The relationship between teacher and student can take many forms. Modern educational approaches value the teacher insofar as he imparts information to the pupil. But traditional education is more akin to soul-nurturing. In the Theaetetus, Theaetetus is praised by his teacher Theodorus as a star pupil, but what we quickly discover is that Theaetetus lacks the courage and confidence necessary for learning, at least at this point. His soul has been lulled to sleep by Theodorus, a geometer of no little skill, but also a man lacking in wisdom. Theaetetus is caught in his shadow: he is a “yes-man” of the worst sort, totally dependant upon Theodorus and Socrates to do the real thinking for him.

Even worse, Theodorus seems to continue to be the “gate-keeper” for Theaetetus. He remains with Theaetetus throughout the dialogue, repeatedly pushing Theaetetus into conversation with Socrates and potentially hindering Theaetetus’ development. They seem to intentionally avoid discussing whether knowledge and wisdom are the same thing, possibly to preserve Theodorus from the shame of being exposed as a knowledgable, foolish man. Theaetetus must go beyond his former master, but do so while Theodorus is present.
The dialogue is an appropriately terrifying reminder of the great power educators have over their students. We hold their souls in our hands, and it is ours to wake them up and help them to see, or to let them lie in their slumber. The charge for the educator is that we must become the sort of people that we wish to create, as we can not produce anything other than we are.

Theodorus’ has been educated by a bad man and stands in need of redemption (to use Brian’s fine phrase). Will Socrates be able to help him, or will his relationship with Theodorus prevent him from learning? This is the drama of education, and of the Theaetetus.

Theaetetus is introduced by Theodorus, a teacher of geometery who praises Theatetus for being acute, manly, and above all, a man of unique and peculiar gentleness.
But is Theaetetus, a man of some nobility, a good student? Theodorus praises him for being like “the quiet flow of a stream of oil,” for a sort of placidness or docility that Theodorus marks out a good student. This tranquility of spirit seems impossible for any learner, especially for a learner who is yet young. The learning process is a difficult process–it demands tripping and falling, stopping and starting again, but Theaetetus apparently has not yet begun this process.

In this way, he resembles many of the homeschool students that I have met in my short years teaching. He is gentle, well-behaved, and noble, but lacks the spiritedness necessary for true greatness. It’s quite possible that his time with Theodorus, who lectures, has lulled his once noble soul to sleep. The entertainments my students are used to in learning, even in homeschooling, prevents them from entering the difficult disruptions of the learning process.
But this is what we will eventually see in Theodorus, who resists entering the conversation until absolutely compelled to by Socrates. He wants only to be entertained, and so he likes students who are similar.

Every year or so I get the immense privilege of hanging out with Dr. Al Geier, mentor of Dr. John Mark Reynolds, student of Leo Strauss, and the nearest thing to Socrates I’ve seen yet.

This year we’re reading the Theaetetus, Plato’s dialgoue on “knowledge.” The central question is, of course, “what is knowledge?”

Theaetetus is as psychological as it is philosophical. The psyche, or soul is, after all, that with which we learn and know. It begins in usual Platonic fashion–two individuals are having a conversation about Theaetetus, a prominent Athenian citizen who is returning from battle due to injuries and dysentery. As the individuals talk, they marvel both at Theaetetus’ greatness and Socrates’ own amazement at Theaetetus. He is sterotypically “full of potential,” possibly limited only by an apparent bodily weakness. Socrates uncharacteristically fortells widespread renown for the young man, renown that he may have won in battle.

The central question of the prologue is what the present situation has to do with the past events. The dialogue between Socrates and Theaetetus happened years ago (which immediately brings up epistemological questions). Has Theaetetus changed at all as a result of his time with Socrates? Wounded and dying, yet still determined to go home, he outpaces his healthy companions on the road, but is that a part of his nature or his training with Socrates?

The relationship between a person’s nature and his success is difficult, especially in a modern scientific society that eschews any talk of natures that are other than trees and birds and other earthly things.

