bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • Tagged: Ephesians 5. (part 1 – general considerations)

    Darwin tagged me yesterday morning, along with several other married women bloggers, in a post asking opinions about Ephesians 5.  For context, read his whole post  — but the main question is, what are we to think of "Wives, be submissive to your husbands?"

    Here are a few points, in no particular order.

    No, I don't think this represents a "high" or symbolic or unearthly ideal.  This is a piece of pragmatic advice to husbands and wives living out their relationships in the world.  As evidence I point to the context of Ephesians 4-6:  "Be humble and gentle and patient," "give up living as pagans do," "if you are angry, do not… let sunset find you nursing your anger," "have done with spite and bad temper, with rage, insults and slander," "no coarse, stupid, or flippant talk," no "fornication and indecency of any kind…"  

    No, all these injunctions are about Christian conduct in a pagan world, the same in which we largely find ourselves today.  So it is with "Wives, be subject to your husbands."  He is calling Christians to live differently from the wider culture around them.  If it didn't manifest itself in distinctive behavior of some kind, it would not be the uniquely Christian life.

    Any relevance to working inside or outside the home, acquiring or eschewing advanced education, or taking responsibility for child care is a red herring.  These (yes, even the child care, when we speak of how its duties are to be divided) are economic activities.  We live today in a vastly different economic system from the one in first-century Ephesus.  The meaning of "men's" versus "women's" work, the boundaries of "the home" with respect to the economy, the nature of education available to people of each gender — totally foreign system.  If
    I may go so far as to interpret the text, it is a practical instruction in Christian conduct, but it is not really speaking of economic activity — it is giving us no instruction in how we ought best to support our families.  Again, it's telling us how to distinguish ourselves from the pagans:   avoid the sinful excesses that are common among the pagans, and have Christian relationships — that is, relationships that are marked with the special features unique to Christians.  Husband-wife, parent-child, and servant-master relationships are to be palpably different in Christian households than in pagan ones.

    I want to stress this because I see a fair amount of confusion between these two concepts.  Yes, there's probably a big overlap between "people who take this passage seriously" and "people who believe wives, or at least mothers, should minimize work outside the home."  Yes, there's an undeniable tendency to connect the two emotionally, as for many of us the decision to change our lives in response to Ephesians 5 and the decision to abandon a career or an education in the service of our marriage are intertwined in time and in intention.  But they aren't the same argument.   No, Ephesians 5 has little if anything to say about who should bring economic value into the home from outside and who should generate economic value from within it.

    That said, I agree with Darwin that casting the wife in the "primary-provider" role probably creates some tensions because it runs against some of the nature of husband-hood and wife-hood, of fatherhood and motherhood.  A stereotypical example of this might be the perennial complaint that working women have to pull a "second shift" of child care when they get home, a workload that seems never to fall on Dad in quite the same way.   But if they exist, these tensions arise because the family's choices (however prudent and correct) run up against the natures of fatherhood, motherhood, and childhood, not because they demonstrate lack of submission on the part of the wife. 

    Besides, casting anybody, husband OR wife, as the primary provider creates tensions when either spouse is still very invested in the equality/sameness model of marriage rather than the reciprocity/complementarity model, or when either spouse is still very invested in a vision of one's economic work or education as being largely about self-fulfillment and not about serving the best interests of the family.   

    The triple-dipole structure of the chapter is obvious and important The three paired injunctions must be taken in the context of each other.  Wives, be subject to your husbands; husbands, love your wives.  Children, obey your parents; fathers, do not goad your children into resentment.  Slaves, obey your masters; masters, do not threaten your slaves.   Is it irksome to see "wives" set in parallel with "children" and "slaves?" Sure.  Doesn't mean we can ignore it.  I think the reason these are set parallel to each other is that these are the three hierarchical relationship-pairings within a household.  Paul is calling for Christian households to be radically different from their pagan neighbors, transformed from within because of their vision of the purpose of human life — not least because of an equality they know they possess in the eternal sense.

    + + +

    The specifics of what "Wives, be subject to your husbands" means is worthy of another post, which I'll get to later.  UPDATE.  Here is the second post.


