At a Loss For Words

The study of linguistics has always fascinated me. To be human is to express oneself to others, and we do that through and ever expanding structure of words and grammar that create endlessly shifting possibilities as we learn and experience language as it applies to our own lives as well as how it applies to the lives and experiences of others. We are able to speak on most anything, describe most anything, and, to an extent, encapsulate most anything into words and phrases that paint pictures all their own in the minds of our listeners.

However, no matter who we are or how eloquently we are able to speak, our language still falls short in many aspects. We can try to describe our personal experiences and feelings to others, but this operates only on the assumption that their experience overlaps enough with ours that they are able to relate. Otherwise, we stand unable to express the full depth of our experience or, for that matter, our being. We stand at a loss.

This is also the case when we talk about things that go far beyond our experience, or anyone's experience as it stands created. To speak about God or the truth of faith is to automatically bind oneself into an inherently limited framework. Yes, language has the ability to encapsulate all that stands before us as created beings, but it cannot and can never begin to fully express, let alone capture, the reality of God or of Eternal life. These things stand beyond our experience. We know them through the divine and generous revelation of God, but even these revelations, which are only a snapshot of reality, stand beyond what can be captured by words.

So we use language that is understandable. Heaven is wedding feast. Jesus the Lamb. God is Father. The Church is the Body and Bride of Christ. But even these expressions are limited. God is Father, but his fatherhood so far exceeds any fatherhood that we can know here on earth. The same applies for words spoken about Mary as Queen of Heaven, or of the many titles of Jesus. A word spoken by a creature such as ourselves cannot describe the Creator who exceeds creation. So, as a consequence, we express our faith in limited terms, not in some feigned attempt at acknowledgment, but to the best of our ability which is due to God. We can never be truly just to God because he deserves more than we can offer, but we speak as truthfully and as reverently as we can, knowing that we must fall short, but will do so by striving.

This is what we refer to as the principle of transposition; the idea that lower ranks of things attempt to encapsulate or describe high forms through varying combinations of limited expression. Take for instance a pencil drawing. I can use a line, shade or smudge in an attempt to draw a flower. The lines I use can take different shapes, but they are still lines. On the level of the image, the elements used to create the image may seem repetitive and unsatisfactory, especially when you know what it is trying to represent. You may even scoff at the idea that a line used to make a stem can also be used to make a leaf. However, when the image is seen in the light of what it is trying to represent, the lines, while limited, still express truth. This way, the lines used are pulled into the reality of the flower, and justified in relation to the higher thing by expressing truth through lower means.

Look at this principle in the realm of faith. We know heaven as a wedding feast between Jesus and the Church, but the idea is often passed over or scoffed at. We know weddings by our experience, and when we try to limit the higher image of heaven into the lower expression of the word "wedding", we shoot ourselves in the foot and lose credibility. However, when we see our metaphor in light of the higher reality, suddenly the word takes on more meaning as it describes an element of the higher reality.

So, as we can see, transposition, works in two directions. The lower element tries to describe and capture a bit of the higher truth, but it cannot until the higher truth is revealed and pulls the lower expression into itself. By this, our words are sanctified, and we can speak truth about exceeding goodness, love, and truth despite our own limited nature and expression.

So what happens with the disparity left over? What happens within the person to which truth is revealed if he cannot express it totally? This is the individual and personal love of God. He knows that the human person cannot express totally the revelation he is given, even when the revelation is itself just a snapshot. There will always be a part that goes unsaid because it cannot simply be spoken. This is the gift God gives to the person who speak of him. God provides both the speakable and unspeakable realities, and that which is unspeakable in it goodness only enriches the person gifted with it.

This is why we must pray for revelation and speak the Gospel at all times. We are speaking truth in order to receive truth. We are making known what we can with the faith that the knowledge itself is a gift.

St Joseph, pray for us.

God, Father in Heaven, bless us

Scientism: A Willing Ignorance

In 1884, Edwin A. Abbott wrote Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions. The book is set in a world inhabited by two-dimensional shapes that play roles within this two dimensional world. The shapes see and experience life in one dimension, much how we as 3D persons see the world as a two dimensions. The inhabitants of this world flatly deny (pun intended) that there can be a world that has more than two dimensions because, in their experience, they have never seen a 3D object, and nor can they because of their limited ability to see or measure. Therefore, they reject the idea that anything beyond flatland exists.

This is the case until a sphere passes through Flatland. The 2D shapes cannot take this sphere in fully, in fact they can only see him as different sizes circles as he literally passes through Flatland, transcending the binds of the two dimensions and experiencing his third. Not only that, but to further prove himself, the sphere takes a square up and out of flatland in order to give him a birds-eye view, and forever changing the square's outlook on reality. For a clearer summary, click here.

I want to take a moment to look at this book as a commentary on the phenomena of scientism that is rampant within our culture. Scientism is the philosophical, not scientific (more on that later), idea that, if something cannot be measured or observed by science, it cannot exist. This idea is subscribed to by everyone from leading atheists to your run-of-the-mill cultural devotee with a bone to pick against organized religion. Scientism-based thought generally come at the head of the atheistic apologetic, and is presented as being at odds with any notion of faith.

However, scientism is a philosophy that does not hold up under any kind of scrutiny. First of all, scientism is not scientific. The basis of science is to investigate and uncover that which has NOT been discovered. To say that all that exists is only what can be measured scientifically is to state one of two things. Either (a) you are basing life on the assumption that we currently fully understand and can measure all forces of nature and movements within the word, or (b) you are open to the idea that reality literally shifts every time a new discovery or theory is made. Under the former assumption, theoretical scientists simply become nerds with an imagination, and under the latter assumption, you are looking at reality itself as something that is inherently unstable, awaiting the next observation to further shift 'truth' into something else.

The second problem with scientism is that fact that it is a self-defeating proposition. To one that would say to me "all that is real is measurable and observable", I would respond by asking, "is that idea measurable and observable?" By that I mean, can you scientifically prove to me that all forces in the world are measurable and observable? Can you prove the content of that statement through the scientific method (developed by a catholic) and prove you hypothesis correct? The answer is an unadulterated "No Freaking Way!" To believe so is to contradict yourself, your purpose, and proves to me that you're simply a Dawkins fanboy with too much time to kill.

If this is you, you are terrible...

Finally, scientism does not leave room for the idea that there is something beyond our experience. Much like the inhabitants of Flatland, subscribers to scientism assume that our experience is the pinnacle of what can be known, and that our instruments for measurement are capable of measuring all that is. But if we cannot scientifically and empirically prove beyond any doubt that the basis of scientism is true, then room must be left for faith in something beyond what our 3D perspective can behold.

Honestly, I think the rejection of faith comes from our western fear of losing control. If we can measure every part of reality, we can then control and monitor every part of reality. However, if reality goes beyond what we can know with our senses, and if there is something that inhabits a world beyond our simple three dimensions, passing through yet transcending the reality we can know by observation, then it must be (a) more powerful than us, (b) beyond our control, and (c) know us better than we can know ourselves, just as we know the ins and outs of a character we draw or a shape we see.

We must allow ourselves, like the square in the story, to be lifted above what we know in order to see reality as it is, and to take in the idea that there is something more. The square did not experience the full length, width, and height of the three dimensional world, but he knew it was there. He could apply that knowledge back into his more limited reality and allow it to help shape him (more puns!). my encouragement is to ask yourself the question, "what if there are things we cannot measure?", and allow faith in something beyond the arrogant western view of self. Only then can we begin to grasp true reality.

St. Joseph, pray for us

God, Father in heaven, bless us.