This chapter contains sections titled: Notes.

I critically respond to Scott A. Davison, Petitionary Prayer: A Philosophical Investigation. I attack his Contrastive Reasons Account of what it takes for a request to be answered and provide an alternative account on which a request is answered as long as it has deliberative weight for the person asked. I also raise issues with Davison’s dismissive treatment of direct divine communication. I then emphasize the importance of value theory for addressing the puzzles of petitionary prayer. Whether a (...) defense of petitionary prayer is successful depends on whether it can support the sort of requests that are central to the theological practices of the religion in question, explaining how they could be known to be effective, and this depends on the value theory of the theology in question. As an example, I show the relevance the traditional distinction between temporal and spiritual goods could have for knowing whether one’s prayers have been answered. How prayers could make a difference also depends on the theology in question, raising issues of ecclesiology and collective action that demand further attention. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Prayer for the BabyKatherine J. GoldWe didn’t talk much about religion in medical school. Rightly so, it seemed to me at the time. I didn’t know how or why it would fit in to my patient care other than respecting patients who used their faith as a coping strategy. I was not at all religious and didn’t like the thought of talking about such things with patients. (...) And in my clinical experiences, it rarely came up.When I got to my last year of school, I signed up to work for a month with an obstetrician–gynecologist in her outpatient clinic. I don’t recall how I met her but remember she was respected for her outpatient teaching so it seemed like it would be a good experience to work with her. (I’ll refer to her by a fictional name here.)“Call me Maria,” she told new patients, enveloping them in a warm, supportive style. They did, and I adjusted to her caring approach, shadowing her as we saw patients during pregnancy, those with abnormal uterine bleeding, patients with pelvic pain, others needing pelvic surgeries. It was an odd experience for me, six months pregnant myself, to be seeing other patients during their own pregnancies.One day, about a week in to my rotation, a couple came in together for an appointment two weeks after an early miscarriage. I watched Dr. Copeland (as a student I just couldn’t call my attending by her first name) give them a hug and we sat down. She asked how they were doing and they shared their story, tears flowing as the mother recounted her emotions over the last week and support from their friends. I had the impression that they attended the same church as Dr. Copeland from their conversation. At the end of the visit everyone stood up.“Shall we pray?” Dr. Copeland asked, and they all took hands. I edged back, away from their small circle, uncertain what to do. I had never seen prayer in medical practice and certainly not initiated by the doctor. Not being religious myself, I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t know the protocol. This was not a setting where I knew what to do. So I leaned [End Page 200] quietly against the wall, trying to be unobtrusive, feeling my baby kicking while I watched. All of them bowed their heads and Dr. Copeland said a brief prayer. I watched the mother as her shoulders relaxed. They said “amen” and squeezed hands and hugged one last time. I thought about that interaction for weeks afterwards. I was uncomfortable, but clearly the patients were not. If there were a role for religion in medicine, I reflected, this might be a place for it. It had been accepted by the family without hesitation, so somehow Dr. Copeland knew it would be alright. It had been used in a healing way.There were several other visits where Dr. Copeland prayed with patients. Sometimes she seemed to know them from her church; at other times, I wasn’t sure. But there never seemed to be a misstep—patients never seemed surprised or awkward with her approach. Did they choose her because of shared beliefs? Did she have a reputation of using faith in her practice and patients selected her for this reason? I wasn’t sure. But it was always the same. They would bow their heads and pray. I would stand back a little uncertainly, but the patients were always grateful and appreciative, thanking Maria by her first name as they left.As I spent more time with her, I looked for other ways that faith might impact Dr. Copeland’s practice and asked questions when I thought there might be relevance. I knew from others that she was opposed to abortion, though I never heard her talk about it openly and I was unsure how this might be manifest in her practice. I watched her prescribe birth control (I knew some religious physicians who did not). I watched her send a patient with a second trimester fetal death to the hospital to be induced for delivery. I wondered if someone... (shrink)

_Jokes, Life after Death, and God _has two main tasks: to try to understand exactly what a joke is, and to see whether there are any connections between jokes, on the one hand, and life after death and God, on the other hand. But it pursues other tasks as well, tasks of an ancillary sort. This book devises a general and comprehensive, but brief, theory of jokes. The author begins with critiques of other writers’ views on the subject. 1) Ted (...) Cohen thinks that such a theory is impossible. 2) Ronald Berk, on the other hand, provides just such a theory. And 3) John Morreall provides a general theory of laughter, which may include some things which can be used in a general theory of jokes. 4) Neil Schaeffer, too, provides a general theory of laughter, which makes a big point out of what he calls the “ludicrous context”; but he does include a chapter on jokes. 5) Christopher Wilson offers a general theory of jokes in which he focuses on form and content. And 6) Thomas Werge, in reflecting on the comic, suggests a general theory of jokes which identifies their matter, form, agents, purposes, and beyond these, the underlying shared relational context, which makes it possible for jokes to arise. 7) Bill Fuller’s message is that there is more funniness coming out of two or more heads than out of one, just as Socrates’ message was that there is more clarity coming out of two or more heads than out of one. 8) Umberto Eco feels that monks should laugh, just as ordinary people do; for laughter not only refreshes our seeking spirits, it also illuminates the truth we seek. 9) Simon Critchley, in his reflections on humor, notes that jokes bring on a kind of everyday anamnesis, that they are anti-story stories, that they are like prayers, that they are like philosophy; and that they require a certain underlying context, which is implicitly recognized by both teller and listener, and which renders possible the tension needed to make the punch line work. 10) Martha Wolfenstein, pursuing a psychological analysis of children’s humor, proposes that the underlying motive for telling jokes remains the same from childhood to adulthood, i.e., to transform painful and frustrating experiences so as to extract pleasure from them; and that the agent or productive cause of jokes is the repressing unconscious, as suggested by Freud. As John Morreall has argued, neither the Superiority Theory, nor the Relief Theory, nor the Incongruity Theory appears to work as a general and comprehensive theory. Moreover, these writers talk more about humor and laughter than about jokes. To be sure, a joke is a type of humor. Thus, to say something about humor is to say something, though of a generic sort, about jokes. Similarly, to say something about the laughter caused by humor is to say something, though generic, about the laughter caused by jokes. Most of the authors considered in chapter one are concerned with jokes, and not only with humor as such. Section 11 of chapter one puts together, out of the combined contributions of these authors, what can be considered the beginnings of, some thoughts toward, a general and comprehensive theory of jokes. This task the author illustrates in a concrete way, by looking at individual jokes of different sorts; not, however, without inviting the reader to enjoy these jokes. The author looks particularly at Jewish jokes, Christian jokes, and Islamic jokes, jokes about philosophy and philosophers, yo mama jokes, Italian jokes and Slovak jokes, all of which makes for a clearer understanding of exactly what a joke is. The analysis of general theory is then followed by some views on the morality of jokes and joke-telling, and an analysis of the connection between jokes and life after death, on the one hand, and God, on the other. Throughout the book Bobik offers innumerable examples to heighten our understanding and entertain us. (shrink)

All the religious traditions raise endless prayers for living aids, those spread all over human lives. Without the hope that in all our needs and trials we have ‘someone’ to second us, so powerful that can help us overcome anything that stands in our path (more accurate 'against our wish'), most religious traditions would not be given any consideration, for humans become religious mostly when falling into a trial of life. By this hope religiousness flourishes and religious offer develops. (...) Still, there is another way of considering prayer, one of spiritual becoming, diverse, and at the same time equally tender. It doesn’t offer goods, or aids, or anything specific, instead, it is professed by many spiritual persons that stood in the divine’s company. Theologians call it apophasis, spiritualists call it contemplation. Non-believers assert that the ‘responses’ of prayers followed by the ‘altering’ of reality is merely a mental projection, a Placebo effect of believing in prayer’s effect, or even just a mere coincidence. Either way, we need to learn prayer’s genuine significance and what it really provides. As for the subtitle, it is an allusion to the ancient game of Go whose main skill is to 'know' in advance tens, hundreds, or even infinite moving variables with their follow-ups, so you can be prepared and have a prepared answer every time to any move the teammate would make. (shrink)

Many contemporary philosophers assume that, before one can discuss prayer, the question of whether there is a God or not must be settled. In this title, first published in 1965, D. Z. Phillips argues that to understand prayer is to understand what is meant by the reality of God. Beginning by placing the problem of prayer within a philosophical context, Phillips goes on to discuss such topics as prayer and the concept of talking, prayer and (...) dependence, superstition and the concept of community. This is a fascinating reissue that will be of particular value to students with an interest in the philosophy of religion, prayer and religious studies more generally. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 22 (2002) 101-104 [Access article in PDF] A Christian Response to Buddhist Reflections on Prayer Donald W. Mitchell Purdue University In his essay, Kenneth K. Tanaka considers two important elements of Christian prayer when he presents young Megan praying. First is the petitionary element of her prayer, and second is the relational element. Saint John Damascene expresses these same two dimensions in his classical (...) definition of Christian prayer: "Prayer is the raising of one's mind and heart to God, or the requesting of good things from God." 1 This movement of the mind and heart to God makes Christian prayer a living relationship that is itself a gift of God through Christ. The "heart" of a person is that hidden center in which Christ resides and from where his spirit moves both heart and mind toward God in a relation of love and devotion. As Saint Thérèse of Lisieux puts it, "For me, prayer is a surge of the heart... it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy." 2 One responds to trials, one's own or those of others, with prayers of petition or intercession; and to joys or blessings with prayers of adoration, praise and thanksgiving. In all cases, the prayers are the dynamics of a person's relationship with God, where God is both ultimate source and object of the prayers.Tanaka also makes two comments about Christian prayer in its public forms. First, he questions the appropriateness of public prayers for civic leaders or for teams at athletic events. Does God choose to aid only some political leaders or nations, or choose sides in athletic games? Though I may feel that God must prefer my son's Little League team, or at least Notre Dame football for heaven's sake, certainly God loves and cares for everyone. Perhaps Tanaka's final characterization of Christian prayer is helpful here: "conversational, personal and hopeful." In a public event, one expresses in prayer one's hope, while understanding that God's providence embraces everyone in ways that are larger than one can comprehend.In the essay by Taitetsu Unno on the Jesus Prayer and Nembutsu, the question of dualism and both the initiative and the consequence of prayer is addressed. Unno points out that according to the Jesus Prayer tradition in Eastern Orthodoxy, the initiative of the prayer is from God, much like the intoning of Nembutsu arising from the Vow of Great Compassion. Here, as in Saint Thérèse's "surge of the heart," the ultimate subject and object of prayer are the same. Unno points out that the consequence [End Page 101] of such a Christian prayer is a sense that the world is infused with the presence of God in a way that is similar to finding the Land of Bliss everywhere. Indeed, I would add that this similarity applies to more than just the Jesus Prayer. Saint Teresa of Avila refers to a prayer experience that is not uncommon in mature Christian spirituality "in which is revealed to the soul how all things are in God, and how within himself he contains them all." 3After presenting these similarities between the Jesus Prayer and Nembutsu, Unno raises what he sees as a fundamental difference: the treatment of sin, blind passions, and ignorance. Unno quotes a Christian Orthodox text that calls for the utter rejection of sin and evil, and depicts grace as entering the soul and driving evil outside. Unno then says, "To negate evil, sin, and death means to deny a part of one's reality; to affirm them through transformation means to make one's life complete and whole." The latter approach is, for Unno, key to the spirituality of Shinran and Shin Buddhism. I would like to make two comments here. First, it is unclear as to what Unno is saying about the Shin approach to evil. How can one transform evil into its opposite without evil being "nullified and eradicated"? When the "ice" of one's passions melt into the... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Causality of Prayer and the Execution of Predestination in Thomas AquinasStephen L. BrockIntroduction: The Question of the Reasonableness of Petitionary PrayerIn a lucid and witty essay published in 1945, C. S. Lewis addressed a common objection to the practice of petitionary prayer.1 This practice is not confined to Christianity, of course, but at least in relation to the Christian conception of the deity, it can seem (...) to make little sense. The problem is simple. If God is all-wise and all-good, what is the point of asking him for things? He is already perfectly aware of our true needs, and he already wants to provide for them. Many of our requests are ignorant and misguided, and the others, it seems, will be at best superfluous. Nevertheless, as Lewis observes, petitionary prayer is part of the whole Christian tradition. Jesus himself practiced it, urged his followers to do so, and taught them how. Lewis wanted to explain that the real purpose of the practice is not to inform God of our needs or to twist his arm. Rather, petitionary prayer functions as a kind of cause, a way of bringing things about. It does so by divine institution and as a kind of share in God's own causality. And so understood, it makes perfect sense. I think Lewis is right about this.Another matter, however, is Lewis's particular way of conceiving the causality of petitionary prayer, especially as to its relation to God's own causality and care for the world. I grant that his conception is quite [End Page 15] straightforward and clear, and that it even has a strong initial plausibility. Indeed, I suspect that it gives voice to the way in which many thoughtful people who pray for things conceive of what they are doing. This is why, even though it is not the main focus of the present essay, I think that it serves as a good way of entering to the topic. But I do hope to show that it contains some serious problems.In what follows, I shall first set out Lewis's answer to the question of the reasonableness of petitionary prayer. Then I shall raise one of the problems that I think it faces. This has to do with another attribute that has traditionally been ascribed to the Christian God; namely, omniscience, the knowledge of all things, including all temporal events, past, present, and future. In the essay on prayer, Lewis does not address this problem. But from things that he says elsewhere about temporal events and how God knows them, I think we can gather how he would have solved it.Rather than evaluating this solution myself, I shall turn next to another twentieth-century British thinker, the philosopher Peter Geach. Although Geach agrees with Lewis in ascribing a causal function to petitionary prayer, Geach's way of understanding temporal events and God's knowledge of them contrasts sharply with Lewis's. In fact, Geach argues—I think persuasively—that a position like Lewis's actually ends up making petitionary prayer unable to function as a cause, and therefore renders it pointless. At the same time, however, Geach's own account of how petitionary prayer fits into God's overall plan has something very important in common with Lewis's. And in my opinion, what they have in common is very problematic.This will bring me to my main theme, which is Thomas Aquinas's view of the matter. Like Lewis and Geach, Thomas does regard petitionary prayer as a divinely instituted way of causing things. On their temporal status, his position is similar to Geach's. But on how prayer and its effects fall under God's providential plan, Thomas differs greatly from both authors. I find his account far more satisfactory. Unfortunately, it is also considerably more complicated and philosophically challenging, and my presentation of it will have to be correspondingly longer.The distinctive features of Thomas's view mostly pertain to the metaphysics of divine transcendence. My main task will be to show how, in his account, the full determinacy of God's eternal plan, including that part of it called... (shrink)