  • Not what I was looking for, but I like the way you think.

    ME:  …so, in all of your pulley experiments, we find that you needed a larger amount of force to lift the weights than you expected from the calculations.  Why do you think that is?

    TEN-YEAR-OLD:  I don't know.

    ME:  Well, what's the difference between an ideal imaginary pulley and a real experimental pulley?

    TEN-YEAR-OLD:  …

    ME:  Something the real pulley has that the imaginary pulley doesn't.  We talked about this, remember?

    TEN-YEAR-OLD:  …

    ME:  One word.  Starts with "F."

    TEN-YEAR-OLD (desperately):  Flammable!

    ME: …

    TEN-YEAR-OLD:  Real pulleys are flammable, you know.

     


  • Introduction to the Devout Life: Introduction and structure of part five.

    For other posts in this series about St. Francis de Sales's most well-known work, follow this link to the index, also available in the right sidebar.

    + + +

    I let a lot of time go by since I finished writing about part four.  Never fear:  I will pretend that I did it on purpose, because part five is dedicated to "Renewal and Preservation of Devotion."

    From the introduction, chapter 1 of part five:

    The following spiritual exercises are designed to renew and confirm our resolution to embrace the devout life.  The first thing is to be convinced of their importance.

    That's St. Francis, beginning at the beginning.  I like how he doesn't assume that we know already that devotion needs renewal.  Even though we have made it almost all the way through his book, he doesn't assume that we're going to take his word for anything.  

    …We only too easily fall away from our high purposes unless we often renew our good resolutions, like birds who fall to the ground unless they use their wings to maintain themselves in flight.  

    We must … renew time and time again our resolutions to serve God lest we fall back, not only to our former state but to a state worse than the first, for this is what always happens when we fall back in the spiritual life.

    I'd like to point out here that St. Francis is not proposing we use the spiritual exercises of Chapter Five when we find that we have fallen back, but rather "lest we fall back" — they are preventative medicine.  Note the reference to birds.  The "renewal" of which Francis speaks here is a constant renewal, not an occasional one.

    Here's the first question I have.   All along in the middle three parts of the book, Francis has been recommending spiritual exercises to be practiced regularly — so what's going to be different about these?  Do we renew our devotion at longer intervals, or in response to certain symptoms of beginning to fall away, or what?  I don't know yet — as I progress through this chapter, and maybe after I finish reading it, I'll try to tie it all together into a unified sort of a "program."

    Francis draws an analogy — quite a modern one from his early-1600's perspective, I should point out — to annually "stripping" a clock:

    No matter how good a clock may be it must be wound up repeatedly and overhauled every year for cleaning, for repairing parts that have become defective, and replacing those that are worn out.  Our heart must be, as it were, wound up twice a day by morning and evening prayers and often examined, re-adjusted, and corrected; it should be stripped at least once a year so that all its desires and inclinations may be examined in detail and any defects remedied.

    The difference here between the annual review and the more quotidian adjustments:  Winding a clock and correcting the time it shows are performed easily through mechanisms built into the exterior of the clock — you attach the provided key and turn it, you reach up and nudge the hands forward or back a little bit.   When you "strip" the clock, you're opening it up and taking it all apart and testing each component for worthiness, as well as cleaning all the gunk out of the hidden corners.  

    Francis continues the clock analogy:

    A watchmaker uses fine oil to preserve the mechanism from rust and make it run more smoothly; we should do the same with our heart, after having overhauled it, by means of confession and Holy Communion…

    And then he points to the example of the early Christians to suggest a point in the liturgical year where we might conveniently perform this annual overhaul:

    St. Gregory Nazianzen* tells us that the early Christians used diligently to renew their baptismal promise on the anniversary of our Lord's baptism; let us gladly follow their example…

    The "anniversary of our Lord's baptism" is the solemnity that we celebrate on the Sunday after January 6, Epiphany.  So it's coming up on 1/9/11.  That gives me a handy deadline for getting through enough of this chapter to allow myself or anyone else to prepare for renewal, no?

    So, let's take a look at what's coming up in this part, so we can grasp the overall structure.  

