The Evolution Of The West: how Christianity has shaped our values
by Nick Spencer. Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London 2006
Review by John L. Ng
December, 2016
At the dawn of this new millennium when the European Union conferred to draft a new constitution, there was actually a serious debate among its participants as to whether God or Christianity should be included in the text to reflect the church's influence in European history. At the end, as if its members were in mendacious amnesia, the notions of God and Christianity were omitted in the final document. The debate and omission were fatuous. No serious person could possibly deny the significance of Christianity in Western Civilization. Contrary to popular sentimentality, the foundational tenets of Western Civilization were not conceived and birthed by The Enlightenment, as revisionists propone. Sometimes called the Age of Reason, that intellectual movement embraced the notion that humanity could be advanced by human reason alone.
Beyond atheism, which has gained a renewal in public discourse lately, this glaring rejection of Christianity's place in European history is more than a denial of the existence of God. It is an animus of the church's profound presence in the Western world. This collective denial is not unexpected. The hostility toward the church has grown incendiary in Europe (and in America) since The Enlightenment. Interestingly, my google of this book found few major medias, printed or electronic, who have reviewed it at the time of this writing. Perhaps analogous of contemporary culture’s abject contempt for Christianity, its rejection has two extremes - active refutation in academia and passive neglect in popular media. Both perceive historical Christianity in public life as an intrusion more than an influence.
"The Evolution Of The West" by Nick Spencer, research director of Theos (a religion and society think tank in the United Kingdoms), speaks directly to that mendacity. This collection of essays presents a confluence of the church's teachings and Western advancements. Employing elaborate examples from history’s roadside artifacts, Spencer posits Christianity's participation in Western experiments with democracy, in modern sciences, in human rights, and in social concerns and actions. Christianity has had a profound influence in political, economic, cultural and social endeavors, as well as in religious tolerance. Ironically, Christianity even has a dubious role in the rise of atheism. With lucidity of prose, he offers that the many European lexicons were also impacted by the worldview of the church. Christianity’s perception of the world redefined much of Western etymology.
The spreading tree of Western Civilization has always been rooted in the soil of Christian faith. Like anything organic, the church's relationship in the evolution of the West is seldom clean, orderly, or exemplary. Spencer concedes that the church has its shares of moral duplicity, hypocritical advocacy, institutional corruptions and political intrigues. He makes no apology for what the church is not - perfect. The church was and is flawed because its hierarchy was and is part of a flawed humanity. And yet, with all its pathology, the impact of the church in the chambers of government, the academic ivy towers, the science halls, the market places and the public squares is self-evident.
Along the way, Spencer sternly warns that contemporary secularism is in serious danger of losing its fundamental societal values that made it a unique civilization if it willfully deny or ignore Christianity so uniquely embedded in its history and culture. TS Eliot's "Waste Land", in 1922, became a metaphor of the West’s moral decays after the Great War. This waste land metaphor speaks again to the West. In this post-Christianity reality, post-modernists are disenchanted with existential disenchantment. The sensations of desolation, uncertainty and anxiety are ubiquitous in all niches of contemporary life. In the midst of this waste land malaise, historical Christianity still has something to say about what it means to be a humanity in a civil society where its villagers have the divinely given rights to seek life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Review by John L. Ng
December, 2016
At the dawn of this new millennium when the European Union conferred to draft a new constitution, there was actually a serious debate among its participants as to whether God or Christianity should be included in the text to reflect the church's influence in European history. At the end, as if its members were in mendacious amnesia, the notions of God and Christianity were omitted in the final document. The debate and omission were fatuous. No serious person could possibly deny the significance of Christianity in Western Civilization. Contrary to popular sentimentality, the foundational tenets of Western Civilization were not conceived and birthed by The Enlightenment, as revisionists propone. Sometimes called the Age of Reason, that intellectual movement embraced the notion that humanity could be advanced by human reason alone.
Beyond atheism, which has gained a renewal in public discourse lately, this glaring rejection of Christianity's place in European history is more than a denial of the existence of God. It is an animus of the church's profound presence in the Western world. This collective denial is not unexpected. The hostility toward the church has grown incendiary in Europe (and in America) since The Enlightenment. Interestingly, my google of this book found few major medias, printed or electronic, who have reviewed it at the time of this writing. Perhaps analogous of contemporary culture’s abject contempt for Christianity, its rejection has two extremes - active refutation in academia and passive neglect in popular media. Both perceive historical Christianity in public life as an intrusion more than an influence.
