The Progr.ajn.of L ibera l Studies

IJniyersitj of Notre Dame

PRO GRAMMA

A Newsletter for Graduates of the Program of Liberal StudiesThe University of Notre Dame

Volume XVI, No. 1 March 1998

A VIEW FROM 215

The view from 215 in the middle of Febru-ary is not a snowy one this year. "El Nino"seems to have brought the mild South Bendwinter that had been forecasted, I hope that youlike Programmes "new look/' thanks to Profes-sor Julia Marvin/ our new editor, and Ave MariaPress/ our new publisher. I want to thank Pro-fessor Henry Weinfield for editing and Ms.Debbie Kabzinski for publishing and mailingpast issues of Progmmma. Debbie "will work withAve Marie Press preparing the layout for Pro-gramma.

Part of the "new look" is getting Programmato you earlier in the school year. We believethat this will be a better way of getting you in-formation about the alumni reunion and sum-mer school program. Thanks to some very valu-

.able input from alumni/ae, we are planning aone-week "summer experience" for interestedalumni/ae and their families. The experiencewill include Great Book Seminars, which willrevisit some texts perennially read in the Pro-gram and a couple of the more recent additionsto our list. The experience will also include achoice of one-week courses in a variety of top-

ics from ancient to modern. Faculty have ex-pressed interest in teaching a variety of courses(e.g./ courses on Augustine/ Dante,Bonaventure/ the operas of Mozart/ Joyce, eigh-teenth-century German philosophy, Milton andWordsworth, Cardinal Newman/ Teilhard deChardin, Karl Rahner, and moral education. Wewould be very happy to hear from you if anyor all of these sound inviting; please feel free tosuggest other authors and texts you might beinterested in studying for a week in the sum-mer. We hope to include inexpensive housingin the residence halls and family activities, suchas white "water rafting, a Silverhawks baseballgame, and a workshop on Great Book Seminarstor children as part of the package seminars,along with opportunities for discussions withall of the faculty in residence during the sum-mer. Unfortunately we were not able to makethe necessary arrangements in time for thisyear's summer session, but everything shouldbe in place for 1999. Please drop us a line if youare interested. You can send comments andsuggestions to Steve Fallon (either by mail tothe department or by e-mail to

Fallon.l@nd.edu).Last June we had an impressive turnout of

alumni for our reception in the foyer ofO'Shaugnessey. I can't tell you how much allof us on the faculty enjoy seeing you and catch-ing up on your family and work lives. In ouralumni seminar, which as usual filled Room 214to capacity/ we had a lively discussion ofFlannery O'Connor's "Everything that RisesMust Converge." We have had a number ofspirited faculty seminars on FlanneryO'Connor's short stories, and I recommendthem to you. Some of our alumni may remem-ber when'Flannery O'Connor lectured at NotreDame not that long ago.

This summer we also learned that Profes-sor Michael Waldstein decided to resign hisposition in the Program. Professor Waldsteinheads a newly established theology institute inGaming, Austria. We are sorry to see him leaveand we wish him and his family the very best.

The class of 1997 took its place among theranks of our distinguished alumni. Jeff Speakswas chosen by the seniors and faculty for theWillis Nutting Award, given to the senior whohas contributed the most to the education of hisor her peers and professors in the program. Healso received the Bird Award for his Senior Es-say, "Wittgenstein and the Art of Philosophy,"written under the direction' of ProfessorCornelius O'Boyle. The graduates of the classof 1997, like their predecessors, have gone intoa variety of graduate programs, businesses,volunteer organizations, and professional ac-tivities. I am particularly proud of the fact thatover 30% of this class chose to do a year of vol-unteer service in the United States, Africa, or

South America. The Program continues to leadthe university in the percentage of students andgraduates involved in service programs.

As I informed you last spring, ProfessorFred Crosson, who holds the Cavanaugh Chairand is a former Dean of the College of Arts andLetters, will retire this year. He will, however,continue to teach for the Program as an Emeri-tus Professor. We will inform you soon aboutour plans for thanking him. He was honoredthis fall with the College of Arts and LettersSheedy Award for excellent teaching. He hasnot only been an outstanding teacher m the Pro-gram but has for many years served as a teach-ing mentor to me and to many faculty andgraduate students. I urge all of you to read histhoughtful and inspiring Sheedy Award speechas well as his "Opening Charge."

I would like to thank all of you for yourfaithful support. We continue to receive manygenerous gifts and words of encouragement.We are blessed with excellent students, faculty,and alumni. Please visit us in person or throughour Web site.

F. Clark PowerChairperson

Power.l@nd.eduAL.pls.l@nd.edu

www.nd.edu/-pls/(219) 631-7172

FAX (219) 631-4268215 O'Shaughnessy Hall

Notre Dame, IN 46556

Programma (the Greek word means "public notice")is published once or twice

each year by theProgram of Liberal Studies for its graduates.

Faculty EditorJulia Marvin

Copyright 1998University of Notre Dame

FOCUS ON NEW FACULTY

We are delighted to report that Edmund Dame, has already become a member of theGoehring and Julia Marvin have joined the South Bend Chamber Singers. Her dissertationranks of the Program's faculty. Ed, who will be at Princeton was entitled "The Prose Brutteaching the Fine Arts tutorial, was awarded a Chronicle and the Lessons of Vernacular His-doctorate in musicology from Columbia Uni- torv" (a title, she wants it noted, that has theversify in 1993; Julia, who will be teaching the virtue of doing without the usual academic co-Literature tutorials, received her Ph.D. in En- Ion and subtitl^as does the title of Ed's, forglish from Princeton in 1997. Before coming to that matter). Julia's dissertation, which she hasNotre Dame, Ed had taught at the University n°w begun to turn into a book, involves a re-of Georgia and the Oberlin Conservatory, and consideration of late-medieval understandingsJulia at Princeton and Southern Illinois Univer- of King Arthur.sity; so while both are young, vibrant, and full In my separate interviews with them, Ed andof energy, they are also experienced educators. Julia both expressed delight with the Program,

Ed Goehring's dissertation at Columbia was with its integrated curriculum, and with theentitled "The Comic Vision of Cost fan tutte," and sense of community it fosters. Julia mentionedhe is now writing a book on Mozart that goes that her first impressions—of a community ofbeyond the dissertation. Ed is a man of many students who care about learning for learning'sparts. His double undergraduate degree at sake and of a faculty who are dedicated to teach-Oberlin was in religion and piano performance; ing—have been richly confirmed. Ed remarkedhe is a pianist as well as a musicologist; and in that he was impressed with the calibre of theaddition, he is an avid tennis and basketball students and their range of intellectual curios-player. (I can testify to his tennis prowess be- ity.cause he has been walloping me on the courts One word more. Julia is an experienced edi-lately; but since my basketball days are over, at tor (she worked for a tune at Princeton Univer-least I don't have to watch out for his flying el- sity Press); and so it is without trepidation thatbows.) I Pass along the torch, or the mantle (I'm look-

Julia Marvin doesn't play tennis or basket- ing for the right metaphor), of the editorship ofball, at least to my knowledge; but in addition Progmmma to her. (It's been fun, guys, but nowto being a specialist in medieval literature, with it's time to move on.)a particular interest in the historiography of theperiod, she is an accomplished choral singerwho, in the few months she has been at Notre —Henry Weinfield

4

FROM THE EDITOR'SDESK

by

Julia Marvin

Since Henry Weinfield has already intro-duced me (in the third person) in this issue, I'llproceed straight to the matters at hand: thisissue of Programma, and a proposition for you.

I hope this issue will give you the feeling ofan afternoon's visit to O'Shaughnessy. You'llhave the opportunity to consider such typicallymodest PLS questions as the value of death tolife, the nature of education and community,and why we understand the universe as we do,and you'll get a chance to catch up on thecomings and goings'of faculty and friends.You'll also find information about upcomingPLS activities for which you can return to cam-pus in body as well as spirit. I'm particularlypleased to be able to include several contribu-tions from Frederick Crosson in this, the yearof his retirement (although his emeritus statuswill not stop me from asking him for more inthe future).

My editorial yoke is easy because of thehard work of our student clerical workers Col-leen Wamser Hurt and Jaime Saul and especiallythat of Debbie Kabzinski, who is the desktoppublisher of Programma. She designs it fromstart to finish, keeps track of the material andits progress, and. generally fights chaos here aselsewhere in the Program, and she deserves allour thanks.

Now for the proposition, for the alumnireaders of Programma.

This is my first year in the Program. In thefall I taught sophomores who were trying to fig-ure out how they were going to do their PLSmajor. Now I'm teaching seniors who are try-ing to figure out what they are going to do withtheir PLS major.

You are out in the world, doing any num-ber of varied, fulfilling, and even remunerativethings that it would do the Program's studentsa world of good to know about as the}'" maketheir choices. What I propose is the creation ofa PLS alumni career bank, a file of letters fromany of you "who would be "willing to be contactedby a PLS student to talk about your professionor service activities.

If you are interested, please write a one-page letter to the Program explaining what youdo, how to reach you, and what kind of contactyou would like to have with current PLSers.Please be sure to include your e-mail address,which can be made confidential if you prefer.For example, you might be willing to

— respond to a. letter or e-mail— talk on the phone— have a hometown student visit your job

for a day during a break— participate in an on-campus career dis-

cussion sponsored by PLS (no plans yetexist, but I'd like to know if there'senough interest to make it happen)

I plan to assemble these letters and makethem available to PLS students with the strictunderstanding that their contents are privateand that what they can hope from you is dis-cussion of jobs, not jobs themselves! If you haveany ideas or suggestions about this project,please contact me. This year it's an experiment,and in the next issue of Programma I'll let youknow what has transpired.

If all goes well, the career bank may be not

only a way for you to help out the bewilderedstudent you may have been three, or thirteen,or thirty-three years ago, but also an opportu-nity for you to take a more active role in thecommunity of which you are forever a vital part.It's yet another way of returning toO'Shaughnessy and helping the Program—andthe students who are the Program—to thrive.

Once again, I hope that you'll enjoy this is-sue of Programma, and I wish you all the bestuntil I'm in touch again.

Please address your letters to

Programme* Career BankProgram of Liberal Studies215 O'Shaughnessy HallUniversity of Notre DameNotre Dame, Indiana 46556

e-mail al.pls.l@nd.edu

FACULTY NEWS

Michael Crowe, in August of 1997, mailed off at present completing an essay on the relation-the final manuscript for a volume entitled Cal- ship of Leo Strauss and Allan Bloom and willendar of the Correspondence of Sir John Herschel, be at Yale the last days of February for a confer-1792-1871, which will be published by Cam- ence on Ethical Foundations,bridge University Press. Crowe is editor of this828-page volume; David R. Dick of the Univer- Katherine Tillman says she has been plentysity of Winnipeg and James J. Kevin of Eastern busy with "the three C's": classroom, computerTennessee State University are the associate and committees. From March through August,editors. Among the fourteen other contributors she led "Tocqueville Seminars" in town tor alisted opposite the title page of this book are local group of Women in Philanthropy, spon-the following PLS graduates: Gina M. sored by the education division of the Lilly En-Bacigalupi, Diana H. Barnes, Anne-Marie dowment and the St. Joseph County Commu-Clavelli, Ryan D. Dye, Rebecca L.Lubas, Susan nity Foundation. She gave papers—onP. Petti, and Jameson M. Wetmore. The volume Newman, of course—in California and Indiana,contains, along with other materials, summa- wrote review essays on four recently publishedries of 14,815 letters to and from John Herschel. books on Newman, and is looking forward to

the reprinting by Notre Dame Press, in the nextWalter Nicgorski extends his greetings to all month or two, of Newman's Fifteen Sermonsfriends and former students; he is enjoying im- Preached before the University of Oxford, 1826-1843,mensely a return to directing senior seminars on the relation of faith and reason, with a fifty-after more than ten years at other points in the page introduction by "hers truly." It will be pub-PLS curriculum. He continues his work as edi- lished as part of the continuing "Notre Dametor of The Review of Politics. Recently, at the Series in the Great Books" established by GP/American Political Science Convention, he pre- PLS alumni/ae in the early 1980s. What alsosented a paper on St. Augustine's reading of contributes to her happiness these days is theCicero; during July he lectured on "The Classi- recent inauguration of her close friend of fortycal-Viodern Encounter in Political Philosophy" years, Dr. Marilou Denbo Eldred, as the first layin the Phoenix Institute at Notre Dame. He is woman president of St. Mary's College.