    I.  Chapter 2, "The Value of Your Resolution:"  "Make two or three meditations" on the six points listed in the chapter.

    II.  Beginning with Chapter 3, "Examination of Conscience:"  Three separate examinations.  "Examine at one time… your conduct towards God, at another your duty to yourself and the state of your inclination, at another your conduct towards your neighbor."  Specific advice is given for each of these in Chapters 4-6.  ADDED:  But see below:  Francis offers a shorter form of the examination.

    III.  Chapter 7, "An Examination of Your General Dispositions:"  Now Francis turns away from the examination of sins and considers a more thorough self-examinations of the passions and inclinations that sway us:  love, hatred, desire, fear, hope, sadness, joy.   We are to take measure of these in ourselves.  

    UPDATE.  Having looked this over again, I think I got that wrong.  Actually, this is an alternative form of the examination of sins described in detail in II, above.  If the examination of sins is "too laborious" or otherwise inappropriate — maybe you're not much of a sinner, or maybe you have trouble recalling specific sins —  Francis prescribes a thorough examination of "dispositions" instead, that is, of the passions and inclinations that sway us:  love, hatred, desire, fear, hope, sadness, joy.  If we do not perform the detailed examination in II, then we are to take measure of these in ourselves.

    (And while we're at it, let's praise St. Francis for making such a crisp distinction between sins and inclinations.  The trendy therapy-style attitude toward church makes us really sloppy about this, and it tricks us into confessing things that are not sins and leaving the real sins unconfessed.)

    IV.  Chapter 8, "Spiritual Acts in Conclusion:"  A very specific, seven-step meditation.

    V.  Beginning with Chapter 9, "Considerations on Renewing your Resolution."  Five daily meditations in some detail, given in Chapters 10-14.

    VI.  Chapter 15, "General Considerations in Conclusion."  A complicated chapter consisting of advice to meditate further, to make plans for spiritual practices in the upcoming year, to beg God for help, and finally to make confession and Holy Communion.  Chapter 16 is a reminder to stay tranquil when passing from these prayers and sacraments back to daily life.

    We're not done yet, but let's pause to look over all that.  I count fourteen or fifteen meditations in all, plus going to confession at the end.  I guess Francis must mean for us to BEGIN these meditations on the Feast of the Lord's Baptism, because it's going to take us about two weeks at minimum to get through it, and if we tried to end on the Lord's Baptism we'd be stretching back into the Christmas season, which is not the time for that sort of thing.  Yeesh!  By the time we're done with this it'll be almost Lent.

    (Actually, that's not true, at least not this year.  Ash Wednesday isn't till March 9.   Plenty of time to do all this and still be ordinary for a few weeks before Lent.)

    Chapter 17 and Chapter 18 are the last two chapters in part five, and they form a sort of conclusion to the whole book rather than a conclusion to Part Five.  Ch. 17 is "An Answer to Two Objections" and Chapter 18 is "Final Advice."  I  will treat this pair later, along with the "Author's Preface" with which they form a pair of suitable "bookends" for the work as a whole.

    So, that's what's coming up.  In the next post we'll get into Chapter 2.  I'll try to finish part 5 before the ninth of January.

     

    ——————————————————————————————————————-

    *St. Gregory "The Theologian" lived from 329 to around 390 in the East.   


  • Not quite so crazy cake.

    I think I've linked before to a "crazy cake" recipe — here is an example.  These cakes are typically chocolate, containing flour, cocoa, sugar, water, and oil — but no eggs or milk — and are mixed with a fork right in an ungreased 9 x 13 baking dish.  They are leavened with vinegar and baking soda.   You are supposed to sift the dry ingredients into the dish, make three wells into which you pour oil, vinegar, and vanilla, then pour cold water over all and mix it up with a fork.  Mess-free and simple.  All that you dirty are one glass pan and the measuring cups.

