Brain in a Vat

On Recent Events

September 11th, 2025

“Sobre eventos recentes”: Versão em português está no final.

I usually refrain from posting on social media, but the past few events require the mobilization of everyone to stand for peace, to tether themselves in the love of God, and to radically depend on Him.

The murder of Charlie Kirk is unspeakably horrible. There are no words strong enough to describe this loss. And it is not the first act of violence we have seen that should provoke our sympathy and indignation with reality.

For the past few months and years, we have become desensitized to acts of violence against our neighbors on all sides of the political spectrum. Our society can no longer be deemed “polarized”—it has descended into a form of barbarism utterly foreign to a “civilized” human society.

Just this summer, a U.S. senator and her husband were murdered in their home. Now, when I tell you that this senator was of a particular party, it should not change your reaction in the slightest. The murder in question pertains to Democrat Senator Melissa and her husband Mark Hortman. The only clear conclusion is that violence, and political violence in particular, are always despicable and always condemnable. These recent murders are tragic events in which people deserving life, freedom, and dignity had these rights brutally ripped away from them. Charlie’s murder comes as part of this wider pattern.

Charlie’s death in particular is also symbolic of a deeper murder of dialogue, free discourse, and respect for debate in this country. I personally disagreed with many of Charlie’s views and choice of words when exposing them, but he was someone who ardently tried to live out his Christian faith, defended the dignity of the unborn—the most widespread abuse against human dignity in terms of its death toll—and truly engaged others by going to the very places that opposed him.

I admired him for dedicating his life to precisely this discourse; while I disagreed with many of his positions, and for following a political party centered around the devotion to one individual, I always simultaneously recognized that the core ideals that he was truly committed to took courage to live out and put into practice. That he died in the act of speaking, conversing, and engaging makes this loss all the more tragic.

His murder occurred roughly at the same time of yet another school shooting yesterday. It also comes weeks after children lost their lives praying at school. Violence is rampant all around, and violence spares no party, no ideology, no community. When it comes to the issue of gun violence, it does not choose its victims. It kills people from all sides. Without addressing the fundamental problem of the widespread availability of this instrument of destruction, we will keep having to endure through these preventable deaths. I am not saying guns are the full extent of the issue. But they are certainly a central part of this complex problem.

Scripture tells us: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” James 2: 15-17

Those who consider themselves men and women of faith cannot simply hope for a better world. We must take concrete steps, motivated by faith and especially devoted in prayer, to support the kinds of actions that will effect changes in the lives of our neighbors.

We have watched as children are denied life-saving care, thrown in cages and deported without due process, all of this as courts allow for racial profiling. We have watched on our screens babies suffer from malnutrition in the Middle East, and have seen entire communities in war-torn areas around the world be obliterated. We have witnessed televised destruction, yet we continue to “pick sides” as if mass atrocities could ever be reduced to partisan camps. There is no side when it comes to the destruction of human life and abuses against human dignity.

Stand with humanity and human dignity. Stand with the lives of children. Stand against political violence. Stand for free speech, free discourse, and for life. Stand for the lives of people, not parties. And above all, do not give into hate. Once hate seeps into the individual heart, tragedies like these recent events occur on a mass scale. Do not engage with evil, not even a little bit. Not even in the hope of fighting your enemies.

I do not affiliate myself with a political party. My faith as a Christian shapes my worldview. Yet political parties brand agendas that require people to undyingly follow a set of presuppositions that are often not based on the gospel. Political parties have betrayed the sacred heart of Jesus in different ways, and they will never fully reflect His gospel.

Everyone should pray for everyone else right now, and be united by what is truly contrary to evil: the ultimate Good. And everyone should reexamine their political affiliations and subordinate them to seeking the heart of Christ. Political parties are human creations. And we cannot make death a political issue. These are dark times all across the board.

Pray for this event, pray for Kirk, and pray for his family in this time of grief, and please, do not forget to pray also for so many other people affected by violence and destruction, especially those you might deem your “enemies”—particularly your political enemies. Pray and have mercy and compassion for them. At the end of the day, that is the core lesson Jesus calls us toward — “but I tell you, love your enemies”, Matthew 5:44 .

Jesus Christ was assassinated partly because of political reasons. But it never invalidated His nonviolent approach to others and His commitment to discourse—as a perfect human teacher and rabbi who spoke the truth, as the very Word of God, and as the Incarnate God. It never invalidated His very nature of pure charity. And He died and rose again so that others might live, and live to the full (John 10:10). Finally, He also gives us hope that He has overcome this world, however dark it may seem (John 16:33).

Português

Costumo evitar postar nas redes sociais, mas os eventos recentes exigem a mobilização de todos para defender a paz, se ancorar no amor de Deus e depender radicalmente d’Ele.

O assassinato de Charlie Kirk é indescritivelmente horrível. Faltam palavras para expressar essa perda. E este não é o primeiro ato de violência que deveria provocar nossa compaixão e indignação diante da nossa realidade.

Nos últimos meses e anos, tornamo-nos insensíveis aos atos de violência cometidos contra seres humanos de todos os lados do espectro político. Nossa sociedade não pode mais ser chamada apenas de “polarizada”—ela desceu a um nível de barbaridade completamente incompatível com uma sociedade verdadeiramente civilizada.

Há poucos meses, uma senadora dos EUA e seu marido foram assassinados em sua própria casa. Agora, quando digo que essa senadora pertencia a um partido específico, isso não deveria mudar em nada a sua reação. O assassinato em questão é a senadora democrata Melissa e seu marido Mark Hortman. A única conclusão clara é que a violência — especialmente a violência política — é sempre desprezível e sempre condenável. Esses assassinatos recentes são tragédias em que pessoas que tinham direito à vida, à liberdade e à dignidade tiveram esses direitos brutalmente arrancados delas. A morte de Charlie se insere nesse mesmo ciclo de ódio.

A morte de Charlie também simboliza um assassinato mais profundo: o da liberdade de expressão, do diálogo e do respeito pelo debate público. Pessoalmente, eu discordava de muitos pontos de vista de Charlie e da forma como ele os expressava, mas ele era alguém que buscava viver sua fé cristã com ardor, defendia a dignidade de bebês ainda no ventre — o abuso mais massivo contra a dignidade humana em termos de número de vidas perdidas — e tinha a coragem de se engajar com quem o rejeitava, indo até os lugares onde era mais confrontado.

Eu o admirava justamente por se dedicar ao diálogo. Embora discordasse de várias de suas posições e de seu apoio a um partido centrado na devoção a uma única figura, reconhecia que os princípios centrais que ele buscava viver exigiam coragem. Que ele tenha morrido no ato de falar, dialogar e se engajar com outros torna essa perda ainda mais trágica.