In this paper, we propose to analyze the phenomenon of Christian prayer by way of combining two different analytical frameworks. We start by applying Schutz’s theories of “intersubjectivity,” “inner time,” “politheticality,” and “multiple realities,” and then proceed by drawing on the ideas and insights of linguistic philosophers, notably, Wittgenstein’s “language-game,” Austin’s “speech act,” and Evans’s “logic of self-involvement”. In conjoining these accounts, we wish to demonstrate how their combination sheds new light on understanding the phenomenon of prayer. (...) class='Hi'>Prayer is a complex phenomenon that involves two major dimensions: the private and the social, as Matthew and Acts, respectively, demonstrate. Schutz’s study of the phenomenon of “inner time” and the “polithetical” structure of consciousness, at both the subjective and intersubjective level, provides a useful lens to analyze these two dimensions. In addition, prayer, in following a specific set of rules, can also be considered as a specific, i.e., religious “language-game”. In the last analysis, however, we propose to analyze prayer within the Schutzian framework of “multiple realities,” “enclaves,” and “symbolic appresentation,” which permits accessing the “religious finite province of meaning” in the very midst of the paramount reality of everyday life. In a nutshell, we claim that Christian prayer is a practice of constructing and living within a “religious province of meaning” in the everyday world; it is a practice that revolves around self-involving language-activities such as praising, confessing, thanksgiving, or requesting to God, which enable the praying subject to transfigure the language of everydayness and “see through” the world of everyday life in order to let it appear in a different light, e.g., the light of grace, gift, and salvation. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist and Catholic Monks Talk about CelibacyThomas Ryan, CSPThe electronic sign at the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport was flashing "Orange Alert" as a dozen Buddhist monks arrived in their burnt orange robes from around the country for three days of dialogue on celibacy with a similar number of Catholic monastics come together from various monasteries at St. John's Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota. As he opened the October 26–29, 2006, meeting, (...) Rev. William Skudlarek, executive director of Monastic Interreligious Dialogue (MID), said, "You (Buddhists) have been at this for some five-to-seven hundred years longer than we have. We have something to learn."This was the second Monks in the West interreligious dialogue. The first took place in 2004 at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas in northern California. On the Catholic side, the participants came from the Benedictine, Cistercian, and Camaldolese monasteries. On the Buddhist side, they came from the Theravada, Mahayana, and Tibetan traditions. Through the event, participants began the day with an hour of quiet sitting in meditation and joined the monastic community at St. John's for their rhythm of daily prayer.The first session dealt with theory, the "why" of celibacy. Buddhist participants explained that their teachings focus on seeing how suffering is created and cured. Attachments give rise to suffering, so advancement in the spiritual life requires letting go of one's attachments. Attachment to desires, among which are sexual desires, is a hindrance to spiritual progress. "Raging desire takes away choice, freedom," said Rev. Kusala Bhikshu, a Buddhist chaplain at UCLA, in his opening presentation. "The senses must be controlled in order to be free."Brother Gregory Perron from St. Procopius monastery in Indiana spoke of how monastic life demands a profound understanding and acceptance of solitude. "Celibacy is a tool," offered Perron, "a skillful means like intentional simplicity of life, by which our heart is burrowed out and the core of our being laid bare. By embracing it, the monk accepts the aloneness that characterizes every human being."In response to Buddhist reflections on the illusory nature of the body, Catholic participants pointed out Christianity's remarkably positive evaluation of the [End Page 143] body in the doctrines of the Incarnation, the bodily Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Both sides acknowledged balancing points of reference as well, such as, in Christianity, Paul's "Who will rescue me from this body of death?" (Rom 7:24). Though humankind ranks eighth from the bottom in Buddhism's thirty-two-realm cosmology, that level is the only one where spiritual growth can happen. Thus human form is in the end praised by the Buddha.In the second session, the participants moved from theory to practice. Rev. Jisho Perry from the Shasta Buddhist Abbey in California said that "the whole thrust of training is not to give in to desire that arises." He described the Buddhist method of accepting sexual feelings without either acting on them or repressing them, but just letting them pass through. "The right use of will is willingness, not willpower—the willingness to sit there and let that feeling pass through," he said.Fr. Skudlarek expressed appreciation for this Buddhist approach to transforming the sexual energy. "I never got a sense in our training of accepting the feeling with awareness and letting it pass without acting on it. You had to fight it! And the more you resisted, the stronger it got!"Rev. Heng Sure, who teaches at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, presented celibacy as the first step in a three-step process that goes from celibacy to stillness to insight. "It should not be seen just as a difficult adjunct to the spiritual path, but as essential to it," he said. The practice of meditation represents daily periods when the senses are stilled and not allowed to pursue sense objects. "Something happens to the energy in the stillness; the pressure goes away." In married life, he explained, spiritual practice is "partial and piecemeal," making celibacy a more effective means to move toward insight and the peace and happiness that flow from it. In the discussion, Benedictine Fr. Mark... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Christians Talk About Buddhist Meditation; Buddhists Talk About Christian PrayerSarah K. PinnockChristians Talk About Buddhist Meditation; Buddhists Talk About Christian Prayer. Edited by Rita M. Gross and Terry C. Muck. London: Continuum, 2003. 157 pp.It is popularly assumed that meditation enhances well-being and relieves stress. In the West, Asian practices are taught to persons from mainly Christian and Jewish backgrounds as new forms of spirituality, often (...) presented as dramatically different from monotheistic traditions. Yet some practitioners consider meditation and other forms of Asian spirituality as enhancing rather than replacing worship of God.This book presents essays by twelve authors that explore similarities and differences between Buddhist meditation and Christian prayer. The book reprints pieces that originally appeared in the journal Buddhist-Christian Studies in 2001 and 2002. It is thoroughly dialogical in format. Part 1 contains five Christian reflections on Buddhist spiritual practice followed by two Buddhist responses, while part 2 consists of five Buddhist reflections on Christian spiritual practice with two Christian responses. Many of the contributors are connected with the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies. Importantly, they combine academic and experiential knowledge of the two religions. The collection is framed by an introduction by Terry Muck and a conclusion by Rita Gross, the book's editors, who are Christian and Buddhist practitioners, respectively. The symmetry of the chapter layout is pleasing and apt.Sociologically, the major impetus for this dialogue is the fact that a growing number of Christians have found Buddhist meditation fruitful. However, these Christians have not left behind their original religious identification. As they interact with Buddhists, dialogue has emerged comparing the two traditions. Clearly for Christians practicing some Buddhism, the emphasis is on mutual appreciation and commonality. To examine the motivation for interreligious dialogue, it is fitting to ask, whose interests does the dialogue serve? First and foremost, the interests are Christian. While Christian authors have gained from Buddhist spiritual practice, Buddhists have not adapted Christian prayer techniques in return. But although the genealogy of dialogue has Christian origins, the editors intend to take a neutral approach. They frame the topic broadly and invite [End Page 204] contributors to remark on any facet of the other tradition, including critical points.In part 1, Frances Adeney, Mary Frohlich, Paul Ingram, Terry Muck, and Bardwell Smith express how aspects of Buddhist meditation have enriched their Christian spirituality. Adeney learned techniques of Buddhist silent meditation from a Jesuit priest in Indonesia that enable heightened awareness of God's presence. Frohlich belongs to a Catholic religious order for women and finds Buddhism helpful for developing discipline in prayer. For Ingram, Buddhist meditation is one ingredient in a spiritual journey focused on social liberation and discovering God's presence. Muck has found reflection on Theravada teaching about morality (sila) to be an impetus to overcome the theological dichotomy between faith and works and to develop the importance of spiritual readiness that cuts across religious traditions. Smith's participation in interfaith pilgrimage and meditation illustrates the spiritual discipline that Buddhism offers.There are many overlapping insights among these chapters that Grace Burford helpfully summarizes in her response essay: first, Buddhist practice can confirm aspects of Christian practice, such as silent prayer; second, the encounter with Buddhism can lead Christians to uncover untapped streams within Christianity, especially monastic and mystical traditions; third, Buddhism can offer unique new techniques to Christians, such as zazen, which provide rigor in developing mental concentration. Christian appreciation of Buddhism blurs religious boundaries but never requires abandonment of church or creed. Robert Thurman's response concludes with a comment on the postmodern insecurity about boundaries, and praises these Christian authors for resisting the hardening of religious identities. He reminds readers of the Dalai Lama's exhortation that conversion to Buddhism is not generally the best option for non-Buddhists drawn to his Tibetan tradition. Rather, he advises taking what seems good in Buddhism to enrich one's original religion, thus remaining integrated with family members, communities, and local customs.In part 2, the contributions of Buddhist authors display more academic distance because of the fact that the authors are not engaged in Christian practices in their Buddhist lives. But the essays... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist and Catholic Monks Talk about CelibacyThomas Ryan, CSPThe electronic sign at the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport was flashing "Orange Alert" as a dozen Buddhist monks arrived in their burnt orange robes from around the country for three days of dialogue on celibacy with a similar number of Catholic monastics come together from various monasteries at St. John's Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota. As he opened the October 26–29, 2006, meeting, (...) Rev. William Skudlarek, executive director of Monastic Interreligious Dialogue (MID), said, "You (Buddhists) have been at this for some five-to-seven hundred years longer than we have. We have something to learn."This was the second Monks in the West interreligious dialogue. The first took place in 2004 at the City of Ten Thousand Buddhas in northern California. On the Catholic side, the participants came from the Benedictine, Cistercian, and Camaldolese monasteries. On the Buddhist side, they came from the Theravada, Mahayana, and Tibetan traditions. Through the event, participants began the day with an hour of quiet sitting in meditation and joined the monastic community at St. John's for their rhythm of daily prayer.The first session dealt with theory, the "why" of celibacy. Buddhist participants explained that their teachings focus on seeing how suffering is created and cured. Attachments give rise to suffering, so advancement in the spiritual life requires letting go of one's attachments. Attachment to desires, among which are sexual desires, is a hindrance to spiritual progress. "Raging desire takes away choice, freedom," said Rev. Kusala Bhikshu, a Buddhist chaplain at UCLA, in his opening presentation. "The senses must be controlled in order to be free."Brother Gregory Perron from St. Procopius monastery in Indiana spoke of how monastic life demands a profound understanding and acceptance of solitude. "Celibacy is a tool," offered Perron, "a skillful means like intentional simplicity of life, by which our heart is burrowed out and the core of our being laid bare. By embracing it, the monk accepts the aloneness that characterizes every human being."In response to Buddhist reflections on the illusory nature of the body, Catholic participants pointed out Christianity's remarkably positive evaluation of the [End Page 143] body in the doctrines of the Incarnation, the bodily Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Both sides acknowledged balancing points of reference as well, such as, in Christianity, Paul's "Who will rescue me from this body of death?" (Rom 7:24). Though humankind ranks eighth from the bottom in Buddhism's thirty-two-realm cosmology, that level is the only one where spiritual growth can happen. Thus human form is in the end praised by the Buddha.In the second session, the participants moved from theory to practice. Rev. Jisho Perry from the Shasta Buddhist Abbey in California said that "the whole thrust of training is not to give in to desire that arises." He described the Buddhist method of accepting sexual feelings without either acting on them or repressing them, but just letting them pass through. "The right use of will is willingness, not willpower—the willingness to sit there and let that feeling pass through," he said.Fr. Skudlarek expressed appreciation for this Buddhist approach to transforming the sexual energy. "I never got a sense in our training of accepting the feeling with awareness and letting it pass without acting on it. You had to fight it! And the more you resisted, the stronger it got!"Rev. Heng Sure, who teaches at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, presented celibacy as the first step in a three-step process that goes from celibacy to stillness to insight. "It should not be seen just as a difficult adjunct to the spiritual path, but as essential to it," he said. The practice of meditation represents daily periods when the senses are stilled and not allowed to pursue sense objects. "Something happens to the energy in the stillness; the pressure goes away." In married life, he explained, spiritual practice is "partial and piecemeal," making celibacy a more effective means to move toward insight and the peace and happiness that flow from it. In the discussion, Benedictine Fr. Mark... (shrink)

At a time of acute danger, people commonly petition God for help for themselves or their loved ones; such as praying that an avalanche heading in one's direction be diverted, or that an organ donor be found for one's dying child. Such prayer seems natural and, indeed, for believers, reasonable and acceptable. It seems perverse to condemn such typical prayer, as wrong. But once we closely examine what is actually happening in such situations, we shall see that frequently (...) prayer of this sort is morally problematic. I argue that such prayer ought to be seen as a form of action (rather than, say, mere hope), thereby needing to meet the higher moral standards that apply to actions; and that the assumption of the benevolence of the deity does not suffice to make such prayer legitimate. (shrink)

When considering the role of prayer in the lives of believers, most theists agree that one important effect is the psychological impact on the person who is praying. Nevertheless, the way many of us pray, by primarily or solely focusing on our welfare and the welfare of our loved ones, agitates the human tendency towards exclusion. If we take seriously God’s commandment to love the neighbor as the self, we should use prayer, instead, as a prime opportunity to (...) help cultivate a moral character that embraces more inclusion. In this paper, I use Søren Kierkegaard’s Works of Love as a framework for working towards this more inclusive view of prayer—one that widens our moral circle and awareness to include all human beings, and not just the select ones we have chosen to prefer above all others. It does not follow that we are prohibited from praying for our own welfare or the welfare of our loved ones, but it does mean that using prayer in a way that only (or primarily) shows concern for those whom we prefer is morally problematic. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Some Aspects of Christian Mystical Rhetoric, Philosophy, and PoetryRyan J. StarkThis is an article about poets and poetic philosophers who make spirited arguments. My purpose in particular is to clarify the nature of mystical rhetoric, which needs to be distinguished from secular rhetoric (i.e., “secular” as nonspiritual). As ways of existing in language, they are ontologically incommensurable, and we should treat them as such. Mystical rhetoric is that into (...) which Spirit enters, conveying to both writer and reader some aspect of providential kairos that cannot otherwise be attained. That is, God completes mystical inferences. God participates, illuminating the hearts of those who open themselves to grace through faith. Or, in other words, writers and readers who want to enter into numinous arguments must shelve the hermeneutics of suspicion. An overly critical stance actually diminishes the possibility of insight, even if it is well intended, much like nervous backseat driving, which—though aimed at producing safety—inevitably works against it. I am not suggesting, however, that skeptics are at a complete loss when approaching mystical rhetorical situations. Rather, they simply do not grasp the metaphysical, enchanted, or occult dimensions of the discourses at work, because they have closed themselves off to Spirit or—more commonly—have attempted to transmogrify Spirit into secular concepts, which distorts spirited language and leads to mischaracterizations of religious experience.1 In contrast, I provide a Christian approach to [End Page 260] mystical rhetoric, one that neither discounts nor sidesteps the real presence of the supernatural.Inspired Rhetoric and HermeneuticsFuror poeticus is a key element of mystical persuasion. The phrase literally means “poetical fury,” and the idea behind it in a Christian framework is that the Holy Spirit aids writers in creating imaginative texts (e.g., sonnets, sermons, essays, novels, blogs, etc.) or, in pernicious instances, demons aid writers.2 In either case, a mysterious force helps the author to compose. Moreover, furor touches readers or listeners, a point seldom emphasized but nonetheless central to this sublime practice of composition. Inspired writing requires inspired reading: furor poeticus needs furor lectoris.3 The Spirit aids readers in understanding mystical rhetoric, as long as those readers participate earnestly in the discourse. John Milton (1674, 7.31), for example, famously envisions such a “fit audience” in the third invocation to the Muse in Paradise Lost (i.e., the “great Argument”), where he calls on the reader for hermeneutical verve, a spirited reading to complement his enthusiastic writing. Søren Kierkegaard also writes to an audience capable of spiritually minded hermeneutics, allowing him to perform various edifying dissimulations through pseudonyms: the despairing aesthete, the unscrupulous seducer, the rigid moralist, and so forth. These inspired writers expect believing readers to contribute to their works, to complete their disputations, in fact, through spirited exegesis. Their methods of composition demand it, which is to say that writers touched by furor leave little room in their arguments for the sustainable disposition of the uninspired reader.Cicero explains spirited rhetoric and hermeneutics in De divinatione, where Quintus talks about how inspired readers experience the same type of furor as inspired writers, seers, and prophets: “Men capable of correctly interpreting all these signs of the future seem to approach very near the divine spirit of the gods whose will they interpret, just as scholars do when they interpret the poets” (1938, 226). Scholarship, in other words, is capable of tapping into mystical energy, making the scholars as prophetic as the vates on which they write. In the second book of On Christian Doctrine (1958, 75–78), Augustine also explains the importance of mystical exegesis as a form of prophecy, where sincere readers undergo the same type of inspiration as mystical writers. For Augustine, spirited reading begins with prayer and ends with revelation. In both accounts of furor, Cicero’s and Augustine’s, [End Page 261] the inspired audience and the inspired writer together experience rapture, a divine vision or illumination, which is precisely the type of communion that occurs during mystical discourses.4Still, the idea of seeking communion with God is potentially unsettling. The notion produces anxieties of psychosis, possession, and self-erasure. Plato famously expresses such concerns in Ion, for example... (shrink)

Travellers on the N4 highway just east of Pretoria can see evidence of a sacred spring next to the road with pilgrims moving around the landscape and collecting water. This research explored this place – called ‘En Four’ by some – and described visits and conversations had at the site in 2024. The first part of the research narrated the encounters and recorded the local and anecdotal knowledge shared by pilgrims and visitors. The research then analysed the religious significance of (...) the water-based rituals using Rodney Stark’s religion-sociological theory of religion: it identified evidence of magic, prayer, ritual and mysticism. Finally, a number of findings considered the use, value and care of water at this religious site: En Four offers various religious experiences, contributes to mental and physical health and may enhance social cohesion and understanding.Contribution: This research recorded an important, but still undocumented, religious site, as well as the activities and rituals enacted at this place. It interpreted the African water-rituals uniquely from a religion-sociological perspective, also indicating its significance for both individuals and society. This contributed to an interreligious dialogue on, and reappreciation of water as being holy and transformative. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:An Encounter with the Art and Science of MedicineAnonymous Five“Let Nothing Upset YouLet Nothing Frighten YouEverything is ChangingOnly God is Changeless”—St. Theresa of AvilaSt. Teresa’s prayer is on the front cover of each of four binders dedicated to storing insurance authorizations, studies, references, and reports about our daughter’s brain tumor treatment. They represent our experience, what we learned, the information we were given, and the information we sought (...) out. I kept them in case our daughter ever wanted to understand how my husband and I arrived at a decision for her treatment that was in direct opposition to the strong recommendation of her primary treatment team of physicians.On December 10, 2003, I received an urgent call from our daughter’s neurologist requesting that we meet with the doctor late that afternoon. For six months prior to that appointment, our daughter had been telling us about odd sensations with breathing, nausea, and balance. Sometimes she would seem extremely distressed for a short period of time or report that her friends told her about doing or saying things that didn’t make sense and that she didn’t remember. We consulted a series of physicians as her symptoms became steadily more intense and more prevalent. Our family practice physician referred us to an allergy specialist and a pulmonologist. There were a number of tests for allergies and lung problems. As the tests and treatments did not help, our daughter became increasingly unwilling to go to doctor’s appointments. My husband and I were confused and deeply concerned about the lack of progress. The next series of referrals included a gastroenterologist and a neurologist. The gastroenterologist suggested our daughter had partial–complex epilepsy, concurred with our plan to see a neurologist, and mentioned she should have an MRI.I remember the neurologist putting the MRI scans up, pointing to the large dark spot which he called a “large mass” (5 cm), that could be either a cluster of blood vessels or a neoplasm. He said his office had arranged for us to meet a neurosurgeon the following day. We all remember the same thing about that visit—the image of the large dark mass on the scan—and the neurologists flat, brisk tone. We met with the neuro-surgeon the next day. Her team was kind and sympathetic—she was positive, up beat and direct. She did not think this mass was blood vessels. She thought it was a large tumor that needed to be removed right away. Our daughters surgery was scheduled for the following Friday—December 19, 2003. She had turned 15 on November 5.Four and a half hours after our daughter was wheeled into the operating room, her surgeon told us they had removed 98% of the tumor. She said there was no cure, but there was a good prognosis based on the surgical outcome. Several days later, she called us and said she had more data, and it looked like the resection was closer to 90%. The first pathology report, a “first impression” directly after surgery, described our daughter’s tumor as an astrocytoma, probably high grade. Three weeks after surgery, we met with a panel of doctors—two oncologists and radiologist—who explained that based on the final pathology report, our daughter’s tumor was classified as an ependymoma, grade 2. We were dismayed. First, there had been the change in the estimated success of the resection and now a complete shift in both grade and tumor type.The team recommended radiation to follow her surgery, which they said was standard treatment. We began to try to inform ourselves about her tumor. Her father, an agronomist, did an extensive search in PubMed to evaluate and sort through the literature on low–grade gliomas and radiation. What he could find was inconclusive and grim. Most reports in the literature suggested at best delayed mortality at five years after radiation. [End Page E7] Meanwhile, our daughter went through a spinal MRI and the preparatory “fitting” of the mask to immobilize her head during radiation.E7I consulted with a friend who had worked as an EKG tech. She urged... (shrink)

