...AND HANDED THEM OVER TO THE SECULAR ARM: The comments section to this post, specifically Elizabeth Crum's use of the term "natural," reminded me of something I've wanted to write about for a while now--the fact that there's no such thing as a fully secular political argument.

Political arguments are about what is just, what is good, what is honorable, what is natural, and what is sacred. (They sometimes pretend to be about what is efficient or what is safe, but in order to rank efficiency and safety highest you must already have made a judgment about the relative ranking of the just and the good.) Those terms might seem like they're arranged in order from least to most religious, but I think really they're only arranged in order from least to most obviously religious given current philosophical mores. Even the most-neutral term, justice, is claimed by groups ranging from the American Center for Law and Justice to Jews for Justice to the Institute for Justice--these seem like groups working from obviously divergent traditions of meaning, obviously divergent definitions of the word "justice." More.

(I am reminded of the Yale man who leapt onto a table in Commons, at the height of the Panther trials, and yelled, "Justice to the Black Panthers! Death to the Black Panthers!" If ever a word was double-edged....)

What gives our words meaning?* This is, at heart, a religious question; a question of aesthetics, of whom or Whom we love.

*Yes, this is that same link I always give you. If I could think of a better way to say it, I would.

If we discard philosophical naivete, then, we can only argue that we should use the arguments most likely to be understood across a broad range of religious/reaction-against-religion-ous (sorry!) traditions. I see three reasons to support this claim, in increasing order of importance: social comity, good manners, and rhetorical effectiveness.

One of the central features of the American project is its need to simultaneously acknowledge, give meaning to, and mitigate the tragedies inherent in our status as an immigrant nation. Casting a broad rhetorical net is part of how we bring people into the American story. It's part of how we try to assimilate in both directions--immigrants changing America, even as they're changed by America. So social comity is a big deal here.

Good manners, even more important. It's uncouth to exclude someone just because you can--just because your clique has the numbers in the Homecoming Queen vote.

But rhetorical effectiveness is the most important reason to seek seemingly-neutral political rhetoric. And therefore, when sectarian rhetoric can be made so sublime that its appeal breaks over the banks of its sect, and washes across people from many other and contrary traditions, do it--this is the basic, boring lesson of the Rev. King's religious rhetoric.

The upshot: 1) "It's the right thing to do" is not a neutral statement. All virtue-words are given content by a religious tradition, a philosophical tradition, or (this is almost always the case nowadays) both. And since philosophy at its best takes part in the same eros as religion, suggesting that only the "non-religious" philosophy is valid in the public square will only make our discourse banal.

2) "Civil religion" which changes no minds and touches no hearts = stupid and useless. It's tapioca. Spit it out therefore, and seek sublime religious rhetoric of the kind which can awaken undiscovered longings even in the breast of a hardcore secularist.

3) To combine both of the above points: Neutral is boring. Neutral is banal. Neutral is also impossible, since even if you and I agree on the most efficient means of securing physical satisfaction (good luck with that!) we disagree on when, how, and whether justice, liberty, mercy, loyalty (which loyalties?), family, or sublimity should trump efficient satisfaction of wants.

In short, "You need to use secular arguments!" is bad philosophy and we should stop saying it. Show me pictures so I understand what your words mean. Don't pretend we share compatible traditions of justice or freedom or equality or happiness. And I'd rather be accommodated than implicitly excluded... but I'd rather be wooed than accommodated.

IT'S THE FEAST OF SAINT ANTHONY. There are lots of paintings; I really like Sassetta's weird, dreamlike 15th-century one, and de Zurbarán's, which I describe here.

MINIMAL MOVIE POSTERS. Man these are awesome. My favorites of the featured posters are the Indy and Deer Hunter ones. Via... PoMoCon, I think.

The young officer bowed with easy politeness. Being strong, he was graceful in his every movement.
--Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

KITCHEN ADVENTURES: BLESS THIS MESS. A sandwich of things mostly on sale.

How-to: Set the oven to 375.

Take a roll. Cut in in half crosswise, then cut the halves in half lengthwise. (This is not as hard as it sounds. Just do what you need to do to make two smaller rolls, then cut those smaller rolls so you can fill them.)

