Christopher Ketcham

Walter M. Miller, Jr.’s 1959 novel A Canticle for Leibowitz is on one level a theological reflection on the human propensity to sin. Not coincidentally, the story is located in an Albertinian abbey in the former American southwest six hundred years after a nuclear holocaust, recounting three separate historical periods over the following twelve hundred years: a dark age, a scientific renaissance, and finally a time of technological achievement where a second nuclear holocaust is imminent. Miller asks the question of whether humans as a species cannot avoid committing acts of sin that cumulatively and continually lead to acts of societal and technological self-destruction; his response oscillates between a fatalistic pessimism (the final extinction of the human species) and a vague optimism (the “new creature,” the mutant Rachel, or perhaps a last group of humans leaving the Earth as the curtain falls). It is my thesis in this article that theological questions about sin (as explored by Augustine and later scholars) can be fruitfully approached by analogous genetic processes; more precisely by reference to the rising science of Epigenetics, which explores how genes can express themselves differently without mutating in response to life stressors. In light of the idea of a genetic and epigenetic expression of moral rules of existence, Augustine’s thesis of original sin as something that is inherited makes new sense. In this light, it may also be possible to approach the question that the Canticle proposes: are we destined to self-destruction, or is there a way out of this destructive cycle?

Arthur Schopenhauer did not believe in soul. However, he explained that every living thing is possessed by a will. Will is universal. Suffering is universal. Even so, he thought it ethically wrong to cause undue suffering to any person or animal. As a student of Buddhism, Schopenhauer was intrigued by the Buddhist belief in rebirth. I will explore how both Schopenhauer’s idea of the ever-present will and Buddhist rebirth are similar in their concern with and for continuity. For Schopenhauer, continuity is will and for Buddhism, as Frank Hoffman (1987) explains, “continuity is without identity of selfsame substance” (p. 53). If all living things are attached by continuity whether by will or “without identity of self-same substance” then what is foundational to the beginning of an ethics of existence is the valuing of that which is attached by continuity, and this includes both human and animal life.

Can we discover morality in nature? Flowers and Honeybees extends the considerable scientific knowledge of flowers and honeybees through a philosophical discussion of the origins of morality in nature. Flowering plants and honeybees form a social group where each requires the other. They do not intentionally harm each other, both reason, and they do not compete for commonly required resources. They also could not be more different. Flowering plants are rooted in the ground and have no brains. Mobile honeybees can communicate the location of flower resources to other workers. We can learn from a million-year-old social relationship how morality can be constructed and maintained over time.

This paper brings Gabriel Marcel and Emmanuel Levinas into dialogue through a consideration of the notion of the spirit of abstraction in Marcel and the notion of the infinitely different other in Levinas. We abstract meaning from Mona Lisa‘s smile from her physical portrait. It is appropriate to abstract from the baby‘s sound whether he or she seems to be happy or sad, but it is when we begin to abstract humans from their humanity that the spirit of abstraction is engaged. My thesis is that the spirit of abstraction is a form of cognitively dislocated reason. This cognitive dislocation begins with the idea that people can be abstracted into characteristics and traits and that these traits can be assigned arbitrary superiority or inferiority e.g., big nosed people have superior intellects; small nosed people do not. Marcel suggests that the spirit of abstraction can turn persons into impersonal targets that are accorded fewer or reduced rights as if they were other than other human. The result can be that inferior persons are accorded one set of rights and superior persons are accorded another set of rights. A most drastic form of the spirit of abstraction occurred during the Holocaust, when the Nazis dehumanized the Jews. Drawing on the work of Robert Solomon, I suggest that if we begin to understand that reason and passion are interchangeable, we can stand back to reconsider attitudes that produce arbitrary abstractions. The spirit of abstraction is cognitively dissociated reason because it redirects someone from the self-evident notion that this other is human, to this other is other-than-human, and even less-than-human because of some arbitrary condition, e.g., being small nosed.ion is a necessary intellectual exercise to achieve what one intends—differentiating an edible mushroom from one that is poisonous by its color. The spirit of abstraction, on the other hand, is cognitively dislocated reason because it is a form of expediency that pre-categorizes persons without considering the individual who, for example, stands before me. What Marcel and Levinas ultimately ask us to do is to recognize this cognitively dislocated reason and turn the discourse from abstracting humans into categories deserving of different human rights toward a conversation that asks which human rights should apply to all humans.

The Philosophy of Forgiveness is multi-dimensional and complex. As recent scholarly philosophical works on forgiveness illustrate, incorporating personal, relational, political, ethical, psychological, and religious dimensions into one consistent conception of “forgiveness” is difficult. As part of Vernon Press’s series on the Philosophy of Forgiveness, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal, Relational, and Religious begins the task of creating a consistent multidimensional account of forgiveness by bringing together multiple voices from around the globe to analyze, discuss, and draw conclusions about how best to understand forgiveness. The volume’s three opening chapters examine forgiveness as a relational concept, and offer insights into the role of forgiveness in repairing, sustaining, stewarding, and healing relationships damaged by wrongdoing. Continuing with the relational theme, the next four chapters incorporate Hannah Arendt’s philosophical teachings into the discussion to offer several intriguing conclusions relating to “unforgiveable” persons and acts. The final chapters examine the nature of forgiveness from three major world religions: Buddhism, Christianity, and Confucianism.