OPENING CHARGE 1997-98

A Journey to the Underworld

by

Frederick Crosson

September 2,1997

We're going on a long journey, this year,visiting and talking with people who livedlong ago and far away, to find out how theylooked at life and what they thought wasimportant and worth doing, and to becomeaware of perspectives different from ourconventional wisdom in modern America.Visiting people who lived long ago and faraway can enlarge the horizons within whichwe think and live, can give us broader vis-tas, can induce us to reflect—can help makeus thoughtful citizens and thoughtful hu-man beings.

We are going to visit the underworld totalk to people who are dead and reflect onwhat some of them said about life—andabout death. I know that's taking you allthe way to the end of the horizon, to the endof your life—but hey, that's a journey you'realready embarked on, so you might as wellthink a little bit about where it's going.

About death, I've got some bad news andsome good news The bad news is, you'reall living under a death sentence. The ques-tion is, what can be good news after that?As Woody Allen said, "It's not that I'm afraidto die, I just don't want to be there when ithappens."

Heavy stuff; yet it concerns the closestand most personal dimension of our lives.It's not something we are attracted to thinkmuch about; generally we do it (if we thinkabout it at all) only in the context of religiousritual, at the wakes and funerals of friendsand loved ones. Note that the Bible doesn'tpresent death as integral to life, but as anunexpected penalty for disobedience.

But I want to bracket the religious con-text for the most part, and think about the

meaning of the fact that death seems to bethe natural, destined end for each of us. Iwant to ask about what that means for hu-man life, about what we today seem to thinkabout it. Perhaps it has no meaning for life;perhaps it is simply meaningless, perhaps itsimply makes nonsense of all our striving,all our goals, all our love—outside a reli-gious context. Many people today wouldsay that, many more fear it is so.

So in one sense, I'm going to take youfar away from our everyday preoccupations,yours and mine too—far away not only be-cause it's not exactly an everyday topic ofconversation when we have friends over, butbecause thinking about death, my death,may seem not only unattractive but a littlemorbid. Here's a quote from the author'spreface to a recent book titled ConfrontingDeath:

When I called the American Can-cer Society to request permissionto include some of their materi-als in this book, their represen-tative responded: "Absolutelynot. In no way do we want to beassociated with a book on death.We want to emphasize the posi-tive aspects of cancer only."

The death of friends and relatives cutsacross our paths, so to speak, but our owndeath, insofar as it is brought to mind bysuch events, isn't something we can do any-thing at all about evading. It lies down theroad somewhere, and though I may try toreduce its proximity by doing all sorts ofthings for my health, there is nothing I cando to ensure that I will not encounter it to-morrow. We are born old enough to die.

My aim is to think about death in rela-tion to life, but it is not the aspect of its un-certainty which I want to focus on. It is notthe uncertainty of the time of its coming butrather the fact of mortality as such that Iwant to reflect on. Why? Because while itis a fact that none of us doubts, the oddity isthat we have found it hard to accept, indeedhave sought in many and diverse ways toovercome it. Death has from the earliest agesof humankind been regularly envisaged asa limitation on life, something alien to life,which we should try to defer as long as pos-sible, or even hope to escape.

Indeed human beings have generallyavoided thinking of death as simply the end.The Neanderthals, who flourished in Europe50,000 years ago, carefully buried their deadand placed stone tools in the graves. Thepharaohs of Egypt even sought to preservetheir physical individuality through em-balming, while equipping their tombs withthe food and supplies needed for the jour-ney to another world. Eastern religions—Hinduism and Buddhism notably—havesought immortality through release from thecycle of reincarnation by the achievement ofunity with the Absolute, the union of ourinnermost soul with abiding divinity.

Such religious pursuit of a life beyondlife has not been the only quest to live be-yond death. The oldest epic narrative in theworld, the Epic of Gilgamesh (which datesback some 1500 years before Homer's po-ems) is the story of the king of a city inMesopotamia. At first, like a thoughtlesschild, he rejoices in his youthful strength andpower and gives no thought to death. Thenfrom his palace wall he sees (remarkably likethe experience of the Buddha) dead bodiesfloating down the Euphrates river, and heembarks on a series or adventures "with hisfriend and companion Enkidu to win ever-lasting fame. But Enkidu is killed, and thequest for fame loses its sufficiency for him.He goes on a long journey to seek the im-mortality which is reserved to the gods.(Note already the conceiving of the possi-bility of unending life.) He learns of an oldman, Utnapishtim/ who has survived a flood"which covered the earth, and "who has beengiven immortality as a. gift from the gods.But the old man has no secret to share withGilgamesh: his receiving immortality wasa gratuitous gift, not something he won, and

Gilgamesh returns home to die, acceptingor at least resigned to the human lot.

Greek philosophers reflected long anddeeply about the transience of human lifein an eternal universe, and Aristotle in histreatise on the animating principle of organ-isms (De Anima) says that immortal longingsare built into living things (415b), and hesuggests perspectives under "which humanlife can be seen as seeking to fulfill thoselongings.

First/ there is a kind of immortality thatwe can have, adumbrated in the story of theGarden of Eden, and which is a prominentelement of the early Jewish Scriptures,namely living on in our children and ourchildren's children. To grow" old without anychildren was the great sorrow of Abrahamand Sarah, a sorrow alleviated by the prom-ise of Isaac and of descendants numerousas the sands of the sea and the stars of thesky; Even if we consider it simply on thebiological level, individual life points be-yond itself. The so-called instinct for self-preservation often takes second place, evenamong animals, to the goal of procreation,to the preservation of the species. Amonghuman beings, this attachment to one'sprogeny acquires a special quality and apoignancy because of the love that binds usinto a common, a shared life.

A second kind of immortality becameavailable with the emergence of the city-statein ancient Greece and the creation of history.The possibility of a tradition—a remem-bered and treasured past-—-and its preserva-tion, first orally and then in writing, madepossible living beyond one's death in thecollective memory of one's fellow citizens.Herodotus says he wrote his history of thePersian Wars to preserve the noble deeds ofthe Greeks and Persians from oblivion. And,it is striking to realize, he succeeded: wetoday still read that history and come toknow" the names of Xerxes and Themistocles,the courage and self-discipline of the Spar-tans, the strength of the free and democraticGreeks against the despotic Persian rulers.So too, we know of and remember Socratesand Caesar, Saint Francis and George Wash-ington. We remember them because theirlives made them stand out in the eyes of theircontemporaries/ and they became enduringexemplars of human action and character.They live on, in our memory, and they willlive in our children's children's memories.

Most of us have to settle for a lot less than

being remembered across the centuries—butwe still have the longings. So part of oursatisfaction in life, and part of the satisfac-tion of our desire for living beyond/ is real-ized through our identification with some-thing larger and more enduring than ourown life. Being a part of and contributingin however small a way to something whichsurvives us, even if not eternally/ is a way oflending value and meaning to one's life. We"identify/' as we say,, with a social/ politi-cal/ historical community broader than ourfamily: Notre Dame, or our country/ or ourethnic group. To say we "identify" with itis to say we treat its advancement as ourown/ its obstacles as our obstacles/ its goodas ours. We are a part of a community whichsurvives our death, and in some way we feelthat we are carried on in that longer com-mon life.

All of these are ways to respond to thequestion that Fr. John Dunne puts this way:"If I know that I must someday die/ whatcan I do to satisfy my desire to live?" Butthese surrogates of immortality/ real and ef-fective though they are in our lives/ can onlyassuage/ not satisfy adequately our desireto live on. How many years would it be rea-sonable to wish for? And if we did arrive atsome figure/ would we still think/ havinglived to that point/ that it was the right one?Would we be willing to surrender a life stillhealthy and vigorous?

Even if/ as my tone suggests and as Ithink to be the case/ we do spontaneouslydesire to live indefinitely/ that does not meanthat the spontaneous desire is wise. We allhave desires that are not wise/ are not rea-sonable. Any overweight person who triesto diet knows that the desire for food con-tinues to assert its independence of our goodreasons. And perhaps that desire to live onis also not always reasonable, however in-nate in us it appears to be. Let's think aboutthat. Let's listen thoughtfully to two classi-cal figures from the Underworld.

II

Socrates in the Apology says that death isnot the greatest of evils/ that we do moreharm to ourselves by maliciously hurting orcheating innocent people than we do bydying. Self-preservation, wanting to savethis biological life/ may not be wise becausethere is more to the good life than its bio-logical dimension. In fact/ Socrates even

asserts in the Phaedo, his pre-execution dis-cussion, that the thoughtful life/ the philo-sophical life/ is a life of learning how to die(68b-c). (Cicero picks up this in the TusculanDisputations, and Montaigne writes one ofhis Essays with the title That to Philoso-phize Is to Learn How to Die.") That maysound a little peculiar, but what Socratesmeans is that death is the gauge/ the mea-sure, of the kind of life we have led. If I haveled the right kind of life, then when deathapproaches I won't need to regret the way Ihave lived. Confronting my death/ even inthought/ in anticipation/ can disclose to methe value of the life I am leading.

Odysseus, that wise and well-travelledhero or the Greeks, spent ten years "wander-ing in the known world of the time/ havingmore adventures than the Starship Enter-prise, and he returned home/ Homer says,"having seen the cities and learned theminds of many distant men." One of theremarkable adventures he has/ in the Odys-sey, that Bible of the Greek civilization, isspending a year with a demi-goddess, thenymph Calypso. Calypso has fallen in lovewith him and offers him immortality if hewill stay with her. Despite the fact that hehas already visited the Underworld and therehas been told by Achilles that death is ter-rible/ and that it is better to be a slave in theland of the living than a king in the shad-owy land of death—despite that, Odysseuschooses to return home/ to live "with his wifeand child . . . and to die. Like Socrates/ heapparently thought that death was not thegreatest or evils: worse is living as an alien/far from the home that allows you to be whoyou are/ the husband of Penelope, the fatherof Telernachus, the child of Laertes.

It is really remarkable to reflect on thecontrast between this story and that ofGilgamesh. Gilgamesh seeks immortalityand resigns himself to death when he learnsit is the human lot and cannot be overcomeby anything we can do. Odysseus/ on theother hand/ declines the offer of immortal-ity and chooses the human lot. What werethe Greeks saying to themselves, in singingthis story over the centuries? Is there a wis-dom in choosing the human lot, even whenit includes death? Is there a wisdom inchoosing the human lot just because it in-cludes death? That sounds almost ridicu-lously paradoxical. Can anything be said inits favor?

One thing to remark as a preliminary-is

10

the difference between the anthropomorphicgods (or "the immortals" as they are syn-onymously called) and the human personsin Homer's story. The gods bicker endlessly,drink ambrosia and eat their fill/ watch thespectacle of men's wars and fates the waywe watch television series—except that theyinterfere now and again to make things turnout the way they want. (They're not couchpotatoes but cloud potatoes.) They even joinin the battle at Troy (though rarely), but ofcourse they cannot be killed, because theyare .. . the immortals.

Think about that for a moment. Can thegods show courage on the battlefield? Well,surely not in the same sense that humanscan, because they cannot risk all they have andare: they cannot risk their lives. Make itstronger: they cannot sacrifice their lives forany cause more noble than themselves. . . .Greater love than this no man has, that helay down his life for his friends. That ca-pacity, to give one's life for another—and itneed not be a single event, it can be a longperiod of giving one's life—that capacity isof course simply inseparable from mortal-ity. We would not admire as we do, as evennon-religious people do, the lifetime of dedi-cation of a Mother Teresa if that life werenot finite, one-time. Only because Jesus be-came truly a human being could he makethat sacrifice and speak those words hon-estly.

So it begins to appear that death can givemeaning and value to our lives, because itcan be the ground of a universally acknowl-edged and deeply human action. WhatOdysseus did, what Jesus did, could nothave that value unless the life were boundedby death. It is because our days are num-bered that they have value for us, that theycan be sacrificed; it is because our days arenumbered that we treasure the passing mo-ments, not only because they will never re-turn again but because we will one day runout of them.