Many of my friends are prone to complain about Microsoft. They are the Great Satan, incapable of the creative ingenuity and cool designs of Apple. But though Apple may be winning the operating systems war (may), they haven’t come close to designing software that even comes close to Microsoft’s Office. And now Microsoft has taken a huge leap forward in the battle for superiority. I’ve downloaded the Beta version of Office 07 and have not been able to stop playing with it. You can see the screenshot of the redesign below–it’s far more user-friendly than the drop-down menus of previous verisons, especially for Excel.

But my favorite part isn’t in Word. It’s Outlook, which has an RSS feed built in, which means I can keep my calendar, email, to-dos, contacts, and daily reads all in the same place. This is the sort of convenience that I have been looking for. In fact, I’ve recently made the switch to Firefox for a number of reasons, but I anticipate the next version of IE will integrate with Outlook and other Office programs much more easily, which will probably make me switch back.

The download is slow because the program is huge but it’s been worth it. My initial review: absolutely awesome.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.”

Jesus Christ

“SOCRATES: I asked Erasistratus whom he considered the wealthier,—he who was the possessor of a talent of silver or he who had a field worth two talents?

ERASISTRATUS: The owner of the field.

SOCRATES: And on the same principle he who had robes and bedding and such things which are of greater value to him than to a stranger would be richer than the stranger?

ERASISTRATUS: True.

SOCRATES: And if any one gave you a choice, which of these would you prefer?

ERASISTRATUS: That which was most valuable.

SOCRATES: In which way do you think you would be the richer?

ERASISTRATUS: By choosing as I said.

SOCRATES: And he appears to you to be the richest who has goods of the greatest value?

(more…)

Charles Williams, in himself or perhaps only in his writings, embodies the futile human attempt to talk about the untalkable, to say the ineffable, to embody the bodiless.
I am fascinated by something that I consistently see: that is, people, including myself, trying to make the transcendent immanent, yet failing, even admitting that success is impossible and constant failure inevitable, yet continuing to try.

(more…)

Daniel Henninger finally got to the bottom of Dan Brown’s motives behind the  Da Vinci Code and it’s even more clever and insidious that the most ardent  apologist imagined! (A clue to his premise: Brown=P.T. Barnum in print.) I look forward to Henninger’s upcoming book.

It’s a crime that we have not linked to John Schroeder of Blogotional more here at Mere O. John has been one of the main supporters of Mere O since our inception and has never hesitated to link to us when we actually have something to say.

His latest offering on the misplaced priorities of Christian bloggers is the sort of post that reminds me why I read his blog every day. John’s analysis smacks of the sort of common-sense wisdom and insight that is obviously uncommon.

Obviously not everyone can sustain hard arguments or discussions with people over long periods of time. One of the things I’ve learned in discussions with Jim is that researching information and thinking of arguments can be incredibly time consuming–much easier to simply rehash everything I already know.
But if Christian bloggers are to have any significant impact on anyone outside the tight-knit community, then we must overcome this tendency, take on issues beyond us, and become learners. Is it possible that the Christian blogging community could actually be a community of scholar-activists? The problem with discussing the cursing of Mark Driscoll is that compared to other issues, it’s flat-out uninteresting. Who cares? There’s real thoughts left to be learned about Catholicism, or naturalism, or anything, and in a world with only so much time, it seems more beneficial and productive to start with larger thoughts than with trivialities.

Yes, this is an extended “Amen!” to John’s brilliant post. That’s what I do best: say what other people say, except longer, more confusing, and more boring.

On a recent reading of some of Abraham Lincoln’s letters and speeches, I discovered this interesting line in a letter to James Hackett, a Shakespearian actor:

Some of Shakespeare’s plays I have never read; while others I have gone over perhaps as frequently as any unprofessional reader. Among the latter are Lear, Richard Third, Henry Eighth, Hamlet, and especially Macbeth. I think nothing equals Macbeth. It is wonderful. Unlike you gentlemen of the profession, I think the soliloquy in Hamlet commencing “O, my offence is rank” surpasses that commencing “To be, or not to be.” But pardon this small attempt at criticism.

