|
|
Thank you for sending the most recent issues of the Concourse. My husband and I are thoroughly enjoying them, and discussing the various articles at length. I can't tell you how wonderful an idea I think the "Concourse concept" is. In the first three brief issues so much has been tackled that greatly needed the attention of the University community. Bravo!
Elizabeth (Olsen) Brown, MA Class of '91
I was so excited to receive the first issues of the Concourse--I plunged right in up to my eyeballs! How reminiscent of so many fabulous discussions at FUS! It is such refreshing joy not only to get the intellect humming again, but also to jump right back into campus life, in a way. We and a few other alums (plus a brother and sister-in-law) are anxious to get together and discuss some of these issues--hopefully on a regular basis. Some of my favorites have been the on-going music debate, the core curriculum controversy (I say "Amen!" to modifying things toward stronger unity and coherence!), the excellent piece on Opus Dei, and my absolute favorite (and almost constant topic of discussion and debate), the Natural Family Planning "conversation." My husband and I are certified teachers of NFP, and in our experience by far the greatest amount of discussion is generated by concerns over "grave reasons" to postpone or limit family size, and the whole "providentialist" issue. It is easy to give flip answers to serious questions in front of a class who just want to learn the method. But more often than not the questions resurface--especially upon realization of the startling 99% effectiveness statistic! What a powerful, powerful knowledge we have! What weighty matters we must prayerfully consider! I am grateful for all this dialogue in the Concourse. It provides much food for thought to bring to those I wish to serve. Keep it up!
Becky Faraj, Class of '90
Many thanks for the back issues of the Concourse. All I can say is brava, bravissima. It is a truly impressive journal. I am greatly impressed, not only with the substance of the topics addressed, but also with the quality of the prose. Either you've got first-rate writers or first-rate editors. My guess is that it's both!
Thomas Howard, Professor of Literature, St. John's Seminary, College of Liberal Arts
Core curriculum and critical thinking Dr. Crosby's article on the core curriculum at FUS (in the February 13 issue) has given me much "food for thought" on a related subject: the fostering of what I will call critical thinking skills or the ability to analyze new knowledge and integrate it into one's life. A dictionary definition of the terms "analyze" and "integrate" indicates that these basic cognitive functions are essential for a liberal arts education which seeks to examine closely and critically new ideas, and then bring these ideas together and assimilate them for the individual. This process would involve the study of the new information or ideas in an effort to understand and to judge the merits for later integration and use. However, these very critical thinking skills must proceed from a base of knowledge upon which to judge the relative merits of the new subject being studied. I believe this is what Dr. Crosby refers to as the "knowledge of first things" in the various disciplines or the courses that make up a genuine liberal arts education. Without such a base of information, how can the student apply the skills of analysis and integration of material into his or her life? The process of integrating new ideas involves examination of the material, linking it to previously learned material, and evaluating it in the light of truth and one's beliefs--all of which presumes a knowledge base broad enough to compare this new information. Without this knowledge base one might either reject the new material upon a casual review or embrace it without adequate analysis and reflection. It is easy for a student to select courses based on a pragmatic determination of a future career goal and miss out on the richness of a truly liberal arts education, which serves to inform and mold the mind and the person. I remember several courses required in the core curriculum at my alma mater, which seemed useless at the time, but which, in the end, not only formed the means of expanding my overall education, but also led me to question and eventually change my career choice. I don't know if this would have been possible without the broad exposure my undergraduate education provided through the core curriculum. There is another issue related to this discussion of fostering critical thinking skills. I wonder at times if our commitment to orthodoxy in teaching doesn't blunt students' ability to question, analyze and integrate knowledge, including even essential elements of our Catholic Faith and traditions. I believe such a commitment is essential, but how does a young adult at Franciscan University have the courage to question, analyze and hopefully integrate and "own" these matters of faith and belief? The attitude among some students I have known over the years here is expressed as judging anyone who questions or analyzes matters of faith and belief as being, at best, misguided or somehow not authentically Catholic, if not outright pagan. I exaggerate a bit in order to emphasize the point that the fostering of critical thinking skills is important in ways which go far beyond providing a well rounded education leading to one's career choice. This type of analysis and integration is essential in the development of a healthy life of faith. In a recent article entitled "Getting the Most Out of College," William J. Bennett, former US Secretary of Education, argues that college students have different ideas about where they want a college degree to take them--law school, journalism, public service, etc. He acknowledges the validity of such pragmatic concerns, but he also believes every student should "take the time to tread the ground outside of his or her major, and to spend time in the company of the great travelers who have come before." In other words, students should be exposed to a core curriculum which truly prepares them to think critically. Bennett goes on to say that if we take the time to study how men and women of the past dealt with life's enduring problems, we will be better prepared when those same problems come our way. In our consideration of the core curriculum we need to recognize that students who seek to learn how the enduring problems of life were handled by the great thinkers of the past will be better prepared to succeed in any endeavor they undertake, in all aspects of their personal lives and careers.