"The Evolution Of The West" by Nick Spencer, research director of Theos (a religion and society think tank in the United Kingdoms), speaks directly to that mendacity. This collection of essays presents a confluence of the church's teachings and Western advancements. Employing elaborate examples from history’s roadside artifacts, Spencer posits Christianity's participation in Western experiments with democracy, in modern sciences, in human rights, and in social concerns and actions. Christianity has had a profound influence in political, economic, cultural and social endeavors, as well as in religious tolerance. Ironically, Christianity even has a dubious role in the rise of atheism. With lucidity of prose, he offers that the many European lexicons were also impacted by the worldview of the church. Christianity’s perception of the world redefined much of Western etymology.
The spreading tree of Western Civilization has always been rooted in the soil of Christian faith. Like anything organic, the church's relationship in the evolution of the West is seldom clean, orderly, or exemplary. Spencer concedes that the church has its shares of moral duplicity, hypocritical advocacy, institutional corruptions and political intrigues. He makes no apology for what the church is not - perfect. The church was and is flawed because its hierarchy was and is part of a flawed humanity. And yet, with all its pathology, the impact of the church in the chambers of government, the academic ivy towers, the science halls, the market places and the public squares is self-evident.
Along the way, Spencer sternly warns that contemporary secularism is in serious danger of losing its fundamental societal values that made it a unique civilization if it willfully deny or ignore Christianity so uniquely embedded in its history and culture. TS Eliot's "Waste Land", in 1922, became a metaphor of the West’s moral decays after the Great War. This waste land metaphor speaks again to the West. In this post-Christianity reality, post-modernists are disenchanted with existential disenchantment. The sensations of desolation, uncertainty and anxiety are ubiquitous in all niches of contemporary life. In the midst of this waste land malaise, historical Christianity still has something to say about what it means to be a humanity in a civil society where its villagers have the divinely given rights to seek life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
White Trash: the 400 year untold story of class in America
Hillbilly Elegy: a memoir of a family and culture in crisis
White Trash: the 400 year untold story of class in America, by Nancy Isenberg. Vikings, 2016
Hillbilly Elegy: a memoir of a family and culture in crisis, by J. D. Vance. HarperCollins, 2016
Review by John L. Ng
October, 2016
When Donald Trump stepped on the political stage more than a year ago, few took him seriously. Then he won the Republican nomination for president. Just about everyone I talk to is incredulous or infuriated. What we know about Trump is what we see in the news. On The Media calls him a “dangerous demagogue” who makes false claims, inflammatory accusations and outrageous promises to gain a following. The Economist considers Trump a “post-truth” exponent who makes puissant assertions void of factual basis to embolden his supporters.
In explaining his phenomenon, pundits of different political slants mention two books: “White Trash” and “Hillbilly Elegy.” I decide to take a read and find them complementary. Isenberg traces the sweeping class struggles in America history. Her sub-title is an exaggeration. Other researchers on classes have preceded hers. Vance gives an intimate account of a “hillbilly” family. It is a troubling memoir of a sub-culture that is in decline and in crisis.
Isenberg concurs that a classless American society is mythic. Since the Jamestown settlement in 1607, class consciousness is ubiquitous in the new world. The British saw the colonies as a place to dump their “human waste.” The indigents, criminals, vagrants and religious malcontents were among the new arrivals. The cultural elites, including many founding leaders, held the common view that the inferior classes were congenital. Their inferiority is cultural, social, economic and racial. Throughout American history, impoverished inner cities and de-industrialized rural conclaves smolder in disenfranchised disenchantment. This class disparity is especially pronounced after the 2008 great recession. While upper classes have recovered and gained economically, the underclass has not. In fact, it is in serious crisis.
Vance’s autobiography of a poor, white Appalachian family’s struggles with cultural, social, religious and economic anxieties illustrates this crisis. It is a portrait of a dysfunctional clan that is poor, religious, violent, abusive and angry. Somewhere along the way, it has misplaced the American dream. Many like Vance’s family resent the egregious betrayal by the federal government who favors special interest groups – blacks, immigrants, women, and gays. They have elbowed ahead in the queue toward economic and social equality. And the working class feels abandoned and left behind.
The less educated and poorer Americans believe they are good citizens who love God and country. Then candidate Obama incensed them with this insensitive caricature. Explaining why he could not win the working white votes, he gibed, “it’s not surprising then that they get bitter, they cling to their guns, religion, and antipathy. . . .” The working poor, including many Evangelical Christians, feel like political exiles in their own country. Harping on this malaise, Trump roars mendaciously about making America great again – by erecting a huge wall along the Mexican border, expelling all Muslims, dissing blacks and women and strong-arming the Chinese to return manufactures to this country. His callow animus strokes the working poor’s diffidence into an invidious political movement. Irrespective of the irony that Trump personifies the very pseudo-aristocracy of wealth that the working class so resent, his rise in popularity has unleashed a ferocious class struggle American history has never seen before.
