaughter; another is a cartoonist and artist; #3 daughter is a writer; my son is developing a digital game with #3 and #1 daughters. I'm also a writer and artist.
First, the good news. I’ve made some progress today.