Again, think of the contrast withHomer's anthropomorphic "immortals,"i.e., v/ith an image of what human life would

' be like if it had no span, no end. What couldit mean for such a person to sacrifice a year,a decade, a century, out of an unending spanof life? Even if it might seem to have somenon-negligible significance, it would be (lit-erally) incommensurable with the signifi-cance of a mortal's action. Immortal life,endless life, would inevitably lack weight,

seriousness, nobility.And this brings into view another aspect

of the implication of our spontaneous de-sire to live indefinitely—again one sug-gested in Homer's poems. The life of thegods is trivialized by its endlessness andtherefore its inevitable repetitiousness. Howmany people desire to live longer and longerlives who do not know what to do withthemselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon?How many times would the coming ofspring continue to lift up our hearts, if it nadalready come five hundred times and weknew it would go on returning indefinitelyto our vision? Jonathan Swift in Gulliver sTravels has satirized mercilessly the naivepresumption of Gulliver that such a lifewould be most happy.

When Gulliver is on the island ofLuggnagg, he learns that there occurs—bychance and not often, but regularly—thebirth of a child with a birthmark that meansthe one born will never die. Guilliver ex-claims, "Oh happy nation where every childhas at least a chance of being immortal," andhe rhapsodizes about how wonderful itwould be to enjoy that gift. But it turns outthe struldbrugs (so they are called) are theleast envied and most unhappy ofLuejgnaggians. We could put it paradoxi-cally by saying that the indefinite prolonga-tion or life as we know it would not be theprolongation of life as we know it.

Pause now and look back: We have triedto put our spontaneous desire for indefinitelife to the test, to test its limits, and havefound some ground to think—supported byHomer and Socrates—that mortality is notmerely a surd, an irrational absurdity in re-lation to life, but that it has positive aspects,has the capacity to give value to my lifewhich it would otherwise lack. The infer-ence may be drawn that we ought not tooppose life and death, ought not to think ofdeath as a misfortune which awaits each ofus "down the road." We ought rather tobring death into relation to life, just becauseour concern is "with life and living a trulyhuman life. Only if we do this wifl we un-derstand human life adequately.

• Learning to live well and learning to die wellare one and the same. Why? Because the lifewe choose to live should be one which re-tains its value even in the face of death. Itshould be one of which, when we stand atthe moment of dying, we do not have to say,"If only I had it to do all over again. . . ."

11

Death, I want to say, is the touchstone bywhich we can truly judge whether the lifewe are living is meaningful and valuable. Away of life that hides from itself the fact ofdeath, which seeks its happiness while ig-noring death by not thinking about it, is in-evitably illusory. How odd—but, I think,how true—that what seems at first the de-structive opposite of life should come to bean integral measure of its value. "BrotherDeath," St. Francis of Assisi called it—ourtwin/ our shadow side.

Such an appropriation of my death intomy life can be both liberating and individu-ating. Liberating, because it helps me to facemy life as a whole and not just be carriedalong on the escalators of society, along thewell-marked paths which define the "goodlife" as our time conceives of it. Thinkingabout my death in relation to my whole lifepulls me back from that preoccupation witheverydayness, with the whirlpool into whicheach day pulls us, day after clay. (One of thebasic themes in Tolstoy's great novel War andPeace—perhaps the most basic—is how tocome to terms with death, and Andrew's fi-nal transformation is effected by his com-ing to welcome death. Indeed, the mostvivid presentation of this realization of hav-ing been a prisoner of everydayness is theshort story by Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych.)Thinking about my death is also individu-ating-—-I mean that it brings into sharp reliefthe unique and one-time character of my life.There is no job or function which I performor fulfill that someone else cannot take overfor me—and indeed will, after my death.They may do it well or poorly, but someonewill do it. But no one can die for me, can diemy death, whether well or poorly. My deathis the most singular and unique of my pos-sibilities.

Ill

But . . . I still feel that desire for life with-out death strong in me, even though I ac-knowledge the truth and the force of thesereflections. Even if the spontaneous, unre-flective desire for life is not always wise,even if it ignores the positive qualities—in-deed, the essentially human qualities—ofour life -which derive from the fact that wemust die, is it only lack of wisdom that hasled so many cultures and religions to longfor and to seek immortal life? This is thefinal enigma which we have to address.

Why do we want to live without limit?Why has the wall of death seemed some-thing blocking us from what? Fromhappiness? If what we have argued earlieris at all correct, it is far from clear that themere prolongation of life as we know itwould make us happy. It might well makeus miserable. Why, then, have we beenhaunted from the time of Neanderthal manwith intimations of immortal life?

Let me change the question. Why arebooks to help us change our lives so as tomake them more satisfying, more fulfilling,more harmonious, more successful, moreself-confident . . . why are these regularlyon the best-seller list? (Why aren't therebooks on not changing?) Isn't it because weall feel a lack of completeness, a lack of some-thing that would make us whole, the learn-ing of or the possession of which wouldleave us centered in our lives instead of long-ing endlessly to fill something wanting? Ofcourse, there may be pathological immatu-rities in us as well, which some of thesebooks or programs or ways of living seek toaddress. But I want to argue that deeperthan all of these and present in every hu-man being is a longing which has univer-sally characterized human existence, andwhich is in principle incapable of being as-suaged or filled by any temporal remedy.The Longing for immortality, for life without end,is only a substitute and symbol for -this deeperyearning. We are, essentially and ineradica-bly, incomplete beings. It is not death whichsteals our happiness, and it is not indefi-nitely prolonged life which would provideit. We yearn for some final goal towardwhich the wisest of our teachers point us,and for which the spontaneous desire forendless life is only a token.

As a matter of fact, when we think aboutit from this perspective, no major religionhas ever hoped for merely more of the same,for mere prolongation of biological life. (Iam not appealing to theology or to revela-tion here, but simply to a human observa-tion about the religions of mankind.) Whatreligions in both East and West have aspiredto is the transformation of life, the union ofour human person "with a divine life. Whatlesus promised his disciples was a moreabundant life, a fulfilled life, not merely anindefinitely prolonged life. Not even theresurrection of the body means that. '

To sum up: We have tried to face, head-on, I hope, the enigma that death poses for

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us who love life. Reflecting on death, wehave come to see that it appears as opposedto life, appears as a curse to be dreaded/ only

- if we begin from a shallow conception of lifeas'merery biological. Biological death is notthe greatest of all evils. If we think moredeeply, we see that human life is treasuredjust because it is finite and passing; it hasnobility and seriousness just because it canbe risked and sacrificed. Death is integralto the meaning and value of human life aswe know it. It is not an absurd disasterwhich lies at some arbitrary moment in myfuture. On the contrary, whatever authen-ticity and achievable happiness of which weare capable derive from bringing death intoour lives as a measure of their true value, asthe standard against which to assess theirdeepest naturalmeaning.

Indeed there seem to be good grounds

for thinking that we are not, by nature, ca-pable of complete fulfillment through theindefinite prolongation of our biological life.What the unquenchable desire to live bearswitness to is the desire for a life beyond long-ing, for fullness of life, for completeness, andno mere continuance of biological life cansatisfy that deepest yearning.

So far philosophical reflection can takeus, and it is not, I think, a negligible distance.Dag Hammarskjold in his thoughtful jour-nal, Markings, put it in a manner with whichboth the mere philosopher and the religiousbeliever can agree:

In the last analysis, it is our concep-tion of death which decides the an-swers to all the questions that lifeputs to us.

13

SHEEDY AWARD ADDRESSby

Frederick Crosson

November 14,1997

I want to reflect on some things I havecome to think about teaching, especially in acollege of liberal education, as a result of myown education over the years as a teacher.Liberal education I will characterize for themoment as being for the sake of the studenthimself, the person herself. So it's not likeprofessional education, it's not designed toprepare the person for a particular job or func-tion in society, but rather to broaden anddeepen the mind and heart of every learner,to help make them more informed, more re-flective, more thoughtful persons. Every so-ciety, and especially every democratic soci-ety, needs as many as it can beget of suchpersons to be thoughtful citizens, voters, ju-rors, neighbors.

To teach is a relational verb: you can'tteach unless someone is learning from yourteaching. If no learning is going on, no teach-ing is going on, no matter what kind of ac-tivity the aspiring teacher may engage in. (Achastening thought!) And if that's so, we canalso say that appropriate teaching correspondsto appropriate learning. So-what kind oflearning is appropriate to a student in the lib-eral arts and sciences, or, since I'm reflectingon my experience as a teacher, what kind oflearning is appropriate to a student in theCollege of Arts and Letters who is enrolledin the humanities?

When you first begin teaching, you'rejust out of three, four, five years of study in aparticular discipline, having immersed your-self, generally, in a small sub-field of that dis-cipline for the last several years. And yourfirst attention is focussed on teaching Phi-losophy 101 or History 203, or Sociology 302.Your contribution to the liberal education ofyour students is to do the best job you can inthat course, in that discipline. Only gradu-ally do you begin to think about the widerhorizons of learning, about the fact that youand your department are engaged in a com-

mon enterprise with all of the other depart-ments in the College—and so begin to thinkabout that common end. Of course almostall students "major" in some discipline orfield, but majors in Arts and Letters are in-tended to deepen and broaden the under-standing of a field, not ordinarily to prepareone for a position in it. Moreover, only abouta fourth of their undergraduate courses areallotted to satisfying the requirements of amajor, which, in Arts and Letters, is itself nota professional or vocational preparation fora role in society. The other thirty or so coursesmake up the educational complement of themajor speciality. So what kind of educationis appropriate to the goals of that commonenterprise?

Well, generally, education that widensand deepens the range of our knowing andof our thoughtful understanding, that broad-ens the horizons within which we think andlive. (My favorite Gary Larson cartoon is ofa group of cows munching in a meadow, andone of them raises its head and says, "Hey!This is grass we're eating!" Liberal educa-tion ought to get us to raise our heads andlook afar.)

To be better informed, but also to reflecton and to understand that information, is toexpand not only our memory banks, but thescope, the articulation, of the everyday worldwe live in, to enrich the meaningingfulnessof our daily experience. Learning can helpus to see more, to see otherwise, to discernwhat we never noticed. The more you knowflie more you can actually see and hear and feel.Marcel Proust, the French novelist, referringto travel as showing us new things, said that

The only true journey . . . lies not inseeking new landscapes but in havingnew eyes, in seeing the world with theeyes of another, ot a hundred others.

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One of the reasons that a journey to dis-tant places has long been an image of educa-tion (from Homer's Odyssey to RalphEllison's novel Invisible Man) is that suchtravel can present us with customs and be-liefs and values that are different from thosewe are used to, different from those intowhich each of us has been acculturated bythe society into which we are born. It canmake us think about that acculturation asacculturation, can bring it into view, so tospeak. But of course liberal education canalso take us on a journey, a journey of themind, across the seas and back into time,through accessing and reflecting on theworldwide web of the ages that have gonebefore us: the artists and storytellers, the sci-entists and philosophers, the historical actorsand the contemplators. "The past/' some-one has said, "is a foreign country; they dothings differently there."

For liberal education to be liberating, ofcourse, it's not enough merely to encounter,to come to know, new data, new informationabout the natural world and the humanworld, about what other ages and culturesand peoples thought was true and worthdoing and being. That's the first responsi-bility of the teacher: to bring the student toknow the organization of the solar system,what happened in the rise of Islam, whatPlato wrote in the Republic. What is neces-sary to add in order to profit from those en-counters is reflecting, thinking about the in-formation and making connections. Andthat's the second—and major—responsibil-ity of the teacher: to show the connections,the meaning, the implications of what wehave come to know. A good choice of textsor data can facilitate this second goal, canprovide launching pads for reflection. (Oneof the beneficial consequences of research onteaching is to expand our knowledge of andinsight about such texts.)

You'll indulge me if 1 say that all educa-tion, from kindergarten up, is based on."show and tell."