Hillbilly Elegy: a memoir of a family and culture in crisis, by J. D. Vance. HarperCollins, 2016
Review by John L. Ng
October, 2016
When Donald Trump stepped on the political stage more than a year ago, few took him seriously. Then he won the Republican nomination for president. Just about everyone I talk to is incredulous or infuriated. What we know about Trump is what we see in the news. On The Media calls him a “dangerous demagogue” who makes false claims, inflammatory accusations and outrageous promises to gain a following. The Economist considers Trump a “post-truth” exponent who makes puissant assertions void of factual basis to embolden his supporters.
In explaining his phenomenon, pundits of different political slants mention two books: “White Trash” and “Hillbilly Elegy.” I decide to take a read and find them complementary. Isenberg traces the sweeping class struggles in America history. Her sub-title is an exaggeration. Other researchers on classes have preceded hers. Vance gives an intimate account of a “hillbilly” family. It is a troubling memoir of a sub-culture that is in decline and in crisis.
Isenberg concurs that a classless American society is mythic. Since the Jamestown settlement in 1607, class consciousness is ubiquitous in the new world. The British saw the colonies as a place to dump their “human waste.” The indigents, criminals, vagrants and religious malcontents were among the new arrivals. The cultural elites, including many founding leaders, held the common view that the inferior classes were congenital. Their inferiority is cultural, social, economic and racial. Throughout American history, impoverished inner cities and de-industrialized rural conclaves smolder in disenfranchised disenchantment. This class disparity is especially pronounced after the 2008 great recession. While upper classes have recovered and gained economically, the underclass has not. In fact, it is in serious crisis.
Vance’s autobiography of a poor, white Appalachian family’s struggles with cultural, social, religious and economic anxieties illustrates this crisis. It is a portrait of a dysfunctional clan that is poor, religious, violent, abusive and angry. Somewhere along the way, it has misplaced the American dream. Many like Vance’s family resent the egregious betrayal by the federal government who favors special interest groups – blacks, immigrants, women, and gays. They have elbowed ahead in the queue toward economic and social equality. And the working class feels abandoned and left behind.
The less educated and poorer Americans believe they are good citizens who love God and country. Then candidate Obama incensed them with this insensitive caricature. Explaining why he could not win the working white votes, he gibed, “it’s not surprising then that they get bitter, they cling to their guns, religion, and antipathy. . . .” The working poor, including many Evangelical Christians, feel like political exiles in their own country. Harping on this malaise, Trump roars mendaciously about making America great again – by erecting a huge wall along the Mexican border, expelling all Muslims, dissing blacks and women and strong-arming the Chinese to return manufactures to this country. His callow animus strokes the working poor’s diffidence into an invidious political movement. Irrespective of the irony that Trump personifies the very pseudo-aristocracy of wealth that the working class so resent, his rise in popularity has unleashed a ferocious class struggle American history has never seen before.
Your Friend Forever, A. Lincoln
by Charles B. Strozier. Columbia University Press, NY 2016
Review by John L. Ng
August, 2016
Great thinkers like Aristotle, Cicero and Montaigne in their own cogitation concur that the highest form of human relationships is a friendship between two men. Cicero offers that it is a kind of nobility and Montaigne adds that it is a form of spirituality. Charles Strozier’s study of Abraham Lincoln’s friendship with Joshua Speed speaks to this enduring noble and spiritual nature of friendship. More than 15,000 monographs have been published on the US 16th president. This is perhaps the first in-depth research of his friendship with Speed.
The future president was a perennial melancholic. His depression was deep and chronic. He grew up sad and suffered sadness throughout deaths and tragedies. His mother died when he was nine years old. After Ann Rutledge, his one true love, died he fell into a dark precipice and never climbed out. Two of his sons, Eddy and Willie, died as pre-teens and on each occasion Lincoln was inconsolable. Every portrait we have of Lincoln shows wrinkles of sadness; even his faint smiles are lined with melancholy.