The II. constitutional period is a period of renewal in many areas. Political, social and educational changes also had influences in the field of religious education. One of the examples of these changes is the ʻAmelī I҆lmiḥal textbook written by Halim Sabit (DOD. 1946) in five volumes for both teachers and student. This study particularly aims to assess this textbook in terms of religious education. Accordingly, the following questions are addressed: “What are the topics covered in the ilmihal books written (...) for students and teachers? Is the content of the subjects taught appropriate for the religious education? Which methods, techniques, and essential matters are discussed in the ilmihal books for teachers? As having first grade elementary school textbooks for both teachers and students, the research is made just based on these books. Data were collected through the examination of the document, and the texts in Ottoman Turkish were transcribed into Turkish. Content analysis method was used in the analysis of the data. By examining both books, this study shows that belief, worship, and social issues were taught, and prayers and sūras were addressed as need to be memorized knowledge in the book. The books included inappropriate contents for first grade children regarding the belief issues such as fear of Allah, hell, and the hereafter. Summary: Education I҅lmiḥal, occupies an important place in the history of Islamic religious education. According to the religion of both adults and children to learn the principles of faith and worship, it is aimed to shape the daily life. In this context, for example, during the Ottoman period, In the period of II. Mahmut, boys were required to attend the primary school. Thus, it was ensured that children could learn I҅lmiḥal and Islamic sharia properly. Children are taught alif ba for Qurʾān readings in primary schools, as simple as required by religious duties, writing skills have been acquired and the four processing rules are memorized. The II. constitutional period is a period of renewal in many areas. Extreme innovative thinking is also reflected in education. Especially after the Balkan wars, the idea that the collapsing state would be saved through education was dominant. For the first time, a higher education institution for girls and a kindergarten for young children were opened. By recognizing the importance of pedagogy knowledge in teaching, the students have switched to a system where they can search for observation and experiment. Innovations in educational methods have started to be seen. It was seriously opposed to memorization, and the question and answer was seen as old methods. Instead, it was proposed to use sightseeing observation and discovery. Political, social and educational changes are also reflected in the field of religious education. As a reflection of the newly introduced methods, there have been changes in the ʻAmelī I҆lmiḥal books prepared for children. One of the examples of this is the ʻAmelī ʻIlmiḥal textbook, which was written by Halim Sabit in five volumes. This ʻAmelī I҆lmiḥal was prepared in 5 volumes for teachers and students.The main purpose of this study is to evaluate ʻAmelī I҆lmiḥal textbook in terms of religious education This study particularly aims to assess this textbook in terms of reigious education. Accordingly, the following questions are addressed: “What are the topics covered in the ilmihal books written for students and teachers? Is the content of the subjects taught appropriate for the religious education? Which methods, techniques, and essential matters are discussed in the ilmihal books for teachers? As having first grade elementary school textbooks for both teachers and students, the research is made just based on these books. Data were collected through the examination of the document, and the texts in Ottoman Turkish were transcribed into Turkish. The textbook prepared for the students of the first year consists of 21 boards/sheets. The sentences are quite self and short. The contents of the board/sheet are well suited to be discussed and explained. There are no headlines on the boards/sheets. The language of text is Ottoman. It is possible to express the topics covered in the book under the following themes:Prayer and Sūras: Basmala, Kalima Tawḥīd, Kalima Shahāda, Fātiḥa, Subḥana Rabbiyal Aʿala, Subhana rabbiyal ʿAẓim, As-salāmu ʿalaykum va Raḥmatullah, Taḥiyyat, Salawat Sharif, Iḥlas, Kawthar, Subḥanaka Prayer, Qunut Prayers.Faith Issues: Allāh, the fear of Allāh, thanks to Allāh, the Qurʾān, Prophets, Prophet Muḥammad, The Hereafter, Heaven Hell, Angels.ʿIbādat Issues: Zakāt, Ablution, Prayer, Adhān, worship in General (Salāt, Ṣawm, Zakāt, Ḥajj)Social Issues: Friendship, affection for minors, affection for parents, Muslims are Brother, human love, respect for the elderly, respect for scholars.The textbook prepared for the teachers of the first year; consists of 21 pages, 69 pages and Ottoman. As the students do not include the topics in the textbook, it is appropriate to mention the names of the subjects in the textbook of the teacher:1. Subject: Memorization of the Word of Tawḥīd and word of Shahāda; 2. Topic: Raising ideas about the nation in children; 3. Subject: The adjectives of Allāh Almighty; 4. Subject: Love of Allāh; 5. Subject: Angels; 6. Subject: The Divine Books; 7. Subject: Prophets 8. Subject: The Hereafter; 9. Subject: Thank Allāh; 10. Subject: Repentance; 11. Topic: Protecting the language from bad words and threats; 12. Subject: Zakāt and charity; 13. Subject: Riya҆ and his goodness engrave; 14. Subject: Love to the prophet Muḥammad; 15. Subject: Parental love; 16. Subject: The brotherhood of Islam; Subject: Human love; 18. Subject: Ablution; Subject: Prayer; 20. Subject: Respect for the elderly; 21. Subject: Love to ʿulamāʾ; 22. Subject: Fear of Allāh.Halim Sabit also gave information about the methods and techniques to be used in the course and emphasized that the teacher told his / her not by looking at the book. He thought it would be only influence the student in this way. It is recommended to use the appropriate language for the child, to make an introduction in the subjects that will be learned in the new subjects and to draw attention to the subject and to teach the subject gradually. An important advice is the knowledge that the teacher wants him / her to do in the long-term memory in the present sense. The teacher must repeat a subject several times while teaching a subject, and should not immediately remind a student of forgotten subjects, talk to a student and has finded to him. A subject should not be passed without being thoroughly understood, and the classroom needs to be opened by the teacher in order not to forget the learned subjects. The first fifteen minutes of each course should be reserved for the repetition of previously learned subjects. Content analysis method was used in the analysis of the data. By examining both books, this study shows that belief, worship, and social issues were taught, and prayers and sūras were addressed as need to be memorized knowledge in the book. The books included inappropriate contents for first grade children regarding the belief issues such as fear of Allah, hell, and the hereafter. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Prayer in Greek ReligionFrances Hickson–HahnSimon Pulleyn. Prayer in Greek Religion. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. xvi + 245 pp. Cloth, $75.The study of prayer in ancient Greece faces rather daunting obstacles. Only four brief texts remain which scholars agree may represent authentic examples of cultic prayer: the twoword prayer of Eleusinian initiates, the Athenian [End Page 632] prayer to Zeus for rain, a (...) prayer to Demeter for the barley sheaf, and the dithyramb of Elis, for a grand total of forty words. In addition, there are three fifth–century hymns from Epidaurus, a form not universally agreed to be prayer. In the area of epigraphic evidence, the largest body of prayer–like addresses derives from curse tablets which mostly postdate the classical period and which arguably belong not to the study of religion but to that of magic. Votive inscriptions, while plentiful, are rarely in prayer form. Thus, of necessity, the scholar is largely dependent on literary evidence, most of which is poetic.Thus it is a challenging task which Simon Pulleyn took on in this revised version of his doctoral thesis: to describe and interpret the mentality of all types of prayer in archaic and classical Greece in a relatively slight volume (216 pages plus appendices, etc.). The resulting monograph, "the first book–length study of Greek prayer to appear in English" (jacket), will prove a useful introduction to the body of evidence and major lines of research on Greek prayer. His work will be especially welcome to those not competent in the ancient languages, for Pulleyn translates all of the prayers proffered as examples, as well as modern foreign–language quotations. He also includes a brief glossary of fifteen Greek words especially important in the study of prayers. While he quotes an abundance of illustrative prayers, both literary and epigraphic, and devotes considerable space to lexicographic discussions, nevertheless he produces a quite readable text.Rejecting the broader definition of prayer as any address or appeal to supernatural powers, used by Aubriot–Sevin (Prière et conceptions religieuses en Grèce ancienne, Lyon, 1992), Pulleyn defines Greek prayers as "articulate requests directed toward the gods" and proposes a four–part classification of (1) prayers based on ξενία (2) curses (), (3) entreaties (λιταί), and (4) supplications ().While there is considerable ancient evidence to support the association of prayer with petition, such a narrow description leaves in limbo other types of address to the gods, such as thanksgivings and greetings, which are too important to be left out of this or any comprehensive study of prayer. And so Pulleyn is forced to devote much space to the discussion of material which he does not technically consider prayer. In fact, he himself varies between the technical use of the term "prayer" and the more common modern definition, a practice which naturally leads to some confusion. On occasion, he resorts to the term "prayer–like" to describe nonpetitionary addresses to gods.Perhaps the reason for this emphasis on petition is the author's main thesis that is the primary characteristic of the relationship between the ancient Greeks and their gods, and thus of prayer as well. Pulleyn explains thus: "it refers to a whole nexus of related ideas that we would call reciprocity. When one gives something to a god, one is giving in the sense that the offering is pleasing; but equally one is storing up for oneself a feeling of gratitude on the part of the god, which is also The whole two–way relationship can be called one of " (4). [End Page 633]This thesis, which is prominent in the first half of the book, is most fully developed in the second chapter, where Pulleyn examines prayers of the type, known particularly from the Homeric epics. He is especially concerned with the da quia dedi(t) model, which presents an argument for fulfillment of the accompanying request based on sacrifices previously offered. Numerically, in Homer and elsewhere, this is not a common prayer type. Although it would seem to violate the typical pattern of sacrifice offered in conjunction with prayer requests, Pulleyn argues convincingly for interpretation of this prayer type within the context of reciprocity. The connection with... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Prayer in Greek ReligionFrances Hickson–HahnSimon Pulleyn. Prayer in Greek Religion. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. xvi + 245 pp. Cloth, $75.The study of prayer in ancient Greece faces rather daunting obstacles. Only four brief texts remain which scholars agree may represent authentic examples of cultic prayer: the twoword prayer of Eleusinian initiates, the Athenian [End Page 632] prayer to Zeus for rain, a (...) prayer to Demeter for the barley sheaf, and the dithyramb of Elis, for a grand total of forty words. In addition, there are three fifth–century hymns from Epidaurus, a form not universally agreed to be prayer. In the area of epigraphic evidence, the largest body of prayer–like addresses derives from curse tablets which mostly postdate the classical period and which arguably belong not to the study of religion but to that of magic. Votive inscriptions, while plentiful, are rarely in prayer form. Thus, of necessity, the scholar is largely dependent on literary evidence, most of which is poetic.Thus it is a challenging task which Simon Pulleyn took on in this revised version of his doctoral thesis: to describe and interpret the mentality of all types of prayer in archaic and classical Greece in a relatively slight volume (216 pages plus appendices, etc.). The resulting monograph, "the first book–length study of Greek prayer to appear in English" (jacket), will prove a useful introduction to the body of evidence and major lines of research on Greek prayer. His work will be especially welcome to those not competent in the ancient languages, for Pulleyn translates all of the prayers proffered as examples, as well as modern foreign–language quotations. He also includes a brief glossary of fifteen Greek words especially important in the study of prayers. While he quotes an abundance of illustrative prayers, both literary and epigraphic, and devotes considerable space to lexicographic discussions, nevertheless he produces a quite readable text.Rejecting the broader definition of prayer as any address or appeal to supernatural powers, used by Aubriot–Sevin (Prière et conceptions religieuses en Grèce ancienne, Lyon, 1992), Pulleyn defines Greek prayers as "articulate requests directed toward the gods" and proposes a four–part classification of (1) prayers based on ξενία (2) curses (), (3) entreaties (λιταί), and (4) supplications ().While there is considerable ancient evidence to support the association of prayer with petition, such a narrow description leaves in limbo other types of address to the gods, such as thanksgivings and greetings, which are too important to be left out of this or any comprehensive study of prayer. And so Pulleyn is forced to devote much space to the discussion of material which he does not technically consider prayer. In fact, he himself varies between the technical use of the term "prayer" and the more common modern definition, a practice which naturally leads to some confusion. On occasion, he resorts to the term "prayer–like" to describe nonpetitionary addresses to gods.Perhaps the reason for this emphasis on petition is the author's main thesis that is the primary characteristic of the relationship between the ancient Greeks and their gods, and thus of prayer as well. Pulleyn explains thus: "it refers to a whole nexus of related ideas that we would call reciprocity. When one gives something to a god, one is giving in the sense that the offering is pleasing; but equally one is storing up for oneself a feeling of gratitude on the part of the god, which is also The whole two–way relationship can be called one of " (4). [End Page 633]This thesis, which is prominent in the first half of the book, is most fully developed in the second chapter, where Pulleyn examines prayers of the type, known particularly from the Homeric epics. He is especially concerned with the da quia dedi(t) model, which presents an argument for fulfillment of the accompanying request based on sacrifices previously offered. Numerically, in Homer and elsewhere, this is not a common prayer type. Although it would seem to violate the typical pattern of sacrifice offered in conjunction with prayer requests, Pulleyn argues convincingly for interpretation of this prayer type within the context of reciprocity. The connection with... (shrink)

Scholars of the classical American philosophical tradition have not written much about prayer, despite the fact that almost every single one of the major figures of this tradition acknowledged its significance. The gap in the literature is notable in the case of George Santayana, who discusses prayer in several of his major works. And of all the classical American philosophers, Santayana may have the most fully developed treatment of prayer, particularly as it relates to the problem of (...) petitionary prayer. Yet his account of payer has not received much attention. This is surprising since, on the one hand, many of Santayana’s other views on religion and spirituality have been widely commented on, and, on the other hand, prayer has been a prominent topic in philosophy of religion in recent decades. And it makes sense for scholars of the classical American tradition nowadays to consider Santayana’s views about prayer, at the least because this tradition concerns itself with the problems of ordinary people, and to most Americans–and even to some atheist Americans–prayer seems to matter a great deal. Santayana’s treatment of prayer can be organized into two phases. First, he offers a twofold case against the common view that petitionary prayer is materially efficacious–that is, the view that petitionary prayer can do something to affect whether God brings about a desired state of affairs that would not have otherwise obtained had the request for it not been made. (shrink)

