justice and harvard

i just discovered "itunes u", the section of the itunes store where you can download lectures from universities around the united states (maybe the world?) for free...i'm into it.

i found a set of lectures from harvard entitled "justice" by this guy mark sandel. over 14,000 people have attended his lectures, so i thought it would be interesting to hear what he had to say on the topic. it's such a broad thing, justice, and so hard at times to distinguish between the justice that is legal, justice that is biblical, and the average person's idea of justice--which is generally just a synonym for revenge. but this post is only vaguely about the out-workings of justice.

after listening to the first twelve minutes of the sixth lecture, my mind is already jumping at the content of what the guy said. i will finish the lecture soon, but i wanted to post a few quotes from it and get your thoughts.

here he is discussing the thoughts of this guy (i think his name is Kant) on freedom as opposed to the Utilitarian idea of freedom. this dude, kant, wrote a book called The Supreme Question of Morality...just so you have some sort of reference. I believe, although i'm no harvard student and i haven't yet listened to the first five lectures, that my paraphrase in the first little chunk shows a bit of what the utilitarian idea of freedom is. and i know they had previously discussed whether or not it was okay to sacrifice (in any sense) one person's well-being or happiness for the greater good....

so here we go:

paraphrased from the first few minutes:

some people consider freedom to be the ability to get what we want, pleasure without obstacles and the avoidance of pain. a more stringent definition of freedom: when we seek pleasure/avoid pain, we are acting as the slaves of those appetites. in a sense these appetites are chosen for us and we are finding a way to achieve them. freedom is the opposite of necessity--it is a law one chooses for oneself 

quoted directly:

"to act freely is not to choose the best means to a given end, it is to choose the end itself for its own sake

insofar as we act on inclination or pursue pleasure, we act as means to the realization of ends given outside us; we are instruments rather than authors of the purposes we pursue.

insofar as we act autonomously, according to a law we give ourselves, we do something for its own sake, as an end in itself. when we act autonomously, we cease to be instruments to purposes given outside us. we become, or can come to think of ourselves as, ends in ourselves.

this capacity to act freely is what gives human life its dignity. respecting human dignity is seeing people not as means to an end but as ends in themselves. this is why it's wrong to use people for the sake of other people's well being or happiness."

thoughts?

easy on the eyes...

just a few lovely photos to feast your eyes on...

goldfish--photo by kelsee irby

swing--photo by kelsee irby

shelf--found when googling "sydney harbour"

spoons--found on a blog somewhere

sometimes you just have to dance in a garden at night

i have to start with a quote from someone else's writing:

"that strange unknowing. like when the sun goes down beautiful and you worry you'll never see it again. but you know you will. but you wish you knew with your eyes."

-jbr

i've been in this season of uncertainty...for months now...trying to figure out what's "next".

a few weeks ago someone was talking about the "border lands" between various countries...it's land something like a few kilometers wide that belongs to neither country, it just sits in between. some people will leave one country with no money or visa to get into the next country over, so they hang out in the border land and wait. there are markets and things, and people wait, trying to find a way into the new country. 

when i heard that i thought, "well that's me to a T." i left one land and its comforts and customs, but hadn't crossed into a new land. and it's well and good to know you're in the border land, but what you really want to know is how to get out.

anyway. i've been a bit stuck. sort of twiddling my thumbs and waiting for this miraculous moment when i would be set free from the confusion and frustration and bits of pain and sadness still attached to that old country and its memories...in a million little ways i've just been waiting for that blink-of-an-eye moment where everything changes. 

not

happening.

but sometimes, i think, you have to get up before the sun, sometimes you have to sing praises when the only other words you know are questions. you have to start living a little bit like you're already somewhere else.

sometimes you have to pretend it's spring and the flowers are blooming when it's winter and they're only just trying and that you're wearing a sun dress when you're wearing a coat and scarf and that the sun is shining when it's night and that no one's there but you and God when the truth is there are a few people walking by awkwardly pretending that they don't see you dancing when there's no music playing

in the dark

in the cold

in a coat and scarf.

sometimes you have to close your eyes and know that the sun will come up, with no better proof than the fact that it came up the day before.

i have to end with another set of borrowed words. found by me in a book by david crowder, heard by him on the radio, it's excerpts from a conversation these two people are having about spirituals (slave songs):

"Mr. Carter: I think that the sorrow [the slaves felt] became the entrance, the open door, into a whole new world of experience. The slaves could not experience the normal world...they were whipped, and they had chains, and they found the secret door to take them into that world where the tears are wiped away.

Ms. Tippett: But the tears are cried first, aren't they?

Mr. Carter: Yeah.

Ms. Tippett: You know, you talked about the secret power of these songs. And I think so much of what we're learning now...is how important it is to embrace suffering in life in order to move forward. And maybe they did not have a choice.

Mr. Carter: No, they didn't.

Ms. Tippett: But it's almost like there's healing in that moment even though it doesn't take the pain away, you know?

...You know, it's a religious idea that there is a better life after this one, right? It's a piece of doctrine. But there is something so miraculous happening when you are listening to this music or singing it. You know, for that moment, you're actually transported to that better life, right?

Mr. Carter: Yeah.

Ms. Tippett: I mean, you're singing, "Soon I will be done," but I think in singing that song, you can go through another day of this misery, right?

Mr. Carter: Exactly.

Ms. Tippett: It makes you strong for a little while. It's almost like the eternal becomes part of the present.

Mr. Carter: I think that's it.

Ms. Tippett: It's amazing.

Mr. Carter: I think that is it. It's like you get into the stream of that living water and there's no past, present, and future. It's just right now, and right now everything is all right."

so here i am: knowing it doesn't end here, but waiting to see it with my eyes

the moon is upside down

tonight i sat under a neon cross
on a brick step
and cobblestone path
under a barely lit sky.

i eyed half of the man on the moon, hanging upside down
and a tree cut back to make way for the power lines

i looked across the road
at the past home of a good friend
and the 'for lease' sign up
for the place next door. 

and it makes me think of how much things have changed
how much they change still and whether or not i'm okay with it

but i read, 'awake, awake,
put on your strength, o zion,
put on your beautiful garments,
o jerusalem, the holy city...'

i wonder if i have the strength to awake, awake, and whether or not 
i can remove this dusty thing and put on my beautiful garments

'shake yourself from the dust 
and arise...loose the bonds
from your neck, o captive daughter of zion'

but the chains hold so heavy sometimes that all i feel i can do
is lay down under their weight, and cry beneath their heaviness

i have been down to egypt
sold for nothing;
oppressed for nothing
and redeemed without money

but i know the one who speaks, i know his name and what he says.
"how beautiful on the path are your feet, you who proclaim my peace"

who let me go down to egypt?
and led me out by the desert?
the same one goes before me,
and is my guard behind

i don't want to move from under the neon cross or walk away
from the green door or rise from the bricks and the cobblestone path

my head hangs and considers
the broken upside down moon
the silly hacked up tree
and the new owners of the house

but the voices of my watchmen lift up and remind me that my God reigns. 
they see his return to zion. and together they sing for joy

even the mosies join and prod
"rise, rise! or sit here 
and be eaten alive.
shake yourself from the dust!"

i shall not go out in haste and i shall not go out in flight.
but i shall go out. i can't just stay here in the dust and ashes.

i will put on my strength
put on my beautiful garments
and publish good news of peace 
and say to zion, "your God reigns"

because if i don't i'll just sit here in this comfy chair forever and drink tea 
and eat chocolate and never move. and that just won't do.