I am mainly impressed by Lincoln’s familiarity with the play and his willingness to offer critical opinions about it. For some reason, I have a hunch that contemporary politicians think demographic studies or polling information more valuable than Shakespeare. And so, speeches are written by professionals and debates are avoided if at all possible. Lincoln’s masterful rhetoric no doubt stems at least in part from his extensive familiarity with Shakespeare’s english. Perhaps orators would do themselves well to spend a little time reading the Bard.

I have recently finished Joseph Pearce’s biography of G.K. Chesterton. It is a sufficient retelling of Chesterton’s life. Sufficient because though it is a handy compendium of original letters and material, it avoids diving into the deeper aspects of Chesterton’s life and work.

What impressed me most, however, was seeing George Bernard Shaw’s letters to Chesterton. Chesterton and Shaw disagreed on, well, everything but that didn’t stop them from becoming good friends. Master wordsmiths and statesmen, their public and private correspondance was laced with an unparalleled wit. Surprising to me was the force of Shaw’s insistence that Chesterton write for the stage. Shaw, who was most famous for his work in theatre, holds no rhetorical blow back in this private letter urging Chesterton to write a drama:

“What about that play? It is no use trying to answer me in the New Age: the real answer to my article is the play. I have tried fair means: The New Age article was the inauguration of an assault below the belt. I shall deliberately destroy your credit as an essayist, as a journalist, as a critic, as a Liberal, as everything that offers your laziness as a refuge, until starvation and shame drive you to serious dramatic parturition. I shall repeat my public challenge to you; vaunt my superiority; insult your corpulence; torture Belloc; if necessary, call on you and steal your wife’s affections by intellectual and athletic displays, until you contribute something to the English drama. You are played out as an essayist: your ardour is soddened, your intellectual substance crumbled, by the attempt to keep up the work of your twenties in your thirties…Nothing can save you now except a rebirth as a dramatist. I have done my turn; and I now call on you to take yours and do a man’s work.”

Shaw attempted to use Chesterton’s wife on his side. Before arriving at Chesterton’s home for a weekend visit, he sent this appeal to Mrs. Chesterton:

“I want to read a play to Gilbert…I want to insult and taunt and stimulate Gilbert with it. It is the sort of thing he could write and ought to write: a religious harlequinade. In fact, he could do it better if a sufficient number of pins were stuck into him. My proposal is that I read the play to him on Sunday (or at the next convenient date), and that you fall inot transports of admiration of it; declare that you can never love a man who cannot write things like that; and definitely announce that if Gilbert has not finished a worthy successor to it before the end of the third week next ensuing, you will go out like the lady in A Doll’s House, and live your own life–whatever that dark threat may mean…”

No record of the event itself exists. And a pity, too.

The cross of Jesus Christ is the manifestation of the love of God to earth. As such, it is the most powerful image of love. It is the substance, the reality.

Is it possible to convey the reality of the love of God through metaphors or images that are not sacrificial? I am at a loss for how to do so without losing a specifically Christian concept of “love.”

For those of you in the La Mirada area, the Torrey Theater Club is performing its final shows of Romeo and Juliet next weekend. We opened last Friday and it was a fantastic sucess. We had a matinee Saturday and another wonderful evening performance that night.

Tickets are $10 (less for students). Visit the Torrey Theater Club website (www.torreytheatre.org/) for more info.

Romeo and Juliet deserves to be a classic, not just for the love story, which, despite its reputation for being overblown and melodramatic, can actually be quite compelling, but also for the complex issues it raises (and discusses) of national justice, the tension between fate and free will, human love, hate, and sacrafice.

TTC has put as much or more mental effort into understanding the play as they have put into learning lines and blocking. Our goal has been to present not only an extremely entertaining story, but a thoughtful and consistent interpretation of that story, as decided upon through hours of discussion amongst the cast and crew. So if you enjoy the play, or if you enjoy contemplating art, or if you enjoy comparing various interpretations of one show by various acting troupes, then you will definitely love the production. (Plus, you will get to see me wear a friar’s uniform!)

Hope to see you there.

At three o’clock today I received a call from Fuller Graduate School of Psychology congratulating me on my acceptance to the masters program.