In the ḥadīth sources it is being conveyed that the companions (ṣaḥāba) refrained from asking questions to the Prophet. This situation is generally associated with the verse of sūrat al-Māʾida 5:101. An-Navvās b. Samʿān (d. 50/670), Abū Umāma al-Bāhilī (d. 86/705) and Anas b. Mālik (d. 93/711-12) are among the companions who consider this situation as the ban on the asking questions. The concern that asking questions may cause additional obligations that were not presumed to be obligatory also attracts (...) attention in these records. Keeping all numerous questions addressed to the Prophet in mind we may ask if there is a Prophetic prohibition on asking questions. We will seek an answer to this question, which constitutes the main axis of this article, especially in the framework of the narrations mentioned among the reasons of the al-Māʾida 101. We will evaluate the information concerned in their historical context and internal coherence inductively. Our investigation differs in this respect from the investigations, which dealt with the disapproval of excessive and unnecessary questions. As a result of our research, we think that it is possible to talk about a ban on asking questions about religious issues in the last three years of the Medina period. We will first discuss the dating and nature of this ban, from which only Bedouin and visitors who come to Madina were excluded. Then, we especially will evaluate the theological consequences of answer of the Prophet, which mentioned in the same context, of whether the pilgrimage is religious duty for every year. In the last part of the article, the prohibition of asking questions will be discussed in the light of Hans-Georg Gadamer’s principle “Der hermeneutische Vorrang der Frage”, which deals with the effect of the questions on the direction and nature of the answer.Summary: It is reported in Qurʾān and Ḥadīth that the Prophet Muḥammad (PBUH) was asked a lot of questions and he responded based on the revealed knowledge or his own. He did not like the questions which remain outside of the daily religious life like the questions whether he is able to know the end of the world or to show miracle. There are some reports which covey that the Prophet frowned upon some questions because they could cause new assignments or lead to complicate the existing ones. The Companions like an-Nawwās b- Samʿān (d. 50/670), Abū Umāma al-Bāhilī (d. 86/705) and Anas b. Mālik (d. 93/711-12) have been describing this situation as the ban of asking of religious implications.This issue which companions formulated exactly as the ban of the asking questions was regarded in research until now just as the depreciation of the Prophet upon the unnecessary questions. In this interpretation the idea played a role that the ban of the asking may not conform to the religious pedagogic of the Prophet and the real existence of a lot of asked questions contradict that. Therefore the imperative “do not ask” in al-Māʾida 5:101 (O believers, do not ask about things which, if made known to you, may vex you) were interpreted not as the prohibition of the asking questions in real sense, but as just the depreciation of the unnecessary questions.We argue that it is possible to talk about a prohibition of the asking questions in real sense. We are of the view that the asking to religious matters was prohibited in the last years of the Medina period. In a time of Madina period when the fundamental principles of Islam emerged the questions of companions let the Prophet think that they may lead to additional religious obligations. Therefore the Prophet warned his companions in these words: “Do not ask me about the details of the things which I do not mention to you” and “Allāh Taʿālā has remained silent about some things, out of compassion for you, not forgetfulness so do not seek after them.”The imperative “do not ask” in al-Māʾida 5:101 has to been understood in the light of the Prophet’s advice as quoted above. According to the expressions of the companions reported in hadith collections, it is obvious that the imperative “do not ask” signifies not only “do not ask unnecessary questions”, but “do not ask questions related to theology matters in general”.Anas b. Mālik served the Prophet nine or ten years and was not criticised by the Prophet anytime. A companion like Anas cannot have refrained from the asking questions because they may be unnecessary. Anas interpreted “ do not ask” in al-Māʾida 5:101 in words: “We were forbidden in the Qurʾān that we ask the Prophet anything". Anas’s observation reveals that the companions considered the “do not ask” in al-Māʾida 5:101 as a general prohibition for the questions to religious issue.According to our research it seems this ban was promulgated in last three years of Medina Period, and Bedouin and visitors were excluded. Al-Nawwās b. Samʿān noticed that the ban of the asking questions was only for the residents in Medina: “I was in Medina one year. The reason why I did not stay in Medina was my wish to ask the Prophet a religious issue. So, whoever stayed in Medina was not permitted to ask the Prophet questions.” Abū Umāma al-Bāhilī interpreted the ban of the asking in al-Māʾida 5:101 as a general ban. He reported that the companions give a garment (burda) as gift to a Bedouin in order to let him ask the Prophet questions. The ban on asking questions in Medina was not related to unnecessary questions. It was indeed related to the questions that might have caused addition to already well-defined obligatory rulings in Islam. Accordingly, the questions became unnecessary because they were asked in the time of revelation. With the ban of the asking the Prophet questions accentuated that God and his Messenger are aware what necessary and what was not. It means that God can intervene if it is necessary. For that they do not need ask the Prophet. Aṭ-Ṭabarī, al-Qurṭubī, en-Nawawī, Ibn RaJab el-Ḥanbalī and Ibn Ḥajar al-ʿAsqalānī are the scholars who interpreted the ban of asking in this general sense.We especially will evaluate the theological consequences of the Prophet’s response, as reported in the sources: “ If I said yes, the pilgrimage will be a religious duty for every year.” Here one may not misconstrue that the Prophet could determine the religious obligations arbitrarily. He meant that the believers have to practice only that which were revealed to them. The Prophet wanted to teach his followers the principle that became essential rule of Islamic jurisprudence: “What is not forbidden is permitted”.The Prophet did not perform tarāwīḥ-prayer in congregation in the month of fasting due to the apprehension that it might become obligatory for the believers and they would not be able to follow it. In this human reaction of the Prophet we see that the Prophet did not consider himself as the founder of the Islamic norms. In this context the following questions are important: Does God consider the human questions when making something obligatory? Is God influenceable in terms of His orders? Ibn Ḥajar observes: The scholars of Ahl al-Sunnah accept the causality in terms of the Islamic norms. Accordingly something can become a religious norm because the humans asked about that. But God’s decision does not depend on the humans. God can consider human questions, if He so wills. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Religion a Threat to Morality: An Attempt to Throw Some New Light on Hume's Philosophy of Religion* Gerhard Streminger At the beginning ofhis Natural History ofReligion Hume writes that two questions in particular... challenge our attention, to wit, that concerning its foundation in reason, and that concerning its origin in human nature. The first challenge is taken up by Hume in the Dialogues ConcerningNatural Religion, and the second in (...) hisNatural History ofReligion. In this paper I will try to show that there is a third fundamental problem discussed by Hume with regard to religion, namely its relationship to and influence on morality. Although he never wrote on this topic in as systematic a way as on the above-mentioned two questions inparticular, I am convinced that his thoughts about it were not just casual. The passages in Hume relevant to this third central question about religion are to be found in "Of Superstition and Enthusiasm," in Essays Moral, Political, and Literary; in section 11 ofAn Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding; in Appendix 4 and "A Dialogue," in An Enquiry Concerning the Principles ofMorals; in the History ofEngland; in Part XII of the Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion ; and, in particular, in the Natural History ofReligion. Why Hume never wrote about the relationship between religion and morality in a more systematic way is not entirely clear. He may have decided not to provoke the orthodox any further than he already had. That Hume changed the title ofsection 11 ofhis first Enquiry from the original "Of the Practical Consequences of Natural Religion" to the rather non-committal "Of a Particular Providence and of a Future State" may support this conjecture. Before going into more detail as to Hume's view on the relationship between religion and morality, I want to make a few remarks about Hume's opinion of religion in general. Hume made a distinction between one 'true' and two forms of 'false' religion. His most explicit description of true religion is to be found in a preface to the second volume of his History ofEngland: Volume XV Number 2 277 GERHARD STREMINGER Theproper Office ofReligion, Hume wrote in terms which have a Quakerish flavour, is to reform Men's Lives, to purify their Hearts, to inforce all moralDuties, & to secure Obedience to the Laws & civil Magistrate. While it pursues these useful Purposes, its Operations, tho' infinitely valuable, are secret & silent; andseldom come under the Cognizance ofHistory... The Idea ofan Infinite Mind, the Author ofthe Universe seems... to require a Worship absolutely pure, simple, unadorned; without Rites, Institutions, Ceremonies; even without Temples, Priests, or verbal Prayer & Supplication. This preface, however, was not printed in the words quoted above. Instead it was reduced by Hume to a footnote at the end of the second volume of his History of England in a shortened and toned-down version. Even this footnote was removed in later editions ofthe History ofEngland. But in the Dialogues Hume repeated his idea of the effect of true religion on morality almost verbatim: The proper office of religion is to regulate the heart of men, humanize their conduct, infuse the spirit oftemperance, order, and obedience; and as its operation is silent, and only enforces the motives of mortality and justice, it is in danger of being overlooked, and confounded with these other motives. This form ofreligion, however, although without anypernicious consequences with regard to society (D 223), is extremely rare. Religion, as it has commonly been found in the world (D 223), is a threat to morality. The corruptions of true religion, namely superstition and enthusiasm, are the popular forms of religious worship. Whenever Hume talks about religion without qualifications, he has this false religion in mind. Coming back to my original thesis, Hume, I think, sees three main negative influences of false religion: (1) The clergy has an interest in setting bounds to human knowledge; (2) The God offalse religion is no moral authority; (3) False religion corrupts the natural moral sentiments and promotes an 'artificial, affected' life. I. False Religion and Human Knowledge To see the force of Hume's argument concerning the threat of false religion to morality, one has to take into account some general assumptions of Hume... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:94 Feminist Studies 45, no. 1. © 2019 by Hannah Baker Saltmarsh Hannah Baker Saltmarsh This Girl I Lost Touch With This girl, who was afraid to enter a room— a girl born in the woods, on moss, whose family dreamt under quilts, who wore dresses that matched anything fabric in the house, even the dresses without loneliness— I held her hand in the corridor-dark until the speaking-in-tongues at (...) the community college dispersed into prayers with too many gerunds and too much fervor that wouldn’t adjust if you got a thousand dollars in the mail or jury duty, faith subtle as a crucifix the size of God on the highway. I waited with her until it was over, although the prayer group was never really over. Over rooms of crowded, faith-based humidity, she loved corridors of woods, the rushes of running away. This girl and I, we were cult-lured, but then the leader stepped down—was it porn, alcohol? He drove us around in a red jeep without doors— the first time I drove in a man’s car, I was eighteen so I fell in love: looking straight ahead together, arm hair touching, the cathedral of autumn anticipating a shape to hold you, the wind that you sometimes hollered over. What happened I can’t see, but when he left the group, I left: the death of visions. Hannah Baker Saltmarsh 95 This girl could long for a man in her fingernails, and, without talking, take a man from his pregnant wife’s side, have his even newer children, this girl who wouldn’t go in a room all alone, walked right in, somewhere we’ve not been, and never left. Monostich in Praise of Four Missed Foul Shots in a Row, Ending with a Line by Shaquille O’Neal —Orlando Magic vs. Houston Rockets, Game 1, NBA Final, 1995 Each mistake at the foul line longs to be its own distinct trip-up, divorced from the tragic-comic failure automatic-reflex of a protagonist on a shame-rampage; each delicate flaw of glass, net, rim wants to be denied once at the charity line, once and only once of red-lipsticked points, the naive purity of one aberrant error in calculation—not bring bleacher-crowds to their feet, posterless hands in the vaulted air before tallying Nick Anderson up as Brick Anderson, most hated NBA player of all time, and by his own fans not believing their own eyes as a series of empty arcs toward scoring dovetails into quadruple humiliations and a goofy smile of gutted hopes and boyish fear-tangled awe that any brain so practiced (for this and what else?) could fail so many times in a row, each fail better and Beckett-harder until the last exit out of obliterating loss is part of the abyss too, unless you are quick on your feet for sports broadcasting... but there is no end to swindled championships if you are a man who’s never had to face the extinction of his early twenties or suck the aftertaste of multi-millionaire juice cocktails poured with a legend’s touch, but in the soapy-sweet glass of your Dixie cup liquor, however close to the sound of Shaq’s name spoken in every language, stares your same lovesick reflection in the welt of that shot-glass mirror, mouthing the bitters of paranoid distraction, unripe manhood, aged ingratitude, and a starless Orlando Magic blue diamond broomed over by nursery-rhyme witches brushing out the cobweb-haze because the crowd is always the same crowd calling you swept... each fumbling error of pressure you let get to you, if only it could be a plotless, lyric monostich without arc, not driven to the plot that is your grave, where the unfaithful, the murderers, liars, and cheaters are defined by threads, no, snapped pieces, of seconds and, as Dante would have it, sorted in hell by a singular thought or deed so 96 Hannah Baker Saltmarsh transformative as to name you; the blue and white jersey on the floor, fists and feet, knees and elbows vacuumed in tantrum, hyped up in the court glare and... (shrink)

This article addresses the role and meaning of prayer as well as the language of piety and praise in Nietzsche’s writings, notably in Zarathustra. This essay was first presented as a talk in German at the 2017 Nietzsche colloquium in Sils Maria, the theme of which was “Zarathustra und Dionysos”. In preparing it for a publication in English, the argument has been reworked and expanded and references have been added, while partly preserving the tone and structure of the oral (...) delivery. I am grateful to the instructive comments and suggestions of the anonymous reviewers for Nietzsche-Studien. Nietzsche can be read as an uncompromising critic of religion but also as the initiator of a new form of faith, described by some scholars as a “Dionysian piety”. The analysis takes its lead from the way in which Z refers to his yes-saying as also saying “amen”, exploring how Nietzsche explicitly incorporates the language of religious discourse into his writing. Examining passages where he explicitly questions the adoption of confessional language and prayer, it criticizes as overly simplistic the view of his thinking as seeking a new piety. The discussion of the significance of prayer from a psychological, linguistic, and poetological perspective highlights the experience of “inspiration” as a key to the adoption of confessional language in Z. In an interpretation of the last part of this book, it shows how its concluding scenes coalesce precisely around the role and possibility of prayer and piety, and how a crisis in the narrative is triggered by the inability of Zarathustra’s visitors to properly understand his message in this regard. A concluding interpretation of the section “Before Sunrise” in the third part of the book shows how it gathers the philosophical stakes involved in Nietzsche’s understanding of prayer, piety, and confessional praise. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 22 (2002) 93-99 [Access article in PDF] Jesus Prayer and the Nembutsu Taitetsu Unno Smith College As a Shin Buddhist of the Pure Land tradition, I find the practice of Jesus Prayer in Eastern Orthodox Christianity fascinating, because so much of it resonates with my own experience in the saying of Nembutsu or the Name—namu-amida-butsu. 1 One calls on the Name of Jesus, and the (...) other on the Name of Amida, the Buddha of Immeasurable Light and Life. Both may be called the "Way of the Name." 2 Some appreciation of the Jesus Prayer may help us understand the depth of Nembutsu experience, for the similarities are striking, but there are also fundamental differences.We begin with four definitions of prayer as given by the Orthodox scholar Kallistos Ware. 3 The first may be called external prayer, which includes some form of verbally addressing God, including petitions for favors to be granted. Second is prayer understood simply as standing before God. Here there is only silence, negating all discursive activities. In both of these cases the focus is on the human and not on the divine.In Buddhist terms these two forms of prayer are dualistic, the subject standing apart from the object and the act centered on the human subject. In Pure Land language both are acts of self-power. In the case of Nembutsu it may also begin as a self-generated act, but it must be superseded. True prayer, as we shall see, is nondualistic with the initiative coming from the side of the divine. In Pure Land terms it is the manifestation of the working of Other Power.Buddhist meditative practice may also begin in a dualistic mode with personal benefits as the goal, but ultimately it becomes a nondualistic experience, whereby conceptual distinctions of subject and object disappear, so that a deeper reality is realized. The Soto Zen teacher Kosho Uchiyama sums up this awareness: 4 In our zazen, it is precisely at the point where our small, foolish self remains unsatisfied, or completely bewildered, that immeasurable natural life beyond the thought of the self functions. It is precisely at the point where we become completely lost that life operates and the power of Buddha is realized. The third and fourth definitions of prayer, based on Saint Gregory of Sinai, highlight the core experience in Jesus Prayer. The third sense of prayer, according to Ware, is [End Page 93] an inner act. In his words, "True inner prayer is to stop talking and to listen to the wordless voice of God within our heart; it is to cease doing things on our own, and to enter into the action of God." 5 Here, silence is not mere silence but the openness to hear the wordless voice of God. The initiative comes from the divine: "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me" (Gal. 2:20) and "He must become greater, I must become less" (John 3:30).Fourth is prayer as "the manifestation of Baptism," not baptism as a ritual act but as the embodying of the divine. This is the state of grace that is brought "to the point of full spiritual perception and conscious awareness when we experience and feel the activity of the Spirit directly and immediately." 6These two connotations of prayer may be helpful in understanding the writings of Shinran, the founder of Shin Buddhism, who lived in thirteenth-century Japan. 7 The English translations of his works, coming from an entirely different cultural tradition and written in an alien language, sometimes defy easy comprehension. To take one important example, Shinran states at the beginning of the Chapter of Practice in his major opus, translated as "True Teaching, Practice, and Realization of the Pure Land Way," as follows: 8 The great practice is to say the Name of the Tathagata of unhindered light. This practice, embodying all good acts and possessing all roots of virtue, is perfect and most rapid in bringing them to fullness. It is the treasure ocean of virtues that is... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 22 (2002) 87-92 [Access article in PDF] Christian Prayer Seen from the Eye of a Buddhist Kenneth K. Tanaka Musashino Women's University, Tokyo When I think about Christian prayer, the image I get is that of a young girl of about eight years old with long brown hair. Wearing a nightgown, she is kneeling next to her bed with her hands clasped and her head (...) bowed. I have often queried myself about the source of this image. This is an interesting question in itself. I personally don't know of anyone who fits that description or who has actually witnessed someone like her in prayer. Nevertheless, it is interesting how a Buddhist raised in a predominately Christian society comes to form his image of Christian prayer.Working further with this image, I see this little girl—let's call her Megan—doing two things in her evening prayer. One is that she is giving thanks to God for the benefits she has received. She thanks him for her food, clothing, friends, and family. Then, she also makes a request. In this petitionary element of her prayer, she is asking God to make her sick father get well soon. As she does so, her expression turns more serious, and she clasps her hands more firmly and brings them closer to her chest. She then looks up toward the ceiling, expressing her heartfelt wish for her father's early recovery. What is noteworthy is that Megan's prayers are spoken aloud as in a human conversation.I realize that this image does not do justice to a topic as enormous as "Christian prayer," but I believe that it provides a glimpse into how one Buddhist imagines the topic. I have a number of questions about Megan's prayer, particularly as I try to understand what may be going on inside of her. I wonder first and foremost, what God looks like to her. Is God a male or a female, or neither? I would think that even for her (in this gender-sensitive age), God is still a male. If so, does she see him as an elderly man with a long white beard, holding a cane and sitting in a throne? Next, where does God reside? If he is in heaven, what is heaven like to her? I wonder if heaven is located somewhere amidst the lofty, puffy clouds. In regards to her father's illness, how does she think God can make her father get well? What is the mechanism by which a personified God can heal? Perhaps I am being too analytical and overly rigorous with my questions about a spiritual act, and that of an eight-year-old at that.Perhaps I should, instead, turn the questions toward me, asking how I would [End Page 87] answer the same questions about a Buddhist girl "praying" before the Buddha or a bodhisattva for the same kind of wish? The image that immediately crops up in my mind is of a girl of about twelve and her mother whom I saw at a pagoda in Rangoon, Burma, a number of years ago. The girl is wearing a large, red fresh flower in her hair and has on traditional apparel. She sits with her mother on a marble floor of a spacious area in front of Buddha images that are several meters in height. She holds a bouquet of flowers held upright between the palms of hands in a gesture of reverence. She sits with her legs folded but thrown out to her side, a style common in her country as well as in Thailand. Her eyes appear closed, and her head is slightly bowed down toward the Buddha images. She stays in that posture for what seems like several minutes; her mother does the same. I don't know, of course, what is going on inside, but she is certainly not meditating.I believe this is an important point to make here, for Buddhists are stereotypically seen to only meditate. However, the vast majority of lay Buddhists... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Adolph Meyer’s Psychobiology in Historical Context, and Its Relationship to George Engel’s Biopsychosocial ModelEdwin R. Wallace IV (bio)Keywordspsychobiology, integrative models of psychiatry, biopsychosocial modelBefore addressing the importance of Adolf Meyer and the question of his impact on the biopsychosocial model of the psychoanalytical internist George Engel, let us tersely sketch the history of functionalism in medicine/psychiatry, and of the nineteenth/early twentieth century’s progressive abandonment of it in favor of (...) basic science reductive models of “disease,” not illness.FunctionalismWhereas Hippocratic physicians diagnosed diatheses in terms of humoral excesses or deficiencies, their primary emphasis was on the ill person. They began with careful histories of the patient’s complaints and his or her daily life course, customary activities, typical foods and beverages imbibed, and the exacerbation or relief of symptoms associated with any or all of these. They also asked questions about his physical and social environment. They carefully looked for any clinically pertinent signs, and might physically examine the patient or his excretions. When they arrived at a diagnosis (say, an excess of yellow or black bile, or of blood or phlegm), they would educate the patient about it and discuss possible approaches. Although leeching, emetics, or purgatives might be prescribed, “dietetics” was the core of the treatment. Much more than recommendations about dietary intake, this involved conversations about “lifestyle” management in general: exercise, fresh air, habit changes, and perhaps bathing in mineral waters or spas. If the patient were “melancholic” (which then included what we would now consider a variety of psychiatric disorders), he or she might be prescribed daily swimming and other forms of vigorous exercise, conversations with a philosopher, [End Page 347] attendance at theatrical comedies, or even referral to an Asklepian temple for “incubation sleep” and priestly dream interpretation. Often doctors worked closely with physical trainers, to whom they sent their patients. In short, their orientation was holistic (“mind”/”body” integration), directed first and foremost toward an individual ill person.In the second century, C.E. Galen, despite his humoral and anatomical pathologies, was similarly holistic or functionalist. He resorted to a variety of physical examinational methods while also attending to the patient’s mental/emotional status. He described one case where he was attending a woman for syncopal episodes. His examinations of her included his customary attention to the pulse. During one evening session, a servant entered and happened to mention that he had just seen the handsome Pylades dancing. Suddenly her pulse became irregular and she fainted straight away. This led Galen to consider love sickness, and perhaps not humoral or organ pathology. He tested his hypothesis during subsequent visits. Whenever another dancer or actor was mentioned, her pulse remained regular and her sensorium alert, but when Pylades was mentioned the irregular pulse and fainting recurred. Because she was married, Galen realized her insoluble conflict, and treated her accordingly.From the fall of Rome until the rise of University Medicine in the later Middle Ages, medical lore and doctoring was in monastic hands—each monastery had its clerical medic, who might also attend outsiders. They were attuned to the traditional triad of major mental disorders—mania, melancholia, and phrenitis—which they explained somatically. However, they also encountered lesser mental/emotional disorders for which they developed their own nosology. “Scrupulosity,” for example, characterized a committed monk with an unrealistic sense of sinfulness and guilt—which often drove him to self-mortification such as flagellation, hair shirts with chains underneath, and so forth, for which the remedy was kindly pastoral counseling. “Accedia” was akin to our “dysthymia,” whose sufferer was affected by sadness, lassitude, and impaired capacity to carry out the monastic routine. This was viewed as straddling the boundary between sickness and sin. Routine physical labor (“occupational therapy”) and prayers, confession, penance, and “pep talks” were prescribed.When universities with medical schools arose in the latter Middle Ages, students’ educations were mostly bookish and theoretical. Hippocratic and Galenic somatic orientations were still preeminent. (Vesalius would not publish his illustrated anatomical text until 1543.) Dietetics and purgatives, bloodletting, and so on were still favored treatments. Nevertheless, doctors gave considerable time and attention to their patients as ill... (shrink)