Lincoln was 26 when he found his ways to Springfield, Illinois. He was full of wit and ambition but emptied of resources and recognition. Speed was a store owner when they met. They shared a room and a bed for four years above the store. Like most friendships, it is a mystery why two very different individuals in personality, temperament, education, background and class became friends. Like all friendships, theirs evolved into an intimate relationship. In our gay-obsessed culture much has been made recently that Lincoln and Speed slept together. Few even suggest that they had a homosexual relationship. Nonsense! There is absolutely no evidence of that. Lincoln himself offered their sleeping arrangement without hints of concealment. It was simply the social morale of the 1800’s
Their friendship was platonic and intimate. The two friends spent many an evening in the back of the store with others bantering ideas, trading stories, and telling jokes. But Speed was the only one with whom Lincoln shared his inner most thoughts. Often Speed traveled with Lincoln on his legal circuits because he wanted to be with his friend. When alone, they talked about their fears and desires, loves and dreams, worries and anxieties, failures and ambitions. Their private letters reveal a mutual sanctuary where two friends found solace of comfort and joy. Strozier writes that they found “a recognition of self” in the other. Like many friendships, theirs was not between equals. Speed was at awe with the future president, but it was Lincoln who received more from Speed. His offerings became a “healing balm” that nursed Lincoln’s chronic depression and interior turmoil. Viscerally generous, both were affable in their alacrity. Speed’s giving included the warmth of his family. It was his mother Lucy who gave Lincoln a bible and made him promise to read it daily. From this encounter, Lincoln cultivated a God-thought life. In public and private, his syntax permeated with divine and Biblical references.
Like all friendships, theirs had highs and ebbs. After Lincoln became president, they grew apart. The notion that Speed’s family owned slaves certainly was part of it. Nevertheless, their friendship endeavored to the end. As Lincoln signed his letters to Speed, “your friend, forever.” Others may muse about friendship – they actually lived and enjoyed an enduring, intimate relationship. Lincoln wrote to Speed that if they were not friends, “we have no pleasures.”
Review by John L. Ng
August, 2016
Great thinkers like Aristotle, Cicero and Montaigne in their own cogitation concur that the highest form of human relationships is a friendship between two men. Cicero offers that it is a kind of nobility and Montaigne adds that it is a form of spirituality. Charles Strozier’s study of Abraham Lincoln’s friendship with Joshua Speed speaks to this enduring noble and spiritual nature of friendship. More than 15,000 monographs have been published on the US 16th president. This is perhaps the first in-depth research of his friendship with Speed.
The future president was a perennial melancholic. His depression was deep and chronic. He grew up sad and suffered sadness throughout deaths and tragedies. His mother died when he was nine years old. After Ann Rutledge, his one true love, died he fell into a dark precipice and never climbed out. Two of his sons, Eddy and Willie, died as pre-teens and on each occasion Lincoln was inconsolable. Every portrait we have of Lincoln shows wrinkles of sadness; even his faint smiles are lined with melancholy.
Lincoln was 26 when he found his ways to Springfield, Illinois. He was full of wit and ambition but emptied of resources and recognition. Speed was a store owner when they met. They shared a room and a bed for four years above the store. Like most friendships, it is a mystery why two very different individuals in personality, temperament, education, background and class became friends. Like all friendships, theirs evolved into an intimate relationship. In our gay-obsessed culture much has been made recently that Lincoln and Speed slept together. Few even suggest that they had a homosexual relationship. Nonsense! There is absolutely no evidence of that. Lincoln himself offered their sleeping arrangement without hints of concealment. It was simply the social morale of the 1800’s
Their friendship was platonic and intimate. The two friends spent many an evening in the back of the store with others bantering ideas, trading stories, and telling jokes. But Speed was the only one with whom Lincoln shared his inner most thoughts. Often Speed traveled with Lincoln on his legal circuits because he wanted to be with his friend. When alone, they talked about their fears and desires, loves and dreams, worries and anxieties, failures and ambitions. Their private letters reveal a mutual sanctuary where two friends found solace of comfort and joy. Strozier writes that they found “a recognition of self” in the other. Like many friendships, theirs was not between equals. Speed was at awe with the future president, but it was Lincoln who received more from Speed. His offerings became a “healing balm” that nursed Lincoln’s chronic depression and interior turmoil. Viscerally generous, both were affable in their alacrity. Speed’s giving included the warmth of his family. It was his mother Lucy who gave Lincoln a bible and made him promise to read it daily. From this encounter, Lincoln cultivated a God-thought life. In public and private, his syntax permeated with divine and Biblical references.
Like all friendships, theirs had highs and ebbs. After Lincoln became president, they grew apart. The notion that Speed’s family owned slaves certainly was part of it. Nevertheless, their friendship endeavored to the end. As Lincoln signed his letters to Speed, “your friend, forever.” Others may muse about friendship – they actually lived and enjoyed an enduring, intimate relationship. Lincoln wrote to Speed that if they were not friends, “we have no pleasures.”