    Well, I don't own a sifter, and I hate biting into a lump of unreacted baking soda, so I typically whisk the dry ingredients in a separate bowl anyway before transferring them to the glass dish.  (Still, the bowl isn't exactly dirty after that — you can just wipe it out.)  The other problem I have with crazy cake recipes is that I don't keep liquid vegetable oil around.  No soybean or canola oil here:  Just unrefined coconut oil, which is a solid at room temperature.  I have extra virgin olive oil, of course, but who wants those flavors in her chocolate cake?  Not me.

    So I added a step today and I used my pastry blender to cut the coconut oil into the dry ingredients.  Coconut oil blends in very nicely to biscuit dough, I think — at cool room temperature it stays solid, but is softer and easier to work in than cold butter.  I figured it would work well in crazy cake.   I didn't bother with the wells either, but added the vinegar and vanilla to the cold water.  And I was right — it worked just fine.  It really didn't complicate the recipe much at all.  I did it in the morning while I made breakfast and we had it later that afternoon for snack.  

    Did I mention it does great with whole wheat flour?  Did you notice it's vegan?

    Here is my modified recipe for crazy cake in a 9×9 square pan — just right for tea snack for the whole family without any leftovers.  I didn't even bother frosting it.

    Slightly Less Crazy Cake

    • 1 and 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
    • 3/4 cup sugar
    • 1/2 teaspoon  salt
    • 1 teaspoon baking soda
    • 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
    • 3 Tablespoons coconut oil, solid
    • 1 Tablespoon white distilled vinegar
    • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    • 1 cup cold water

    Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

    Whisk flour, sugar, salt, baking soda, and cocoa powder in a bowl.  Cut in coconut oil with pastry blender or fork or whatever you do when you make biscuits, until uniformly granular.  Dump in ungreased 9×9 square pan.

    Add vinegar and vanilla extract to the 1 cup cold water.  Pour over dry ingredients.  Mix well with fork.

    Bake 40 minutes or until toothpick comes clean.  Frost, or don't. 

     


  • Blog amnesty.

    I think I have about three half-finished posts on topics I promised I would write about, and one of them is clogging the works, so maybe I will just abandon it.  

    Here are a few quick takes that may amuse, and then I will move on with my life.

    + + +

    The Road Scholar is musing about calories vs. portion size.  

    I am specifically trying to work on portion size, but the devil side of my subconscious plays with me saying, "But that is soooooo low cal.  You can have two or three times that amount and you won't gain any weight." Or even better, "That was SOOOOO good.  A little more won't hurt."

    I had that struggle at lunch today.  Trying to piece together a lunch from left overs, I mixed leftover veggies and Israeli couscous with chicken broth and a poached  chicken breast.  There were probably four cups of "soup", but I was convincing myself that since it was so low calorie, I could probably finish it all, totally forgetting that I am really working on portion control right now, not calorie counting.

    I appear in the comments with a link back to an old post of mine.  Road Scholar's post is timely for me, too.  I am finding that even two years after reaching my goal weight — I passed the anniversary last week! — I still struggle with portion size.  Not in the sense of constantly failing, but rather, I am constantly conscious of the internal struggle.  I am beginning to wonder if I should start a viral "It Doesn't Get Much Better, So Suck It Up" video campaign.

    + + +

    Leila has another one of those combination drill sergeant/grandma posts that is the reason why I love her writing so much.  It's called "The Reasonably Clean Kitchen Starts With Rules For the Kids."  There, don't you want to go read it right now?  It's all about being able to enjoy meals with the children during the day — the work you have to put in to make it happen, and the rewards you can reap if you invest in it.

    I am one of those moms who avoids eating lunch with the children.  I want a break from the kids when I have my lunch.  This introvert does need a mental break during the day — I am certain of it — but Leila almost has me wondering if maybe I could really do it at a time other than meals, without going crazy.  But I take exception to her title a bit.  It can't start with rules for the kids, because every rule for the kids (I find) always starts with a rule for the parents.  All effective discipline starts with self-discipline. You can take that to the bank.

    + + + 

    Last week I had the opportunity to host an anti-Black-Friday get-together at my in-laws' home.  (This was a major milestone for me, because as socially anxious as I am,  trying to be a gracious guest and a gracious hostess at the SAME TIME is wayyyyyy up there on the stress-o-meter. But I did it anyway!  And I didn't get either blacklisted off the Catholic "B" List or kicked out of the family!)