In this article first appeared in 1997, Jean-Louis Chrétien examines the meaning of prayer in Kierkegaard’s writings and existence. By focusing on the difficulties of this task and with meticulous attention to the vast work of the Danish philosopher, Chrétien describes prayer as a tense and agonistic experience, akin to the evangelical struggle between Jacob and the angel. Just like in his well-known phenomenological analysis, “The Wounded Word: Phenomenology of Prayer”, the author identifies in prayer a (...) paradoxical articulation of struggle and peace, gift and endeavour, speaking and listening, through which the human being is profoundly transformed and finally learns to truly say “thank you”. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Asymmetry, Essentialism, and Covert Cultural Imperialism: Should Buddhists and Christians Do Theoretical Work Together?Grace G. BurfordMeaningful dialogue among Buddhists and Christians on any topic—theological or otherwise—requires the participation of open-minded and mutually respectful Buddhists and Christians. It is just such Christians and Buddhists who founded the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies (SBCS), and it is this society's ongoing commitment to a balance of Buddhists and Christians, as well as other (...) forms of diversity, in our programs and projects that has kept this dialogue lively. In this supportive context, Christians have done some excellent work in developing their religious thinking by reflecting on Buddhism, as have Buddhists by engaging with Christian theology. Nevertheless, a certain asymmetry has at times emerged in our dialogical endeavors, particularly when it comes to theological issues: it seems there might be more Christians interested in Buddhist thought than Buddhists interested in Christian theology.Asymmetry of InterestThis asymmetry became clear to me when I contributed to two books Rita M. Gross and Terry C. Muck put together in 2000 and 2003. In the introduction to the first of these books, Buddhists Talk about Jesus, Christians Talk about the Buddha, Gross notes that the Christian authors who contributed to this volume attest to a far greater positive impact of the Buddha and Buddhism on their Christian lives than the Buddhists attribute to Jesus or Christianity. 1 Gross offers two possible explanations for this asymmetry. First, she says Christians may feel free to admire the Buddha without facing any resulting pressure from Buddhists to convert to Buddhism, whereas Buddhists who might be drawn to Jesus could expect to be the targets of Christian proselytization. Related to this first explanation, Gross also implies, if I read her correctly, that these Christians' guilty feelings about Christianity's history of missionizing and proselytization [End Page 147] might lead them to emphasize their appreciation of a non-Christian religion—a sentiment the Buddhists, understandably, would not be inclined to reciprocate. Second, Gross points out that Buddhist claims about the Buddha leave room for Christians to admire the Buddha without compromising their Christian views and commitments, a point I also make in my Buddhist response to the Christians' essays in this book. 2 Gross goes on to note that parallel Christian claims about Jesus leave no such leeway for the Buddhists. She says, "Christians do claim that Jesus is the incarnation of a deity who creates and redeems the world and such claims run counter to essential Buddhist ideas about how the world works." 3 In other words, Christians can venture into Buddhism's teachings about the Buddha (what we might properly call "Buddhology") without compromising their Christian theology, but Christian doctrine about Jesus (i.e., Christology) prevents Buddhists from gaining anything meaningful from this area of Christian theology without forfeiting their Buddhist worldview.The contrast is even more noticeable between the Buddhist and Christian halves of the second book, Christians Talk about Buddhist Meditation, Buddhists Talk about Christian Prayer. In their contributions to this book Christians describe how they have adopted Buddhist meditations as components of their Christian spiritual paths, and Buddhists write about how some Buddhist practices can be seen as resembling what Christians call "prayer." In the conclusion of this book, Gross suggests that this difference occurs because these Christians are incorporating a specific type of meditation (concentration) associated with Buddhism, practice of which does not require that the Christians take Buddhist teachings about the nature of reality seriously. But Christian prayer and other forms of Christian contemplation or meditation "all seem to have as a prerequisite a Christian view of the world." 4In both of these examples of Buddhist-Christian dialogue, it seems that the Christians involved can, and do, happily use Buddhism as a resource for their Christian theology and spiritual practices. But these Buddhists hold back and seem precluded from benefitting similarly from the dialogue. The editors confirm this impression when they describe a practical matter that came up when they were recruiting contributors to the second book. Muck says that "the Christians were more eager to take on this assignment than were [the] Buddhists," 5 and Gross adds that... (shrink)

In the Book of Common Prayer’s Rite II version of the Eucharist, the congregation confesses, “we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed”. According to this confession we wrong God not just by what we do and what we say, but also by what we think. The idea that we can wrong someone not just by what we do, but by what think or what we believe, is a natural one. It is the kind of wrong we (...) feel when those we love believe the worst about us. And it is one of the salient wrongs of racism and sexism. Yet it is puzzling to many philosophers how we could wrong one another by virtue of what we believe about them. This paper defends the idea that we can morally wrong one another by what we believe about them from two such puzzles. The first puzzle concerns whether we have the right sort of control over our beliefs for them to be subject to moral evaluation. And the second concerns whether moral wrongs would come into conflict with the distinctively epistemic standards that govern belief. Our answer to both puzzles is that the distinctively epistemic standards governing belief are not independent of moral considerations. This account of moral encroachment explains how epistemic norms governing belief are sensitive to the moral requirements governing belief. (shrink)

In this study I highlight the spatial exclusions that migrant domestic workers experience in Lebanon. I argue that migrant domestic workers constantly challenge such spatial exclusions by using the exact spaces that they are excluded from as the bases for a meso-level of resistances—strategic acts that cannot be classified as either private and individual or as organized collective action. I highlight three kinds of such resistive activities: the strategic dyads forged across balconies by the most restricted live-in workers, the small (...) collectives formed outside ethnic churches by other live-in workers, and much larger worker collectives in rental apartments occupied by illegal freelancers and runaways. By analyzing these spaces as strategic instances of workers’ collectives, I question the portrayal of MDWs in the Arab world as ultimate and defeated victims of abuse. But the continuum of resistive activities undertaken by MDWs in Lebanon also challenges the dichotomies often constructed between public and private forms of organization and resistances. This meso-level of resistance becomes particularly significant in a country like Lebanon, where MDWs are forbidden from forming or joining formal unions, and becomes critical for workers from many countries in Africa and South Asia who, unlike the larger Filipina community, have little access to formal support systems like consulates and embassies. (shrink)

The validity of the prayer which is accepted as the most basic worship of Islam has been tied to a set of rules. These rules which must be followed before and during the prayer are called conditions and pillars in the fiqh language. The recitation performed while standing during the prayer is one of the most significant of these rules and is accepted one of the pillars of the prayer. Therefore, in order for the prayer (...) to be valid, it is required to make enough recitations. If it is not done, the prayer is considered invalid. For this reason, the topic of recitation in prayer has been discussed in detail by the jurists, and different opinions have been submitted what, when and how much to recite. The jurists have suggested three basic views on this issue. Ḥanafīs have stated that a person who follows the imām in prayer should not recite, and they have accepted the recitation of ma’mūm as makruh regardless of whether the recitation is loud or silent. The Shāfiʿīs who uphold the opposite view of the Ḥanafīs have said that the ma’mūm have to recite in all the prayers in which the qirā'āt is loud and silent, and that it is obligatory for the ma’mūm to recite. According to Shāfiʿīs the prayer of a ma’mūm without recitation is not valid. Malikīs and Ḥanbalīs who have explained their opinions by taking into account that the recitation is loud and silent have stated that the ma’mūm should recite during prayers in which the recitation is silent. In the prayers where the recitation is loud the Ḥanbalīs have said that the ma’mūm should recite when the imām takes a break from recitation, while the Malikīs have said that the recitation is not required for the ma’mūm. However the jurists of both sects have not considered that the recitation is obligatory to ma’mūm. And they have acknowledged that the prayer of the ma’mūm was valid even if he has not recite. There is intra-sectarian disagreement in all of these three basic views which are presented as the general opinion of the sects. Although we are talking about the intra-sectarian disagreement, it is understood that the jurists except the Ḥanafīs have determined their views on the recitation of the ma’mūm within the context of whether the ma’mūm hear or do not hear the recitation of the imām. It can be said that this understanding is at the basis of the views put forward by the Shāfiʿīs who take into account that the recitation is loud and silent about the ma’mūm’s recitation of the sūrat after the Fātiḥa. Likewise it is possible to say that this understanding is at the basis of the perceptives brought forward by the Malikī and Ḥanbalī jurists about the prayers in which the recitation is sound. The jurists who expressed different opinions about the recitation of the ma’mūm similarly brought evidence from the Qurʾān, the Sunnah, opinions of the Companions and qiyās to justify their views. Although the jurists have grounded their views on similar evidence, they have reached different conclusions. The reason for this difference it can be shown that the direction of the verse (āyat) to be taken as evidence, their different approaches when evaluating the narrations transmitted from the Prophet (pbuh) and the fact that the arguments of qiyās are different. (shrink)

In a recent article in this journal, Michael Murray and Kurt Meyers offer us two innovative and thought-provoking responses to the important question of why God would, even occasionally, refrain from giving us that which he can and would like to give us until we request that he do so: to help the believer learn more about God and thus become more like him and to help the believer realize she is dependent on God. I argue that neither explanation is (...) adequate and thus that more work on this significant topic remains to be done. (shrink)

Greek prayers are requests. As such they are speech acts marked off from everyday language by performance conditions on which their effectiveness depends. Inscribed Greek prayers, left in sanctuaries, provide information about these conditions. But inscribed prayers are more than memorials of an original act of praying. When read out loud, they were meant to re-enact and re-perform the prayer to which they refer. Inscriptional and other evidence suggests that eventually inscribed prayers were even (...) meant to be read by the gods to whom they were addressed, who were judged likely to be present in the places where these inscriptions were erected or placed. Votive reliefs are an additional source of information about Greek prayer. They provide visual evidence about the sending of prayers and about their reception by the gods, who are portrayed as attending to the speaker and in that very act, answering his or her prayer. Votive reliefs, that is, are typically representations of successful interchanges with a god, and, as such, are fitting gifts to gods for prayers answered. Like inscribed prayers, subsequent acts of viewing votive reliefs stimulate re-performance of the act of gratitude to which they refer. The gift is on such occasions re-given. A votive relief from the late fourth century B.C.E., now in the Louvre , provides visual evidence of these interpretations. In this relief, Hygieia is represented as resting her right hand on a disc or plaque that lies on top of a pillar. I argue that this object is a representation of a votive disc, and that Hygieia's pose signifies acknowledgment of such a gift-offering. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy, Psychiatry, & Psychology 9.4 (2002) 349-351 [Access article in PDF] Mystical States or Mystical Life?Buddhist, Christian, and Hindu Perspectives Marek Marzanski and Mark Bratton THIS IS AN ORIGINAL and conceptually precise paper. It is a significant attempt to bring religion and psychiatry into conversation. With particular reference to three Oriental epistemologies—Tibetan and Zen Buddhism and Tantric Hinduism—Caroline Brett seeks to offer a means of differentiating mystical states from (...) psychotic ones. She is critical of reductionism in modern psychiatry that seeks either to elide religious experience into psychopathology, or seeks too sharp a distinction between them. Brett claims, by implication, to offer a more fundamental level of discrimination between religious experience and psychopathology than the "cognitive problem-solving model" that Jackson and Fulford propose (1997a).In both mystical and psychotic states, the author argues, there are radical alterations in the structure of experience. Psychotic states, however, result from failures to complete, or, at least, to negotiate smoothly, the transition from a commitment to an epistemology based on illusory reality to one structured according to ultimate reality—a reality that is brought into focus through an alignment of transcendent vision and mundane cognition. Although this epistemological "stuck-ness" can manifest itself in action as destructive behavior, for example, psychological isolation or social and occupational dysfunction, the basis of the distinction between mystical and psychotic states lies in real differences in the states themselves.In our view, there is a tendency in much psychiatric and theological literature to homogenize mystical states and to treat experiences that (arguably) occur on a number of different levels as if they were on the same level. It is still widely thought that a mystical consciousness can somehow be abstracted from the religious traditions out of which this consciousness emerges. It is assumed that we can talk about experience in abstraction from the shared consciousness produced by schooling in a specific historical religion (Shannon 1985, 493). Thus, the altered mystical state of a Zen Master or Saint Teresa of Avila in ecstasy are regarded as identical states of consciousness. Yet it is far from clear that mystical states can be talked about without explicit reference to the language and tradition in which the self is formed, or, in terms that would have different meanings in Abrahamic and Oriental religious traditions, un-selfed. [End Page 349]There is a related tendency to regard religious doctrines as attempts to interpret mystical experience, as second-order reflections on the language of experience, as if religious doctrines were local religious dialects into which core experiences could be translated. We suggest, rather, that there is an iterative relationship between a mystical experience and the religious framework out of which it emerges. Religious doctrines are better seen as sets of instructions designed to guide the movement of prayer, and the movement of prayer, in turn, exemplifies the religious doctrine that shapes it.So could mystical states within the framework of Tibetan and Zen Buddhism and Tantric Hinduism better be understood as exemplification's of the worldviews of those particular religious traditions? For example, the relinquishing of ego structures, the dissolution of subject/object boundaries, the yielding of the contrastive identity between experience and the world, and progress toward undifferentiated union of the self with the cosmic self, seem to exemplify the monist cosmology associated with some of those traditions. By the same token, the psychotic state could be interpreted as an exemplification of an existential stance that has for some reason defected from the movement toward transcendental cognition. The point is that the "real differences" Brett identifies in the two states cannot be understood apart from the religious epistemology and doctrines, which those states, positively or negatively, exemplify. "So far 'from mystical states' being a sort of paradigm of certainty, they have authority only within a frame of reference which is believed in on quite other grounds and are therefore properly to be tested according to their consistency with this" (Williams 1991, 149)The force of Brett's paper, like Jackson and Fulford, is to identify the boundaries... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS 517 My second concern is whether Dulles needs to develop more explicitly the liturgical dimension of the tradition as a type of tacit knowing. To be sure, Dulles is open to seeing the divine liturgy as an important source for what he refers to as " traditioning " (cf. 33-34). Furthermore, his personal commitment to the traditional liturgy's unique mode of communication can be quite passionate, as (...) when he states: In countries such as the United States young people cannot even imagine what it must have been like to live in the Catholic Church of fifty years ago. They frequently worship in churches or auditoriums barren of shrines and statues. They are ignorant of the an· swers that their parents or grandparents memorized out of a catechism. They know practically no prayers by heart, and are perhaps unable to say the Angelus or the Rosary. They are so open to the world that they are almost drowning in secularity (101; cf. also 19). Nevertheless, personal conviction seems to give rise to little theoretical reflection about why this sort of symbolism is so central to the Catholic tradition. Liturgy's function in communicating the rule of faith of Christian communities receives no separate chapter and appears as a decidedly secondary source of theological reflection. Here he could perhaps have been illuminated by Jean-Luc Marion's philosophical meditations on the symbolism of the Eucharist as presence and gift. The Craft of Theology will serve as absorbing reading for graduate students who are just beginning to study theology. That is not to say that Dulles's book is only an autobiographical retrospect on the profession which he has ably practiced for more than half a century. Whether understood as a stimulant to ·thinking judiciously about the living tradition of the Catholic church or as a guide for contemporary ecclesial communities of different confessions seeking to recover the catholicity of the Christian tradition, Dulles's system will be a no less than invaluable resource to Christian theologians. The Catholic University of America.Washington, D.C. PETER J. CASARELLA "Un maitre en theologie: Le Pere Marie-Michel Labourdette, O.P." Revue Thomiste 92, No. 1 (January-March, 1992). Toulouse: Ecole de theologie, 1992. Pp. 428. 130F. This collection of twenty essays serves as an intriguing introduction to the life and thought of the Dominican professor and moral theologian P. Marie-Michel Labourdette, who worked for most of his religious life at the Dominican studium of St. Maximin of the Province 518 BOOK REVIEWS of Toulouse. Prefaced by two contributions of biographical interest, and completed by a comprehensive bibliography, the core selections crystalize around two poles of interest. First, they explore the character of Labourdette's thought and methodology, both as a churchman and a Thomist. Especially enlightening here are the essays by M. Larive, " Quaedam impressio divinae scientiae, la theologie selon le P. Labourdette " and 5.-Th. Bonino, "Le thomisme du P. Labourdette." Second, other essays succeed in capturing this Thomistic thinker in flight, as it were, as his incisive powers of analysis and synthesis reveal themselves in his treatment of various theological questions. I would especially recommend here A. D. Mongillo's "La fin derniere de la personne humaine," C. J. Pinto de Oliveira's "La prudence, concept cle de la morale du P. Labourdette," and T.-D. Humbrecht's "Le peche originel selon le P. Labourdette." These essays skillfully coalesce and complement each other, forming, as with the variously tinted panes of a stained-glass window, a multi-colored illumination of their subject. What emerges from this well-composed assemblage is a devoted homage to a theologian creatively faithful to his inherited traditions. This creative fidelity to the depositum fidei, and to a Thomistic legacy invigoratingly alive in his own work, forms the intellectual principle by which P. Labourdette sought to perceive and understand the many new insights and developments that cannot help hut teem before any alert, twentieth-century mind. P. Lahourdette addresses himself to theological issues using an approach both classical and flexible, deep, yet clear. This clarity is of such an order that it reveals to the contemporary reader aspects of traditional theological investigation that have been... (shrink)