Também vale lembrar que Charlie foi morto praticamente ao mesmo tempo em que ocorreu mais um tiroteio em uma escola no Colorado, ontem. Isso aconteceu semanas após crianças perderem a vida enquanto oravam em uma escola. A violência está em toda parte. Ela não poupa partido, ideologia ou comunidade. Quando falamos de violência armada, ela não escolhe vítimas. Ela mata pessoas de todos os lados. Sem enfrentar o problema fundamental da ampla disponibilidade desse instrumento de destruição, continuaremos a presenciar mortes evitáveis. Não estou dizendo que as armas sejam o único fator, mas elas certamente são parte central deste problema complexo.

A Escritura nos ensina que, “Se o irmão ou a irmã estiverem nus e necessitados do sustento cotidiano, e algum de vós lhes disser: ‘Ide em paz, aquecei-vos e fartai-vos’, e não lhes derdes o necessário ao corpo, que lhes aproveitará? Assim também a fé: se não tiver obras, é morta em si mesma.”

Tiago 2: 15 – 17

Aqueles que se consideram pessoas de fé não podem simplesmente esperar por um mundo melhor. Devemos dar passos concretos, movidos pela fé e enraizados na oração, para apoiar ações que realmente transformem a vida de nossos irmãos.

Temos assistido crianças sendo privadas de cuidados médicos essenciais, presas em gaiolas, deportadas sem o devido processo legal, enquanto tribunais permitem o perfilamento racial. Vemos bebês sofrendo de desnutrição no Oriente Médio, comunidades inteiras sendo destruídas em zonas de guerra ao redor do mundo. Assistimos à destruição ser televisada e, ainda assim, continuamos a “tomar partido” como se atrocidades em massa pudessem ser reduzidas a disputas partidárias. Não há lados quando falamos da destruição da vida humana e de abusos contra a dignidade humana.

Defenda a humanidade e a dignidade humana. Defenda a vida das crianças. Rejeite a violência política. Defenda a liberdade de expressão, o diálogo e a vida. Defenda a vida das pessoas, não de partidos. E, acima de tudo, não se entregue ao ódio. Quando o ódio penetra no coração de uma pessoa, tragédias como esses eventos recentes passam a acontecer em escala massiva. Não pactue com o mal, nem mesmo um pouco. Nem mesmo com a justificativa de combater seus inimigos.

Não me identifico com nenhum partido político. Minha fé cristã molda minha visão de mundo. Mas os partidos promovem agendas que exigem lealdade cega a pressupostos que muitas vezes não se baseiam no Evangelho. Os partidos vão contra, de maneiras diferentes, o sagrado coração de Jesus, e jamais refletirão plenamente Seu Evangelho.

Todos devem se unir em oração por todos neste momento, e também se unir naquilo que verdadeiramente se opõe ao mal: o Bem absoluto. Além disso, todos devem reexaminar suas filiações políticas e subordiná-las à busca pelo coração de Cristo. Partidos políticos são criações humanas. E não podemos transformar a morte em questão partidária. Estes são tempos sombrios, em todos os aspectos.

Reze por esse acontecimento, reze por Kirk e por sua família nesse tempo de dor, e também não se esqueça de rezar por tantas outras pessoas afetadas pela violência e pela destruição — especialmente por aqueles que você talvez considere seus “inimigos”, inclusive “inimigos políticos”. Reze por eles. Tenha misericórdia e compaixão por eles. Essa é, no fim das contas, a essência do que Jesus nos ensina (Mateus 5:44).

Jesus Cristo foi assassinado por muitas razões, mas também por razões políticas. Mas isso nunca invalidou sua abordagem pacífica, nem sua dedicação ao diálogo — como um rabino e Mestre humano, como o próprio Verbo de Deus, como Deus encarnado. Isso nunca anulou sua essência de pura caridade. E Ele morreu e ressuscitou para que os outros possam viver, e ter vida em abundância (João 10:10). Ele também nos dá a esperança de que venceu este mundo, por mais escuro que ele pareça (João 16:33).
Thoughts on “Desire”

July 16th, 2023

“Love is of something, and that which love desires is not that which love is or has; for no man desires that which he is or has. And love is of the beautiful, and therefore has not the beautiful. And the beautiful is the good, and therefore, in wanting and desiring the beautiful, love also wants and desires the good.”

– Diotima in Plato’s “Symposium”

I recently came across this quote and it reminded me of my experience reading the “Symposium”. I particularly enjoy how, this work, “Love” or “Eros” is consistently described as a lack. We all lack something and we do not cease to desire until we find it. Love is merely the ache of that lack made plain. Human beings are born lacking and all our desire is expressed in the way we love. The world, in effect, is moved by endless desire.

Are not the most beautiful pieces of music reflective of some notion of “longing”? Listen to the Adagio in Mozart’s flute and harp concerto in C major as a simple example. In fact, the movie “Amadeus” describes Mozart’s music as “Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing (…)”. Such is the case with other art forms, expressions in which a human being pours out his or her soul and places it on display to others. We describe art as being “human” when we see this aspect of our humanity etched across the canvas somehow. Great art will often portray some aspect of “longing”—and for what? That is the question.

The question of who or what we long for, or what can fulfill this desire, is perhaps intimately tied to the question of the meaning of life. For what is meaning if not that which satisfies us? Aristotle will add that the universe is moved with longing for the “unmoved mover”. Within the Western tradition, answers will vary and eventually take the form of religion, and St. Augustine will make his famous statement that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. Early Christianity, drawing from the Platonic tradition, combined with the wisdom in the Hebrew Scriptures, will come to equal that which is true, good, and beautiful with God Himself.

If God is infinite and eternal, and we have already established our human condition as that of lacking something, we can assume that, following this reasoning, our heart was made with an infinite “gap” or “space”, wherein God is meant to dwell. The dignity of mankind is so great, then, because we were made with the capacity to harbor infinite Love itself.

Of course, in our God-given freedom, while we were still like unborn babes, we chose to render the umbilical cord tying us to the nurturing womb of God, as it were. So we find ourselves in a state of lacking the infinite, our innate desire for friendship with God.

To be human is to want, somewhat endlessly. And that is why, embracing the human condition with all the love of His infinite heart, our Lord, the insatiable fount of Goodness itself, is able to say, “I thirst” at the cross.

He embraces our lack more than anyone. He suffered loss so all would be filled. He wants to satiate our desire for love so fully that our cup “overflows”. That “cup” in Psalm 23 may very well be the human soul in all its wonderful capacity to love and to be loved.

Therefore, “Eros” need no longer be a lack. “Amor”, true love, will instead become the gift. It is not in seeking to fill the lack that we encounter love. Instead, paradoxically, we must become empty and divest ourselves of our desires even to a greater extent. That is what it means to love even “to the end” as St. John describes the way our Lord loved his disciples, abasing Himself in the way He washed their feet.