Joseph A. Loizzo, Director of Campus Counseling
Thomism and intellectual freedom Mr. Morel de la Prada graciously invites us "to prefer what the Church prefers" in our philosophizing--that is, Thomism. He and others seem troubled by the continued resistance to this invitation. Why will we not accept it with joy? He has not proposed that we cease studying everyone else; he has not proposed that we treat St. Thomas' every word as infallible; he does not propose a closed system for our uncritcal acceptance. He simply asks us to acknowledge (and submit ourselves to) the unambiguous recommendation of the Church with respect to philosophy. Why would any loyal Catholic decline such an uncontroversial invitation? Allow me to explain. The invitation is not so uncontroversial as it may at first appear. When Mr. de la Prada (or anyone else) amasses Magisterial quotations and urges us to "prefer what the Church prefers," intended or not, here is what comes across: "Every individual Catholic thinker, student and faculty has a religious duty to be Thomistic in his or their philosophy." And by this is usually meant not only that we ought to immitate Thomas' realism and universalism, but also that we should adopt his philosophical framework; that we should hold, for instance, that being and good are convertible, that evil is a privation, and that all men necessarily will the good. But, (as Richard Gordon so ably showed in his March 12 article) this is just what the Church does not say, and would not say, because of her profound respect for the integrity and legitimate automony of philosophy. Or, if she has said it (in the person of individual popes) she has violated her own divinely-ordained boundaries, and in so doing has threatened not only the intellectual life of her sons, but (consequently) her own well-being. It follows from this that philosophers who love her truly will resist her self-defeating tendency to encroach on their domain. Consider an analogy in the political realm. During most of the nineteenth century, when republicanism was on the rise in Europe, the Church displayed a strong preference for monarchy. She had had a long and fruitful relationship with monarchy; it seemed much more conducive to faith than did republicanism, which (at least historically) went hand-in-hand with irreligion and rebellion. Many in the Church considered the new form of government to be essentially hostile to the Faith, and sought to have it condemned as a virtual heresy. With all the social upheaval and religious confusion prevailing at the time, it is easy to imagine what a temptation this must have been! And how frustrated and baffled many of the faithful must have felt when some who called themselves Catholics openly defended republicanism and resisted the reinstatement of the monarchies! You can picture how earnestly they might have urged all Catholics to simply "prefer what the Church prefers" in their politics. But what a catastrophy it would have been for both the world and the Church had not some of her members insisted on their right to their own political views, and pressed the Church to recognize that republicanism, too, might be a worthy ally in the world! I do not at all mean to suggest with this analogy that St. Thomas' thought is as obsolete and passe as are the European monarchies; nor do I argue that the time has come to replace him with Phenomenology. I only want to try to show that it is not always in the best interests of the Church to submit to her recommendations outside the area of Faith and morals. This seems to me to be partiucularly true in philosophical matters, where unles we are willing to think things through for ourselves--the intellectual life of the Church will suffer drastically in health and rigor. The Church may point to Thomas as a proven and extraordinarily rich source of insight and understanding, and say we are sure to do well if we begin by studying him, but because she (as a whole) understands what philosophy is, she does not compel us to simply adopt his system (be it ever so open), because she knows that to do this would be profoundly unphilosophical, and thus antithetical to the authentic pursuit of truth. I think what the Church (when she is most herself) really prefers, is that her philosophers and university students feel free to pursue whatever avenues of truth (given a few very broad boundaries) strike them as being most promising and fruitful, to delve into whatever great ideas resonate most with our own minds. Naturally, aware of the serious dangers involved in such an enterprise, she cautions us against the risks of striking out on our own, of blazing new trails in the realm of philosophy; she prudently reminds us that Thomas has been for centuries a safe and sound route to truth; but she does not say that we must avoid taking intellectual risks! On the contrary, every time she canonizes a martyr or rewards a hero, or exalts an original thinker, she repeats the maxim that no great end is achieved without great hazards.(1) Catholics (as such) have a religious obligation to revere Thomas--as both a great master and a saint. Philosophers and university students (as such) have a vocational obligation to examine each of his claims and principles critically, just as he did with Augustine's and Aristotle's; to approve those they recognize as true; modify those they think faulty or incomplete; and reject those they find to be false. Unless they do this, they act in a way unworthy of their calling. To interpret the Church's preference for Thomas, then, as meaning that all Catholic philosophers ought to be Thomistic (in the main lines of their thought) would be not just a dogmatical exaggeration, but an intellectual disaster--a disaster which would ultimately undermine our Faith.
