May 24, 2010
Beautiful
April 22, 2010
Found these.
Terrible Poetry Jokes.
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A man, a woman, and a blackbird walk into a bar. "Table for one, please," they say.
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Byron walks into a bar. He has sex with everyone in the bar.
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Milton, Homer and Borges walk into a bar. Milton says: "Who the fuck put this bar here?"
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Wordsworth and Coleridge are watching the Lakers game. They can't get service at the crowded bar. Coleridge smiles and says to Wordsworth: "Lager, lager everywhere, and I can't get a drink." Wordsworth says to Coleridge: "I have pleurisy."
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Rimbaud, Bukowski, and Dylan Thomas walk into a bar. They are promptly thrown out.
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A horse walks into a bar where Walt Whitman and Ezra Pound are drinking.
BARTENDER (to horse): Why the long face?
WHITMAN (to everyone): I, too, am a horse.
POUND (to Whitman): Shut the fuck up.
April 12, 2010
Coming Soon...
March 10, 2010
Dr. Rosemann's on Wikipedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wynnewood_(Dallas,_Texas)
January 27, 2010
I Know this is a Purely Academic Forum but...
January 24, 2010
Poem Typography
Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.
Hi friends, I saw this on First Things and it made me think of many of you and thought I would share.
November 24, 2009
Responding to the Relativism of the Street
Responding to the Relativism of the Street
Joshua M. Neu
With regards to the relativism rampant in our culture, there are at root two distinct types: the relativism of the scholar and the relativism of the street. Of course, both may be divided and subdivided into their constituent doctrines and adherents, but that more or less does it. The relativism of the scholar, most prevalent in the universities, boasts a wide variety of pedants and ne’er-do-wells, from A. J. Ayer with his heady doctrine of emotivism to Friedrich Nietzsche who supposes that truth is woman whom each man must lure away, but the particularities of these views relate little to the baker, the butcher, or the newspaper delivery boy. No, the relativism of the street, that is, of the man-in-the-street, is much less thought out, and perhaps, therefore, much more honest. As it is on this man that the wheels of our day-to-day culture turn, so it is to this man that the Catholic-in-the-street must respond. With that in mind, I will tease out what it is that the man-in-the-street actually believes and offer a response, constraining myself to comment only on relativism applied to religion, rather than ethics or some other category.
The conversation between the Catholic-in-the-street and his fellow man usually runs a bit like this:
Relativist: “You cannot tell me what to believe. All truth is relative.”
Catholic: “The claim that all truth is relative is a claim about absolute truth.”
Relativist: “But some things are true for me, whereas others are true for you.”
Catholic: “Truth is not merely relative or subjective. You claim that there is a truth, namely that ‘all truth is relative,’ which is true regardless who believes it. In doing so, you both contradict your claim and show that you believe in some sort of absolute truth.”
Usually, the relativist remains unconvinced, while the Catholic walks away mumbling about the principle of non-contradiction and wondering how someone could be so obstinate. It seems that they might as well have had two different conversations. I contend that, for all practical purposes, they did.
The man-in-the-street maintains an unspoken premise, one which he may never have thought through. He believes that truths regarding religion are essentially unknowable. Since it is unknowable, religion is a way of organizing one’s experience, coping, or imparting meaning to one’s life. Therefore the man-in-the-street uses the word “truth” in two ways. The first is exactly as the Catholic means the word in the above conversation—as Aristotle says, “To say that [either] that which is is not or that which is not is, is a falsehood; and to say that that which is is and that which is not is not, is true.”[1] The second way is that a truth is a belief about that which cannot be known, for the purpose of organizing the believer’s experience, coping, or imparting meaning to the believer’s life. With this hidden distinction, the man-in-the-street can claim that truth is relative and go on unscathed by the Catholic claim that there is an absolute truth.
In a certain sense, the man-in-the-street is correct. Religious truth as such cannot be known through reason. It is known through faith, and faith is a supernatural virtue that is a gift from the personal God who reveals Himself in Jesus Christ. Faith is primarily the belief in a person, not in a set of propositions—crédere in Deum rather than crédere quod Deus sit. This, however, does not justify fideism. The propositions, such as that purgatory exists or that the universe is not founded on an infinite series of causes, are quite important, but they are only knowable through believing in Him who reveals. Were it not the case that God is Who He says He is, then the man-in-the-street would be correct about all religious truths. All would be of the second sort, wanderings through a dark wood while refusing to awaken to life’s essential tragedy.
Is it, then, the case that there is “[n]othing to be done,” as Estragon would like us to believe while he and the man-in-the-street await the arrival of Godot, whether that figure is a person or nothing at all?[2] Of course not, but although intellectual debate of nuanced propositions can be helpful for conversion, the Catholic tradition has always recognized that the Holy Spirit is the one who works, converting the soul to the person of Jesus Christ. In every age of the Church, the Holy Spirit commissions this work to witnesses, beginning with the primary witnesses, the martyrs. One has to wonder if Our Lord allowed Stephen to die just so that Paul could see it happen and have the passing thought that Christ might in fact be Who He says He is.
Augustine arrives only a few centuries later, and as Christ is the archetype for all the martyrs, Augustine may be an archetypical convert. Even Augustine, an intellectual next to Christians like Gulliver hovering over Lilliput, was inspired not by argument so much as by a witness, for example, the life of St. Anthony the Great. Through his well-tuned rhetoric, Augustine’s very Confessions encourage us to follow Christ with Augustine himself as witness.