On Friendship
by Michel de Montaigne. Penguin Books, New York 2005
Review by John L. Ng
June, 2016
Many agree that Michel de Montaigne, the 16th-century French writer, invented the modern essay genre. Anyone who enjoys engaging lucid writings of insightful ideas would enjoy reading Montaigne. It is like sitting with and listening to a wise and affable friend in soliloquy. Although its seven essays reflect diverse subjects, this little book’s On Friendship title is from his first and longest monograph on friendship. This Spring, philosopher Alexander Nehamas also published a book by the same title. In this latest contribution, Nehamas, from literature, art, drama and personal experience, traces the nature and inferences of friendship. The subject of friendship has a long philosophical history. Great thinkers - Kung Fu-Tze, Aristotle, Cicero, Augustine, to name just four - have participated in this great discourse.
But no one quite muses like Montaigne. His treatment of any subjects is uniquely personal and philosophical. He puts it this way, "It is not my concern to tell the world how to behave (plenty of others do that) but how I behave in it." Beyond intellectual pursuit in this collection, he is refreshingly transparent and honest, at times crudely. He exposes his interior through his thoughts' portals. Idiosyncratic without being imperious, incomplete without being tentative, he freely enters an issue, explores it, digests it, distills it and exposes it.
With limited space, I will only disport his essay on friendship. Montaigne wrote on friendship after an intimate friend had died. Glaring back, he wonders why they became friends and why he loved his friend like no other. "We were seeking each other before we set eyes on each other," he confesses. It was a mysterious attraction from afar through the thickets of circumstances. There, freely they chose to be friends, "because it was him; because it was me," he resigns. His inquiry is as much about what it means for him to be human as it is about a relationship between two humans. He insinuates that a real friendship has no idealistic model. Each friendship has its own qualities and qualifications; each friend is different and requires different attributes. No one can predict or explain why or when two individuals become friends. Ultimately, they simply do, mysteriously and unapologetically.
Of all human relationships, a friendship is like no other. A father and child are not friends because their "excessive inequality" disqualifies any mutuality. A man and a woman cannot become friends for their sexual longings are but a mad lust for something that will escape them. Two spouses are not true friends in that other purposes (security, commerce, family) of marriage distract their intimate pursuit. Siblings cannot be friends because much of who and what they are is choiceless. Only in friendship can two people mingle their souls, volitionally, mutually and exclusively. Cicero adds that it takes nobility, loyalty and generosity to endeavor a true friendship. Montaigne calls friendship a "noble relationship." In it, there is an interfusion of wills and goods, commitment and interests, generosity and hospitality. Each gives of himself so completely to the other that he has little left to share with another.
With equal lucidity and probity, Montaigne explores six other inquiries: being judgmental, the art of conversation, idleness, the affection between fathers and children, moderation and the nature of happiness. Like all great thinkers, he integrates his prose with thoughts of other thinkers. He quotes from Roman and Italian poets, Greek satirists and historians, Latin and Dutch theologians, and others of other eras. At a casual glance, these seven essays seem like a literary clutter clustered together by an absentminded editor. And yet, as I turn each page, I have to pause at each turning to ponder how his muses, as diverse as they may be, affect my notion of friendship. Whatever the subject, Montaigne has an insatiable curiosity companioned with concerted insights. As he puts it, “any man may speak truly; few can speak ordinately (sic), wisely, adequately.” After I put On Friendship down, in quietude I long for a friend like Montaigne. The older I get, the more desperately I need a friend who freely engages me in sagacious conversations. Then again, there are always Montaigne's essays.
Review by John L. Ng
June, 2016
Many agree that Michel de Montaigne, the 16th-century French writer, invented the modern essay genre. Anyone who enjoys engaging lucid writings of insightful ideas would enjoy reading Montaigne. It is like sitting with and listening to a wise and affable friend in soliloquy. Although its seven essays reflect diverse subjects, this little book’s On Friendship title is from his first and longest monograph on friendship. This Spring, philosopher Alexander Nehamas also published a book by the same title. In this latest contribution, Nehamas, from literature, art, drama and personal experience, traces the nature and inferences of friendship. The subject of friendship has a long philosophical history. Great thinkers - Kung Fu-Tze, Aristotle, Cicero, Augustine, to name just four - have participated in this great discourse.