"Telling" predominates in earlier school-ing, but goes on as long as we are learning.Not telling you what I mink, but telling youwhat "we know" (St. Augustine says the lastthing parents should send their children toschool for is to learn the opinions of theteacher). All of us learn, by reading and by

being told, many things that we don't verifyor see for ourselves. It's the way we come toshare in the accumulated knowledge of manyinquirers over many centuries. So for ex-ample, all of you "know" that the earth ro-tates on its axis and orbits around the sun-even though you don't feel any movement,and even though it certainly looks as if thesun rises and sets. And if you do know that,we can connect it up with a little geometrythat you also know, and I can "show" you—let you see for yourself—that "when I'm stand-ing up, my head is going faster than my feet.

That's part of what I mean by "showing":connecting, bringing together, elements ofwhat we know—the facts—so that they showus things we hadn't realized, so that they leadus toward understanding something aboutthe meaning of the facts. Here's a contempo-rary example of that kind of bringing to-gether: the Constitution says that any citizenover twenty-five years of age (thirty for theSenate) is eligible to be a member of Con-gress. You might not be surprised to learnthat more than 95% of the members of Con-gress are college graduates. But do you knowwhat percentage of adults in the UnitedStates have bachelor's degrees? About fif-teen percent. So, as a matter of fact, our leg-islators are chosen not from the citizenry atlarge but from a very small subset of thepopulation. . . . Is that good or bad? Therewe are with matter for thinking and discuss-ing and understanding.

A large part of liberal education, particu-larly in the humanities, is concerned withbringing the present into relation with, con-necting it to, the past—as my reference to theimage of a journey into the past has indicated.The great American novelist WilliamFaulkner once said, "The past is never dead.It isn't even past." We human beings are thisastonishing animal that bears its past with itwherever it goes—not just the individual'spast, but the past of the species, of the cul-ture, embedded in our language and our wayof living. Every year I read with my studentsThomas Aquinas on natural law, and JohnLocke on natural rights, and then later Mar-tin Luther King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail.It's really interesting to see that King, in de-fending his organizing of demonstrations inBirmingham, appeals not to a right to dis-obey the law, not to the law violating hisrights, but rather to the teaching of August-ine and Thomas Aquinas (whom he explic-itly names) that an unjust law is no law at

15

all, that a civil law in conflict with a higherlaw does not morally oblige us to obey it.Why doesn't he appeal to the Declaration ofIndependence, to his "unalienable rights"?

Sometimes facts can show us the pres-ence of the distant past where we hadn't no-ticed it. Here's an example: December,November, October, September.... What dothose Latin prefixes mean? . . . Okay, and ifyou count back that way to number one,what's the first month of the year? And whyis it the first? And why does a big rabbit hideeggs at the time of the equinox?

None of those examples of showing, ofexhibiting implications and connections, areintended to end with a period. They're in-tended to open up a field of further inquiry,of further thinking. That's why my examplesend with questions. In fact, I think that themost effective kind of teaching is teaching byasking questions, by opening up a conversa-tion about issues mat arise from reading atext together. Not recitation questions, butquestions about the sub-text, so to speak.Good teaching questions are questions thatthe student doesn't know the answer to—indeed there may not be a neat answer—butthat lead to thinking again about the text orthe information and about the issues it raises.The students can then have the experienceof discovering connections, discovering im-portant implications, for themselves. Myquestions only suggest a way to look at theissues, to bring them into view, to show them.Of course, to bring that about the studentshave to learn to read more carefully andthoughtfully that they did at first, have tolearn how to formulate and support an in-terpretation, how to listen mindfully to otherstudents' questions and objections. Andthose are among the skills essential to liberaleducation. I add to those only writing care-fully—a paper assignment is asking studentsto try their hand at making connections ontheir own—and calculating properly.

For myself, I love that kind of teachingby questions—though it's not the only kindof teaching I do and love—because it's themost human (face-to-face conversationsabout important things), it's the most effec-tive pedagogy (when it goes well the studentsdiscover things for themselves), and it's themost fun. Moreover, I learn along with thestudents. Sometimes I learn from things thata student remarks on, that I had neverthought about before; sometimes the discus-sion presses me to articulate an issue in a way

I had never thought about before. I often goback to my office when class is over and makenotes in the back of my book about suchthings. And so in a way, I am the carrier ofinsights from generation to generation of stu-dents, the carrier of gifts, so to speak, to thestudents who come after this generation.

Raising your head and looking aroundyou is, for a teacher, coming to think aboutwhat we are doing, or trying to do—both in-dividually and together. So it means think-ing about the ends and the means and themodes of teaching and learning. It meansthinking about the knowledge and the un-derstanding, the skills and the abilities to see,that we want our students to acquire. Andit means thinking about how our collectiveefforts are, or should be, greater than the sumof the parts, how the result is more than theassembling of forty courses. It is aresponsiblity of all of us as thoughtful teach-ers to keep the communal character of thatenterprise on our radar screens.

But I want to say something now abouta possible dimension of teaching that can'tbe planned for in quite the same way. I wantto think about not just the mind of our stu-dent but about the heart. Can we speak tothe heart of the learner? Well, not in the samesense that we can speak to the mind. If 1 bor-row Saint Teresa's metaphor of the "InteriorCastle" of the soul, I could say that our teach-ing activity can evoke the attention of thelookouts on the towers, but that the keep ofthe castle, the heart's keep, has to be openedfrom inside.

By "the heart" here I don't mean theemotions or feelings of the student, but ratherthe sense of personal implication, the real-ization that this insight has a special mean-ing for me. There is an old Latin adage,"Where the heart is, there too are the eyes."The heart—in the sense I am using it here—the heart responds by appropriating whatcomes into view, by making that understand-ing my own, by thinking about its relation tomy life. This may sound fuzzy and mushy,so let me tell a story to make it more con-crete.

While I was in the Dean's office, a leg-endary teacher of English at Notre Damedied; the funeral was planned for two dayshence. I received a callthe next day from thegovernor of a large state, who wanted tocome to the funeral. He cancelled all of hisappointments and meetings for the day of thefuneral and flew here. It turned out he had

16

been a student of that teacher many yearsbefore.

He told me that his life had beenchanged, reoriented, by his experiences in theclasses of that teacher. The teacher not onlylectured on and introduced him to works ofliterature that he found deeply significant,but more important, seemed himself to re-flect the goodness that was discovered to theyoung student in those classes. Indeed, tomy astonishment during the drive in fromthe airport, he likened his teacher to theteacher of Dante, Brunetto Latini, to whomDante speaks moving words in the DivineComedy.

While this particular example may beunusual in the depth and duration of the ef-fect on the student, it is not unusual for ateacher to function as a catalyst in the encoun-ter of a student with a text or a topic, awak-ening the student to look more closely. It isnot uncommon that teachers have such loveand enthusiasm for their subject-matter andat the same time such concern for their stu-dents' learning that their love communicatesitself and opens the eyes of the learner to thebeauty ana insight of what is loved.

I still remember the enthusiasm of myfreshman biology teacher. She motivated me,though I was only satisfying a science distri-bution requirement, to learn more about thatsubject than any of my others, so that eventwo years later when 1 took the GraduateRecord Examination, my scores in the bio-logical sciences section were higher than inany other area.

When the subject-matter is such as tooffer insights that address the human condi-tion, that can move us toward self-knowl-edge, the potential of this affinity betweenteacher and topic is heightened. It is perhapsnot standard, but it is also not rare that ateacher lives what he teaches, and withoutpreaching conveys a moving vision to someof his students which opens their heart andtheir eyes to the truth or goodness or beautyof what he bears witness to. We teach somethings indirectly, which is why I said earlierthat you can't plan on speaking to the heart.If the heart hearkens, it is by a kind of gracethat may or may not transpire. All you cando is speak so that the heart may hear. A col-lege that took speaking to the heart as its aimwould be foolish. But a college that forgot

that possibility would lose something of itsown heart.

Of course it's generally true that not ev-erything that the student can learn—or evenneeds to learn—can be taught in the usualmodes. All teachers propose values to theirstudents, whether they intend to or not. Justas parents convey their values to their chil-dren more by what they do than by what theysay, so every teacher by what she does tellsher students what at least some of her val-ues are. By what is demanded of them, bythe quality of work required, by how she usesher and their time, the teacher conveys somesense of what is important and what is not,what is valued in their behavior and what isnot. (I once had a professor, an erudite man,who began a course by saying there wouldbe no discussion in the class because he hadnothing to learn from us.)

A true teacher is one who seeks the goodof another. Indeed, St. Augustine wrote thatteaching is the greatest act of charity. I some-times think about Christ as a teacher, abouthow he taught. He made texts from the pastrelevant to the understanding and the livesof those he taught. He had hearers whoweren't very quick to understand sometimes,but he didn't lose patience. He didn't gener-ally give "the answer" that seemed to beasked for. For example, when he was asked"Who is my neighbor?" he didn't give a defi-nition , which is what the question seemedto invite, but told a story to be thought about.And sometimes instead of answering a ques-tion, he asked a question back. Much of whathe taught had to be thought about before itdisclosed its deeper meaning. He surelyspoke in such a way as to be heard by theheart as well as by the understanding.

When I finished my college work andwent on to graduate school, I really wasn'tthinking about a job—1 just was drawn bylove of the understanding I had begun toexperience in my studies. In fact, if I hadthought much about the likelihood of gettinga well-paid teaching position, I probablywould have hesitated. It is a grace for me tobe able to say truthfully that if I had my lifeto live over again, I would choose the samepath. I wish all of you such a gift.

17

ACADEMIC SOLIPSISMby

Frederick Crosson

The Review of Politics 59 (Winter 1997)Reprinted by permission.

David Damrosch, We Scholars: Changing the Culture of the University.Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1995. Pp. 225. $15.95, paper.

The discovery of the top quark was an-nounced in two papers in Physical Review Let-ters m 1995, by 831 authors. To be sure this is asomewhat unusual authorship, but it representsthe antipodes of the situation that Damroschlaments as the reigning paradigm-situation inthe humanities and some of the social sciences:a state of affairs in which fields and disciplinesare increasingly subdivided into sub-specializa-tions, in which scholars increasingly work apart;in which the curriculum both reflects and fos-ters such separation. Of course the natural sci-ences are similarly subdivided into specializa-tions, but research is normally by groups.

Robert Hutchins once jocosely remarkedthat a university was a group of departmentsconnected by steam tunnels. But even the de~.partments are now less unified, less of a com-munity than they were in the recent past. Thereare deep structural tensions in the universities(or "pluriversities" as Clark Kerr termed them)and in the colleges, which increasingly modelthemselves on the research universities. Theauthor's purpose is to examine the ways inwhich academic work is presently structured,to look at its sociological, historical and psycho-logical aspects and to sketch some fundamen-tal reforms in both undergraduate general edu-cation and, especially, in the way in whichgraduate training and scholarship are orga-nized.

These divisions in the academy accompanythe constant partitioning of disciplines andfields of specialization, and they also reflect thedivisions in society: for example, identity poli-tics is not only a social parallel to academic spe-cializations, but group identities in political so-cieties have given rise to new scholarly special-ties and even departments. No one can masterthe methods and literature of more than a hand-ful of sub-fields of the discipline one is identi-fied as belonging to, and so we talk to each other

about our work less and less.One exemplar-model of the present situa-

tion is the image of the humanities professorsitting alone in his or her office researching(reading, thinking) or typing on the computer.Why is that the standard model? Why does thestructure of academic culture make it so hardto work collabor'atively? Why has undergradu-ate education become a kind of assembly line,"with infusions of credit-hours from various de-partments (degree and distribution require-ments), but with the individual departments orprofessors having little sense or being con-sciously involvea in a common enterprise?Why does graduate education, especially in thehumanities and social sciences, reflect thismodel, so that each student after fulfillingcourse requirements goes off, so to speak, towork alone in the library or carrel or dorm room,with periodic checks by the "advisor" or direc-tor?

Damrosch likens the partitioning of fieldsto the way in which one language of learning-Latin—was replaced centuries ago by the ver-naculars. For a while, academics kept up withcognate research in at least a small group ofvernaculars, but unless works are translated, itis more and more rare for the literature in morethan one or two other languages (or even none)to be known. Damrosch thinks that patternedisolation of disciplines, and of fields withinthem, began, about a century ago, and has beenaccelerating as time went on. One of the cata-lysts in the disintegration of undergraduategeneral education—though the partitioning ofdisciplines proceeded independently—wassheer numbers. From 1960 to 1980, college en-rollments went from three to twelve million,paralleling a analogous spurt a century before.One of the consequences then, as well as now,was the "industrialization" of enrollment, theamassing of bureaucracies, the certification for

graduation by transcripts instead of personsinterviewed.

