Those Philosophical Thinkers

 

When the background to our lives changes, our words may no longer work as they used to, and possibilities for seeing and understanding each other and the world may be lost. Sometimes, when it matters most, what another person is doing (what we are doing) can be obscure and dark. This is when philosophy comes into its own.

- Metaphysical Animals

What could appeal to me more than a romp around Oxford in the 1930s - 1950s, visiting one of the best bookshops, Blackwell's and the Oxford colleges for lectures and meetings, studying philosophy with those thinkers of the time, discovering how these four women entered daringly into a man's world and stood their own, becoming philosophers, showing they have the brains and courage to stand up the new standards of logical positivism and other newer versions of philosophy that fitted life's meaning into equations but choosing to leave morality out of the equations. These women (Elizabeth Anscombe, Iris Murdoch, Mary Midgely, and Philippa Foot) wanted to go back to moral philosophy teaching - about how to live a good life, asking what is moral and good, what is truth? Back to Plato and Aristotle. 

Side note, I was thrilled to read the recap of the debate in the Oxford Socratic Club with President C.S. Lewis and Elizabeth Anscombe on her criticism of one chapter (on naturalism) of Lewis's book that had just been published, Miracles. That debate has become a widely spread false story that her critique made him scuttle away and write children's books after that. Lewis invited debate, he encouraged it. He thrived on debating and was one of the best. He might have been caught in a good argument in that debate, and he proceeded to modify/edit that chapter in Miracles. Elizabeth, a Catholic, even noted in a letter to Wittgenstein afterwards that Lewis was more civil that she expected. 

WWII came along and cleared out the Oxford scenes so that as the men left for war, the old male tutors and the women who all stayed continued their education and the old ways of philosophy were able to be resurrected. At least for a time...

Philosophy asks the impossible questions. 

I enjoyed Iris Murdoch's first philosophical question at the age of 6 - "The snowdrop hangs its head, why?" "A thought provoking question," she reflected as an adult, "a good introduction to a world which is full of mysteries."

I've grown to love the idea of living into the unanswered questions and thereby embracing mystery. Rainer Maria Rilke introduced me to this amazingly poignant idea of how to live with questions in Letters to a Young Poet. Perhaps that seems lazy or passive, but it is actually an invitation to be actively watching and observing when you might live into an unanswered questions. One day, Rilke wrote, you may just live into the answer. But you must be awake to notice it.

This is where philosophy comes in. Our world shows us the shadow things, the crumbling is before us. We have deep questions. We want a nicely summed up answer, even though we know that isn't likely going to occur. In fact, it may only raise more questions. This, we don't like. However, this is what we should participate with, in a philosophical sense.

We can take consolation in philosophy, following the ideas of Boethius, who was wrongfully imprisoned and put to death. He wrote Consolations of Philosophy in 524 whilst in prison. In this slim book, he has a conversation with the "nurse" philosophy. Why would he turn to philosophy in his last weeks/days? Because it can tackle the toughest questions about life, circumstances, fortune, good and evil, fate, free will. It's a way to ask God these tough questions, just like Job did, and approach Him, not necessarily expecting answers, but taking comfort in the exploration along with knowing you don't have to rely on answers, but only God and His goodness. 

Hidden away in peace
And sure of your strong-built walls,
You will lead a life serene
And smile at the raging storm.

(Consolations of Philosophy, Boethius)

Reading one book leads to many other books, providing branches outward to other books and thinkers. That's exactly what this book did and it's one of my favourite things when that happens.