Re (3): Reply to last newsletter...

Hello Anita,

A philosophy major, huh? So you too have one of those weird kinks in your brain? I am convinced that God must decree that all philosophy hopefuls must remain paupers—their thorn in the flesh—so that they don't develop over-inflated egos as pursuers of knowledge and wisdom. Or perhaps it is simply to prepare them for when they become real philosophers and nobody will hire them. (He smiles.) Gentle humor aside, God is indeed always faithful to us. That doesn't mean of course that we won't sometimes feel just a bit angry with Him—He doesn't always do things as quickly as we'd like or in the way that we'd like. Sometimes, of course, we later see the wisdom of why He does what He does, but many times, I fear, we feel like we are walking blindly, trusting Him anyway, sometimes because we simply have nowhere else to turn. We neither can nor want to go back and the only possible direction is forward—straight on through to the other side. Yet I suppose that in our day and age with all its many amenities and "creature comforts," even the most impoverished among us still do not know the definition of true suffering. And further, it is precisely the fires of afflictions that give us those treasures worth far more than gold or silver: those elements of character that cannot be gotten any other way than through weathering the storms of adversity or patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) enduring the mundane humdrum of everyday life.

What is more, if we be true seekers after philosophy in its purest form, it is wisdom to which we aspire, which transcends mere knowledge. Anyone can read the books, but only those who see them played out in the reality of life gain experience and thereby understanding and wisdom. Many who pursue philosophy, do so because they are in search of knowledge. That it will provide, but knowledge alone isn't worth much. I fear that those who pursue philosophy with the right motives—the pursuit of wisdom—may turn away in disappointment, for far too many professors conflate wisdom with knowledge, mistaking the latter for the former. Yet I maintain that of all the disciplines one could study, one is at least given a range of tools with which to evaluate truth or falsity, and, assuming that one can remain uncorrupted in the process, one can glean some true insight into the world. The problem, as I see it, is a uniquely Modern one, taking place at least in part during the Enlightenment when philosophy handed itself—what was then termed "natural philosophy"—over to the sciences. The pursuit of science is progress and efficiency and is forward-looking, seeking knowledge as its prized virtue. Of course, what has resulted from scientific discovery in the form of biomedical and technological advancements is not necessarily pure knowledge (though it is its result): however, the pursuit of science itself seeks knowledge as the greatest good. There is, however, a subtle problem that emerges with this forward-looking side: there is little backward looking. Knowledge without wisdom is dangerous. And how is wisdom acquired if not from experience and the lessons of our ancestors? I do not say that we should be exclusively backward looking, burning those at the stake who disagree with us and enshrining our ancestors in idol worship. But I do think that wisdom requires that we learn from our ancestors, something for which Modernity had—and our contemporary culture has—increasingly little use, for if it is not efficient, it is not practical.

The best education continues to remain a solid classical education—a good liberal arts curriculum. We do not have to stay "stuck" in the past, yet in the same breath, we make a costly mistake when we think we can simply sweep away so many centuries worth of dialog about the good, the true, and the beautiful with a flash of our "Enlightened" hand. Wisdom brings the lessons of the past to bear on the challenges of the present. One should enter into a pursuit of philosophy with one's eyes as widely open as possible. A good, liberal arts education in the time-tested classics is still possible, but you almost have to take the initiative and arrange your courses to accommodate that pursuit, for it will probably not be automatically guaranteed you. In any case, take the thoughts I offer that are helpful and leave the rest. Whatever we are to make of all that prattle, I am pleased that you have both written and recently subscribed. God will, I am certain, provide for your every need, even if He doesn't always do it when or in the exact way that you wish.

God bless,
Eric