But no one quite muses like Montaigne. His treatment of any subjects is uniquely personal and philosophical. He puts it this way, "It is not my concern to tell the world how to behave (plenty of others do that) but how I behave in it." Beyond intellectual pursuit in this collection, he is refreshingly transparent and honest, at times crudely. He exposes his interior through his thoughts' portals. Idiosyncratic without being imperious, incomplete without being tentative, he freely enters an issue, explores it, digests it, distills it and exposes it.
With limited space, I will only disport his essay on friendship. Montaigne wrote on friendship after an intimate friend had died. Glaring back, he wonders why they became friends and why he loved his friend like no other. "We were seeking each other before we set eyes on each other," he confesses. It was a mysterious attraction from afar through the thickets of circumstances. There, freely they chose to be friends, "because it was him; because it was me," he resigns. His inquiry is as much about what it means for him to be human as it is about a relationship between two humans. He insinuates that a real friendship has no idealistic model. Each friendship has its own qualities and qualifications; each friend is different and requires different attributes. No one can predict or explain why or when two individuals become friends. Ultimately, they simply do, mysteriously and unapologetically.
Of all human relationships, a friendship is like no other. A father and child are not friends because their "excessive inequality" disqualifies any mutuality. A man and a woman cannot become friends for their sexual longings are but a mad lust for something that will escape them. Two spouses are not true friends in that other purposes (security, commerce, family) of marriage distract their intimate pursuit. Siblings cannot be friends because much of who and what they are is choiceless. Only in friendship can two people mingle their souls, volitionally, mutually and exclusively. Cicero adds that it takes nobility, loyalty and generosity to endeavor a true friendship. Montaigne calls friendship a "noble relationship." In it, there is an interfusion of wills and goods, commitment and interests, generosity and hospitality. Each gives of himself so completely to the other that he has little left to share with another.
With equal lucidity and probity, Montaigne explores six other inquiries: being judgmental, the art of conversation, idleness, the affection between fathers and children, moderation and the nature of happiness. Like all great thinkers, he integrates his prose with thoughts of other thinkers. He quotes from Roman and Italian poets, Greek satirists and historians, Latin and Dutch theologians, and others of other eras. At a casual glance, these seven essays seem like a literary clutter clustered together by an absentminded editor. And yet, as I turn each page, I have to pause at each turning to ponder how his muses, as diverse as they may be, affect my notion of friendship. Whatever the subject, Montaigne has an insatiable curiosity companioned with concerted insights. As he puts it, “any man may speak truly; few can speak ordinately (sic), wisely, adequately.” After I put On Friendship down, in quietude I long for a friend like Montaigne. The older I get, the more desperately I need a friend who freely engages me in sagacious conversations. Then again, there are always Montaigne's essays.
The Path: What Chinese Philosophers Can Teach Us About the Good Life
by Michael Puett & Christine Gross-Loh, Simon & Schuster, New York 2016
Review by John L. Ng
April, 2016
Robert Kennedy was mourning the death of his brother, President John F. Kennedy, when the president’s widow Jacqueline consoled him with “The Greek Way” by Edith Hamilton. He found in the Greek Way a mystical and heroic sensibility that helped him cut a path toward his future. What the Greek philosophers did for Kennedy, Michael Puett and Christine Gross-Loh’s “The Path” seeks to do for post-modernists. It introduces the uninitiated the ancient Chinese thinkers’ path toward “the good life.” (Harvard professor Puett’s popular course on ancient Chinese philosophy is the impetus for this book)
The Chinese ancients alert us that we humans are conflicted and in conflict living in a broken and fragmented world. And many enter it full of fear and anxiety. In this milieu we are urged to find ourselves. This shove for self-discovery is especially pushy in higher education. College students are encroached to spend their years to discover themselves. Self-discovery is the road to self-knowledge, and self-knowledge to self-acceptance, and in self-acceptance they stay-true-to-self. Notice this Western glare is full of self and empty of others. The Path concludes that this selfish emphasis has led a generation down a wrong path. At graduation and beyond, many are just as fearful and anxious about who they are and what the future holds.
Confucius and other Chinese thinkers posit that we should seek not the self for there is no holistic self to find. They offer that human nature is but crooked timber. As defective creatures we possess a messy cognitive and emotive dimension. Worst still, we occupy a ruptured world that fluctuates in imperfection. Instead of struggling for authentic self, the ancients propose a existential reliability. They define two philosophical concepts: 禮 – rituals/proprieties and 如 – if/as if.
No need to ask those lofty questions about the universe. Confucius's practicum is, How are you living your life daily? Everything of significance begins here. We ought not to be concerned with who we are, but with what goodness/benevolence 義 we bring to others. Our sensibility ought to dictate social rituals in our daily encounters. That is, we treat others as if that is how we want for ourselves. When a friend knocks at the dorm door, instead of sitting there imperviously with our smart phone, go to the door to meet his needs. When your mother nags, instead of ignoring her in annoyance, respond as if she is offering good counsel.