That is why true love is painful. “Why”, the soul asks, “must I give up myself? I am already so full of longing and desire, can I not seek to fulfill it in some way? What can I do if I am already dying, wounded with the unquencheable thirst I feel for infinite love? Should I not seek to satiate my desire in some manner, however desperate, by whatever means necessary? Should I not yearn to survive, and thus be filled?”

“No”, the Lord replies. “You must die”, and this illumines the reason for losing one’s life in order to find it. For He who was in very nature God “emptied Himself” more than anyone ever has. The utterly self-sufficient immortal Mover became that chronic “lack” we complain of. He chose to experience the wound of Eros. Never was there so fierce, so abject, so unrequited a love as on that abandoned cross.

Therefore, we can experience, in His footseps, what theologians describe as the “law of the gift”—the more you give yourself, the more you will be satisfied. The more you consciously choose to experience the lack, chase after the lack, embrace the lack, the more you will be filled. That is indeed a myserious reality. How can we be at the same time both lacking and fulfilled? Perhaps it is the same reason why Jesus’ crucifixion, an event ugly and dreadful in and of itself, was instead portrayed by the authors of the New Testament as His crowning glory. It was His enthronement as King. It was the reason He came into the world and the center of human history—and out of that great lack of love that He experienced then, we are all nourished and fed with love today, now. His lack is the source of all the superabundant graces we cherish. That is why this instrument of torture is now proudly plastered everywhere, even in beautiful jewelry that adorns the human body. How unthinkeable a reality to those in the first century—the horror of a crucifixion becoming an emblem of glory!

Should we not seek “to lack”, embrace the lack, or, in a word, “seek to desire” more and more and not to see the end of our desire? Should we not embrace that suffering as He embraced His? Will we not, paradoxically, find all that we need and be satisfied in this our search for Desire? And in doing so, will we not become, as He, a spring of goodness from which others can drink from? Is not the whole point of our sanctification to become a sacrifice as He became a sacrifice? If we are priests and He is the High Priest, then are we not too, by our infinite lack and desire united to His, then “aiding” Him in the redemption of the world? If we all become springs of goodness to others as He is, we can drown the world with goodness. Should we not seek to inundate it?

“ὁ ἐμὸς ἔρως ἐσταύρωται”, St. Ignatius of Antioch says: “My passionate love”—literally, my “Eros”—has been crucified”. Should we not seek to join Him in this sacred Passion? Should we not, thus, ease His pain, console His Heart, so brimming, boiling with love that it was utterly consumed? Can we not be consumed with Him? Is not this, then, the reordering of all our endless Desire? To behold Him, the Lover of humanity: “look to Him and be radiant”. In other words, look to Him and be beautiful, look to Him and not only be fulfilled, but be so filled you shine so bright, visibly, to all around you. There is enough light in the Son to pierce the whole universe with its rays. That is why He says He is the “light of the world”, or in Greek, the light of the “cosmos”, the entire created order. The light of all the billions of stars in our Milky Way and surrounding galaxies cannot compare to how splendidly He shines. But if you peer into the depths of His heart, you will find such a furnace of warmth and inward glow to awake everything you feel is dead within you. Has there ever been a more passionate man than Him? Is He not eager to receive your love? Is He not merely a humble beggar, just aching to be loved, truly, simply, sincerely?

Indeed, at the same time, He is also the Universe of Love. Our universe as we know it is ever expansive—so it is with God’s love, multiplying and giving itself perfectly to all, starting from the community of love present in the essence of His triunity. And see how everything around you reveals His exclusive favor. The world is good despite the fallen nature—it cannot obscure the pure Goodness from whom it sprang forth. We know the world is longing to be fully united to that Originator as a bride longs for her wedding day.

“Look to Him”, this universe of Love, in everything, at every moment, and, simply: give Him thanks. Give, and never stop giving. Out of your lack, give—For what were we given that we cannot give away? He Himself is our sole, dearest possession and even then, we must share with others the fruits of this love, this unity, as parents bring forth life out of their unitive love into the world. Out of your depths, cry out to Him, as the psalmist does in Psalm 130. Out of caverns of your emptiness, simply ask for His assistance. What wonder, what magic He works then: He takes the lack, even our lack of being, the tiredness and dissatisfaction with ourselves, he takes all of our longing, clothes His very Sef with it as our paschal victim of love, and then, He gives us a new mode of existence. He gives is His own divine Life. He gives us His Heart full of the universe’s Love.

“Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.” Colossians 1:24
Nineteen Eighty-Four and the Problem of Alienation

February 13th, 2023

It is ironic that Nineteen Eighty-Four, a novel that adamantly stresses the point that you are never alone and are constantly being watched, would also have alienation as a central theme. Although the Party discourages introspection, it simultaneously promotes a miserable form of isolation unparalleled by any society in existence. Withdrawing the human mind from
meaningful social connections and trapping it within barriers alters the psyche in a dramatic and often irreversible fashion—that is one of Orwell’s cautionary morals, along with the idea that classifying profound human affections as a form of rebellion guarantees control over a massive
population. Love, admiration of the beautiful, sedentary bliss, ancestral familial bonds, and other nameless feelings many would not live without, are either annihilated or corrupted in favor of the Party’s indoctrination. Thus, by demonstrating how such nefarious techniques affect the mind of Winston, Orwell drills this message into his audience.

The most noticeable consequence of alienation is amorality. Without a communal presence guiding the moral compass of its members, humans become more likely to disregard abstract ethical principles. Winston, isolated from fulfilling relationships and prohibited from satisfying his desires, considers it normal to harbor violent and disturbing impulses. This is first noticed in his impressions of Julia: “He would flog her to death with a rubber truncheon. He would tie her naked to a stake and shoot her full of arrows like Saint Sebastian. He would ravish her and cut her throat at the moment of the climax” (15). Orwell’s repetition of “he would” signals how rapidly this conscious stream of abhorrent fantasies emerges, perhaps also suggesting Winston’s mind is already used to inventing these scenarios. The employed hyperbole in the descriptions of the forms of killing reveals how troubled Winston is; after all, violent images in the mind often reflect a deep, unresolved preoccupation.

Further, when O’Brien asks Winston whether he would be willing to “throw sulphuric acid in a child’s face” (176), Winston does not hesitate to respond to this request in the affirmative, along with a series of others. Alone and forlorn for so long, he will do anything to either escape his condition or
pave the way for a better future. He does not consider these acts shocking for it appears nothing can impact his present state of mind; he has already had sufficient time to evaluate every ignoble potential.