    My guests were Darwin and MrsDarwin of DarwinCatholic, newly relocated from Texas to within spittin' distance of my in-laws:

    Photo-4

    Me (left) and the lovely MrsDarwin (right), along with our littlests. 

    I've been meaning to schedule this get together ever since I figured out that occasionally their family and our family swing within an hour's drive of one another at the holidays.  I love meeting other bloggers in real life — it is always a little nerve-wracking (I like these people in blog form, will they like me in real life?) — but it is also a fascinating experience socially, as you put a literal voice with a figurative voice.  Very cool.  And I've been looking forward to meeting the Darwins (not their real name, of course) especially since I don't know any husband-and-wife blogging teams that seem to work so well on a single blog — and I actually felt that over the years I'd gotten to "know" both of them equally well.    So it was really a treat to meet in person and feed their kids pizza.

    The nightmare I had the day before — that the Darwins would not like my blueberry muffins, and that coyotes would chase their children through my in-laws' peach orchard — didn't even come close to coming true.  Whew.  

    + + +

    I have written occasionally about how my husband's job takes him out of town a few times a month, mostly to the same two or three places — we know very well the airline schedules to all of them.  There's a possibility that Mark may be traveling repeatedly to a new set of cities soon.  One of them is Buffalo, NY, news that I took with dismay.   When I think of "flying to Buffalo," I think of a wintry, blustery place with horrible snow and long delays while they de-ice the wings.  When I think "Buffalo" I think "stuck in Buffalo."  Yuck.

    And then I thought to myself:  This must be what my friends and family back in Ohio think about Minneapolis.  No wonder people hardly ever visit us.

    + + +

    Red Cardigan has a great post about Advent that has sparked a predictable controversy in her comments and required a subsequent post.

    …the Advent Purists insist that Christmas trees, Christmas cookie baking, decking the halls (or singing about it) Christmas shopping, writing and sending Christmas cards, attending mandatory office "Holiday" parties one's absence from which will be noted with grave disapproval, or otherwise engaging in any Christmas-related activities prior to just before midnight on December 24 amounts to violating the proper liturgical season, which is Advent.

    Yet somehow most people (and I excuse Bishop Wester from this, as he is a bishop and thus not a married person with children who has to think about these things) still expect there to be a decorated tree, wrapped presents below that tree, jars and tins full of Christmas cookies, homemade fudge, candy canes and other goodies, halls decked with holly and lights and a fully-staffed Nativity scene on the premises, filled stockings, softly-wafting Christmas tunes, and a delicious Christmas dinner served on Christmas dishes on a table festooned with red and green or silver and gold or whatever the family's taste might be–on Christmas Day.

    So sometime between Midnight Mass and the earliest children's awakening the next day (somewhere between four and six a.m., if the child is younger than ten), someone is supposed to accomplish all or the vast majority of that, while retaining her good temper, sanity, and the cheerful gladness proper to the joyous day.

     My take:  If Advent is supposed to be a time of preparation, then that gives us permission to, y'know, prepare.  I think a good balance is to try to finish up by December 17, the start of the O Antiphons, so that you can slide into Christmas with a little breathing room.

    + + +

    Simcha has a fantastic post that is a breath of fresh air for those of us who are, shall we say, "prudent" as a matter of our natural constitution.  ("We're rule people," my dear husband likes to say.)  Yeah, we have to constantly work on stretching ourselves a bit in the "trust-in-providence" direction, but it is nice to see some acknowledgement that pure unbridled generosity is not the only way to authentic love.

     + + +

    That's all I can manage for now.   Baby seems better today, but we canceled our usual co-schooling as a precaution — which means that I want to do Something Different.  Maybe I'll go Christmas shopping…


  • Sick baby.

    Appears to be a run-of-the-mill tummy bug, which means I have a lot of laundry to do but not until after I do a lot of baby-holding.

    Further blogging today doubtful.


  • Hazard handling: corn syrup alternatives edition.

    Mark pointed something out to me this morning about high fructose corn syrup that I hadn't thought about.