Kathleen van Schaijik, Class of '88
We are among those who agree with Mark Fischer's arguments against a total rejection of rock music on the basis of its cultural antecedents. Mr. Minto has argued that rock music is essentially and destructively escapist. We disagree. It seems to us (1) that the range of personal experiences in rock music is not limited to the "negative" or the escapist; (2) that the themes Minto considers so destructive are also present in many other genres; (3) that escapes need not be bad. According to Minto, rock music offers false "patchwork" solutions to our deep inner needs, enticing us into its aimless sexual beats, which gratify emotional cravings by an elusive, temporary "fix," leaving us, in the end, worse off than we were--like the drug addict. We agree that this is often the case, but we question whether it is always true of the rock genre. Are there not numerous examples of rock artists and songs whose basic thrust is entirely different? Consider the song "All Good People" by Yes or "Gloria" by U2 and "Kyrie Eleison" by Mr. Mister. Secondly, we believe many musical genres (besides rock) reveal instances of particular pieces which are escapist in the sense just described. Witness the Marcia Funebre of Beethoven's Eroica Symphony, the Scriabin Etude op. 42, no. 5, the third movement of Brahms's Third Symphony, Mozart's Adagio and Fugue in C Minor, K. 546, and the opening of Mahler's Second Symphony. These works evoke intense grief, unrequited passion, sobbing melancholy, tragic resolve and angry despair. The listener "escapes" into these beautiful works of art, subjecting himself to sometimes violent emotional upheavals. Should this music also be rejected as antithetical to Christianity? Or think of the tradition of tragedy in the dramatic arts. Here we witness ostensibly painful emotions and poignant human acts, and often cannot help entering into the world presented on the stage. We notice that persons often appreciate, seek out and relish such musical and dramatic experiences. Why? Is it due only to a sense of alienation and loss rooted in existential despair? Or is not some authentic human value realized through such experiences? Among many observations made on the issue of human responses to art, Aristotle's notion of "catharsis" is relevant to our discussion. The virtue of a cathartic response to music (or other fine art) is its controlled purging of certain real griefs, despairs, and other negative feelings. This "positive" use of "negative" emotions has been acknowledged through centuries of human experience. Is it not conceivable that at least some rock music serves this legitimate cathartic function? Lastly, it seems to us that some forms of escape can be perfectly healthy. Fischer's interesting example near the end of his response to Minto, wherein we are invited to put on our slickers and sing in the rain with Gene Kelly, is a case in point. Someone who has a "playful" or "happy" response in this context need not fear this escape or exuberant behavior represents a persisting pattern. Likewise, feelings of loss and despair, as well as joy, may be thought of in the music-context as emotional samplings--somewhat like wine samplings. They are limited in duration, isolated and often without real-life background. They are perhaps artificial, but they are not necessarily addictive and destructive escapes.
Cynthia and Michael Welker, SFO
© The University Concourse, April 10, 1996 |