His proposals do not quixotically aim atvanquishing specialization, but at fostering newmodes of interaction among academics, and al-lowing (at least) two kinds of scholars and re-search to flourish. To that end he suggests anumber of things that might be tried in a re-structuring of graduate education, with the armof fostering collaborative learning at the gradu-ate level. To mention only one: now about al-lowing at least some dissertations to consist ofa series of concordant articles, written with anumber of different sponsors?

The argument or the book is effective indrawing the reader's attention to what goes onaround us and in stimulating thoughts aboutwhat might be done about it. It is gracefullywritten, informative and concerned in the bestsense. It is also making a case, and some thingscould be said to mitigate the darkness of thepicture that is painted of "we scholars" (thephrase is Nietzsche's.)

But there is a genuine problem to be con-cerned about. That the proper historical per-spective is a century seems dubious: at the bot-tom of all the fragmentation Damrosch deploresis a doubt about whether all truth is related,whether what is known in one discipline can inprinciple illuminate or be related to another.Universitas came from universus, the oneness ofknowings reflecting the unity of the whole—and that was rooted in the notion of creation byone God. That was still the ground ofNewman's confidence in the interrelatedness ofall knowledge, in the Idea of a University. In theforties and fifties of this century, there was aflood of research, and writing by Catholic schol-ars on the "integration" of the curriculum, aneffort to counteract or think against the trendsDamrosch is mapping. (If you type "integra-tion" into your on-line catalogue you can findsome of these books, but since the 1960's, "inte-gration" has come to refer to the racial integra-tion of pur social institutions, so most of the re-cent literature refers to that meaning.)Damrosch has only one passing, and inaccurate,reference to Newman's work, which might have

helped him. (He says that the relation of thechurch to the university was a "leitmotif" of theIdea, but in fact Newman insisted that he wasnot talking about a Catholic university butrather about the nature of a university as such.)

Moreover long before the medieval univer-sity espoused such a vision, the Greeks had dis-covered a world of "nature" and law, and of acommon human nature, that subtended theproject of analyzing, for example, the nature ofthe human political community. It is an ironicreflection of our present situation thatDamrosch can refer scornfully to Plato's con-viction of a common human nature as "a reli-gious vision of a mystical unity above history"(p-119).

And there are reasons other than theauthor's historical and sociological ones for the"individualism" in the academic enterprise ofthe humanities. In the first sentence of this re-view, I could have put the word "authors" inquotes, since in the natural sciences, authorshiprefers more to the work done that to its writtenreport (as is evident to any reader!). In the hu-manities, thinking one's thoughts out intowords in a way that both articulates what onehas come to see and brings that into view forothers, that makes it persuasive and evident forsomeone else, is not at all like writing a sum-mary of an experiment. There are, as Damroschsays, some fine examples of collaborative workin the humanities (and a fortiori in the socialsciences), but they will remain the exception.Which does not mean that more interactivescholarly work is not desirable, and that evencomputers—for some the very model of a one-on-one relation—through things like list-servesand discussion groups of those sharing commoninterests might not in time make a major con-tribution.

Despite some shortcomings, this work isnonetheless strongly recommended to academ-ics—teachers and scholars—who, more thanmost engaged in work that can make a differ-ence for our common future, need to think whatthey are doing.

ALL SOULS MASS HOMILY

•by

Fr. Nicholas Ayo, CSC

Novembers, 1997

Welcome this evening to gather our com-munity in prayer and in remembrance of thosein the Great Books program who have gone be-fore us into the life of God. We know they havepassed along the same ways that we have.Where they have been, we now are. Where theynow are we will be. It is a moment of reflectionfor us each year. We ask questions about themeaning of our life together and the meaningof death for each of us and for all of us together.

We live in a time that especially values con-trol. We would control genetic processes andenvironmental outcomes. We would controlnations and control emotions. We would con-trol our lives, and if we could we would con-trol our death. But death is the moment with-out control. Death is maximal out of control.We are then altogether in the hands of God andnot in our own hands. We have no control. Andwhenever we have no control we are in fear.One could argue that human history is the at-tempt to overcome the fear inherent in the hu-man condition -with its limitless limitations. Wefind always the need for control at the heart ofour fears.

As I am writing this homily we are readingin seminar the Histories of Herodotus. Xerxesis building an empire, and the Greeks are build-ing a confederacy. Everyone has suspicionsabout almost everyone else. And Xerxes saysin the council session called to determinewhether Persian empire should invade Grecianconfederation, "If we do not wound them first,they will surely come and wound us." Fearleading to control has haunted human history.It is at the bottom of all systems of dominationand oppression, whether it be wealth over pov-erty, one race over another race, or one class overanother. The feminist literature argues that fearand control are the engines of patriarchy, andthat men are not only afraid of the implicationsof equality with women but most of all men areafraid of the control of other men. Our uneasy

systems of social adjustment allow for some sortof balance of power and the cessation of at leastmost lethal hostilities. But the principle that Imust seize control and insist upon power anddomination before and lest the other party dounto me remains such a trap and such a bur-den, causing untold misery all around to boththe oppressed and the oppressors, whoever theymay be. And yet we must all die, and in thatmoment we shall surely relinquish control. Ourefforts to ward off fear of death will seem futileand unnecessary at that moment. Would thatwe would learn sooner that fear and controlpresuppose a world without appreciation forthe presence of God and the true security thatcan be found in embracing the human condi-tion with faith/ hope, and love.

One could easily conclude that fear andcontrol are at the root of all systems of oppres-sion and injustice. That wide a net may wellcoincide with what religion has understood asoriginal sin, which is the condition of sinful in-justice that we are all born into. Original sin isnot personal guilt, but rather it is the way of theworld, the way of fear and control, that inevita-bly leads to inequality at every level.

Consider the story of Adam and Eve in thegarden. Sin appears in this account as fear andneed for control. One could even argue thatalready the blame is being projected ontowoman. Adam and Eve eat of the forbiddenfruit because they are afraid that it is not goodenough to be human. To be human is not tohave control over everything and everyone.Hence the temptation: you human beings mustbecome like Gods, knowing good and evil.

Trust in God and in human life should de-fine the human condition, and not fear and con-trol. Trust in each other as children of God iswhat human beings have for their security. Thetruth comes about by dialogue. Safety residesin the community. A better world depends onour equal and mutual collaboration. Going it

20

alone or in privileged and exclusive groups among you must be your servant, and whocomes from panic, a fear of being out of control wishes to be first among you must be your slave;and of not knowing how to diminish our fear just as the Son of Man came not to be servedby entrusting our humanity to others we do not but to serve/ and give his life a ransom forcontrol. The only genuine control remains our many" (Mt 20:25-28). Chesterton argued thatmutual caring and our just assistance of each in the pursuit of a better world/ "The Christianother under God's providence. Any form of lib- ideal has not been tried and found wanting; iteration that is just arid human echoes the prom- has been found difficult and left untried." In-ises of the Communion of Saints. deed/ the same might be said for every devout

Baptism was meant to be the introduction religious tradition and for every just movementof a child into a new community brothers and of liberation. They are not found wanting sosisters of one God/ a family that was to be free much as they are left untried and found all tooof patriarchy in favor of the freedom and equal- difficult. We pray this evening that we mightity of the children of God. In the community find the courage to trust in the creator of thethat would fully live the gospels/ there would human condition and to proclaim that perpetualbe no fear. God's love is given to everyone. And fear and exaggerated control are not humanlythere would be no need for control or domina- good solutions to our predicament. The hopetion/ since serving the needs of others was to be mat will be asked of each of us when we mustthe lifeblood of this community and the only- let go of control in the moment of our death canrole of its leaders. "You know that the rulers of be achieved even now in the living of our livesthe Gentiles lord it over them/ and their great together. And for this we can indeed pray allones are tyrants over them. It will not be so together,among you; but whoever wishes to be great

THE EDWARD J. CRONIN AWARDWINNING ESSAY

Messengers of Revolutionby

Shawn Gould

Class of 1998

Imagine yourself walking with a frienddown a country road on a clear summer's night,miles away from any cities and their accompa-nying light pollution. Having some knowledgeand interest in astronomy, you both decide totake advantage of this rare opportunity awayfrom "civilization" to look up at the stars and"see what you can see." Much to your delight,you notice an unusually bright object in a spotwhere there should be nothing discernible. Thatit might be a cause for consternation never en-ters your mind, for you remember having heardthat a comet would be coming into the range ofnaked-eye observation on this very night. Whyis the arrival of this comet not a cause for greatalarm for both of you? From our twentieth-cen-tury perspective this question may seem some-what odd. Of course, the comet does not alarman observer; why should it? Aside from theextremely low probability of the comet impact-ing the Earth, there is not much reason to fearit. A speeding ball of ice through the vast ex-panse of space, although interesting to see,hardly seems to concern the average person.Oh, some scientists might still concern them-selves with the content of a comet's core andsome might even think that comets carry germsor the primordial building-blocks of terrestriallife.1 Most astronomers, though, do not botherwith these lesser members of our solar system,choosing instead to investigate such topics asthe physics of the universe immediately follow-ing the "big bang." How did the passing cometcome to be such a commonplace occurrence?

1 Two scientists, Hoyle and Wickramisinghe, put forth thehypothesis in 1978 that comets carry germs throughoutthe universe. For a summary of ideas concerning the dan-ger of comets see John C. Brandt and Robert D. Chapman's

Though one might answer this questionwith a straightforward recounting of the historyof cometary theory, another, and possibly morerevealing, method of inquiry is to examine thepoint in astronomy at which comets becomecommon. In that the point under discussionconcerns change in or the birth of a scientifictheory, the method employed to discover thereason for the twentieth-century comet's con-ventionality must deal with such a change inscience. One such work is Thomas Kuhn's TheStructure of Scientific Revolutions.2 To applyhis theory of scientific progression to the changein the conception of comets, we shall focus onthe theory or Newton and Halley.

In his essay, Kuhn deals with the problemof the common perception of the progress of sci-entific theory. Most science textbooks publishedbefore his essay portrayed the development ofscience as a constant betterment of previoustheory. In this manner they would have shownEinstein's theory as a modification of Newton'sprior paradigm. So would Copernicus also haveperfected the Ptolemaic system to a greater de-gree of accuracy. In reality, as Kuhn shows, thisis not the way in which science progresses. Thetrue process of scientific development of newtheory is one of revolution, such that the newtheory supplants the old completely. Indeed,the new theory so thoroughly destroys its pre-decessor that scientists adhering to the newparadigm and the research that they performnave no meaning under the old system. Like-wise, the results of the science performed un-der the old theory are not meaningful under the

2 This paper utilized the second edition, enlarged, found,in Foundations of the Unity of Science, edited by Otto

C,̂ l *-fL l^l-'t Itl^. LL.J L.J^^ P^yi ULl V-* *-*** tiil̂ -iL UJ.LV4 J-^.*-yi^^I I. LJ . >^-i*H.*^«.lLVi.XL ^ X T f 1 -n 1 1 1 J l̂ l/~i] 1 H f • /f—'-t '

, , , , _ • , ,-, , Ir, „., • -, r- ™u -A T T • -4. Neurath, Rudolph Carnap, and Charles Morns (ChicagoIntroduction to Comets (Cambridge: Cambridge University . T , , Tr. . r . _, . ,, _ ., GD -rnoi-, 0-11 -11^ and London: University of Chicago Press, 1970).Press, 1981), 211-216. } &

22

experiment believing that the outcome will fallwithin the existing theory. As such, scientistsdo not search for discoveries, but rather hap-pen upon them in the course of trying to achievethe predictable. A scientist "discovers" some-thing when the results of his or her experimentare anomalous. If the scientist cannot ultimatelyresolve the anomalies with the existent theory,then he or she must attempt to create a newtheory that will include the new results. WhenTycho Brahe observed the comet of 1577 hecame to the conclusion that it could not be aterrestrial phenomenon, which was the prevail-ing theory of the time. Noticing that the cometdid not display evidence of parallax, a neces-sary attribute if it truly existed beneath thesphere of the moon, he concluded that the cometwas, in fact, celestial.6

A fundamental aspect of a change in para-digm is that there must be an alternative possi-bility. If no such possibility exists then therewill be no change in paradigm. If Tycho hadthought unequivocally that comets must be sub-lunar, then he would not have formulated hisnew theory. The supernova of 1572 providedhim with the possibility of the new theory.When that star appeared in the sky the Aristo-telian conception of the heavens as unchang-ing became obsolete. Armed with this idea,Tycho was then able to propose that comets,then considered transient objects, belonged inthe super-lunar sphere of activity.7

If a crisis develops in the research of the nor-mal science and a new' theory emerges that suc-ceeds in accounting for the resulting anomalies,then the newer theory supplants the older.Within the purview of the theory in questionthe replacement is complete. As Kuhn pointsout, Einstein uses the same terms as Newton,such as space, time, and mass, but that does notmean that Einstein's theory incorporatesNewton's: "Newtonian mass is conserved;Einsteinian is convertible with energy. Only atlow relative velocities may the two be measuredin the same way, and even then they must notbe conceived to be the same."8 Tycho's theoryof comets categorically superseded that ofAristotle's, and, as we shall see, Newton's andHalley's concept of comets replaced that ofKepler and Descartes in the same manner.