The Catholic must demonstrate that the truth of the Catholic faith is a truth in the primary sense of the term, and that demonstration is one not of propositions but of martyrdom. The priest or religious primarily submits this proof because all aspects of his life flow from and lead toward the person of Jesus Christ. When truly all aspects of his life are so directed, no one can deny that the religious claim is one of absolute truth. Such an all-encompassing devotion cannot be confused with a belief for the purpose of organizing the believer’s experience, coping, or imparting meaning to the believer’s life. No man is celibate in order to cope. The response to relativism is what all Catholic responses essentially have been, martyrdom for the person of Jesus Christ, in whom the martyr believes as absolute truth.
September 19, 2009
Practice vs. Theory
Cheers,
Peter
September 5, 2009
New Project
September 3, 2009
More News of the Life and Times of Joshua Neu
http://www.fox6now.com/witi-090223-hartford-chase-update,0,5177352.story
Apparently, I was in Hartford last February.
I think I've started to bilocate.
By the way, the other day, I drove downtown and bought a cassock. Then I ate at Burger King. It was awesome. Unfortunately, they don't sell Texas Double Whoppers in Philly. So it's not always sunny in Philadelphia.
August 15, 2009
A reponse to Peter Kane's fun question
Now for the long answer. And just so you know, I may stick on some clarifications or points that don't seem all that significant to everyone, but I think there are a lot of places to get confused on this question.
There are multiple questions to consider. The first question regards the participation in evil. Clearly Peter already recognized this issue when he wrote that "publicly funding a direct (and direct is an important word in this) action such as abortion seems to put citizens in a more morally culpable role." He is right to say that "direct" is an important word here, but it is unclear what this term "direct" means in this case. He uses the phrase "direct action," which, as far I can tell, would normally refer to the activity of the abortionist. Since, however, the abortionist already directly kills the fetus, I do not think we can make that action any more direct. I am pretty sure you could rephrase his statement as "the government uses taxpayer's money to support abortion directly."
Now hang on for the ride as I change the terms some more. Usually when a Catholic attempts to engage in a higher level of ethics or moral theology, he begins using the term "direct" in a particular way, namely, in reference to the principle of double effect, in which one must distinguish between direct and indirect effects. If that were the crucial point in this question, then I think our paying taxes would have an indirect effect. But the principle of double effect is not the crucial point. Directness in this case has to do with immediacy or proximity. What we have here is the question regarding the proximate versus the remote participation/cooperation with evil.
The first distinction we need to make when we consider the cooperation with evil is whether the cooperation is material or formal. Material cooperation is basically the being connected with or related to some aspect of the evil by one of our own actions. (E.g. In Nazi Germany, wicked doctors performed heinous experiments upon some of the prisoners. One of the experiments involved freezing human beings until they died in order to determine in what temperatures the human body could sustain life. That's pretty messed up. If a researcher were to use the data collected by the Nazis to create a gear that would allow an human being to stay alive in such conditions, say for scientific research in Antarctica, that is a material cooperation. It's uncomfortable, but I don't think it would be intrinsically evil.) The second aspect of cooperation with evil is formal cooperation. Basically, the question here is about intention. What is the intent of the cooperation with evil? (For the researcher, he would have formal cooperation if he saw himself as carrying out the activity of the Nazi doctors, or some such thing.) A formal cooperation with evil is impermissible.
I think most if not all people that are part of this blog do not intend to aid the abortion of human beings by paying their taxes, so I do not think there is a formal cooperation. At this point, we must determine when a material cooperation with evil is permissible or impermissible. This is were remoteness and proximity come into play. When one's cooperation directly produces the evil effect, it is proximate/immediate/direct. When one's cooperation indirectly produces the evil effect, it is remote/mediate/indirect. There is, however, a sort of spectrum of cooperation from being completely proximate and immediate to being utterly remote and mediate. (E.g. In Lost, when the boy Ecko kills the person, helping the drug lords instill fear into the townspeople, he is cooperating in evil in a completely proximate and immediate way. On the other hand, knowing that the Dallas Cowboys franchise supports Planned Parenthood [jeez, who doesn't?], were a person to go over to a friend's house, be offered a cup of coffee, agree to have one, receive the cup in Dallas Cowboys mug, and then actually drink from the Dallas Cowboys mug, that's about as remote/mediate as it gets.)
It seems to me that paying taxes to the United States goverment, which would in turn fund abortions, would be somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. Though it would be more proximate than our current participation in evil--we already pay taxes to a goverment that actively defends a wicked violation of basic human rights--I do not think that would necessarily make the taxpayer culpable.
There are a few more considerations that we will help us determine the right way of thinking. First off, we are required make our material cooperation as remote as possible. So, all things being equal, we support/engage/utilize whatever is most remotely related to evil. (If the researcher had data from other experiments to find out the temperature a human body can withstand, that would be better to use.) In this case, there are only 2 options: either (a) you pay your taxes and somewhat remotely, somewhat proximately cooperate in a grave evil, or (b) you don't.
In this case, however, not all other things are equal. We have a grave reason to pay our taxes as well as to minimize our material cooperation with evil. We must pay our taxes because of both the natural law--"Man is a political animal"--and divine command--"Give unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." This is not like going to a coffee shop that supports abortion versus going to one that does not. Ethically speaking, you don't have to drink coffee. But you do have to pay your taxes. And remember, sometimes Caesar was a bad dude.
So no, in this case, I do not think it is makes sense for an individual to evade his taxes into order to avoid the somewhat remote/somewhat proximate participation in the evil of abortion. I do not think the individual is obligated to do so, nor do I think it is permissible in this case.
-Josh
P.S. Thanks, Peter, for the opportunity to word-vomit pedantically all over this blog.
August 12, 2009
An Ethical Question
June 21, 2009
ALERT: Josh Neu face not that original!!!

Laura's use of this specific facial expression is certainly a proud statement of how cool she is --this being our first experience with beer-for-breakfast.