The contributions in the current issue of Ethical Perspectives mainly derive from a conference on Catholic Intellectual Traditions organized jointly by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven and the Erasmus Institute, University of Notre Dame, and held at Leuven from November 10th to the 11th, 2000. As the reader can see from a quick perusal of the table of contents, the contributions cover a diverse range of topics. The reader might well ask what such contributions have to do with a journal concerned (...) with ethical perspectives. What do contributions bearing on religious themes from literature, or reflections on mystical love, or on Catholicism and modern scholarship, have to do with a journal devoted to ethics? Surely we have all learned to our benefit from Kant that ethics is entirely autonomous with respect to religion. If there is a relation, it is one that must respect that autonomy, and not muddy the waters by bringing back the outmoded promiscuity of religion and ethics, and especially it must guard against religion trying to sly its way back to dominion over ethics once again.A reply to this line of reflection would be that Ethical Perspectives is concerned not only with perspectives, not only with what happens within perspectives, but with ethical perspectives as themselves coming to articulation within contexts that contain all the richness of human life as lived. Such contexts cannot be considered apart from serious reflection on religion as expressing the sense of ultimate worth that humans understand and try to live diversely. Contexts have to do with the ethos within which ethical perspectives, and our determinate address to specific ethical dilemmas occur. The practice of a religion, or the absence of it, or indeed the rejection of such practice, communicates something of our sense of the most ultimate ethos of being, and its goodness.Clearly this communication will also be effected in a diversity of ways: for instance, in the understanding we have of the economy and the state as serving, or despoiling, the worth of human life; or in the art and literature that offer us images of significant human possibility set forth for imaginative contemplation with a forthrightness more integral than the confused flux of everyday life allows; or in the secret love of prayer that draws the human soul towards its most extreme abandonment and adoration. Ethical perspectives do not make full sense in the determinate terms they overtly set forth, but draw from sources of value that more often than not remain implicit and intimate to the perspectives themselves. Full ethical reflection requires mindfulness of these more intimate sources, and an honest address towards our religious being is demanded by such reflection. Such honesty is asked of a non-believer as of a believer. Both indeed may be differently called into question by that honesty.If the conference was organized with reference to Catholic Traditions, does this indicate a kind of sectarian narrowness for the intellectual, despite what the word `catholic' might betoken? It will be evident from the contributions that no such narrowness is here at work. Quite the opposite: it is the rich diversity that is striking. One does hear reference to the `ghetto' of Catholic ways, perhaps Church ways, perhaps Christian ways generally. This is a very interesting word: `ghetto'. The discerning reader will note in some of the contributions a strong sympathy for Judaism. But in some instances we will be urged to get out of our `ghetto'. It might seem that as `Catholics' or `Christians' we are already `Jews'. Who put us into the `ghetto'? Is this self-incurred? It seems there are some who have consigned themselves to their own `ghetto', but while this may be true, are there not `ghettos' of religion that are the afterlives of certain Enlightenment ways of thinking about religion, afterlives internalized by those religious who would get out of this now self-imposed ghetto, and make their accommodation with more enlightened ways. How delightfully tangled it all is! We preach repentance and wonder at the end who it is that needs to repent, perhaps we the preachers! One thinks of Lear telling the judge to bring the lash to himself. I don't believe Lear was a Catholic, but he certainly was not an Enlightenment intellectual.There is a question worth asking here, in that for not a few the notion of a `Catholic intellectual' or `Christian intellectual' is an oxymoron. To be a real intellectual is not to be affiliated to an organization that already knows in advance what the truth is. One is reminded of those debates earlier in the 20th century between Bertrand Russell and Frederick Copleston. Russell: You are a Catholic, ergo you already know the answer, ergo you cannot honestly ask the question, ergo what you do cannot be philosophy, that is, free thinking.Very clever, of course, and not without some truth. Do we have to agree with Heidegger that a Christian philosophy is a round square? The problem here, of course, is philosophical. I would say: to be a philosopher is to be able to ask about anything, including religion. But the how of the asking is very important. The asking about religion might well seek a confirmation for what is held beforehand. But this holds true of the critics of religion as much as the sympathizers. The shoe is sometimes on the other foot. It is not only the apologetic Catholics who bring presuppositions to bear on the asking of a question, but so also do those critics who, mirabile dictu, strangely often find their own presuppositions confirmed once again. How easy to accuse the other of not being a `real' intellectual; how galling when it turns out that one's own practice of the free intellect mirrors one's chained opponent.The lesson I take: we inevitably bring fundamental presuppositions to bear in the asking of determinate questions. And it is these presuppositions we need to understand as much as the determinate questions and determinate answers. We are all put to the test. This is more catholic than the offensive critic or the defensive apologist. But you must have trust in mind to be willing to let one's thought be thus open. Such trust cannot be accounted for fully in the determinate ideas one explores or defends. It is interesting also that this trust, in the how of asking questions, mirrors the trust in the how of a person's faith or hope in God. This trust bears on this and that situation or difficulty, but it is in excess of this or that determinate situation or difficulty. It concerns sources of expectation in truth and goodness that are more than we can determine in advance. They are more than we can ever determine completely, since they make our determining possible. We are given to be in this expectation which we cannot completely determine through ourselves alone. And one might say that religion is the way we are given to keep open our communication to these sources of ultimate trust. Russell's cleverness is admirable, but that cleverness will not do to deal with the issue. If the issue concerns ethos or context in the sense implied above, cleverness will never do justice to that. While religion has the power to make us more discerning here, there is a cleverness that tends to make us obtuse.Of course, we intellectuals and academics love cleverness, since we think we are very clever ourselves. Here is one of our sources of difficulty with religion. People who are not clever like us also seem to be religious. If so, one might be tempted to say: being religious then cannot be the same as being clever; it might not even be clever to be religious; ergo to be a truly clever intellectual and academic, I must leave religion in my youth, and put on adult ways of thinking. One might even add to the clinching argument: for ethical reasons we must leave that behind, for just as our thinking must be autonomous, so we must our being ethical become entirely autonomous. Adieu religion!There is an argument here, but one wonders if there are also hints of the operation of a sly process of shaming. We now live in a time where processes of embarrassment are often at work in the initiation of young academics and intellectuals. I hear it said, or rather I hear the significant silence saying this: “It is not that we argue against religion, it's just that well, we real intellectuals don't talk about such things anymore”. We may speak at the top of our heads as post-modernists who have robustly deconstructed the Enlightenment ideal, but at the level of the more elusive and intimate embarrassment we are unself-conscious children of the Enlightenment. But did not the Enlightenment tell us no longer to be children. But now, with our heads we postmoderns tell ourselves we no longer want to be children of the Enlightenment, but in our hearts with regard to religion we are still such children — I mean children of the Enlightenment. Is it not time for that child also to grow up. If I were allowed to prophesy — and of course I am not allowed, since prophecy is now said not only to be inadmissible but impossible — I would inadmissibly and impossibly have to say that at the end of that growing up being religious might again wait gently for this stout child. How galling this will be, I do not prophesy, since we will then have to make our peace with all those people there who are not as clever as we are.We all know Kant's remarks about Enlightenment freeing us from self-incurred tutelage. And of course, our servility to spiritual despots and priestly powers was part of that tutelage. And so we have become autonomous thinkers. What if this autonomy comes to mean that we substitute for self-incurred tutelage a kind of self-incurred spiritual mutilation? If God is the distinguished thing, this may be so; and no amount of self-exculpation, not even ethical self-exculpation, in terms of our being denizens of the epoch of the death of God, will quite exonerate our blasé lack of urgency about divine ultimacy. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:XY/XOLianne SimonAs a boy child I might once have thrived, but the loss of a Y chromosome in one of the first few cell divisions left me a faie half–girl struggling for life—like some changeling left in place of a human baby. My genetic mosaic of XY and XO cell lines created a fetal legacy of Turner Syndrome medical issues. Among these were delayed growth, a largely absent puberty, (...) and micrognathia—a small jaw that feminized my face. [End Page E11]At two I weighed just eighteen pounds. My parents worried they might lose their little boy, I was that frail. All I knew was I was the smallest of my peer group and had a cute pixie face. I imagined myself a high–spirited elfin princess, but was in truth shy—almost timid—and prone to tears.I first responded to the Gospel at vacation Bible school. One of the women there read me Bible stories. I didn’t understand them all, but I wanted to love Jesus and be a good girl.At nine I was the size of a 6–year–old. By then I’d started growing faster, so my mother stopped taking me to the doctors. I didn’t see one again until an emergency appendectomy in college.Fifth grade brought surprises. Jim melted my heart with his Beatles love songs and cute smile. I dreamed of being his bride. Karen was the first classmate ever shorter than me. We were best friends, but one day the principal said I should play softball with the boys instead of hopscotch with her.My parents allowed me dolls and tea sets, even an Easy–Bake oven. But wearing my sister’s clothes triggered a sad–eyed lecture—boys didn’t do such things. No dresses. No talking with my hands. No long hair. And no crushes on boys.If I prayed hard enough, if I was really good, maybe God would make me a real boy—tall and strong, fast and agile—like my older brother. Two years later, puberty cracked my high–pitched squeal of a voice and sent it sliding down to a mellower soprano. I grew taller, but didn’t get muscles or body hair, and I remained hopelessly uncoordinated. An inguinal hernia kept me from running very far.High school turned my prayers into pleas for mercy. I despaired of ever fitting in. Some Christians might not have welcomed a feminine boy, but the pastor of our Southern Baptist mission considered me one more sinner in need of the saving grace of a forgiving God. He led me to faith in Christ. As a new believer, I assumed I could be a boy for real. Maybe even find a girlfriend. Instead, the mask that allowed me to function socially crumbled, leaving me no place to hide.In the spring of 1970, I registered for the draft. Me fighting in Vietnam seemed a real possibility. Or at least spending time in prison for refusing induction. Except that a delicate intersex kid would never have passed the physical. Nearly perfect SAT scores won me a scholarship to Miami, so I left a supportive home in Illinois for a boys’ dorm in south Florida.My surname then was Klett. The worst of the guys called me Clit, or sometimes Clitoris. Others derided my small size and lack of virility. One propositioned me. Another used to pin me to my bed and lie on top of me until I quit struggling. Though he stopped each time I surrendered, my defenses lay in ruin.A few of the boys were nice. David took me for long rides on his motorcycle, with my arms wrapped tight around his waist. He treated me with gentle kindness and asked nothing in return.To escape the dorm, I studied in the library stacks, where only honors and graduate students were allowed. The next year I found a derelict building where the university stored old theatrical sets. It even had a quiet place to sit in the sun. Best of all—nobody ever went there.One day my imagination wandered through the wardrobe. What would I have worn... (shrink)

In this article, I explore the response of the Ashʿarī theologian Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1210) to what can be called “the problem of the efficacy of petitionary prayers” (PEPP), namely the effectiveness of making supplications to God that involve a request for something. The key text I examine is al-Rāzī’s highly dense philosophical work al-Maṭālib al-ʿāliya min al-ʿilm al-ilāhī, in which he outlines his core objections to the efficacy of petitionary prayer and then addresses them directly. In (...) section 1, I include a short historiography of specific English books on the topic of supplications (duʿāʾ) and consider the relevance of al-Rāzī’s response to the issue of their efficacy. In section 2, I outline the preliminaries necessary and relevant for understanding the discussion that follows. In section 3, I survey al-Rāzī’s view on personal prayers. In section 4, I exam­ine in detail al-Rāzī’s formulations of the arguments (from the Maṭālib) that constitute PEPP, with parallel discussions in his huge exegetical work Mafātīḥ al-ghayb. In section 5, I lay out al-Rāzī’s responses to PEPP from the Mafātīḥ in more depth, and draw on theological views from his other works to help support his arguments in the Maṭālib. In the conclu­sion, I evaluate al-Rāzī’s responses and the wider implications they have on a Muslim’s relation to and understanding of God. (shrink)

This article investigates how we should understand the prayer ‘But thy will not mine be done’, using Wittgenstein’s ordinary language approach. The later Wittgenstein argued that philosophy’s task is to assemble reminders of how language is used in daily life for a particular purpose. This approach offers a way to understand how, despite what theologians have argued, ‘Thy will be done’ is neither making prayer useless, nor is it fundamental to all petitionary prayers. Firstly, the framework and (...) method of Wittgenstein’s ordinary language will be explained. Secondly, reminders will be assembled for the purpose of showing that the prayer ‘Thy will be done’ does not need to make praying useless. Thirdly, the appropriate reminders to refute the statement that ‘Thy will be done’ is fundamental to all petitionary prayers will be presented. And, finally, these two sets of reminders will be connected to one another to provide a more truthful understanding of the prayer ‘Thy will be done’. (shrink)