6 Donald K. Ycomans, Comets: A Chronological History of4 Aristotle, Meteorology, trans, H. D. P. Lee, in The Loeb Clas- Observations, Science, Myth, and Folklore (New York: Johnsical Library (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1959), I, Wiley and Sons, 1991), 37-41.1; quoted in Jane L. Jervis, Cometary Theory in Fifteenth-Ceil- 1 Ibid.tury Europe (Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1985), 12. 8 Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 164.5 Ibid., 13.

new. This revolution occurs when normal sci-ence ceases to produce results that concur withthe existing paradigm. These results Kuhn callsanomalies. The production of the anomalousresults eventually leads to a crisis within theresearch operating under the paradigm. At thispoint the scientists working under the paradigmin question will put forth a manifold of newtheories, attempting to explain their results. Thetheory that best accounts for the results will thensupplant the old theory and all of the other com-peting "new" theories. Normal science will thencontinue under the newly established para-digm.

This rather brief summary of Kuhn's thesisrequires greater explication. Kuhn states that"normal science means research firmly basedupon one or more past scientific achievements,achievements that some particular scientificcommunity acknowledges for a time as supply-ing the foundation for its further practice."3

Scientists working under the Aristotelian para-digm, for example, were concerned with theessence of the subject in question. Comets, forAristotle, were composed of air and water, andwere formed in the "outer part of the terrestrialworld, that is, of all that lies beneath the celes-tial revolutions . . . composed of dry exhala-tion."4 As such the Aristotelian scientist con-cerns himself with the investigation of this na-ture. Indeed, this research has an outcome atodds with the normal science of today. Cometsunder the Aristotelian paradigm of science be-come messengers of terrestrial events: "The factthat comets when frequent foreshadow windand drought must be taken as an indication oftheir fiery constitution. For their origin isplainly due to the plentiful supply of that se-cretion."5 Modern scientists concerned withcomets do not consider any inherent predictivequality in comets, because they operate undera fundamentally different paradigm than thatof the Aristotelian. Hence, the Aristotelian willdevise experiments in hopes of elucidating themessage of any particular comet, whereas theexperiments of the modern scientist will furtherthe modern theory under which they operate.

Particularly noteworthy when consideringnormal science is that its results are not intendedto be surprising. The scientist establishes the

Ibid., 72.

Though the new theory completely replacesthe old, what do the scientists who practice thenewer theory perceive through this theory?Another way of formulating the question is toask whether the scientist who experiences achange in theory is able to perceive his or herresults in the perspective of both paradigms.This is much like the situation of the Gestalt psy-chologists, who showed subjects a picture thatcould represent either a rabbit or a duck. Oncefamiliar with the picture, the subjects could seeone or the other, but not both at the same time.Scientists perceive their data in a somewhatsimilar way. A comet for an Aristotelian is anexhalation of dry air that combusts in the sub-lunar realm. For the modern observer, a comet'sexistence has nothing to do with material fromthe Earth; such a thought does not even enterone's mind as a possibility. What is importantis that the view of the scientist is in completeaccord with one theory or the other. To illus-trate this concept, Kuhn postulates the existenceof a recent convert to Copernicanism from thePtolemaic paradigm who is questioned concern-ing the nature of the moon: "The convert . . .does not say, T used to see a planet, but now Isee a satellite.' That locution would imply asense in which the Ptolemaic system had oncebeen correct. Instead [he] says, T once took themoon to be a planet, but I was mistaken."'9 Aswith the pictures, the scientist may switch backfrom one view to another, but at any one pointin time he or she will adhere to only one para-digm.

Armed with these concepts, we can then askthe questions that will lead us to the reason forthe modern perception of comets as routine ce-lestial phenomena. What was the normal sci-ence of comets before Newton's theory? In theperiod of crisis following the normal science re-search, what theories emerged to explain thenew anomalies? How did Newton react to thesetheories, and how did he dispense with themand form his own? Finally, when did Newton'stheory become the accepted paradigm of thescientific community?

From the fourth century BC until the fif-teenth AD, Aristotle's account of comets re-mained the standard paradigm of scientifictheory.10 Then in 1456 Georg von Peurbach at-tempted to determine by using parallax the dis-tance of a comet seen at that time (it happenedto be Halley's Comet). Following upon

9 Ibid., 177.10 Jervis, Cometary Theory in Fifteenth-Century Europe, 11.

Peurbach's calculation, one of his students,Regiomontanus, also attempted to determinethe parallax of comets, publishing his work in1531 .n Both of these scientists adhered to theAristotelian conception of comets, a view thattheir parallax calculations did not hinder. TychoBrahe used the same method, but because ofhis greater belief in the validity of his instru-ments and his prior experience with the super-nova of 1572, he concluded that Aristotle's con-ception of comets was erroneous. Theory thenplaced them in the realm of the planets; that isthe extent of the normal science. Two beliefs ofpre-Newtonian astronomers stand in stark con-trast to the conceptions of comets by Newton,Halley, and their followers. One is the old Ar-istotelian belief that comets are omens. Theother centered on observations of the non-peri-odicity of cometary orbits.

Kepler, who integrated his Copernican sys-tem with a breed of mysticism, denied to com-ets the possibility of elliptical orbits. He rea-soned that only eternal figures, such as planets,could have such movements. Because cometswere ephemeral, they must have straight-linetrajectories.12 The problem with Kepler's theorywas that comets were not observed to followrectilinear paths. He circumvented this objec-tion by stating that the tracks of comets do notlook straight, because the Earth is moving, thusoffering a proof of the Copernican system.Calder points out that "by this argument Keplerput Halley [and Newton] and other successorsin a bind; they might seem to be siding withanti-Copernican fuddy-duddies if they ques-tioned the straight-line motion of comets."13

Descartes, however, explained- the path ofcomets with his vortex theory. In thisconceptualization, both comets and planetswere formed from dead stars, "with comets be-ing the more dense of the two. The less denseplanets acquired momentum equal to that of thevortex they were in, but comets, because of theirgreater density, achieved a greater velocity andescaped the vortex in which they were formed.They then wandered from vortex to vortex, witheach path being slightly curved.14 Descartes, incontrast to Kepler, did not base his theory onany mystical conceptions of order or purpose,but rather maintained a mechanical explanationof cometary movement.

11 Yeomans, Comets, 28.12 Ibid., 52.13 Nigel Calder, The Comet Is Coming: The Feverish Legacy ofMr. Halley (New York: Viking Press, 1980), 38.14 Yeomans, Comets, 64-65.

24

Following the publication of Descartes' andKepler's ideas, however, the cometary theorybecomes more muddled rather than clearer.Jean Dominique Cassini places the comet of1664 in an epicycle around the star Sirius.15

Hooke introduced the idea of some kind ofgravitation accounting for the path of comets:"By internal agitation and external dissolution,a comet's gravitational principle was disturbedover time. Then the comet no longer circled thecentral body but tended toward a straight lineas it lost its attractive, magnetic virtue. Thereare other examples, but these are sufficient toshow the moocf of the times.

Each of the theories proposed relies uponits own set of inherent "problems." Keplerneeds to have a theory that fits in with his con-ceptions of the ordered universe. Descartesneeds a purely mechanical explanation basedon his corpuscular theory. Hooke acts in thesame manner for his "gravity" and Cassinineeds to reconcile his theory with his more pre-cise observations.17 One should notice that eachof these theories has elements within that per-sist in the theory of Newton and Halley.Kepler's order, Descartes' mechanistic ap-proach, Cassini's closed cometary orbit, all findtheir way into the new theory. This period con-forms to Kuhn's theory of the rise of crisis afterthe proliferation of anomalous results in nor-mal science. Many astronomers observed com-ets before Copernicus and Tycho Brahe didaway with the Aristotelian conception of theheavens. After the fall of that system, however,such observations made by Copernican astrono-mers could be reconciled with Copernicantheory without difficulty and disagreement.The result is the cometary crisis of the seven-teenth century, described in brief above. Leav-ing aside the superstition attached to comet ap-pearances for the moment, we can now see howNewton reacted to these various theories con-cerning the paths of comets.

Newton's first thoughts concerning thepath of a comet were that it was rectilinear innature. He did not believe, as John Flamsteeddid, that the comet of 1680 was one object butrather believed that it was two. Flamsteed'scometary theory combined both the effects ofthe Cartesian vortex and the concept of solarmagnetic attraction and repulsion. Somewhatstrikingly, a comet under this theory initiallyheads in the general direction of the sun, is

l s Ibid., 70-72.16 Ibid., 80.17 Ibid., 70.

pulled towards the sun by its magnetic attrac-tion and then repelled by magnetic repulsionwithout ever having gone around the sun.18

Newton, still harboring doubts as to the idea ofit being one comet, responded to Flamsteed'stheory critically. The source of the sun's attrac-tion cannot be magnetic, because all objectspossessing magnetic traits on the Earth lose thisattribute when heated, and the sun is, of course,extremely hot. Therefore, the attraction of thesun cannot be due to magnetism. The cometalso should not have turned ahead of the sun,as Flamsteed's theory proposed, because thatwould have required trie sun to both effect anattractive and a repulsive force on the comet,which would have required the comet to recedefaster than it approached. This was contraryto the observed motion.19 Newton, who as-sumed elliptical orbits, worked out the path ofthe comets as he had done for the planets. Theorbit he described for comets was necessarilyperiodic, allowing for the theory's justificationlater by Halley If someone could successfullypredict the return of a comet using orbital cal-culations worked out by Newton, the return ofthe comet would in effect give support to theNewtonian system. Of course, this is what ac-tually occurred with the return of Comet Halley,and it was hailed as proof of the Newtoniansystem.

This argument proposed by Yeomans findsopposition in an essay by David Kubrin. In hispaper, "Such An Impertinently Litigious Lady,"Kubrin proposes that the primary stimulus forNewton's integration of comet orbits within hissystem was Robert Hooke's propounding of hisown system of the world.20 Ultimately it doesnot matter against whom he reacted, but thathe reacted at all. Kuhn's interpretation of sci-entific progress does not allow for a theory con-ceived independently of the "old" scientificparadigm. Newton shows his influence mostprofoundly in his insistence on giving comets areal purpose in his cosmology. Much of his re-search dealt with alchemy: "In 1687 Newtonbelieved that an aqueous fluid was a universalsubstrate capable of being transmuted into allthe manifold forms of gross matter."21 The prob-

I S Ibid., 99.15 Ibid., 101-102.20 David Kubrin, "Such An Impertinently Litigious Lady," inStanding on the Shoulders of Giants, ed. Norman J. W. Thrower(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 55-80.21 Sara Genuth, "TheTeleoIogical Role of Comets," m Stand-ing on the Shoulders of Giants, ed. Norman J. W. Thrower (Ber-

keley: University of California Press, 1990), 229-307.

lem he encounters is that, for him, this fluidbeing capable of transmutation also allowed fordepletion. He solved this by proposing cometsas the means of rejuvenation, both for the Earthand the sun.22 This further supports the idea thatfor him comets orbit in closed paths. As theycircle the sun they gradually fall ever inwards,until eventually they impact the Earth or thesun. We have already seen the roots of this be-lief that comets have purpose in Aristotle's ac-count of comets. One should be cautious in as-cribing too much to Newton's alchemical de-signs, though. At first he disagreed with thenotion that comets ran in conical sections. AsKuhn has pointed out, scientists will not changeparadigms capriciously. Newton could haveintegrated his alchemical concepts with recti-linear cometary motion; comets moving instraight lines can still hit both the sun and theEarth.