“The Path” shows also other paths cut by Mencius, Laozi, Zhuangzi and Xunzi. These ancients may not perceive the world the same way but they share Confucius's five virtues – 五 常 of daily living: propriety 禮 benevolence 仁, wisdom 智 righteousness 義 and fidelity 信. These everyday endeavors enable us to find our place in the world to make it a better place.
Anyone who wants a tutorial in Chinese philosophy for contemporary living will find "The Path" an easy read. However, there is nothing new here for Christians. For we pursue the good life following Jesus’ golden rule – love God and love your neighbor as you would love yourself. All of life hangs these two proprieties. Confucius would agree with Jesus, whose Mosaic law preceded the Chinese sage by more than 700 years (Leviticus 19. 17 -18).
Review by John L. Ng
April, 2016
Robert Kennedy was mourning the death of his brother, President John F. Kennedy, when the president’s widow Jacqueline consoled him with “The Greek Way” by Edith Hamilton. He found in the Greek Way a mystical and heroic sensibility that helped him cut a path toward his future. What the Greek philosophers did for Kennedy, Michael Puett and Christine Gross-Loh’s “The Path” seeks to do for post-modernists. It introduces the uninitiated the ancient Chinese thinkers’ path toward “the good life.” (Harvard professor Puett’s popular course on ancient Chinese philosophy is the impetus for this book)
The Chinese ancients alert us that we humans are conflicted and in conflict living in a broken and fragmented world. And many enter it full of fear and anxiety. In this milieu we are urged to find ourselves. This shove for self-discovery is especially pushy in higher education. College students are encroached to spend their years to discover themselves. Self-discovery is the road to self-knowledge, and self-knowledge to self-acceptance, and in self-acceptance they stay-true-to-self. Notice this Western glare is full of self and empty of others. The Path concludes that this selfish emphasis has led a generation down a wrong path. At graduation and beyond, many are just as fearful and anxious about who they are and what the future holds.
Confucius and other Chinese thinkers posit that we should seek not the self for there is no holistic self to find. They offer that human nature is but crooked timber. As defective creatures we possess a messy cognitive and emotive dimension. Worst still, we occupy a ruptured world that fluctuates in imperfection. Instead of struggling for authentic self, the ancients propose a existential reliability. They define two philosophical concepts: 禮 – rituals/proprieties and 如 – if/as if.
No need to ask those lofty questions about the universe. Confucius's practicum is, How are you living your life daily? Everything of significance begins here. We ought not to be concerned with who we are, but with what goodness/benevolence 義 we bring to others. Our sensibility ought to dictate social rituals in our daily encounters. That is, we treat others as if that is how we want for ourselves. When a friend knocks at the dorm door, instead of sitting there imperviously with our smart phone, go to the door to meet his needs. When your mother nags, instead of ignoring her in annoyance, respond as if she is offering good counsel.
“The Path” shows also other paths cut by Mencius, Laozi, Zhuangzi and Xunzi. These ancients may not perceive the world the same way but they share Confucius's five virtues – 五 常 of daily living: propriety 禮 benevolence 仁, wisdom 智 righteousness 義 and fidelity 信. These everyday endeavors enable us to find our place in the world to make it a better place.
Anyone who wants a tutorial in Chinese philosophy for contemporary living will find "The Path" an easy read. However, there is nothing new here for Christians. For we pursue the good life following Jesus’ golden rule – love God and love your neighbor as you would love yourself. All of life hangs these two proprieties. Confucius would agree with Jesus, whose Mosaic law preceded the Chinese sage by more than 700 years (Leviticus 19. 17 -18).
Bread For The Journey
by Henri Nouwen, HarperOne paperback, New York 2006
Review by John L. Ng
February, 2016
When Hillary Clinton was running for president in a previous election, a reporter asked what writer had impacted her spirituality. She offered that it was Henri Nouwen. When my daughter volunteered at her college’s InterVarsity fellowship, she and her fellow students read this Dutch priest. When doing postgraduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary, my spiritual formation reading list included several of his 40-plus books. When my friend and I talked from time to time, we often nourished each other with our latest Nouwen readings.