continent. 1.4 (2011): 279—285. Concerning its Transitive Nature, the Conversion of Native Americans of Spanish Colonial California, Indoctrinated Catholicism, & the Creation There’s no direct archaeological evidence that Jesus ever existed. 1 I memorized the Act of Contrition. I don’t remember it now, except the beginning: Forgive me Father for I have sinned . . . This was in preparation for the Sacrament of Holy Reconciliation, where in a confessional I confessed my sins to Father Scott, who looked like Jesus, (...) at least in Western cultural representations of Jesus since the middle ages, and if Jesus put on a few pounds. Father Scott was long-haired, redheaded, bearded, chubby, and tall. When he left church with the procession of altar servers and Eucharistic ministers, yelling, “Sing a Good Song Unto the Lord,” he smiled, hands folded, and he gazed over his parishioners, and bounced along. For four months every year he lived among the Crow Nation in Montana, where towards the end of his tenure at Our Lady of Refuge, they adopted him as an honorary member of their tribe. * This is the prayer we chanted, holding hands, every night before dinner: Bless us oh Lord, for these our gifts, which we are about to receive, our bounty through Christ, our Lord, Amen. Then we all said, God bless the cook! When we were with my grandparents, Grandpa said, God bless Chicky, and Holly, and Harvey, and Boots—all the dead dogs. * My sister tells me that she sits next to a handsome man on a flight across the country. After chitchat, she withdraws her book. She’s reading Kevin Sampsell’s A Common Pornography . After a few moments, the handsome man also reads from his book—his leather-bound Bible. Sister thinks, Oh, Jesus—too bad. She falls asleep. Later, settled in Nashville, she opens her volume and out falls a Jesus-covered card that reads, You can still find God and Salvation! Because that handsome God-fearing young man saw that word— pornography . * I suppose Father Jim’s dark hair, beard, and glasses made me think doctoral-ly of him. He called while I was in the midst of a breakup, after I’d twice attempted suicide, and my mother was desperate for help. She somehow found and phoned him. And Jim, now years out of Our Lady of Refuge’s parish, twenty years since my baptism, years even since he’d left the priesthood and the Catholic faith, still made the effort to bring me back into the fold. He said, “Have you seen a priest?” I did not respond, as I was more shocked to hear his voice than anything, so I said, “How are you, Father Jim? Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t call you ‘Father.’” And I said, “Why did you leave the priesthood? Do you have a girlfriend?” He said that I should call him just “Jim.” He said, “Do you need someone to talk to?” I said, “Not really.” He said, “Call your mother; she’s worried about you.” That was the last time I talked to Father Jim. * Mother let me know just how disappointed Jesus was. I cried and cried, and said I was sorry. Into my hands she placed my missal, ordered forty Rosaries. She said next Saturday I would go to confession. I hated confession. Who wouldn’t? * I realize, of course, that this page is a kind of confessional. * The Kumeyaay, Ipai, Tipai, Chumash, Esselen, Rumsen—all Native Americans of Alta California—shared similarities in their religions. Southern Californian tribes made use of Datura, or jimpson weed, a hallucinogen, for religious rituals. In the creation, God made brother sky and sister earth. Brother and sister mated, and sister gave birth to all things on Earth, including people, but it was difficult to distinguish people from all other aspects of Earth because everything was alive: granite and obsidian, the Pacific and its waves, the San Diego and Los Angeles Rivers. Wiyot—a hero—was very powerful, born from lightning, the son of the Creator and a virgin. When Wiyot thought that human women’s legs were more beautiful than Frog’s, Frog became jealous and poisoned Wiyot. The dying Wiyot went to all the people’s villages, and he distributed his power among them. He said, “When I die, I should be cremated.” The people built the fire and funeral pyre. When the fire was ready, and the people about to place Wiyot’s body upon it, Coyote came and snatched away Wiyot’s heart. * My friend Nick told me once how he ate some jimpson weed and that he hallucinated for three days. His family took a road trip and, while driving over the Sierra Nevada mountains, he kept seeing dinosaurs roaming the open meadows and charging down snowy slopes. So it’s no wonder that Native Americans who ingested this plant would have developed religion. * Walking Castroville’s streets after school I got into fights but mostly watched other boys scrabbling on the asphalt. I went to Burger King for Whoppers. Me and my friends cussed. Antonio admonished me when I said, “damn,” while strutting a sidewalk alongside the church. He said, “Jaime”—pronounced Hi-May, which was what all the Mexicans called me—“you’re crazy, eh. Don’t cuss at the church.” He meant while at church, as in, within its vicinity. I said, “We’re not in church.” Once we’d crossed the street, Tony said, “Damn dude, you’re fuckin crazy!” * Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra raised the Eucharistic goblet to his lips, and candlelight danced on the blood’s tiny waves. Incense clouded the church so completely that some of the Pame natives grew nauseous. So, too, felt Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra later that night, as he bent over a ceramic bowl and vomited blood, not only the Lord’s, but his own, for poison had laced the sacred vessel into which he poured the sacrament. The physician tending to the sick prelate urged him to take the remedy he’d prepared. But Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra refused, said that he would pray, for he had never taken any medicine in his life, and he never would. * The Chumash of El Valle de Los Osos called themselves the Stishni, separating themselves from Chumash of other regions, those varying tribes of the central California coast that spoke mutually unintelligible dialects of their Hokan language. This made learning their languages impossible for the Spanish friars, to say nothing of translating the Doctrina. Thus the priests baptized few natives, despite the help that the tribes offered the fledgling settlements in the form of meat and acorn meal, which the Spaniards found repugnant. Some from these cultures, feeling threatened by the newcomers, shot flaming arrows into the thatched roofs of the mission structures. And why wouldn’t they feel threatened when priests chastised them for performing, for example, their Coyote Dance, wherein a man donning a coyote-skin-and-skull costume dances while a singer sings his tale, which laments the human feces strewn imaginatively about the Earth? Coyote, meantime, tries to get an onlooker to lick his genitals, and finally engages in public sexual intercourse with a female tribe member or two, then ends the dance by defecating. Though the Franciscans called such forbidden acts devilry , the Chumash maintained their Datura cult religion, along with the enforced Christianity. For the Chumash, the Earth was made of two enormous snakes that caused earthquakes when they slithered past one another—a vast reptilian tectonics. In the 20th century, long after Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra and his cohorts had died, when asked by an anthropologist about religious contradictions, conflating the Datura and Christian cults, a Chumash man replied, incredulous: “But these are two different religions.” * When Portolá ordered that if by March 19th, the feast day of St. Joseph, the San Antonio had not arrived in San Diego Bay to relieve them, the Sacred Expedition to Nueva California would be abandoned, Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra prayed a novena for San José’s intercession. And lo, a lookout sighted the San Antonio ’s sails—what seemed to the priest a miracle—that very Saint’s feast day. Europeans would stay in California, and Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra would continue to reap a great harvest of souls for the Lord. By the end of mission secularization in 1836—sixty-six years after the San Antonio rescued the Spaniards—Native American populations in California had declined by seventy-three percent. * When Peter the Aleut would not renounce his Eastern Orthodox faith the padre of San Francisco had a toe severed from each foot with each refusal, totaling ten. The native Ohlones employed in this gruesome task—their obsidian chiseled knives tearing through skin and grinding bone—continued as per their orders, and cut off also each of Peter’s fingers (equals a total of twenty refusals). They quartered the martyr, spilled his bowels, as if from bear attack, attack by a bear in the shape of a Catholic. * Blessed Father Fray Junípero Serra absolutely believed that the slow rate of conversion for the native people was due to the influence of the Devil, who had been outraged by the coming of the Catholics to California, this region that he had long held in his dominion. * In his reception speech for the Nobel Prize for Literature, John Steinbeck said, “Man himself has become our greatest hazard and our only hope. So that today, St. John the Apostle may well be paraphrased: In the end is the Word, and the Word is Man—and the Word is with Men.” * In 1602, when Sebastián Vizcaíno and his friars sang mass on Catalina Island, as many as a hundred Pimungans witnessed the rite, asking by signs what it was about. According to Vizcaíno’s records, the Californians marveled not a little at the idea of Heaven and at the image of Jesus crucified. * Vizcaíno was brought to a prairie on Santa Catalina Island where the Pimungans worshipped their sun god. Upon the prairie they had placed an icon, a headless figure with horns protruding from the body, a figure that Vizcaíno predictably described as a demon. The Pimungans urged Vizcaíno not to approach the image of their deity, but he ignored them. He placed his crucifix against the wooden figurine and prayed the Our Father. Vizcaíno told the natives that his prayer was from Heaven, and that their god was the Devil. Vizcaíno held out his crucifix, encouraging the Pimungans to touch it and receive Jesus. He pointed at the sky and indicated Heaven. The Pimungans worshipped a sun deity, so they were impressed with this white man and his description of his god, for their gods seemed to be one and the same. It’s no wonder then that Vizcaíno’s diary reports the natives being pleased with this exchange. “Surely,” the diary says, “they will be converted to our Holy Faith.” * The Miwok women wailed and scratched at their faces when their men consorted with Sir Francis Drake and the other Englishmen who had landed on California’s coast in the summer of 1579. “The blood streaming downe along their brests, besides despoiling the upper parts of their bodies of those single coverings . . .they would with furie cast themselves upon the ground . . . on hard stones, knobby hillocks, stocks of wood, and pricking bushes.” Drake and his men fell themselves to their knees in prayer, their eyes Heavenward, so that the natives might see they prayed to God and they too might worship God then their eyes that had been so blinded by the deceiver might be opened. * Father Fray Antonio de la Ascención—Carmelite friar in Vizcaíno’s party—writes that the Indians of California can “easily and with very little labor be taught our Holy Catholic faith, and that they would receive it well and lovingly.” He calls for two hundred older and honorable soldiers to ensure brotherhood during the conquest, so that peace and love—the best tools to pacify pagans—should reign. The religious, the friar says, should likewise be wise and loving to easily quell animosities between Spaniards and the heathen, and therefore avoid war. The Spaniards should bring with them trinkets—beads, mirrors, knives—to distribute amongst the gentiles, so that they might come to love the Christians, and see “that they are coming to their lands to give them that of which they bring, and not to take away the Indians’ possessions, and may understand that they are seeking the good of their souls.” No women are to accompany the conquest, says Father Fray Antonio, “to avoid offenses to God.” * In 1955 Wallace Stevens admitted himself to St. Francis Hospital in Hartford, Connecticut. There, it’s rumored he converted to Catholicism before dying of stomach cancer, exclaiming to his priest after the baptism, “Now I am in the fold.” Stevens’s late-career poems seem less cynical, more in awe of being and death (read “Metaphor as Degeneration” from The Auroras of Autumn ). He could have chosen from at least three secular hospitals in Hartford at the time. * I was reading Stevens’s Collected Poems when I joined eHarmony and listed that as my “currently reading” book among the “more than twelve” books a year that I would read. I fell in love with my wife when she said, “Are you sending your work out to literary journals?” Prior to this, the first girl I talked to on the phone, when I explained my doctoral exams, said, “So, you’re like, reading Stephen King and stuff?” When I said not exactly she responded defensively: “He must be doing something right, since he makes all that money.” * Mom walked me, my brother, and sister, through the Stations of the Cross. We did this on Ash Wednesdays, or whenever she thought we needed extra God after church. It might’ve happened before church, though that’s unlikely because we were always late. Anyway, it’s easiest to walk the Stations of the Cross when there’s no one else around. To walk the actual Stations means one goes to Jerusalem and walks the Via Dolorosa to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So the Stations elsewhere—usually paintings, or low-relief sculptures upon church walls—serve as a kind of virtual Dolorosa. Mom held our hands and started from the rear of Our Lady of Refuge: the First Station. Mom said we should say a prayer at each Station and to think of all the pain Jesus went through so that we could go to Heaven. It was hard to keep thinking about that one thing for so long. My mind went to that Saturday’s little league game, to the donut and chocolate milk (our after-church reward from Castroville Bakery), and as I grew older I thought about girls. When you’re thirteen you can’t not think about the girl’s butt in the pew in front of yours as she kneels and stands to pray throughout mass. * It grew increasingly juvenile to lie awake at night daring myself to utter a simple sentence. Even if I said I didn’t believe in God, wouldn’t He know the truth? He was omniscient, like a narrator. Even the idea of Him as a him ceased making sense. Not only did this come with a budding realization of my paternalistic culture, but due to the simple question of why? If God was everything, everywhere, all knowing, then why would he be a man? There’s that question: If God is a man then God must have a penis, and if so, what for? * The Catholic Church incorporates some modern scientific research into its dogma concerning the formation of the Universe, Solar System, and Earth, as well as evolution. According to Catholic doctrine, in approximately the fifth millennia BCE, humans began to worship the one true God. Those humans were Adam and Eve, though the Church says humans had been around for thousands of years prior to Adam and Eve. The Church claims to be infallible. Every time the Church changes its doctrine it remains infallible. * One Catholic writer, Tom Meagher, writes that “Modernism[—]the idea that we come to our beliefs individually through emotional or personal experiences[—]has crept into our Catholic schools.” * Catholics believe that evil spirits, given power through Original Sin, can imbue ordinary inanimate objects of everyday use. Thus, such objects should be blessed in order to induce in them the desire to serve the good. Such objects are not limited to, but include, “new ships and boats, railways and trains, bridges, fountains, wells, cornmills, limekilns, smelting furnaces, telegrams, steam engines, and machines for providing electricity.” * In The Sound of Music Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer sing together: “Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could...” * To explain competing theories on the very early universe, and pre-verse would be another book. What was the inflaton? Did (mem)branes collide, initiating the Big Bang, as opposed to Lemaître’s primordial atom, a singularity? Without a unified theory there’s gravity hanging out there, fucking everything up. We cannot make sense of the mechanics of the Planck Epoch—0-10-34 seconds into the Universe’s creation—named for Max Planck, who stumbled into the discovery of quantum mechanics in the early twentieth century. * My students often ask if I believe in God, since I espouse evolution, the Big Bang, Science, reject a strictly biblical or creationist theory of the Universe. I tell them that yes, I believe in God, though not the God that they imagine one must believe in. * When questioned regarding the rumor that, before his death, founder of quantum mechanics Max Planck had converted to Catholicism, he replied that he did not believe “in a personal God, let alone a Christian God.” * Physicist and Catholic priest George Lemaître, who formulated the theory and wrote the 1946 book The Primeval Atom Hypothesis , was made a household name by then-detractor Fred Hoyle, who pejoratively referred to the idea as a “Big Bang.” * Suicide is a mortal sin. To end one’s own life one must have despair, which is to lose hope, which is to lose faith, and to disbelieve in God. * Archaeology has uncovered graffiti in all of California’s missions—Indian pictographs inscribed into the adobe, covered with layers of whitewash. Native deities and depictions of cultural practices show that tribespeople never fully gave up their native traditions even after baptism and coming to the missions. There was something inside Native Californians that would never die. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Prayer for the Dead, A Prayer for the LivingVincent J. MinichielloAs a first year resident physician, I am just beginning to understand the responsibilities and the practice of medicine. I have difficulty telling people “I’m a doctor,” because I’m not sure I believe it myself. And yet within the past eight months, I have already been challenged to mediate situations that bring me to not only (...) fully accept my vocation as a physician, but also to grow on a mental level, a human level, and a spiritual level. In the following reflection, I recount one of those moments that occurred during a rotation in the medical intensive care unit.At 6 p.m. I was coming on for my night shift knowing that the family of one of the patients I would be caring for had decided earlier in the day to withdraw medical care for their dying sister. The woman had been admitted to the ICU the previous night unconscious and in multi organ system failure—heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, all failed—as a result of chronic alcoholism and most recently drinking daily for three weeks with barely any other dietary intake. She was being kept alive with mechanical ventilation and three IV drips of medications to maintain her blood pressure. She was 45 years old. After a few more hours of saying goodbye, her sister came up to me and said that the family was ready to proceed. To withdraw care. I thought a lot about this phrase we use [End Page 204] “withdrawing care” that night. This encounter was the first time I had ever been the physician entering these orders into the computer. To me, what I was doing that night was in fact the complete opposite of “withdrawing” care. I felt, instead, that I was giving even more care. How?First, by caring more for the patient. By making sure she was comfortably extubated, by helping to reposition her in the hospital bed in a way that appeared more natural, and by praying. I prayed that when we stopped the pressors and the ventilator, she would pass quietly and find peace in Heaven, when she perhaps found very little on Earth.Second, by caring more for her family. It was my responsibility to guide them through this dying process, a process that I had only encountered two or three times previously in my life. I felt unsure, frightened, and nervous, not wanting to make a mistake or be inadvertently insensitive. Once again, prayer and what I perceive to be God’s grace filled me with the love I needed to outline the process, to encourage family members to hold her hand and to speak with her while she died.Once the medications were stopped and she was breathing unassisted, her lungs gasped once … twice. Was the soul being released from the body or was the body clinging onto the soul? And then, within two minutes, silence. I left some space to pause and then when the time felt right, stepped forward for the death pronouncement. “The heart is not beating, the lungs have stopped breathing” was all I could manage to say. Why did I remove the “she” and “her”? Why could I not say, “She is dead”? At the time I could not have answered those questions. Thinking back, I believe it was easier for me to vocalize that her body had simply stopped functioning, while I quietly held on to the belief that her soul continued to exist. Should I have held back as I did? Would it have been better for the family to hear that their sister was unquestionably dead? Perhaps. Nevertheless, the family understood, they cried, they held their sister’s hand. And then let go.At this point I took a breath, left the room, and without pause stepped straight into …A 46 year old woman with a history of drug and alcohol abuse was being wheeled into the ICU on a hospital bed right in front of me as the door behind me closed. Her nose and mouth were caked with white powder and she was in the embrace of some hallucination, clawing... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:From the Dutch Novel Messire (2008) by Els LaunspachEls LaunspachTranslated by Laura Vroomen (bio)The rooftops have just appeared out of the November night. First the white frames become visible, then the roof tiles, the walls and the gaping holes of the windows. A cluster of ravens alights on the far side of the tower. Three birds think better of it and fly from the eaves to the oak tree. (...) They are all awaiting the new day, as I am. The last remaining leaves on the trees—at night their vague contours can fool you into thinking it is summer—are shrivelled and yellow, the colour of the torches that are now being lit behind some castle windows. The mist presses against the walls of the watch house. Slowly, the dark-grey light turns a cooler shade.’How could he convey his experiences with a lump of charcoal? He threw it down on the table. His fingers had turned black and the characters, conceived with such conviction, were crude, with smudges everywhere. Yet he picked up his makeshift writing tool once more, this time to record two facts.‘I have lost my books. Cromwell sent Rich to take them away.’His books in Rich’s hands, his solace disappearing from view behind that pleated cloak. Naturally, their contents were all in his head. But his books were his friends; fellow travellers, silent witnesses, comrades. All gone, even God’s [End Page 249] word. Only a single sheet of paper remained, but what he wanted to tell his daughter Margaret, how the day began, refused to take shape.‘It’s funny,’ he had wanted to write. ‘I used to say that I’d wanted to be a monk, remember? Now I’ve got what I wanted. Peace and quiet. Few sounds penetrate my tower, save for the croaking of the ravens and the occasional cooing dove. I can meditate and pray and ponder to my heart’s content. The cries of the rowers and the seamen seem very distant, somewhere down below. No interruptions. At times the wind rattles the window and howls through the slit in the wall. I can hear John-a-Wood moving his stool or dropping a cup on the floor—wood and tin on stone. I have found my place in the world, Margaret. I have become pure spirit, just as I had wished. Still, I’m plagued by doubt and bad dreams.’ No, there was no need for them to know that. His family was worried enough as it was. The more steadfast he became, the more they worried. Humour no longer helped either. His eldest child’s letters pierced right through it.So now everything was laid bare. No more digression or embellishment; charcoal did not allow it. He had been reduced to straight talking, to facts. His days had become pure routine. Rise at six and pray. At times it felt as if he were in his own chapel at home, until he heard the rattling of John’s keys. The door would open: barley gruel and a jug of fresh water. The first and only smile of the day, unless he had a visitor. Then he was alone again to study and think.Now that his books were gone, there was every opportunity for thinking. Having had visitors just the week before, he could not expect any for a while. At the time he had not been able to summon the energy to listen and respond; his neck was stiff, turning his head painful. Howard had been there, asking question after question in an attempt to offer him a way out, when all he wanted was to enjoy the fire. Firewood and visitors went hand in hand, unbeknownst to Norfolk. The prisoner wanted to be alone and enjoy the fire. He wanted to close his eyes and not have to turn his head, to lose himself completely in the heat.So now he did not study after breakfast, but wrote a letter instead. Writing, debate and analysis were his reason for living, so he felt compelled to keep working, even here, even with a useless lump of charcoal. But prayer... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 22 (2002) 101-104 [Access article in PDF] A Christian Response to Buddhist Reflections on Prayer Donald W. Mitchell Purdue University In his essay, Kenneth K. Tanaka considers two important elements of Christian prayer when he presents young Megan praying. First is the petitionary element of her prayer, and second is the relational element. Saint John Damascene expresses these same two dimensions in his classical (...) definition of Christian prayer: "Prayer is the raising of one's mind and heart to God, or the requesting of good things from God." 1 This movement of the mind and heart to God makes Christian prayer a living relationship that is itself a gift of God through Christ. The "heart" of a person is that hidden center in which Christ resides and from where his spirit moves both heart and mind toward God in a relation of love and devotion. As Saint Thérèse of Lisieux puts it, "For me, prayer is a surge of the heart... it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy." 2 One responds to trials, one's own or those of others, with prayers of petition or intercession; and to joys or blessings with prayers of adoration, praise and thanksgiving. In all cases, the prayers are the dynamics of a person's relationship with God, where God is both ultimate source and object of the prayers.Tanaka also makes two comments about Christian prayer in its public forms. First, he questions the appropriateness of public prayers for civic leaders or for teams at athletic events. Does God choose to aid only some political leaders or nations, or choose sides in athletic games? Though I may feel that God must prefer my son's Little League team, or at least Notre Dame football for heaven's sake, certainly God loves and cares for everyone. Perhaps Tanaka's final characterization of Christian prayer is helpful here: "conversational, personal and hopeful." In a public event, one expresses in prayer one's hope, while understanding that God's providence embraces everyone in ways that are larger than one can comprehend.In the essay by Taitetsu Unno on the Jesus Prayer and Nembutsu, the question of dualism and both the initiative and the consequence of prayer is addressed. Unno points out that according to the Jesus Prayer tradition in Eastern Orthodoxy, the initiative of the prayer is from God, much like the intoning of Nembutsu arising from the Vow of Great Compassion. Here, as in Saint Thérèse's "surge of the heart," the ultimate subject and object of prayer are the same. Unno points out that the consequence [End Page 101] of such a Christian prayer is a sense that the world is infused with the presence of God in a way that is similar to finding the Land of Bliss everywhere. Indeed, I would add that this similarity applies to more than just the Jesus Prayer. Saint Teresa of Avila refers to a prayer experience that is not uncommon in mature Christian spirituality "in which is revealed to the soul how all things are in God, and how within himself he contains them all." 3After presenting these similarities between the Jesus Prayer and Nembutsu, Unno raises what he sees as a fundamental difference: the treatment of sin, blind passions, and ignorance. Unno quotes a Christian Orthodox text that calls for the utter rejection of sin and evil, and depicts grace as entering the soul and driving evil outside. Unno then says, "To negate evil, sin, and death means to deny a part of one's reality; to affirm them through transformation means to make one's life complete and whole." The latter approach is, for Unno, key to the spirituality of Shinran and Shin Buddhism. I would like to make two comments here. First, it is unclear as to what Unno is saying about the Shin approach to evil. How can one transform evil into its opposite without evil being "nullified and eradicated"? When the "ice" of one's passions melt into the... (shrink)