    I am what you might call a skeptic about HFCS.  

    • Yes, its availability as a cheap sweetener probably increased its use in packaged foods over the last thirty years.  
    • Yes, there's some dumb politics involving international tariffs and agricultural subsidies entangled with its production.  
    • Yes, obesity rates are correlated with HFCS rates.  
    • Yes, corn monoculture is an environmental problem and demand for HFCS is part of that.  
    • Yes, I'd rather eat "real food" on principle and so when I have the option to buy, for example, cane-sugar-sweetened ketchup, I typically do.  

    But I'm not strongly convinced that HFCS is really a root cause of the obesity epidemic, I am not strongly convinced that overconsumption of HFCS is significantly different from overconsumption of other sugars, and I don't treat the stuff as a special kind of poison.  I think the jury is still out on it (which is reason enough for many people to avoid it altogether; fine with me; that's how I feel about soy phytoestrogens, so I get it).

    Of course, right now there is a sort of a trend for companies to market "HFCS-free" stuff — I assume that consumers are getting warier of HFCS, and seeking "natural" sweeteners (like sucrose), otherwise I wouldn't be able to buy national brands of ketchup with "No High-Fructose Corn Syrup" splashed across the label in big letters.  I view it as a marketing phenomenon, mostly.

    So, Mark was talking to an engineer who handles pneumatic transport of dry materials, and he commented that the switchover from HFCS-sweetened products to sucrose-sweetened products is hugely, hugely expensive from a capital standpoint because of safety precautions and associated regulations.   Thirty years ago when food packagers and processors decided to save money by switching from cane sugar to HFCS, the change would have been significant; but a lot has happened since then in safety regs, and surely it would be far more expensive now to switch back.

    I hadn't even thought about that, but when Mark explained the conversation to me, I instantly knew what he meant. 

    Automated liquid handling of sugar syrups is pretty tame.  You can hook your tanker truck up to a pipe and pump it right into a food plant.  The stuff can sit around in tanks and be delivered via ordinary food-grade piping, controlled by fairly ordinary food-grade valves.  An operator in a HFCS-handling facility isn't necessarily going to have to take extraordinary materials safety precautions when working among these pipes and valves.  Whatever the risk that HFCS poses to his endocrine system when he sits down in the employee cafeteria, at least the stuff doesn't explode.

    Crystalline sucrose, on the other hand, has a much more colorful history.

    When you handle dry sugar, you create aerosolized sugar dust as the crystals sliding past each other knock micron-sized corners and edges off each other.  Not such a big deal if you are a batch operation and your workers are slitting open bags and dumping them into a vat.  But if you have automated lines and the sugar is moving by means of, say, screw conveyors or conveyor belts or pneumatic systems — as there were at the Imperial Sugar plant explosively profiled at the link — there is the potential for quite a lot of sugar dust to enter the air.  Combustible, high-surface-area material + oxygenated air + equipment spark = kaboom.

    So when you switch from HFCS to dry sugar, there are going to be layers of safety precautions that have to be installed to prevent your plant from blowing up, and to document that your plant is not likely to blow up.  All these things cost real money — mostly capital money, since it goes into the buildings and the machines and the duct work, but also some ongoing regulatory and operating expenses. (I was  going to link to some of the relevant regulations, but can't figure out how to read it without paying $37.)

    So:  It's not just the difference in cost-per-pound of corn syrup vs. sucrose.  Handling the stuff, and meeting regulatory requirements, have different costs too. 

    And still, even with perfect compliance everywhere (as if!) there will be a nonzero risk every year, created by a switch from HFCS to sucrose, that some food plant somewhere will explode and kill an operator or even a bystander.  Unintended consequences are everywhere, if you only look.

    I would guess that the medium-sized processors have the toughest row to hoe.  The giants can afford to absorb the costs of ensuring safety compliance.  The small producers are morelikely to be using batch operations and are handling sugar in bags, not pneumatic transport systems.  It's that "sweet spot" in the middle where it will be hard for processors to change over from HFCS to sucrose without going bankrupt or skirting anti-dust-explosion regulations.