Another way Orwell communicates the dangers of isolation is by peering into Winston’s experiences of unfamiliar sensations. These feelings are often regarded as essential to the human experience; they speak to how cutting an individual off from a healthy community leaves them starved of otherwise trivial affections. When Winston encounters beauty, it is a novelty unheard of. The glass-enclosed coral almost hypnotizes him: “The thing was doubly attractive because of its apparent uselessness” (98). However, his conditioning interrupts his daydream as he remembers that “anything old, and for that matter anything beautiful, was always vaguely suspect.” Still, the admiration lingers despite his better judgment: “Yes, he thought again, he
would come back. He would buy further scraps of beautiful rubbish” (103). Orwell’s emphasis on the simplicity of the object through words like “useless” and “rubbish” informs the reader how utterly starved Winston is of true, awe-inspiring beauty. With no human collective to make art and the like, only the fragments of the past reflect the echoes of feelings once so captivating.

A similar circumstance occurs when Winston indulges in profoundly sensory
experiences, like the first time he smells coffee: “The smell was already filling the room, a rich hot smell which seemed like an emanation from his early childhood” (144). Brewing coffee even becomes a ritual in Julia and Winston’s meetings: “(Julia) immediately knelt down beside the oilstove to make the coffee” (205). Ordinarily, one would say the phrase “make coffee” could transmit the idea: making “the coffee”, however, adds an entirely new degree of significance to the act. While many would describe the smell of coffee as pleasant, Winston relives memories and relishes the drink to the point where it becomes a necessity.

Music is yet another requisite for health ignored and suppressed by the Party, apart from the frugal rhythms they send to entertain the proles. This may be because music consistently evokes a fraternal atmosphere, and it is given that the Party must prevent any kind of collective feeling of appreciation. Orwell takes the opportunity to indulge the reader with Winston’s reflections. Like a heavily scarred face attests to the damage done to it over time, Winston’s mind contains fossils of the good which once existed. He processes listening to a half-finished verse with abnormal enthusiasm: “All the while that they were talking the half-remembered rhyme kept running through Winston’s head; Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement’s, You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St. Martin’s! It was curious, but when you said it to yourself you had the illusion of actually hearing bells, the bells of a lost London that still existed somewhere or other, disguised and forgotten. From one ghostly steeple after another he seemed to hear them pealing forth. Yet so far as he could remember he had never in real life heard church bells ringing” (102).

A poetic medium of language reminding the audience of the majestic sound of church bells captures the wonder of Winston’s thoughts. For instance, Orwell writes “hearing bells, the bells (…)”, repeating the word in a manner that conveys thrill and excitement. The phrases “London that still existed somewhere or other (…)” and “from one ghostly steeple after another” seem almost melodious in their construction. This rhyme continues to be reiterated countless times throughout the novel, all the while fascinating Winston. And once again, it is only a mediocre rhyme, yet able to spark so much emotion from someone who has been deprived of indulging in
the human spirit.

The simple pleasures of enjoying a good book also become new to Winston: “(he) stopped reading, chiefly in order to appreciate the fact that he was reading (…) The sweet summer air played against his cheek (…) It was bliss, it was eternity” (189). While Winston is alone, he is not alienated at this moment; he has the company of an enjoyable read, a work he thinks is
written by someone who shares his most secretive thoughts. Therefore the narrator illustrates how restricting intellectual dialogues, even in the form of literature, further isolates humans.

Besides this, Orwell possesses an even more abundant number of techniques to communicate his point. Perhaps the clearest reference to Winston’s alienation occurs while the plot is still beginning to unfold: “He, Winston Smith, knew that Oceania had been in an alliance with Eurasia as short a time as four years ago. But where did that knowledge exist? Only in his own consciousness, which in any case must soon be annihilated. And if all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed—if all records told the same tale—then the lie passed into history and became truth” (35). The narrator poses a rhetorical question to further convince the reader of the impending doom. He also takes time to explain his meaning in different words within the hyphenated section, like a professor reasoning through a complex subject. Winston contemplates and wrestles with the consequences of isolation as a scholar would, indicating he has repeatedly entertained these notions.

Later, while having similar reflections on the Party’s inaccurate dealings with the past, the narrator dives into Winston’s despair: “He might be alone in holding that belief, and if alone, then a lunatic. But the thought of being a lunatic did not greatly trouble him; the horror was that he might also be wrong” (82). The italicized “alone”, the quick cause-and-effect chain of reasoning, and the concluding finality of the statement “he might also be wrong” build suspense and anxiety. Further, there is no way the reader may be relieved of this tension since they too share in Winston’s secluded perspective.

Finally, Orwell surmounts this overarching theme by charging the party with the most inhumane of crimes: the suppression of love itself. What greater way to trap humans within their own despairing minds than to eliminate all promise of satisfying relationships? “The sex impulse was dangerous to the Party, and the Party had turned it to account. They had played a similar trick with the instinct of parenthood” (136). Once again, the sole perspective of Winston aids the reader in understanding the consequences of these norms. When he first receives Julia’s note confessing her love, he reacts like a child caught breaking a family heirloom: “For several second he was too stunned even to throw the incriminating thing into the memory hole. When he did so, although he knew very well the danger of showing too much interest, he could not resist reading it once again, just to make sure that the words were really there” (110).

Winston’s first experience of holding hands with Julia waxes poetic, as the narrator states, “He had time to learn every detail of her hand” (119), later adding that “merely from feeling it he would have known it by sight.” This entire paragraph dedicated to Julia’s hand expresses how indescribably Winston cherishes this forbidden moment. The touch of a hand, a commonplace feature in the present world, is a climactic event in the world of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Soon, however, the inner reprimanding voice of the party returns, stating: “To turn his head and look at her would have been inconceivably folly”. Often Winston has to reprimand himself for even glancing at Julia in public. Oceania’s society is fractured to such an extent that even prolonged eye contact is suspicious. That is the very reason why, after finally being alone with Julia, Winston feels that “their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act” (129).

While their particular rebellion was unsuccessful, Orwell leaves his audience with the challenge of identifying situations where the core of humanity may be endangered. In order to prevent the outrageous consequences demonstrated by Oceania’s “common man”, Winston, humans must strive to embrace community as a safeguard against moral degradation, apathy,
lack of fulfillment, and madness.

(Orwell, George. Nineteen Eighty-Four. New York, New York: Plume, April 1983. Print.)
Why you should listen to more Baroque music

February 13th, 2023

I believe all lovers of music, whenever they make the time for it, are open to experimenting with new genres and appreciating various styles of music, (humanity’s most magical invention!). Therefore, I will argue that if you love music, you should dive into the marvelous world of the “baroque”. At least, you should try; I am certain it will be a worthy pursuit.