Educated by the Jesuits, Nouwen also held doctorates in psychology and theology. After ordination, he served as a pastor, chaplain, lecturer and educator. His exposure to the oppressed poor in Latin America deepened his burden for social justice. With others, he marched with Martin Luther King from Selma to Montgomery. He taught at Yale, Notre Dame, and Harvard. Stifle and unhappy in Harvard’s ambitious and competitive milieu, Nouwen left academia to seek a truer community in L’arche in France. This experience ultimately led him to Daybreak, a community for people with disabilities, near Toronto in Canada. While pastoring Daybreak, he wrote that he found here his deepest fulfillment as a follower of Christ. This was to be his last ministry before he died in 1996.
I rehearse Henri Nouwen’s vita not to parade his academic accomplishments, social involvement, and pastoral work. Rather, it is to show that he wrote out of these many and diverse experiences. All his monographs are an integration of theology and psychology of heart and mind, of human brokenness and divine grace. He wrote with a deep awareness of our human conditions and God’s redemptive work in Christ. Even a casual browse will show his love for God and humanity.
For those who are uninitiated, “Bread for the Journey” is an excellent sampling of Nouwen’s soulful concerns for prayer, solitude, silence and other concerns of faith and practice. This journal is also a helpful devotion for those who want a guide for daily readings. According to a year’s months and days, there are 365 plus reflections. “Bread” is also a welcome volume for those who don’t particularly enjoy reading. Each meditation fits within less than a page. For those who observe the seasons of faith, this yearbook also follows the liturgical calendar of the church.
Now let me write a few words about his books that have transported my wonderings and wanderings. “Out of Solitude,” “Creative Ministry” and “The Wounded Healer” early on have reshaped my pastoral theology, with a deeper appreciation for solitude and community. “Making All Things New” and “The Return of the Prodigal Son” have burrowed a deeper self-awareness in my God-awareness. “With Burning Hearts” has set my inner pilgrim’s journey with signposts as I en route to God for communion.
One more thing. Henri Nouwen writes with such humility, gracefulness, and simplicity, reading him is like lying down with him in green pastures, or listening to him while sitting down beside still waters. Reading him is easy, but I have to do it slowly.
Review by John L. Ng
February, 2016
When Hillary Clinton was running for president in a previous election, a reporter asked what writer had impacted her spirituality. She offered that it was Henri Nouwen. When my daughter volunteered at her college’s InterVarsity fellowship, she and her fellow students read this Dutch priest. When doing postgraduate work at Fuller Theological Seminary, my spiritual formation reading list included several of his 40-plus books. When my friend and I talked from time to time, we often nourished each other with our latest Nouwen readings.
Educated by the Jesuits, Nouwen also held doctorates in psychology and theology. After ordination, he served as a pastor, chaplain, lecturer and educator. His exposure to the oppressed poor in Latin America deepened his burden for social justice. With others, he marched with Martin Luther King from Selma to Montgomery. He taught at Yale, Notre Dame, and Harvard. Stifle and unhappy in Harvard’s ambitious and competitive milieu, Nouwen left academia to seek a truer community in L’arche in France. This experience ultimately led him to Daybreak, a community for people with disabilities, near Toronto in Canada. While pastoring Daybreak, he wrote that he found here his deepest fulfillment as a follower of Christ. This was to be his last ministry before he died in 1996.
I rehearse Henri Nouwen’s vita not to parade his academic accomplishments, social involvement, and pastoral work. Rather, it is to show that he wrote out of these many and diverse experiences. All his monographs are an integration of theology and psychology of heart and mind, of human brokenness and divine grace. He wrote with a deep awareness of our human conditions and God’s redemptive work in Christ. Even a casual browse will show his love for God and humanity.
For those who are uninitiated, “Bread for the Journey” is an excellent sampling of Nouwen’s soulful concerns for prayer, solitude, silence and other concerns of faith and practice. This journal is also a helpful devotion for those who want a guide for daily readings. According to a year’s months and days, there are 365 plus reflections. “Bread” is also a welcome volume for those who don’t particularly enjoy reading. Each meditation fits within less than a page. For those who observe the seasons of faith, this yearbook also follows the liturgical calendar of the church.
Now let me write a few words about his books that have transported my wonderings and wanderings. “Out of Solitude,” “Creative Ministry” and “The Wounded Healer” early on have reshaped my pastoral theology, with a deeper appreciation for solitude and community. “Making All Things New” and “The Return of the Prodigal Son” have burrowed a deeper self-awareness in my God-awareness. “With Burning Hearts” has set my inner pilgrim’s journey with signposts as I en route to God for communion.
One more thing. Henri Nouwen writes with such humility, gracefulness, and simplicity, reading him is like lying down with him in green pastures, or listening to him while sitting down beside still waters. Reading him is easy, but I have to do it slowly.