    Still, though, there's a silver lining in this for people who are eager to see the demise of HFCS.  If Big Food is spending the money to switch over the lines, and is touting "HFCS-free" product on supermarket shelves, then Big Food (some of it anyway) must see the writing on the wall, or at least in the focus group, and they are betting that consumers believe there's a significant difference between the two.   If you've been wondering why every food producer isn't doing the same, then maybe this is one piece of the puzzle. 


  • Venus.

    Yesterday morning I woke up, sat up, and saw it looking never so bright and large.  It seemed to be hanging right outside my bedroom window.

    Venus_11_29_2010

    You know those red-eye removal apps?  Really need the "window screen removal app."


  • The view from the computer desk today.

    This is what the minivan vomited up last night after we drove straight through from Ohio:

    Photo on 2010-11-28 at 07.42  

    I probably won't be able to pick up any of the dropped blogging threads — of which I count at least three –until I deal with Mount Sienna.  

    But!  Stay tuned for the exciting account of Adventures With Darwins!  


  • “My client is not in a hurry.”

    Said architect Antonio Gaudí about his life's work.  National Geographic this month has a pretty good article about an interesting (and I think, beautiful) building, well over a hundred years in the making:  Sagrada Familia Basilica in Barcelona.

    In 1883 Gaudí inherited the Sagrada Família from another architect, who had laid a traditional neo-Gothic base. Gaudí envisioned a soaring visual narrative of Christ's life, but knew that the massive project could not be completed in his lifetime. For more than 12 years prior to his death in 1926—he spent his last year living at the site—he rendered his plans as geometric three-dimensional models rather than as conventional drawings. Though many were destroyed by vandals during the Spanish Civil War, those models have been vital to Gaudí's successors.

    "They contain the entire building's structural DNA," explains Mark Burry, an Australia-based architect who has worked on the Sagrada Família for 31 years, using drawings and computer technology to help translate Gaudí's designs for today's craftsmen. "You can extract the architectural whole even from fragments. The models are how Gaudí met the architect's challenge: taking a complex, holistic idea and explicating it so others can understand and continue it after your death."

    I can see why the style is polarizing, why many people don't like it.  (Gaudí's style superficially resembles flamboyant Gothic, in my opinion, while taking inspiration from natural forms.) But unlike the pared-down modernism that's so common in recent church building, the style (though new) strikes me as recognizably, richly, traditionally Catholic.  And I love the story of how it's being built so slowly, the job passed on from generation to generation, much like the cathedrals of old.


  • Simcha on gluttony.

    Reader Kate pointed me to this post by Simcha which is relevant to much of what we've explored here.  Enjoy your stewing.


  • Model election: “Life” language part II.

    Last week I wrote a post in which I suggested I was going to explore further the nature of the obligation that Catholics have to "vote pro-life."  Assuming that we do have such an obligation, what does that mean?  Let's review:

    Some think the obligation is only that we cannot prefer the pro-choice position.  We may (reluctantly) vote for Pro-Choice Charlie over Pro-Life Louie if Charlie has a better stance on other issues and if we think those issues are more important.  This is the answer which, if correct, restricts our voting behavior the least.

    Others say, no, we are obligated to consider life issues as most important, and we may not vote for any pro-choice candidates over any viable pro-life candidates:  if Pro-Choice Charlie runs against Pro-Life Louie, we may not vote for Charlie.  However, if there are no pro-life candidates who have a chance of winning — if we have to choose between Pro-Choice Charlie and Pro-Choice Chester — we may vote for Charlie if his stance on other issues is better.  This form of the negative obligation would be a bit more restrictive than the first.

    A third interpretation would be that we commit actual sin if we cast a vote for any supporter of legal abortion at all.  If there are no viable pro-life candidates, the only moral choice is to withhold our vote or "throw it away" on a non-viable pro-life candidate.  If Charlie is on the ballot running against Chester, then we are stuck with writing in Louie or else not voting.  This negative obligation is still more restrictive, as it strikes some candidates permanently off our potential list of choices.