The term “baroque” comes from the Portuguese word “barroco”, meaning “oddly shaped pearl”. The Baroque period in Western music lasted roughly one-hundred-fifty years, from 1600 to 1750. Some of the more distinct and unique elements of baroque style as opposed to other eras of music are its gracefulness, the matter of interpretation, elegance, complexity, and pathos. These elements make Baroque music an incredibly rich and rewarding listening experience that has much to offer for those who take the time to explore it.

In many ways, the music of this period reflects the historical trends of the seventeenth century, including its political, sociological, and philosophical revolutions. Baroque style is characterized by fluidity, with melodies that seem to effortlessly merge from one phrase to the next. The use of ornamental figures such as “trills” (a form of trembling distinct from mere vibrato), “mordents” (an embellishment featuring a quick descending note) and “turns” (a similar, ascending ornament), which are added to the principal melody, provide a sense of naturality. The gracefulness of the music creates a sense of ease and lightness, helping the listener to fully immerse themselves in the music. It is almost as if the music itself is dancing and flowing as water from a stream. It is invariably elegant, and its musical constitution creates a sense of refinement and sophistication. The listener is enveloped in the world of embellished artistry and materialism of the seventeenth century; art, architecture, and music all reflected aspects of society or religion. Music is truly a window into the past, and listening to it can give one a glimpse into the worldviews and values of the people who created it.

Many composers wrote music for the courts of kings and queens, and harmony often reflects this grandeur and splendor. Music was written for specific occasions and performances, often with a precise goal in mind. This resulted in a level of purity and elegance in the notes that is not found in later music. For instance, in a fugue, each voice has a specific role that is strictly adhered to, and there is a sense of order and balance that is lacking in later works. In addition, baroque music is often written in a style that is clear and easy to understand, without the dense harmonic knowledge one needs to have to understand more modern pieces, for example. This ensures that the music is accessible to all listeners, regardless of their level of musical knowledge.

Another important aspect of Baroque music is its emotional power. One of my favorite poets, William Wordsworth, wrote in his famous “Tintern Abbey”, that he could sometimes hear the “still, sad music of humanity” whenever he visited the sequestered, beautiful groves around the abbey. I believe the same “still sad music” is often evoked by the baroque canon. The music is often highly expressive, with soaring melodies and intricate harmonies that can evoke feelings of joy, sorrow, and everything in between. The powerful and intricate chord progressions in baroque music can be almost tasted, it can be quite an immersive experience to focus attentively on the function of the chords themselves.

Many people find listening to Baroque music can be a form of meditation, reducing stress and anxiety. Due to its ornateness, it can be challenging to listen to, and consequentially, it stimulates our capacity to pay close attention and be present while listening. The emotional expressiveness of Baroque music can help to soothe the soul and bring a sense of peace and tranquility. Take the principal melody in Johann Sebastian Bach’s sacred aria from his “St. Matthew’s passion”, “Mache dich mein Herze, rein” (Make yourself pure, my heart). It is a tune of repentance sung by Joseph of Arimathea, a rich man who assumed the task of burying Jesus shortly after his death. The piece is practically begging the listener to dance along to its glorious rhythm. Notice also how the words literally convey what their intent is: Bach parses out “..for from now on he shall have in me, forever and ever, his sweet rest”, longingly and mellifluously, while the stark resolution to let the “world” out and “let Jesus in!” is brief and definitive. Observe too, how Bach takes a simple, elegant theme and modifies it in a myriad of creative ways, provoking an aspect of mystery and surprise to the resignation expressed through the text.

Because of the way music notation developed and given the ancient character of baroque music, it also possesses an added layer of subjective interpretation, whereby performers may decide to develop their own twist, or rendition of, a particular piece. This allows for creativity and spontaneity in the performance, making each one unique. The interpretive aspect is particularly evident in works like Handel’s Messiah, Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, or Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, where different performers often bring out or evoke contrasting elements from this single body of work. The slightest change in dynamics, articulation, or tempo can accentuate a huge difference in the overall effect of a piece. Phrasing is frequently short and concise, following the natural rhythms of the words being sung.

Ultimately, the goal of interpretation in baroque music is to create a performance that is both musically and emotionally satisfying to the listener. Baroque improvisation can even be compared to jazz or pop music in the way that it is able to be so expressive and creative. It can be spontaneously composed on the spot, making it unique.

Yet another reason baroque music stands out to me is simply due to the virtuosity and technical skill of composers and performers. Emulating the antiquated style is often highly demanding, both in terms of the technical skill required to play it and the mental and emotional effort required to understand it. In many ways, baroque interpretation differs from our modern conception of classical music (for instance, the baroque style often stresses the purity of notes and so will not include much vibrato). When performed accurately, many conjunct, evocative melodies, played simultaneously, produce intricate and sensuous melodies, appealing to our senses. Further, it is usually quite festive, employing lush harmonies and jubilant rhythms.

Additionally, many of the texts used in baroque music are religious or mythological in nature and can be a rich source of spiritual or mystical reflection. It is incredibly soulful and human, and can often give the impression the musicians are directly communicating with the audience, sharing their thoughts and feelings in a way that is both intimate and inspiring–it can be a powerful tool for storytelling.

One can even compare baroque music to rock or heavy metal. Both are considered loud and aggressive genres of music. They also share common features such as strong, impactful or vibrant rhythms and melodies. Indeed, many of the composers of the Baroque era laid the foundations for the music of the Classical, Romantic, and even our contemporary musical movements. Many of our musical trends today started with the patterns established by baroque composers.

Finally, it is incredibly diverse and rich in variation. Whether you prefer vocal music or instrumental music, fast-paced pieces, or slow, contemplative ones, you are sure to find something that appeals to you within the vast corpus of baroque music. Whether you are looking to relax, reflect, or be moved, baroque music has something to offer you; it is indeed a treasure trove of some of the most beautiful and intricate compositions ever written. From the grandeur and majesty of pieces like Handel’s choral works to the tenderness and introspection of a piece like Bach’s “Cello Suite No. 1,” baroque music is able to elicit a wide range of feelings in listeners through the skillful use of dynamics, rhythm, and carefully constructed polyphony.
Reflecting on the Philosophy of “Everything, Everywhere, all at Once”

February 4th, 2023

In light of the spectacular reception of “Everything Everywhere All at Once” at the box office, I thought it fitting to unpack the implicit philosophical message of the film. I recall emerging from the movie theater bewildered by the pathos and cinematic quality of “Everything Everywhere All At Once.” But, I was also remarkably conflicted in my feelings regarding its central message.

In many ways, the movie promotes an increasingly popular, emergent approach toward meaning and morality among our generation, one gravitating toward optimistic nihilism. In a sense, my query about the film reflects my broader issues with this school of thought.