Ijmā is ranked as the third shariah evidence after the Qur’ān and Sunnah in the science of Uṣūl. Shafi was the first one who made Uṣūl which had been known and used by the Islamic scholars, into a written document and who ascertained that Ijmā was the third of the shariah evidences. Kalām is one of the sciences in which Ijmā evidence is used. The scholars of Kalām used this evidence as far as the science of Uṣūl made it possible. (...) They always used it without changing any basics of religious beliefs and acceptances. That the aqidah of Ahl al-Sunnah has been supported with Ijmā which is regarded as one of naqly evidences, played an important role in eliminating suspicions which were tried to be aroused in momins’ mind. In this article, the function and importance of Ijmā evidence, which is one of the primary sources of the science of Uṣūl, in the science of Kalām and Aqidah of Ahl al-Sunnah has been studied.SummaryWhat the Qur’ān demands from us is to emphasize the spirit of unity among ummah and to keep out the factors that could trigger separation and division. Indeed, Allah emphasizes in the following verses in the Qur’ān on the protection of the unitary structure of the ummah: “And hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided” (Āl a-Imrān 3/103) and “And do not be like the ones who became divided and differed after the clear proofs had come to them” (Āl al-Imrān 3/105). Allah has commanded the Ulul ‘Azm Prophets to hold the religion upright and to avoid division. (al-Shūrā 42/13). The command of holding the religion upright and not to be divided in this religion means to certify what needs to be confirmed in the religion of Allah and to obey those that must be obeyed. This is also the proclamation of the principle of religion that all the prophets have consensus over.Ahl al-Sunnah understanding of Islam is identical to the understanding of the Prophet and his companions. For this reason, Ahl al-Sunna is the school that represents the main backbone of Islam. In Ahl al-Sunna, in many subjects, be it usūlî / primary or furū’ī / secondary, there has been ijmā. These ijmās are Sahaba ijmās and deductive ijmās that come from mutakallimūn (theologians) ijtihāds. Therefore, ijmā and ijtihād are closely connected to each other. Ijmā is supported by ijtihād and ijtihād is also the source of ijmā. Thus, the issue is no longer just a pure ijtihād; it turns out to be a degree that gives a solid knowledge after it has risen to some degree just after the nass/texts.Ahl al- Sunnah theologians are talking about two kinds of ijmā. The first is “ijmā taṣdīqī” (approval consensus) which is the consensus based on Sahaba İjmā. These are the ijmās that occur on the principles called ḍaruratal-diniyya (necessities of the religion), and accepted as solid proofs in religion. Issues such as the principles of faith, obligation of prayer and the fasting are the subjects that are determined by the solid/definite ijmā. Such ijmās are valid approvals on existing provisions. These ijmās based on solid nass (verses and hadiths). Such ijmās do not give any new information. The existing information is strengthened by the alliance of Muslims. In these areas, ijtihād cannot be done and Muslims do not need ijtihād on these issues. There is an consensus of Ahl al-Sunnah scholars about the unfaithfulness of the one who denies one or more of the principles which are accepted as the main obligatory principles in Islam. The other is the “deductive ijmā which the ijtihāds have roles over. This kind of ijmās, are formed as a result of mujtahids’ consensus over the same opinion on the issue of theological secondary issues. The issues related to the secondary theological issues which were open to the ijtihāds and the different results obtained on matters are not accepted as the cause of takfīr. However, depending on the subject he/she can be a sinner. Istidlālī/deductive ijmās are not considered as an independent proofs in ‘Ilm al-Kalām, rather a supportive ones and are considered as textual evidences.Since, texts that are accepted as sources give supposed information. In this regard, the Ahl al-Sunnah scholars accepted other members of the sect who have in secondary theological issues opposed the ijmā of the salaf / predecessor as Ahl al-Qibla, but named them as Ahl al-Bid’a (innovator in religion) because of their opposition to Salaf’s İjmās. Moreover, the scholars of the Ahl al-Sunnah did not see them appropriate to participate in the Ijmās, which could occur between the generations that come after Sahābas/companions.Not all disputes have been criticized in Islam. It is a blessing for the ummah to claim different opinions on the issues subject to ijtihād. Since the ummah, in this way, will bring new solutions to emerging issues and as a result, Islam will have a mechanism to produce a dynamic solution. This can only be possible through ijtihād. Dispute is to propose different views on a subject. If this view is not in the actual matters that could harm the unity of the Ummah, rather in the case of ijtihādi issues, this conflict could turn to be mercy.The reason why the methodists evaluate the ijmā within the scope of the authorized evidence is that because they think it is essential that the ijmā be based on a proof. From this point of view, the alliances that occurred in mental matters were not considered as ijmā. The theologians always tried to support their claims with nass/textual proofs. When the ijmā is realized, whether known or not, they have stated that there is certainly a religious proof behind it. Because, the provisions that were reached through ijmā, cannot be against the provisions of the Prophet.Many issues in Islamic Belief and Kalām works are supported by the mental and textual evidences as well as by deductive ijmā. However, many of the claims of Ijmās in these works reflect the inter-sect ijmās of the Ahl al-Sunnah. The sects outside the Ahl al-Sunnah were excluded. This attitude is, above all, the aim of ensuring the integrity within the sect, and trying to protect the Ahl al-Sunnah belief. Since the ijmā evidence has a function that prevents all kinds of arbitrary and divisive thoughts and turns the supposed knowledge into the qat’ī/certain one, it raises the provision to the next level just after the nass, rather than merely being a ijtihādi provision. In the case of the forerunner of the Ahl al-Sunnah, the Māturīdes and Ash‘arites have not differed in in understanding of ijmā in terms of methodology.Although they have different views on the definition and content of the ijmā, they have a common understanding of alliances of Mujtahids on the same view. The mutakallims (theologians) of Māturīdī and Ash’arī schools have used the proof of ijmā as supportive evidence in the cases related to Kalām. al-Ash’arī not only adopted the proof of ijmā but also used it in practice in. He did not make any distinction in proof of ijmā as practical, theological, methodological or sub-divisional; he used it freely in every field. Māturīdī and Ash’arī scholars decided that the ijmā could occur in religious matters and that there would be evidence when it was formed; In the case of mental issues, they have required the knowledge to be based on solid information. In the case of ijmā in purely mental issues, they have disputed over the issue. While some Ahl al-Sunnah scholars stated that since purely mental matters were certain knowledge and therefore don’t need ijmā, they also ruled that because the mujtahids could get this knowledge from religious texts, therefore ijmā could occur in mental matters as well. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Guibert of Tournai's Letter to Lady Isabelle:An Introduction and English TranslationLarry F. Field, Jacques Dalarun, Sean L. Field, and Guibert of TournaiIntroductionGuibert, from the noble family of As-Piès, was born near Tournai around 1200. From his hometown he traveled to Paris for his art degree, and completed the curriculum in theology there before entering the Franciscan Order around 1240. He may have participated in Louis IX's crusade of 1248, (...) but, if so, was surely back in Paris by 1254 at the latest, since he preached a cycle of sermons de dominicis et de sanctis to the university community before summer 1255.1 His regency as Franciscan master of theology at Paris was probably around 1259–1261,2 about the time he [End Page 31] completed his Eruditio regum et principum for Louis IX,3 and began his most substantial work, the Erudimentum doctrinae.4 Other significant treatises include his De pace et animi tranquillitate (ca. 1275)5 written for Marie de Dampierre, and the Collectio de scandalis ecclesiae, prepared for the Second Council of Lyon.6 Guibert died in Tournai on 7 October 1284.7Sometime around 1254, Guibert wrote a long letter of spiritual advice to Isabelle (1225–70), the sister of King Louis IX.8 Isabelle was herself a remarkable figure. She had rejected several proposals of marriage, including that with Conrad, the heir to Emperor Frederick II, in 1243, in spite of pressure from her family and Pope Innocent IV. But following a bout of serious illness at about that time,9 her family accepted her [End Page 32] decision to remain unwed. There is no evidence, however, that Isabelle ever pronounced a formal vow of virginity. Through the 1250s she simply remained at the Capetian court as a virgin princess with an increasing reputation for piety and indeed holiness, praised in lavish terms by Innocent IV in 1253 and Alexander IV in 1256.10 This piety took a distinctly Franciscan turn by 1254, when Pope Innocent IV granted her request for Franciscan confessors,11 which would ultimately result in her foundation of Longchamp, a house of Sorores minores just west of Paris, by 1260.12 Guibert's letter shows no awareness of such a project, indicating that it must have been written before spring 1255, by which time the land for Longchamp was being purchased on Isabelle's behalf.13 Guibert thus wrote at the moment when Isabelle was forming her first ties to the Franciscans, but well before her move to Longchamp, where she lived out the 1260s as resident lay patron (but never a nun).Guibert's Letter is really a short treatise of spiritual and moral advice, tailored to a celibate princess. It is organized around Psalm 44:14–15, All the glory of the king's daughter is within in golden fringes, clothed around with varieties. In a five-part structure, the king's daughter stands for a heavenly inheritance; glory within represents internal purity; gold indicates virginity; the fringes are a sign of humility; and clothed around with varieties points to honest comportment. The resulting "royal garment," however, is rather unequally woven together, with section one on the "heavenly inheritance" and the intertwined sections three and four on virginity and humility receiving by far the most space. In fact, section one forms a sort of treatise-within-a-treatise, organized as a ten-step ascent to the heavenly inheritance awaiting the daughter of the king. [End Page 33]The Letter to Lady Isabelle was first edited by Alphonse de Poorter in 1931, from a manuscript which contained only part of the text.14 The full text was brought into print by Sean Field in 2003,15 and translated into French by Jacques Dalarun in 2014.16 Yet in spite of these advances, the Letter has remained little noticed by scholars. Anne-Hélène Allirot offered several perceptive pages in 2010, stressing the way Guibert's treatment of hereditas implies that female members of the royal family might be particularly able to embody Capetian claims to holiness.17 That same year, in the only recent article dedicated specifically to this Letter, Rina Lahav... (shrink)

Prayer windows are architectural elements of various forms that are opened on the surface of the walls of mosques, tombs, lodges, cemeteries, or treasuries in the direction of people's passage and usually have inscriptions. The prayer windows opened on the body or courtyard wall of the tombs exhibit an imposing appearance in a way to attracts people's attention. In front of such windows, in the presence of the deceased, prayers and requests are made to Allah for (...) his sake. Eyüp Sultan Mosque and Mausoleum are places where crowds of people gather on holy days of religious importance such as Friday. The prayer windows were made near the graves of common people who were not considered religious leaders, even if they had a high social status, and buried in the cemeteries around Eyüp Sultan Tomb, and in the openings in the enclosure wall of these cemeteries, have been the subject of our study with their inscriptions ending with the request for Fatiha. It is understood that the prayer windows, which are in the position that constitutes the connection of the treasuries with the street, were opened to request prayer by attracting the attention of people passing by to visit mosques and tombs. We have tried to determine the place of prayer windows in the discipline of art history since they were not applied in the first period of Islam but were an elegant practice that emerged especially in the Ottoman period and had not been studied before. We have endeavored to determine the effect and reflection of the visit tradition shaped by the Ottoman period adherents of the Islamic religion on Islamic art throughout this subject. In our research, we have tried to find the first information about prayer windows. We have tried to determine the place of prayer windows in the discipline of art history since they were not applied in the first period of Islam but emerged especially in the Ottoman period and have not been studied before. We have endeavored to determine the effect and reflection of the visiting tradition shaped by the Ottoman period followers of the Islamic religion on Islamic art throughout this subject. In the first part of our research on prayer windows, Eyüp Sultan Mosque and Tomb in terms of the tradition of visitation in Islam; in the second part, the purpose and importance of the construction of prayer windows and the evaluation of these building elements in terms of form, material-technique, writing, ornamentation, and identity are discussed. In this process, the necessary permissions and usable data were obtained from the Directorate of Tombs, Istanbul Directorate of Cemeteries, and the General Directorate of Foundations Istanbul 1st Regional Directorate for the examination of 11 windows that we identified in the cemeteries around Eyüp Sultan, and the measurements of the windows were taken in a process of approximately two weeks. Within the framework of the necessary security measures, tools such as ladders and tripods were used to take the correct measurements of the high windows. The stumpage technique was applied to the inscriptions and high-relief decorations. There were some difficulties in measuring and photographing the windows due to the location of the land and the passage point of the people. The photographs were taken in detail and shared as general views and only general views were used in order not to exceed the volume of the article. The gravestones related to the subject in the background of the windows were also identified one by one by scanning the whole of the treasuries. With the data obtained because of measurement and photography, the windows were drawn with the AutoCAD program in about one and a half months. Sources on the subject were researched in many libraries in Istanbul and Ankara and on the net and collected in an average of one month. In the evaluation phase, the inscriptions of each prayer window and the associated tombstones were read and analyzed, and inferences about the art and the master were made with the signatures of the artisans on the inscriptions. In terms of art history, subheadings were opened according to the forms of the windows, and definitions were made. As an example of an application specific to the Ottoman period in Islamic architecture and art, our main aim has been to bring the prayer windows opened in the cemeteries around Eyüp Tomb to the discipline of Art History in the context of form, ornamentation, writing, and death. The text created by evaluating all the data is the result of a meticulous, comprehensive, and long-term process. With this study, it has been attempted to understand the Muslim view of death and the cultural heritage developed within this framework based on the building elements in question. (shrink)

Although spiritual practices such as prayer are engaged by many to support well‐being and coping, little research has addressed nurses and prayer, whether for themselves or facilitating patients' use of prayer. We conducted a qualitative study to explore how prayer (as a proxy for spirituality and religion) is manifest—whether embraced, tolerated, or resisted—in healthcare, and how institutional and social contexts shape how prayer is understood and enacted. This paper analyzes interviews with 21 nurses in (...) Vancouver and London as a subset of the larger study. Findings show that nurses' kindness can buffer the loneliness and exclusion of ill health and in this way support the “spirit” of those in their care. Spiritual support for patients rarely incorporated prayer, in part because of ambiguities about permission and professional boundaries. Nurses' engagement with prayer and spiritual support could become a politicized site of religious accommodation, where imposition, religious illiteracy, and racism could derail person‐centered care and consequently enact social exclusion. Spiritual support (including prayer) sustained nurses themselves. We propose that nursing's equity‐oriented knowledge encompass spirituality and religion as sites of exclusion and inclusion. Nurses must be supported to move past religious illiteracy to provide culturally and spiritually sensitive care with clarity about professional boundaries and collaborative models of spiritual care. (shrink)

In his ‘deconstruction of Christianity’, Jean-Luc Nancy seeks to show how our modern, secular society and its so-called Christian ‘roots’ are co-original and mutually constitutive. As a result of this mutual constitution, the Christian religion is fundamentally characterised by its own deconstruction. This article focuses on one element of this auto-deconstructive movement of Christianity: that of prayer, or more generally, of addressing God. According to Nancy, prayer reveals how Christianity contains at its core, or rather as its core, (...) the principal absence of its God and therefore the kernel of its own secularisation. This article examines why, in Nancy’s work, prayer has to be understood both as a form of demythologisation, as well as a poetic movement, a movement correlating with, and proper to, poetic practices. In adopting such an approach, Christianity’s auto-deconstruction is explained as a question of language. (shrink)