    And a fourth interpretation is that we must orchestrate our support so as to maximize the possibility that a pro-life candidate will be elected in the general election. This is a different, positive obligation, and also quite restrictive.  (In the case that no pro-life candidate can possibly be elected, the positive obligation disappears and you're left with one of the two latter negative obligations.)

    I think it is instructive to consider exactly how our voting behavior is constrained under each of the four interpretations of the obligations of a Catholic voter.  So I want to consider a stripped-down model of a race for one office:  two election days, two parties, two issues.

    Here are the rules:

    There are two political parties.  Call them the Canine Party (C) and the Feline Party (F).   Each party holds a primary election to decide which candidate will win the nomination for the general election.   A voter may vote in either the Feline primary or the Canine primary but not both, and then of course can go on to vote in the general election.

    There are two political issues.  In principle these could be almost any two features that influence voters to pick one candidate over the other — you might think of them as two quite specific policy questions ("Shall we promote single-payer health care?" "Shall we build a wall across the Mexican border?"), or you might think of them as aggregations of related policy questions ("The Economy" and "Social Issues"), or you might think of them as features of the candidates themselves ("Policies" and "Character").  For the purposes of setting up the model, though, they are simply two generic political issues:  Issue 1 and Issue 2.    Each issue has two possible policy positions, which we will call Yes or No. 

    In the model, party affiliation and policy positions are the only meaningful distinctions among the candidates. It just so happens that all possible unique candidates happen to be running in this race. So four candidates will compete in the Canine party, representing the four policy positions:

    Yes on 1, Yes on 2 (candidate yyC)
    Yes on 1, No on 2 (candidate ynC)
    No on 1, Yes on 2 (candidate nyC)
    No on 1, No on 2 (candidate nnC)

    And, of course, there are four candidates competing in the Feline party, which four are yyF, ynF, nyF, nnF.  Eight candidates.  The winner of each primary competes in the general election.  That's sixteen possible head-to-head pairings in the general election.

    (My more smartypants readers have probably already noticed that this model can be generalized to the case of p political parties and n political issues, each with m possible policy positions.  You can even generalize it to a multi-level model election that will have little model people setting up "November Madness" brackets and placing bets around little model water coolers.  Go ahead and set up the equations if you like.  I'm not going to.)

     Now, let's imagine a rational voter:  Alice.  Alice doesn't need anyone to tell her how to vote in the general election, because she's so very rational that she could tell you not only who are her favorite candidates, but she can rank all eight in order of preference, and so given any of the possible sixteen head-to-head combinations, Alice knows who will get her vote.  This is because Alice follows a very rational algorithm to choose between two candidates:

    (1) Always choose "Yes on 1" over "No on 1."
    (2) If the candidates have the same position on  Issue 1, choose "Yes on 2" over "No on 2."
    (3) If the candidates have the same position on Issues 1 and 2, choose Felines over Canines.

    Clearly Alice's favorite candidate is yyF and her least favorite is nnC, but Alice is not completely specified until the three features (issue 1, issue 2, and party) are ranked in order of importance.  Her friend Bob also loves candidate yyF and hates candidate nnC, but his voting behavior is different because he always chooses a Feline over a Canine first, then moves on to consider Issue 1, and finally Issue 2.   Mathematically attentive but non-smartypants readers may have noticed that there are 2 x 2 x 2 x 6 = 48 different kinds of rational voters in this election.  (My smartypants readers, working out the general case, are deep in matrix algebra by now.)

    This model offers us a lot of ways to play.  We could, for example, populate the electorate with so many rational voters like Alice, so many like Bob, so many like Carol, and so on.  We could sprinkle in a bunch of irrational voters, too, who don't follow any discernible rules in choosing one candidate or another.  We could pretend that we had poll results that allow us to predict the outcomes of the sixteen hypothetical general-election face-offs.  And then — we can ask ourselves interesting questions, like:  "Given her preferences and this set of predicted general-election results, whom should Alice support in the primary election?"

    I haven't brought any Catholicism into the model yet – I've just tried to set up a simplified structure for thinking about it, one that perhaps can be enlarged upon later.  More on that in a subsequent post, in which we consider the constraints introduced by the various interpretations of the "Catholic voter's obligations."