Optimistic nihilism suggests that since life has no inherent meaning, we are free to create our own purpose, and therefore should embrace the uncertainty and randomness of existence. In the case of “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” love itself, particularly the choice to love, serves as the ultimate weapon against despair. While this perspective may seem liberating, there are several potential shortcomings.

This resolution is useless in the grand scheme of things. After all, what is love in a meaningless universe? There is no definition of love — an immaterial concept — in this pure materialist worldview. The problem lies not in the noble idea of love, but in the epistemological failing of the word under the aforementioned preconceptions. It does not follow via logical implication. Furthermore, why should I sacrifice my desires for the sake of another (which I will do if I truly love someone) in a meaningless universe? Why should I choose suffering, and vulnerability, when egoism offers a much greater reward under utilitarian arithmetic? Yes, I can feel affection toward my friends and family, but why in the world would I choose to forgive, to love persistently amidst failure and disappointment? In this universe, love is an empty attitude. But I think love never comes back empty. It always flourishes and to love is never a vain thing. I would dare say we all know this, intuitively.

“Everything Everywhere All at Once” knows this, too, and therein lies its tremendous influence. Audiences have frequently been left in tears — and not without reason — after observing the mother-daughter reconciliation central to the plot. This very scenario contradicts the movie’s philosophy because it calls for an unspoken understanding of what true love should actually look like. Love is an inherent good, and an inherent good cannot exist under nihilism no matter how much we attempt to fabricate it. In other words, “Everything Everywhere All at Once” has not earned the right to use the word “love.” Its philosophy does not allow for there to be anything remarkable about whatever combination of atoms consists of “love,” or any other neurological phenomenon for that matter.

On the one hand, I believe we should choose to love despite the apparent absurdity of the world; we should accept that we cannot find answers to certain questions and cease insisting on “intellectual hubris.” On the other, I believe our resignation need not eliminate the notion that there really is an answer, albeit beyond our comprehension. It is possible to embrace the world’s chaos, and its indefatigable oddity and still adhere to an objective good, truth or resolution to the endless cycle of doubt. Perhaps that truth is a mystery, or it is simply transcendent. By logical argument, we can reason our way to a conclusion and yet the final settling point remains a startling “leap of faith” (as Kierkegaard would helpfully articulate). Or even, if I wax in the direction of faith, why not rather just state we are uncertain, but that there still could be the hope of an answer? Isn’t it part of the human experience to wonder? While “Everything Everywhere All at Once” succeeds in acknowledging the fundamental human impulse to dare or to love in spite of suffering, it falls short in its defense of a proper reason for doing so.

Don’t misunderstand me, I think the movie is well-made, humorous, and powerful. Further, its acting is verifiably superb. I only perceive its failings as a mere reflection of our broader misalignment as a society.
A poem about sleep

February 2nd, 2023

Ye shall find rest.

Tell me,

Why do we rest, or lie asleep? I wonder at our state.

Why succumb to forms death before that selfsame fate?

Indeed ‘tis strange, how slumber doth with soft wistful allure,

Through tender senses, o’ertake the brain and soulful corp—

At times in such a dreamless frenzy, such frail, ignoble subterfuge.

Impossible, I find, th’assemblage of melodious verse,

When drousiness, so unlike the Muse, wounds and pierces bone through flesh.

Primordial chaos, recalcitrance!

Bondage sweetly yearned for, chains of vast oblivion,

Why can’t ingenious man craft an escape? (As Odysseus fooled even the goddess?)

Oh why do Life’s rare hours leak and bleed for dreams?

When Time, odious eel, slithers past us, it seems;

Like yonder snail chasing its tail in river winding?

Perchance–can I entertain it?

It is not a curse.

Perhaps,

‘Tis but a blessed sister twain.

An angel guised as fain daemon despondent.

Not an invention, our fair foul soul to frustrate,

But pure bespeckled, glitt’ring substrate.

A cape bejeweled with pearly gain,

Not to provoke sterility,

But inspiring teasing, faithful maid–Humility?

Demonstrating lack of Her, (as adulterous lovers uncovered).

For yes, did not Fire birth Sleep as she burned in pre-eternity?

Yes, Sleep, our fiend, is a precious airy willow leaf.

Intent to cloak restlessness with Ease,

To gift the senses ‘fumes of Home’s incense, in medicinal peace.

And even yet, behold!

The Man,

Embracing death, caressing, who but that lady Sleep?

In All, all-Human–save for sin so deep.

Beckoning our slumber’s call,

Leading lambs so little, safely, to a garden wherewithal,

They may safely dwell.

There abiding,

There residing,

In abundant repose upon a rugged bosom.

So—

let us yield to that same urge, with hearts both brave and light,

And find the rest we seek, in triumph every night.

As pelicans who in need, pluck at their mothers’ feathers.

Or infants suckling at the breast—

For God succumbed to rest, and so, I think can we.

Infused with trust, by love,

“find rest”, merely,

If we cling to heav’n above.
Perhaps the most important thing

January 17th, 2023

This was written in answer to the question “what is humanity’s true home?” in the Program of Liberal Studies’ 2023 essay prize competition

The following lines comprise my attempt at a modest treatise on “Love” if you will. I shoulder a burdensome task, determined to contemplate, “love that moves the Sun and other stars” in the evergreen words of Dante Alighieri. As I would have it, Love is mankind’s true home. It is also, perhaps, “the most important thing”: everyone must, at some point, battle the great, tender mystery of love. My reasoning is life-long, and consequently, tedious. Nevertheless, through recent experiences, I have abridged it and come to define love as a “phenomenon of emptying the self”. As one loves, they are filled up with the object of their love. In turn, the beloved is filled up with the lover, creating an endless exchange.

Love is not substance or deed; it is a “net negative” force, a movement, an urge that drains “ego” from self. Therefore, love involves a cost; true lovers happily dedicate their lives, and even bodies, for the benefit of each other. Imagine, then, two people splitting a jar of water who each possess a full glass. One of them decides to drink and empties their cup, while the other refills this cup with his or her own share. Hence, whenever this person is obliged to quench their thirst, they reach for the central jar and are replenished. After envisioning this, one question remained: what, or who, was the “jar”? Through discussion and further reflection, I have veered to Theology and assumed the “jar” is God. Love is a cyclical movement within the very essence of God, and further, God can only be Love if He is God in “Trinity and unity”. God is the fountain of love for our universe, and every striving inkling of love must be animated in Him and end with Him.