Another, more compelling, view of cometsemerges from Newton's integration of their or-bits with those of the planets. Here we take upthe issue of comets and superstition.1 Up untilNewton's cosmological theory, including theperiodic orbits of comets, most Europeans be-lieved strongly in the role of comets as omens.After the return of Halley's Comet in 1759 thisbelief began to die. Lalande said of its return,"The universe beholds this year the most satis-factory phenomenon ever presented to us byastronomy, an event which, unique until thisday, changes our doubts to certainty and ourhypotheses to demonstration."23 This contrastswith an earlier account given in 1066, whichsaid, "In the year of our Lord 1066, a comet ap-peared in the heavens, which portended greatchanges in the kingdom, the slaughter of thepeople, and multiplied miseries inflicted uponthe land."24 Through his achievement of regu-lating the motion of the comet according to pre-dictable and calculable rules, Newton providedthe necessary environment for later scientiststo research comets without encumbering them-selves with portentous beliefs. That these laterscientists mature in a time that at least ques-tions the validity of assigning such qualities tocomets is important; otherwise they might notchange at all. Remember the Gestalt picturesmentioned earlier. The people living in 1066firmly believed that comets were omens of di-

32 Ibid.23 Cited in James Howard Robinson, The Great Comet of I860:A Study in the Histoiy of Rationalism (Cleveland: John T.Zubal, 1986), 112.24 Ibid., 6.

saster without question; comets as omens in thattime would have been much like a tautology,they were so by definition. Scientists after New-ton would not have the same belief; they wouldnot see comets in the same way. So could theyformulate theories without having to deal withrestructuring their world view. To see that sucha restructuring is extremely difficult one needonly look to the opinions of the people ofNewton's own lifetime. Having matured in atime that still held to many of the superstitionssurrounding comets, they found Newton'stheory difficult to accept. Even Newton couldnot free himself completely from such con-cepts.25 This leads directly to the view of ourmodern observers. Why do they not react inalarm at the cornet? Newton had revolution-ized the view of a comet's periodicity.

Works Cited

Brandt, John C., and Robert D. Chapman. In-troduction to Comets. Cambridge: Cam-bridge University Press, 1981.

Calder, Nigel. The Comet Is Coming: The Fever-ish Legacy of Mr. Halley. New York: VikingPress, 1980.

Genuth, Sara. "The Teleological Role of Com-• ets." In Standing on the Shoulders of Giants,

ed. Norman J. W. Thrower. Berkeley: Uni-versity of California Press, 1990.

Jervis, Jane L. Cometary Theory in Fifteenth-Cen-tury Europe. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1985.

Kubrin, David. "Such An Impertinently Liti-gious Lady." In Standing on the. Shoulders ofGiants, ed. Norman J. W. Thrower. Berke-ley: University of California Press, 1990.

Kuhn, Thomas S. The Structure of Scientific Revo-lutions. 2d ed. Chicago and London: Uni-versity of Chicago Press, 1970.

Robinson, James Howard. The Great Comet ofI860: A Study in the History of Rationalism.Cleveland: John T. Zubal, 1986.

Yeomans, Donald K. Comets: A ChronologicalHistory of Observations, Science, Myth, andFolklore. New York: John Wiley and Sons,1991.

25 Kubrin, "Such An Impertinently Litigious Lady," 63.

27

1997 PLS SENIOR ESSAY TITLES

Name

Bales/ Melissa

Bassler, Sarah

Becker, Justin

Boever, Matthew

Borst, Anton

Cahill, Robert

Coolican, J. Patrick

Costello, Carlene

Craft/ James

Deeb, Elyse

Dodds, Emily

Dougherty, Katherine

Fiscus, Jessica

Flanagan, Brien

Flynn/ Jessica

Title

The Significance of the Nude inNineteenth-Century European Painting

Learning Justice: The Moral Developmentof Children at High Risk for DelinquentBehavior

Exploring the Internet Phenomenon

The Discovery of God

Jonathan Swift and the Passion of Reason:The Deconstruction of Rationalism inGulliver's Travels

The American Citizen: An Aristotelian andTocquevellian Perspective

Director

Benedict Sarnaker

E Clark Power

Benedict Sarnaker

Frederick Crosson

Michael Crowe/Christopher Fox

Walter Nicgorski

A Philosophy Written in Blood: Hegeland the Consciousness of National Socialism Frederick Crosson

A Sensuous Clearness of Conception:Interpreting the Poet-Painter DanteGabriel Rossetti's Modes of Expressionvia Love's Inextricable Tie of Soul andBody G. Felicitas Munzel

The Development of GreekTragedy

The Revision of Metaphysical Intent:The Bhagavad-Gita in Four Quartets

Equality in Public Schools: A Proposal forReform

Gretchen Reydams-Schils

Stephen Fallon

K Clark Power

Truth and Justice in Post-ApartheidSouth Africa Gretchen Reydams-Schils

Engineering the Good Life: A Considerationof Intergenerational Justice and FuturePersonhood in an Age of Genetic Engineeringand Fertilization Technology Phillip Sloan

An Analysis of the School-to-Work EducationCornelius O'BoyleReform Program

The Stone and the Shell Henry Weinfield

28

Friedewald, Vincent

Hahn, Sheryl

Haines, Erin

Hogan, Daniel

Hogan, Jennifer

Hogan, Katherine

Jones, Albert

Locher, Emily

Luck/ Allyson

Lynch, Ryan

Martin, Amanda

Matthews, Alexandra

McCarthy, Meghan

McGoldrick, Erin

Moore, Colleen

Myers, Steven

O'Keefe, Patrick

Fossil Poetry - Discovering the Nature ofLanguage and the Emersonian Archetype forExpression

Denying our Past, Destroying our Future:The Phenomenon of Holocaust Denial

Moral Development and Children Livingin Poverty

The Spirit of Truth: Milton, the Quakers,and Calvinist Protestantism

The Artistic Mastery of Renoir

The Sanctity of Definition in Dante'sDivine Comedy

Morality and Politics Interpreted throughCicero's De Officiis, De Re Publica, andDe Legibus

The Dangers of Rationalism:Dostoevsky's Denunciation of Scienceand Mathematics

Circularity in T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets

Machiavelli's Prince: Securing Employmentfor an Intimate Revenge

Frederick Crosson

Kim Paffenroth

E Clark Power

Stephen Fallen

Benedict Sarnaker

Henry Weinfield

Walter Nicgorski

Michael Crowe/David Gasperefcti

Henry Weinfield

Stephen Fallen

Philosophical Love versus HumanLove: Progress and the MissingElement Gretchen Reydams-Schils

Beyond Reason: Dostoevsky's Journeyfrom the Underground to God

Homeless Families in America: Genderand Poverty

The Effect of Hope and Habit on JuvenileDelinquency

The Risks of Reading: Narrative and theExperience of Divestiture in Jane Austen'sPnde and Prejudice and Augustine'sConfessions

Idea for a Perpetual Peace in the Ghetto:Kantian Ethical Decisions in the InnerCity

Life After Auschwitz: The Human Triumphover Suffering

Kim Paffenroth

Michael Crowe/Ann Power

F. Clark Power

Collin Meissner

G. Felicitas Munzel

Kim Paffenroth

Pecson, Brian

Poggi, Christopher

Puzio, Kelly

Ryan, Meagen

Speaks, Jeffrey

Staudt, Brian

Stein, Lauren

Swiney, Beth

TePas, Michele

Treacy, David

Turner, Mark

Walker, Carmen

The Problems of Reductionism in CognitiveNeuroscience

One Man's Justice: The Noble Failure ofRawlsian Political Liberalism

Phillip Sloan

Walter Nicgorski

An Interrupted Life: TransformingLoneliness into Love

Dewey vs Hutchins: The Debate overthe Role of Metaphysics in Education

Phillip Sloan

G. Felicitas Munzel/Alven Neiman

Wittgenstein and the Art of Philosophy Cornelius O'Boyle

Chinese and Western Astronomy inPre-Modern Japanese Politics

Towards the Idea of Human Perfection:The Role of Revolution in Karl Marx'sTheory of Social Change

The Imprisoned Soul: The Problem ofInsufficient Grace in John Donne'sHoly Sonnets

Sexuality: A Call to Self-Gift

The Well-Ordered Nation: Models ofPolitical Society by Plato and ThomasHobbes

James Madison and the Pragmatic Idealsof the American Government

Poetry and Pattern in Four Quartets:T.S. Eliot's Reconciliation of Theme andForm

Michael Crowe

Cornelius O'Boyle

Henry Weinfield

Frederick Crosson

Walter Nicgorski

Phillip Sloan

Stephen Fallen

30

ALUMNAE/I NEWS

Editor's note: Please write directly to your classcorrespondent. We continue to need class corre-

spondents for some years.

Class of 1955 Class of 1966(Class Correspondent: ' (Class Correspondent:

George L. Vosmik Paul R- Ahr

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Added by the PLS office:Jerry Murphy is Vice President, Govern- Ned Buchbinder is your new correspon-

ment Affairs, Siemens Corporation. He gave a dent. He would like you to write or call withpanel presentation on human rights and WTO information for Programma.accession ror China at Harvard University re- J

cently, arguing for the U.S. balancing culturally-based rights concerns with a committment to ' Added by the I Lb orlice:peace and domestic stability, and economic de- Peter Herrly is a colonel for the U.S. De-velopment in China. Jerry's address is 5400 fense in Paris. He enjoys French, military his-Blackistone Rd., Bethesda, MD 20816. tory/ studying French art, and French literature.

^ f ~^^~ He is having a great time and continues to creditClass or 1962tf-n r^ A 4- PLS "with the wide-ranging interests which have(Class Correspondent: 1 T 1 . .. a ° .

John Hutton helped in the military and abroad.Box 1307

Tybee Island, GA 31328) Class of 1970(Class Correspondent:

Class of 1965 William F. Maloney, M.D.(Class Correspondent: 2023 West Vista. Way, Suite A

Lee Foster Vista, CA 92083)P.O. Box 5715

Berkeley, CA 94705)

Class of 1971(Class Correspondent:Raymond J. Condon2700 Addison Ave.Austin, TX 78757)

Class of 1972(Class Correspondent:

Otto Barry Bird15013 Bauer Drive

Rockville, MD 20853)

Class of 1973(Class Correspondents:

John Astuno1775 Sherman St. #1875Denver, CO 80203-4316

andJohn Burkley

2008 Lane RoadColumbus, OH 43220-3010)

Class of 1974(Class Correspondent:Jan Waltman Hessling5231 D Penrith DriveDurham, NC 27713)

Class of 1977(Class Correspondent:

Richard MagjukaDepartment of Management

Room 630C, School of BusinessIndiana University

Bloomington, IN 47501)

Added by the PLS office:Kenneth Taylor is a professor of philosophy

at Stanford University. He wants everyone tolook for his first book this fall: Truth and Mean-ing (Blackwell). His address is 279 HillviewAve., Los Altos, CA 94022.

Patter Sheeran writes, "I married Tom Birsic(ND '76) 19 years ago and have 2 children-Bryan, 14, and Kelsey, 4. I'm pleased to reportthat my niece Margaret Cholis, now a junior atND, has followed in my footsteps and is in thePLS program. Although I ended up runningsystems and operations for a mutual fund com-pany in Pittsburgh, I attribute my strong com-munication and analytical skills to my 3 yearsin GP."

