Over in the Jews thread, Wyatt said something that, as so many of his utterances do, sent me deep into lost contemplation and wonder.
I didn't come up with much, but I did recall a passage I'd read recently, which I'll quote and, for fun, leave unattributed to see if anyone can guess the author and/or work (not that that's important but because people around here like quizzes):
(characters mentioned are the biblical ones)
How to deal with the fact that everyone else is apparently wrong? Christianity responds with "OK, go out and convert them." Judaism eschews proselytising, and "We were given this message because God loves us" is, surely, one of very few available ways of squaring a conviction of ones own cosmic rightness with an unwillingness to seek to persuade others.
(characters mentioned are the biblical ones)
One might say that it was presumptuous and all too egotistical of Jacob to regard such a vast calamity as this ongoing drought, which afflicted so many nations and resulted in great economic upheavals, as nothing more than a measure taken to guide and advance the history of his own house - it evidently being his opinion that when it came to himself and his family the rest of the world simply had to make the best of it.
But presumption and egotism are only pejorative terms applied to beneficial conduct worthy of highest commendation - a far lovelier term for it is piety. Is there a virtue that does not leave itself open to terms of censure or in which certain contradictions, such as humility and arrogance, are not inherent? Piety is the privatization of the world as the story of one's self and one's salvation, and without the, yes, sometimes offensive conviction that one is the object of God's special, and indeed exclusive care, without the rearrangement that places oneself and one;s salvation at the center of all things, there is no piety - that is, in fact, what defines this very powerful virtue.
Its opposite is neglect of the self, its banishment to the indifferent periphery, from where no benefit for the world can come either. The man who does not think highly of himself will soon perish. Whoever thinks something of himself - as Abram did when he decided that he, and in him humankind, should serve only what is Most High - proves himself to be a demanding sort of person, true, but with that demand comes a blessing for many. This demonstrates the connection between the dignity of the self and the dignity of humankind. The demands of the human ego are of central importance as a precondition for the discovery of God, and only if - by failing to take itself seriously - humankind were utterly to perish, could both discoveries be lost together.
This proportion can be developed as follows: Privatization does not mean reduction, and placing a high value on the self in no way implies its isolation, that it cuts itself off and hardens itself against the universal, against what is outside and above a person, in short, against everything that extends beyond the self, but in which it solemnly celebrates its recognition of itself. If, in fact, piety is the unshakable certainty of the importance of the self, then solemn celebration is its extension, the means by which it flows into what is eternal, which then returns through it and in which it recognizes itself - which results in a loss of the self's closed-off singularity that not only does not detract from its dignity, not only is compatible with that dignity, but also enhances, indeed consecrates it.
But presumption and egotism are only pejorative terms applied to beneficial conduct worthy of highest commendation - a far lovelier term for it is piety. Is there a virtue that does not leave itself open to terms of censure or in which certain contradictions, such as humility and arrogance, are not inherent? Piety is the privatization of the world as the story of one's self and one's salvation, and without the, yes, sometimes offensive conviction that one is the object of God's special, and indeed exclusive care, without the rearrangement that places oneself and one;s salvation at the center of all things, there is no piety - that is, in fact, what defines this very powerful virtue.
Its opposite is neglect of the self, its banishment to the indifferent periphery, from where no benefit for the world can come either. The man who does not think highly of himself will soon perish. Whoever thinks something of himself - as Abram did when he decided that he, and in him humankind, should serve only what is Most High - proves himself to be a demanding sort of person, true, but with that demand comes a blessing for many. This demonstrates the connection between the dignity of the self and the dignity of humankind. The demands of the human ego are of central importance as a precondition for the discovery of God, and only if - by failing to take itself seriously - humankind were utterly to perish, could both discoveries be lost together.
This proportion can be developed as follows: Privatization does not mean reduction, and placing a high value on the self in no way implies its isolation, that it cuts itself off and hardens itself against the universal, against what is outside and above a person, in short, against everything that extends beyond the self, but in which it solemnly celebrates its recognition of itself. If, in fact, piety is the unshakable certainty of the importance of the self, then solemn celebration is its extension, the means by which it flows into what is eternal, which then returns through it and in which it recognizes itself - which results in a loss of the self's closed-off singularity that not only does not detract from its dignity, not only is compatible with that dignity, but also enhances, indeed consecrates it.
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