Scoop out the flesh of an avocado. Chop up some kind of hot pepper. (I used a fairly large Mexican thing which was pale green, and hotter than your average jalapeno but definitely not on the level of a habanero.) Cut the kernels off a cob of sweet corn. Mix all of that up with a fork, mashing the avocado.

Slice a sweet onion.

Spread out two sheets of aluminum foil. Put the bottom half of one roll-half on each sheet. Spoon the avocado mixture onto the bread until it's all divided up. Top with the sweet onion, and then a slice of munster cheese, and then some cayenne pepper, and then the top halves of the roll. Wrap all that in foil and bake for 15 minutes.

Remove from the oven and plant your face in the dish.

Verdict: This was so great! Incredibly messy to eat--even messier than most of these toasted-cheese sandwiches I do--but absolutely delicious. I was worried that the roll would be too bready, and do keep that in mind; also worried that I would miss cilantro. But in the end this was just an immensely tasty and satisfying sandwich.

SO THE ECONOMY IS TANKING. I HAVE AN AWESOME IDEA!: Overlawyered has rounded up an amazing, heartbreaking bunch of links on the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act, a.k.a. the I Hate Small Businesses and Also Children (But Did You Know I Love Unintended Consequences?) Act. This expansion of regulation will hurt families, entrepreneurs, and--in a twist I hadn't anticipated, but which made sense as soon as it was explained--ethnic costumers like the people who make powwow costumes.

"DEFINING THE RELATIONSHIP": My new piece at Inside Catholic. Quick summary: "Do you have a personal relationship with God?" is a reductive and kind of cloyingly Hallmark question; but it might still help us understand times when we're angry at God, when we feel abandoned by God, and when we feel an ironic distance from God.

GONZO: I'd like to try this without the balloon!
KERMIT: Try what? Plummeting?
GONZO: Yeah!
--I aspire to be the Janis, but really I'm the Gonzo at best....

THE STREET OF CROCODILES, BRUNO SCHULZ: ...Polish interwar surrealism, I guess? Hard to describe. Very episodic. Schulz has the kind of lush, hothouse prose I associate with certain fantasy authors--Angela Carter, Tanith Lee, that kind of thing--and the book is basically a series of bizarre, creepy, sad things happening in a small Polish town with a commercial quarter. I found it so episodic that it had a hard time keeping my attention, but I'd accept the judgment that this is my problem, not the book's.

I will say that there's a bit where the mad father turns into a cockroach, which effectively proves that having one's father turn into a cockroach would be much more disturbing than merely turning into a cockroach oneself. So if anyone ever asks you which one you'd rather, you know what to tell them.

Narrator: You are entering the realm which is unusual. Maybe it's magic or contains some kind of monster. The second one. Prepare to enter... The Scary Door. Please send a man 'round back and pick up Clyde Smith, a professional gambler who's about to have an unfortunate accident.

Clyde Smith: [Smith is run over by a car, then awakes in a casino. He plays the slot machine and wins] Ha-ha-ha! A casino where I'm winning? That car must've killed me. I must be in heaven!

[wins again]

Clyde Smith: A casino where I always win. That's boring. I must really be... in HELL!
--Futurama (it then does a shout-out to "Gremlin on the Wing"! Love.)

"DOMESTIC DISTURBANCES": I have an article up at the American Spectator. It was supposed to be a wide-ranging look at the marriage movement as it stands now; it ended up as a bizarre little piece mostly given over to an interview on donor conception with the brilliant Elizabeth Marquardt.

UTILITARIAN UNIVERSALISM: The final paragraph of this article makes me wonder: If we learned that people were more polite, or more conscientious about dental hygiene, after listening to Mozart, would we then say that music exists because it makes us nice and clean?

...I mean, would we say it without feeling gross?

Of course, the particular measurements by which these studies find that "religion" promotes self-control may suggest that we have tamed the lion: I can't imagine Catherine of Siena browsing the Health section of her favorite magazine for tips on nutrition. And I'm thinking the kind of self-control required to wear a seat belt and the kind of devoted submission required to accept martyrdom are different not merely in degree but in kind. For some people they may even be directly opposed.