Class of 1979(Class Correspondent:Thomas A. Livingston517 Fordham AvenuePittsburgh, PA 15226)

Added by the PLS office:Greg Gullickson is a psychologist. His new

address is 2665 Concorcf Circle, Iowa City, IA52245.

Class of 1980(Class Correspondent:

Mary Schmidtlein Rhodes#9 Southcote Road

St. Louis, MO 63144)

Class of 1981(Class Correspondent:

Tom Gotuaco4475 Callan BoulevardDaly City, CA 94015)

Added by the PLS office:Annette Lang is a lawyer for the U.S.

Department of Justice. She practices environ-mental enforcement for the Department ofJustice. Annette thinks back fondly of class-mates and professors in PLS and sends herbest wishes to all of you. Her address is 1140N. Utah Street, Arlington, VA 22201.

Class of 1983(Class Correspondent:

Patty Pox902 Giles St.

Ithaca, NY 14534)

Class of 1984(Class Correspondent:

Margaret Smith2440 E. Tudor Rd. #941Anchorage, AK 99507)

Class of 1985(Class Correspondent:

Laurie Denn5306 Malibu DriveEdina, MN 55436)

32

Class of 1986(Class Correspondent:Margaret (Neis) Kulis1203 Harvard Terrace

Evanston, IL 60202-3213)

Class of 1987(Class Correspondent:

Terese Heidenwolf41 Valley Park SouthBethlehem, PA 18018

heidenwt@lafayette.edu)

After graduation, Marty Loesch spent oneyear in Colorado in the Holy Cross AssociatesProgam living with fellow PLSers Bud Luepke,Julie LaChapelle, and Tom Stewart. He thenreturned to Notre Dame and even to AlumniHall, where he was assistant rector for threeyears, to complete a law degree, an MA in In-ternational Peace Studies, and an LLM in Inter-national Human Rights Law. He moved to Se-attle to work for a private law firm for a yearand a half before forming a law office with somefriends in 1994.

Marty writes that he loves the Northwest andthis summer went on a six-week sailing adven-ture to circumnavigate Vancouver and theQueen Charlotte Islands. He doesn't get asmuch reading done as he would like but didenjoy reading Czech authors (Kundera, Klima,and Kafka) prior to a visit to Prague. His ad-dress is 3711 58th Avenue SW, Seattle, WA98116-3018, mcloesch@aol.com.

Tim Noakes has dedicated most of the past10 years to competitive cycling. He has racedthroughout Europe and hopes to spend the 1999season racing on a French-based team. To takea brief break from cycling, he spent four monthsworking in a hotel in Galway, Ireland, wherehe had the chance to row with an Irish colle-giate rowing team. Tim lives in Palo Alto, Cali-fornia and works in the Rare Books/ArchivesDepartment of Stanford University. He can bereached at 661 Forest Avenue, Palo Alto, CA94301 or by e-mail at tnoakes@sulmail.stanford.edu.

Class of 1988(Class Correspondent:

Michele Martin9449 Briar Forest Dr. Apt. 3805

Houston, TX 77063-1048)

Added by the PLS office:Nikki Butkus Parish is an interior designer

for commercial architectural projects in Phila-delphia. She is married to Francis Parish, "anincredible Dutchman who is now at Whartonfor an MBA." Nikki is learning Dutch and trav-elling the Northeast and planning a trip to Asiaand South America. Her address is 1530 Lo-cust Street, #14A, Philadelphia, PA 19102-4428,and e-mail is francis.parish.wg99@wharton.upenn.edu

Class of 1989(Class Correspondent:

Coni Rich7701 Atlantic Ave., Apt. 360

Margate, NJ 08402-2861e-mail: BASCJR@AOL.COM)

Coni Rich writes, "Well, I am alive and wellin New Jersey, and dying for news of you andthe Program! I am still the Operations Man-ager for BAS here in the Atlantic City area, andhave just put a bid in on my first condo (yikes!).Good news is that it's a block from the beach,so I'm hoping for lots of visitors! (HINT HINT)."

Class of 1990(Class Correspondent:

Barbara Martin2709 Mildred, Apt. 3A

Chicago, IL 60614)

Added by the PLS office:John Blasi is a manager for Andersen Con-

sulting Enterprise Solution Center. He was withthe Holy Cross Associates in 1990-91 in Phoe-nix. John says he enjoys mystifying people withthe fact that a "Great Books" major can succeedat a business and tech consulting firm. Johnmarried Kathy Stolv in July 1995, and they

bought a new house in Chicago this past Janu-ary. Their address is 2311 W. Hutchinson, Chi-cago, IL 60618.

James Otteson received his Ph.D. in philoso-phy from the University of Chicago and is cur-rently an Assistant Professor of philosophy atthe University of Alabama. This past summerJames, his wife, Katie (Lejeune) Otteson (NDclass of '90) and their two children/ Victoria andJames III, moved to Alabama. At the univer-sity, James has been placed on a committee todesign a new core curriculum for all under-graduates. Their address is 513 WoodridgeDrive, Tuscaloosa, AL 35406.

Class of 1991(Class correspondent:

Ann Mariani36 East Hill Road

Brimfield,MA 01010)

Added by the PLS office:Danielle Bird is currently an acquisitions

editor in Indianapolis. Her new address is 3070Colby Lane, Apt. F, Indianapolis, IN 46268.

David Glenn was married to PeggyEdwards last June and is currently Vice-Presi-dent/Senior Risk Control Consultant for AonRisk Services in Chicago. Their address is 432W. Wellington Ave. #407, Chicago, IL 60657.

Class of 1993(Class correspondent:

Anthony Valle147-55 6 Ave.

Whitestone, NY 11357)

Added by the PLS office:Ramira Alamilla is currently in her third

year of teaching at her former high school inSalt Lake City. She loves teaching and is apply-ing to graduate schools. Ramira hopes to even-tually teach on the university level. Her addressis P.O. Box 562, Salt Lake City, UT 84110.

Class of 1994

Added by the PLS office:Michelle Baker writes: "After graduation,

I worked for a year as a database manager andresearch assistant for a corporate intelligencegroup and then returned to academia. In De-cember, I hope to receive a master's degree ingovernment and foreign affairs from the Uni-versity of Virginia. Post UYA plans are as yetunmade. This summer I made a PLS pilgrim-age of sorts—I tagged along with my father onhis summer teaching assignment in Crete.Given the hours and hours I spent in the 'com-pany' of all those dead Greeks, I thought if d besacriligous not to go visit Athens, so I spent aday chmbing up and around the Acropolis."

Class of 1996(Class correspondent:

Stasia Mosesso351 Ayrhill Ave.

Vienna, VA 22180)

Stasia Mosesso is your new correspondent.She wants her classmates to write to her withinformation for Programma.

35

SUMMER ALUMNI/AESEMINAR 1998

PLS 501. John Henry Newman's An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of AssentI credit, Tillman (10-0-1)1:00-3:15 a.m. MTWTF/ 6/30-7/4An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (1870) is the challenging mature work ofJohn Henry Newman (1801-1890) on the relation of ordinary reasoning andimagination to religious faith. In a letter to a friend concerning the object of thebook/ Newman wrote/ ''You can believe "what you cannot understand;. .. youcan believe what you cannot absolutely prove." In his early Oxford UniversitySermons/ he had described ways in "which we "reason well and argue badly/'And in his Philosophical Notebook, he wrote/ "We can imagine things which wecannot conceive;. . . we can believe what we can imagine/ yet cannot conceive."These issues come together in Newman's psychologically penetrating descriptionand analysis of just how it Is that we come to give assent—in both ordinaryaffairs and in matters religious. The course will entail close reading anddiscussion of the text (University of Notre Dame Press/ paperback/1979). M.Katherine Tillman is a Newman scholar/ and a member of the Program's faculty.

36

MANY THANKS TO CONTRIBUTORS

Contributions to the UniversityDesignated for PLS since the Last Issue

Teresa M. AbramsTheodore M. Becchetti

John BransfieldKathleen. C. CollinsRobert J. Donnellan

Patricia A. FoxPeter R. Frank

Daniel HartnettTerese A. Heidenwolf

Mary E. KenneyJohn D. Kromkowski

Ann M. MarianiMary T. Marshall

Maureen A. McElroyJeremiah L. Murclvy

Leslie A. NardineDavid E. Nield

Gary F. RaislMary Schmidlein Rhodes

Albert J. Schwartz, Jr.Col. Thomas E. Schwietz

Thomas W. StachDaniel J. StewartJoseph E. Tiritter

Friedrich J. Von RuedenMargaret A.'Ward

Contributions to the Otto A. Bird Fund

William GannonRobert L. Jones, Jr.Andrew Lawlor

William F. Maloney, M.D.Andrew Panelli

37

Contributions to the William Burke Memorial Book Fund

Contributions to the Susan Clements Fund

David GlennAndrea Rogers

Contributions to the Edward J. Cronin Fund

Peter R. FrankMichael C. Richerson

Mark R Sullivan

Contributions to the Willis D. Nutting Fund

Robert DiniPeter Frank

Peter F. HerrlyAnnette M. Lang

Thomas Livingston

Contributions to the Stephen Rogers Memorial Fund

Elizabeth A. DrummThomas P. Fleming

Dena M. FredricksonEric L. Fredrickson

Maureen A. McElroyJohn P. M-uench, M.D.Michael C. Richerson

Gregory E. St.VilleElizabeth J. Schroeder

Daniel W. Smith

38

I would like my old friends and teachers to know where I am and what I am doing these days.

Name, ̂ . Class

Present Occupation _^____^_

Special Activities

Current Address

I would like to contribute the enclosed amount to" (specify) special award fund of theProgram*

Comments including any suggestions on what you would like to see consideredin Programma:

*Make checks for the Nutting, Bird and Cronin Funds payable to Program of Liberal Studies anddesignated to the appropriate fund. Those for the Rogers Scholarship should go directly to theDevelopment Office. All contributions are tax deductible and are credited at the University andon Alumni/ae records as a contribution to the University.

Send contributions/ information or inquiries to:

Program of Liberal Studies215 O'Shaughnessy Hall

University of Notre DameNotre Darne, Indiana 46556

(219) 631-7172Fax (219) 631-4268

E-mail AL.pls.l@nd.eduhtt://www.nd.edu/~pls/

MARK YOUR CALENDARS!

DRAW ON YOUR MEMORIES!

Celebratory symposium and ceremonies honoring

FREDERICK J. CROSSON

upon his retirement as Cavanaugh Professor of the Humanities

in the Program of Liberal Studies

May 1,1998 (Friday)

University of Notre Dame

Whether you can come or cannot come, please note this and do contribute if youhave a special memory of Professor Crosson and his teaching:

A faculty committee is assembling a gift to be presented to Professor Crossonon this occasion, consisting of greetings, letters, testimonials, memories, etc.,from former students and friends. Send your paragraph, page or letter to:

Professor Michael CroweProgram of Liberal Studies215 O'Shaughnessy Hall

University of Notre DameNotre Dame, IN 46556

40

EVENTS (All are open. If you wish to attend the departmental dinner at the end of the dayplease return the form at the bottom of the page along with a check for $25 as soon as pos-sible.)

Symposium on Religion and the Great Books.1:15 to 3:30, Center for Continuing Education

Chair, M. Katherine TillmanPresentations:

Otto Bird, "Religion and the Great Books: Reflections from the Founding"Walter Nicgorski, "The Natural and Ultimate Horizons: Leo Strauss and the

Great Books"David Burrell, C.S.C, "The Original Multiculturalism"

Roundtable discussion of topic with Professor Crosson and former students anddiscussion open to the floor

Mass of Thanksgiving4:00 Alumni Hall Chapel, Nicholas Ayo, C.S.C., and Theodore Hesburgh, C.S.C

concelebrating

University Open Reception in Honor of Professor Crosson5:00 to 6:30, Main Lobby of Center for Continuing Education

Departmental Dinner7:00 Lower Level Dining Area, Center for Continuing Education

Clark Power/ master of ceremoniesTestimonials and toasts, open podium and informal remarks

If you "wish to attend the Departmental Dinner on May 1, please complete theform below and send it along "with your check of $25 (payable to the Program ofLiberal Studies) to the address above. Please respond as soon as possible.

Name -

Address

Special Dietary Request_