|
|
2 internautes sur 11 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile :
1.0étoiles sur 5
Cicero Was Right, Nov. 29 2003
Busy Christian professionals doing their best to keep their occasionally frenetic lives under control might wonder if a book featuring praying hands on the cover and entitled The Active Life would prove helpful. Mercifully, writer, teacher and social activist P. J. Palmer, Ph.D. (philosophy), gives those harried saints a quick heads up on how utterly useless his book will ultimately prove on the first page of his 1999 Preface:"'The Woodcarver,' for example, the protagonist of the Taoist story at the heart of Chapter 4, has become a living figure for me. Often in the midst of much madness, I will have a quiet dialogue with him, seeking and receiving insight, challenge and comfort." Call me a narrow-minded religious bigot if you want, but I think I speak for the vast majority of those of us who have turned executive control of our lives over to the throne of Jesus Christ, i.e., Christians, when I say that even when life gets hectic, we would still much prefer "seeking and receiving insight, challenge and comfort" from the Holy Ghost, thanks very much. Christians are not the only ones who will find Parker's 155 pages of mostly inane tripe a complete waste of their time. Anyone who has a problem with a large collection of absurdities masquerading as profundities is a candidate to threaten his retailer with citizen's arrest for failing to refund the purchase price of An Active Life. Before you accuse me of waxing hyperbolic, try wrapping your cerebral cortex around a few of these jewels of insight: "We must abandon the commonsense notion that the monsters we meet within ourselves [i.e., our human propensity for evil] are enemies to be destroyed. Instead we must cultivate the hope that they can be companions to be embraced, guides to be followed, albeit with caution and respect. For only our monsters know the way down to that inner place of unity and wholeness; only these creatures of the night know how to travel where there is no light. ... "It is not the angels in us but the fallen angels who know the way down, down to the hidden wholeness." (31) One can only speculate how many times the former 1960s commune-dweller Parker had to refill the bong before coming up with those pearls of wisdom. Christians generally believe we would should take the Apostle Paul's advice and crucify those monsters before they have us for lunch (Gal. 5:24).
Here is another equally valuable tidbit from Parker: "True, more education may lead to more affluence and hence, more consumer choices, but more education may also narrow the range of meaningful choices about the direction of our lives. Once you have spent ten years and a small fortune getting a medical degree, how can you choose to be a logger if you discover that logging is what you really want to do?" (41-42) Er, um, Dr. Parker ... pardon me sir, but if you would not mind a quick observation from an unlettered philosopher ... it would seem to me and, I suspect, quite a few rational others, that anyone who has "spent ten years and a small fortune getting a medical degree" only to discover that logging is his thing has a much bigger problem than a dearth of "meaningful choices" left for career directions. Namely, he is an idiot.
The Active Life is divided into eight chapters, each one struggling mightily to read more foolishly than its predecessor(s).
Chapter one is a brief introduction informing the reader that what he has in his hands is the direct result of the author's "long journey toward the knowledge that I am not a monk" (1), ala his main guru, Thomas Merton. Parker confesses that after a brief stint in a monastery he decided to trade a cloistered, celibate existence for a more active life.
Chapter four presents more ancient Taoist literature, the tale of "The Woodcarver," alluded to in Parker's 1999 preface. The Woodcarver is Parker's hero, a model for "right action," a fellow who "knows that if his work is to be true he must discern and keep faith with the nature of the tree" (69). (Yes, Parker actually wrote that.)
Chapter six is a commentary on the Gospel writer Luke's account of the temptation of Christ (4:1-15). Here Luke, who is widely considered among the finest of ancient historians, is demoted to "a master storyteller" (101). According to Parker, this story does not demonstrate that the devil's lies can and should be resisted with the truth of God's word, but rather objective truth is illusory and "Right action requires only that we respond faithfully to our own inner truth and to the truth around us" (115). It seems highly likely the September 11, 2001 hijackers were also responding to an "inner truth" and whatever they considered to be "the truth around us."
If one is forced to make a choice, chapter seven is probably the most obnoxious of the irritating eight. Here Parker gives us his exegesis of the story of Jesus' feeding an audience of five thousand with only five loaves of bread and two fishes. Despite the fact that this story appears in all four canonical Gospels, books that fairly teem with miracles, Parker believes "That interpretation, one that focuses on a supernatural Jesus, does not make the story useful to ordinary activists, much as we would like to be miracle workers too. ... "What may have happened instead is that Jesus and the disciples simply modeled the act of sharing for the crowd by giving thanks for what little they had and then offering it to any who wanted to eat." (129-31) Parker cites no religious scholars who share this extremely eccentric interpretation, apparently feeling an amen from an expert would be superfluous.
In summary, to read The Active Life is to be continually reminded of Cicero's famous observation: "There is nothing so ridiculous but some philosopher has said it" (De Divinatione, II, 119).
|
de Parker J. Palmer
de Parker J. Palmer
de Parker J. Palmer