                         Indeed, love is, principally, a decision to surrender all. Love acts in faith and in trust, releasing self-possession and being open to the love that is returned. Our late Pope emeritus Benedict XVI agrees, stating, in his second encyclical letter, that man is altogether “redeemed by love”. When someone experiences love, he writes, life itself acquires new meaning. However, they also realize love “remains fragile”, unfulfilling. So, he believes, “the human being needs unconditional love”, and if it “exists, with its absolute certainty, then—only then—is man ‘redeemed’”. Finally, “whoever is moved by love begins to perceive what ‘life’ really is”, and as Ratzinger argues, that is beholding Jesus, “who said that He had come so that we might have ‘life and have it in its fullness, in abundance’”. Jesus also explained “what ‘life’ means: ‘…that they know You the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent’. Life in its true sense”, Ratzinger concludes, “is a relationship”, intimacy with God Himself, the very Breath of Life.

I then posited that maybe humanity’s ‘original sin’ was not the physical act of disobedience, but lacking in trust, an absence of manifested love. Adam and Eve doubted God’s goodness, believing knowledge would satisfy more than dependence. But the “tree of good and evil” did not limit humanity; it invited them into an even deeper bond of affection. When God created the world, He reproduced His nature of abundant, absolute Love, and designed humanity to be partners, stewards, and co-heirs of His benevolent kingdom. God’s relationship with humanity would not be stagnant, but rather, ever-blossoming in knowledge, maturation, and creative dynamism. If Adam and Eve had acknowledged the beauty in God’s direction and refrained from eating the fruit, perhaps they would have accessed the Tree’s “forbidden wisdom” and beyond in God’s time. The gospel of Luke supports this notion, recording how Jesus, although blameless and God incarnate, still “grew” in “wisdom and stature”. How can one grow in wisdom if one is already perfect? Doubtless, God intended the same for humanity. Drawing wisdom from God, a River of living water, mankind could have achieved ever-increasing heights of blessed companionship. Would they possess the confidence all they required for “the good life” would be provided? Did they believe God would lead them to a knowledge of His truths, and that they would have all glorious Eternity to contemplate the mysteries of their gentle Father?

                         I must conclude my speculations by emphasizing I do not want to claim God could or would have revealed the knowledge of the tree. Instead, I believe that if they only refuted the snake’s lies, Adam and Eve would have proved their love for God: simply, by trusting Him with a matter they could not, at that moment, fully understand. To love God is to trust Him. God invited Adam to walk when he could not discern the way, and this—as we know—proved too burdensome a task for him. Thus, Adam’s descendants have failed in the same manner ever since.

        The narrative dialogues of Plato frequently reflect this moral, and it is what makes his “Symposium” so universally beloved. Plato discloses intimate mysteries of reality as Diotima, Socrates’ instructor, explains how one may unite with God. Diotima remarks that countless beauties may wound the heart or entrance the eyes; we are only satisfied, however, when we behold the realm of eternal, unchanging Forms, the most perfect of these being the “Good”. We readers must follow Socrates and Diotima, rising, “by stages…so that in the end” we come to know “just what it is to be beautiful”. But conflict stirs when one obnoxious and drunk Alcibiades interrupts the speech of Socrates, crying, “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m plastered”!

Plato’s central argument unfolds as we recall how, “love wants to possess the good forever”. According to Diotima, “Eros” is simply an imperfect participation in the immortality of the soul and desire for the good is the “treacherous love in everyone”. Plato invites us to move past what we understand through the senses. We must observe with eyes of the inner mind, understanding there exists a rival Goodness beyond anything found in our world. He does not disparage the world, and elevating it, draws attention to the spiritual reality so often obscured by material emphasis. In a similar manner, in his other dialogue, the “Phaedrus”, Plato argues “man’s fall” originates from the soul’s descent from its heavenly dwelling. Forgetfulness clouds all memory of this native homeland, and our condition sparks perpetual, insurmountable longing. It is only through recollection, prudently mastering both the unruly and gentle horse in one’s own tumultuous “chariot”, that our soul sprouts wings like it once possessed in an eternity past.

Humanity’s expulsion from Eden, the first “home”, resulted from our failure to love well. However, I have, after coursing through extensive pontifications, internalized how we may yet reenter that home. Jesus, the second Adam, and Mary, his mother, are the exact reversals of our predecessors and their failings: it is an ancient, simple tale. When in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prays for God’s will to be accomplished rather than his own, embracing the scourge of humanity’s sin; and when the angel Gabriel appears to Mary at the annunciation, she accepts Providence’s words, embracing the role of mother of God and declaring herself a “handmaid of the Lord”. They were disposed to welcome God’s direction and to choose Love, which I have previously defined as an act of pure “surrender”. Christ’s Passion, an expiation for sin, reveals an extraordinary, true, and most perfect love, as we observe literal blood and water flow from his side. As the “beloved” apostle John remarks, “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son”, so that we might taste the joys of life eternal. We are, in the words of St. Paul in his letter to the Colossians, “wholly and dearly loved” by God. Regardless of what we may believe about Christ, through the mere image of His sacrifice, we can flee our condition and strive toward a profound spiritual ascent, embarking on an “itinerary” (as St. Bonaventure exemplified). Jesus’ sacrifice on Calvary, combined with Mary’s obedience, serve as our model of ideal submission as well as the path to future redemption.

Love requires sacrifice; the tempests we encounter as we progress may not always be favorable. Regardless, we may, once more, be inspired by Pope Benedict XVI, who regularly demonstrated there is no love story more poignant than the one between God and mankind. As his breath failed, he allegedly exclaimed, “Lord, I love you”, a final measure of love and devotion. Like him, we may yet reach the biblical Paradise, where love is fecund and continually reproductive in beauty. We shall make this home lovely because the Light Himself will be our Sun. Love “that moves the Sun and stars” is our destination. Surrender, initially bleak and costly, provides utmost future gain. Paradoxically, it is only by giving up everything that we truly find our all.

Yet we may rise, presently, apart from mere hope of a future age. We climb the “ladder of beauty”, as theologians, ancient philosophers, and thinkers of all religions illustrate. By contemplating God and his Creation, we transcend our physical existence and inch closer to the nuptial mystery of the Lamb. But we can also find “heaven on earth”, realizing that perhaps, Heaven came to earth as a homely, poor, Jewish rabbi. Moreover, Earth reflects the very presence of God: when the wind whistles through a mighty foliage, when clouds gently beckon as they circumvent the earth, when the Moon smiles down at us with her glossy countenance; when Day’s brightness obscures weary eyes, or the harp strikes as pointed daggers do their victims; when birds proclaim a tuneful hymn and the flute joins in gracious emulation; when inspiration pours its sudden spasms of glistening perfumes—and an ornamented altar beguiles a bereft spirit with chimes of complacency—then, indeed, our souls may sate from all vain struggle. Music of human instruments is merely the vibration of matter. Tuned to the right frequencies, consonances emerge, inexplicably lovely to our ears. Likewise, humans are tuned to conditions allowing God’s “breath of life”, the invisible soul, to dwell within us. Our soul is as real, meaningful, and as curiously strange as the satisfaction of the right harmony. It is an emergent melody from our weary clump of flesh—a heavenly essence, unseen, yet most evidently perceived.

