The Philosophical Optimist

"There are other forms of intelligence on Earth [than ‘people’], Doctor.” —Spock, Star Trek IV I have always been a cognitive pluralist—by prejudice, if not by conviction.   I never saw any reason to insist that mankind alone should possess consciousness to any significant degree.   Part of it has to be due to growing up in a church that, on account of its great respect for the scriptures, always acknowledged the existence of an unseen world of angels and demons, even if our general fear of all things Catholic led us to declare that the age of miracles—including angelic visions and demonic influences and exorcisms—was over.    I have since gotten over that fear, and no doubt one small reason for this was the second contributing factor to my cognitive pluralism: my second home in the world of pure imagination.   From Eternia to Tatooine, from Cybertron to Vulcan, from Asgard to Lothlorien—and yes, even the digital world of Automan —I spent so much time in worlds...

              Here is another essay I wrote as an example for my students some time ago.   It included for reference the lyrics to the song being considered in an appendix, but I’m sure anyone accessing this blog can also find the lyrics online with ease.   My goal here, as always, was to show that, popular culture, or classic literature, it matters not: the type of close reading of a text you learn in a literature class can enhance your enjoyment of just about whatever you find out there to read, see, or sing.             With the passing of Joe Diffie last year in the course of the Pandemic, this essay and the song it examines take on a new poignancy of meaning.   We Orthodox say of those who have passed on, “May his memory be eternal.”   Given the imagery of this song, let us envision a memorial flame, and let us say with the song, “Just let it burn...

              No doubt every writer has projects he begins—or thinks to begin—and then, for one reason or another, puts aside, only to return to them later.   This essay is one such project of mine.               I grew up a child of the Radical Reformation, a member of a church where the people refused to accept the label “Protestant,” calling themselves “Christians only.”   I knew much of my Bible, but little of what others who called themselves Christians believed.   This was especially true of any church that embraced the name “Catholic.”   Of those churches in particular, I knew very little, other than the fact that they were wrong.   When, in due time, my ignorance gave way to acquaintance, one of the things that most impressed me about Catholic Christianity was how the entire congregation recited the Nicene Creed at every mass, every l...