"How delightful and happy is the form of existence which you ladies have chosen. How beautiful and simple is the truth which is revealed by your lives. And with what mastery, with what precision you are performing your task. If, forgetting the respect due to the Creator, I were to attempt a criticism of creation, I would say 'Less matter, more form!' Ah, what relief it would be for the world to lose some of its contents. More modesty in aspirations, more sobriety in claims, Gentlemen Demiurges, and the world would be more perfect!" my father exclaimed, while his hands released Pauline's white calf from the prison of her stocking.
--The Street of Crocodiles

BROKERS WITH HANDS ON THEIR FACES.

Via... Sparrow Fallen, maybe?

We assembled again around the table, the shop assistants rubbed their hands, red from the cold, and the prose of their conversation suddenly revealed a full-grown day, a gray and empty Tuesday, a day without tradition and without a face. But it was only when a dish appeared on the table containing two large fish in jelly lying side by side, head-to-tail, like a sign of the zodiac, that we recognized in them the coat of arms of that day, the calendar emblem of the nameless Tuesday: we shared it out quickly among ourselves, thankful that the day had at last achieved an identity.
--Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles, tr. Celina Wieniewska

CHYPRE AT THE GATES OF DAWN*: In which I gush all over Perfumes: The Guide.

*What were you expecting? "Scents and Sensibility"?

AND MY USUAL PLEA FOR "A CIRCLE IN THE FIRE": Thread for nominating "the best short stories." I do my usual shtik. But I'd be interested not only in you all's nominations, but also your theories about why certain stories are great and/or popular, and why certain genres and media (comics but not movies, for example) gravitate to or at least accommodate the short story.

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FOURTH GRADERS. Go add yours!

SOMEDAY ALL THIS WILL BE PICTURESQUE RUINS: Best of 2008.

Best books read (nonfiction): Same-Sex Desire in Victorian Religious Culture, Frederick Roden
The Letters of Abelard and Heloise/Heloise and Abelard, Etienne Gilson
I May Be Some Time: Ice and the English Imagination, Francis J. Spufford
Sexual Personae, Camille Paglia (more)
The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression, Andrew Solomon

Best books read (real books): The Little Friend, Donna Tartt--I'm not sure what I can say about this other than, READ IT NOW, since even discussing its general thrust and genre would be spoilerous. But I can tell you it is a terrific portrayal of childhood; it's in some ways the opposite of The Secret History, and less addictive but just as accomplished; the ending is better, the prose is just as good (less urgent, more composed); basically this is an amazing book, part The Plague, part A High Wind in Jamaica, but mostly sui generis. If you liked TSH you owe this to yourself, but even if you didn't like it, this one is different enough that you should check it out.
Cards of Identity, Nigel Dennis
Ladies Almanack, Djuna Barnes
Penthesilea, Heinrich von Kleist
Earthquake Weather, Tim Powers--sequel to both Expiration Date and (the terrific) Last Call; the terrible gifts of the god Dionysos, Powers's usual fantasy of salvage deployed in the service of placing America in mythic tradition. Dark, painful, redemptive and expiatory... and featuring one of Powers's best characters, Cody, certainly my favorite of his women.

Best movies watched for the first time: Ringu
Tokyo Godfathers
Repulsion
Shock Treatment
The Way Things Go

Best blog posts (six, not five, as is traditional):
A ridiculously long post on conservatism, complicity, and things that aren't Godel--basically my position statement at the moment
How to Make Your Child a Gay Activist
Skirting the Issues (my review of the Shakespeare Theatre's all-male Romeo and Juliet)
Resurrected words battle zombie words (ridiculous, ragged post about language, leadership, philosophy, and why our political rhetoric fails so epically)
The best horror anthology never made (with bonus theology!)
Mixing memory and desire: Notes from my Theology on Tap presentation (about gay Catholic whatnot)

Best things I wrote (nonfiction, non-blog): "Theology of the Body in Pain" (on torture)
"The Weakerthans: Liturgy of the Other Hours"
"Tainted Love" (on Heloise and Abelard--see link above)
"When I Was Cruel" (review of Alan Moore's Small Killing)
"The Serenity Player" (review of Hermann Hesse's Glass Bead Game)

...The fragrance is a delicious Tabu-like oriental, whose claim to be a masculine is based entirely on its transience. A man is a woman consisting entirely of top notes.
--Luca Turin reviewing Old Spice, in Luca Turin and Tina Sanchez, Perfume: The Guide