Another way to act beyond abstraction is by surrendering ourselves to God, body and soul. God made us creatures oriented by love; we cannot survive without it. When we love others, we also love Him. True love, therefore, is about willing the good of another; it gives up the “self” for the benefit of a neighbor, only to be seized with joy and filled with more of God, our cistern and better self. To love God, we must also “obey His commandments” and worship as He has asked. At the heart of the Christian religion there lies the sacrifice of a Son to a Father, the gift of body and blood to a Bride for His possession. His cross, the most tangible demonstration of surrender, reminds us of God’s nature of pure Love, and so we worship Him by reliving the Passion in His memory. By adjoining ourselves to Christ’s suffering or participating in the liturgy, we unite with God using marriage bonds crafted by the Bridegroom himself. Evoking the gift of love from Son to Father, we are reminded of our humble Way of Life.

While we often picture Eternity with God as a path that will inevitably result in boredom, St. Anselm helpfully refutes our conception for us in his famous “Proslogion”. He identifies the true meaning of blessed communion, explaining how, indeed, “the more one loves someone, the more one rejoices in his good…everyone in perfect happiness will love God incomparably more than himself and others…everyone will rejoice inconceivably more in God’s happiness than inhis own, or in that of everyone else with him”. In a momentary act of surrender, we find eternal respite—we behold Love Himself, completely and forever.
Life

January 10th, 2023

an Ode of impressions.

The Soul of the Rose, also known as My Sweet Rose, painted in 1908 by John William Waterhouse.

Oh, Life

And it’s grasping venomous tentacles,

Nectar sweetening our lips,

Snow-capped evergreens of a winter which lasts e’re long–

(yet they scintillate persistently).

Music of falling embers,

A ripening desert blossom,

Mouth besmeared with berries of pure vermillion,

Drunken festival libation;

Lore of lowly silver pinnacles,

Musings upon a fine, untuned instrument,

Unwholesome “vitaminous” vegetable—

Unbecoming circus spectacle.

The sensuous brushstrokes of an old and weary figure,

Mind-illumed galaxies smearing a moonless trench,

Wandering babe among weeping willows,

Harvests of limp cashew nuts, of pinecones, decorating a placid, uprooted branch;

Curdling spices within a measly, palatable stew,

and ribbons ‘round placid table wear.

Galloping girdings of the honeybees,

Sugared whiskers dancing in the snout of a lioness pup.

Leaves entwined, trapped in a spider’s cumbersome net,

and glittering lavender gashes upon a voluptuous evening gown.

A perfumed cloak of a nimble, jesting fugitive,

Or dancing fire-swordsmen wielding weapons of forest saplings.

Sunspots on an unlit shore,

Scuffling red and yellow leaves blown yonder,

And plumping homely pillows against Night’s frigid course.

Still we, as ever, reaching for that Morning Star

Which becomes not our mild station.

What is life but He, that Astér,

Who hears our cry and hearkens,

Attentive, silent,

And slowly whispering, humanely, cries:

“Ye are already burning”?
Shakespearean Sonnet written for a class

January 8th, 2023

Embleton, Ron “William Shakespeare writing at home”

A Lover’s Complaint

How rarely in thine eyes do shine in truth,

Mere semblance of a pleasant thought within!

A frown of discontent sullies thy youth,

Despite my best expense to favor win.

How hardly exigent are Love’s demands?

Why does a spirit ingrate rein thy soul?

When I have braved a host of hostile lands,

Blind to barriers, and bound for treasure whole?

Which upon reception thou didst scorn,

Remembring not love’s tender deeds of past.

What soft skillful invention couldst adorn

Me to procure thy luscious smile at last?

Yet—if these efforts do not appease thee,

Unyoke me, cease: and take thy leave of me.
The beauty of death in Terrence Malick’s, “A Hidden Life”

January 4th, 2023

“For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God”, says the Apostle (Colossians 3:3), a truth proclaimed in the 2019 motion picture, “A Hidden Life”. Within this masterpiece, beauty manifests itself in various forms; nature, family, virtue, faith, and art being a few. Above all, the film portrays the beauty of death as the highest achievable transcendent good—and not mere bodily death, but death to the self.

The opening scenes featuring the beauty of the earth, and the pure, intimate, contemplative shots of the village life combine to give the viewer impressions of bliss amidst hints of future calamity. As the film progresses, however, confidence in the power of “good” falters and wanes. The main couple, Franz and Fani, do not simply battle the pressures of the Nazi government, but begin to face ostracism within their own community. Scenes of glorious natural landscapes contrast with the ugliness of human failures. The only continuous stream of beauty that persists is the life of Franz, as well as Fani’s willingness and courage to join him in his sufferings.

Within the Christian philosophical and theological tradition, the idea of seeking out the form of the “Good” itself— pursuing ultimate “being” of Good for the sake of this selfsame and complete Good—is consistently reoccuring from a historical perspective. Franz’s life reflects the trajectory of the ‘examined life’: “What good will your sacrifice be to anyone?”, he is asked countless times. What these inquisitors fail to realize is that Franz’s concern lies with the beauty of pure Justice itself. According to him, all goodness ultimately finds its origin and destination in God. Refusing to conform one’s identity and the root of all one’s actions to the character of God eliminates all sincere goodness. That is the beauty of Franz’s heart—the desire to uphold goodness despite opposition and persecution. “There is a difference between the suffering we cannot avoid and that which we choose”, an interrogator sneers at Franz derrogatively. Despite malicious intent, his statement is perhaps the highest praise Franz could receive. He imitates Christ’s life so fully that he opts to bear his own cross. Just as the crucifixion itself is beautiful because of the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice, scenes displaying Franz’ horrible detainment become wondrous due to the Scriptural passages Franz quotes, illuminating his perspective of the Passion and boldly giving himself up to death like His Savior.

On a slightly unrelated note, the scene with the cathedral painter (early in the film) might be one of my favorites. Painting a “comfortable Christ” may be the burden we unwillingly carry our entire lives. Undoubtedly, Franz paints the very life of Christ with the beauty of his devoted heart. Yet the unnamed artist invites us to question the purpose of religious art itself. Can we truly identify with the suffering of those figures we claim to hold in such admiration, or do we pride ourselves in shallow sympathy? Can art itself serve to instigate change during oppressive circumstances?

In sum, the substance of Franz and Fani’s integrity sparks an understanding of what it truly means to live a good and blessed life. Franz’s courage to embrace physical death, as well as his daily offering of himself in love, reflects the grandeur of divine beauty, and Fani’s sacrifices as a wife and mother are essential to this ultimate picture as well.