I am looking forward to philosopher John Ryder's visit to my campus this coming week. Ryder was former chair of my department, and later Dean of Arts and Sciences. In preparation for his visit I have been enjoying his book The Things in Heaven and Earth: An Essay in Pragmatic Naturalism (New York: Fordham University press, 2013).One of Ryder's central questions is in what way things exist, and his answer is impressive as he synthesizes two streams of philosophical thinking that are often at odds—naturalism and pragmatism.
One of the joys of reading such books is that it sends my head into a whirl of possibilities, new ideas, confirmations, and questions. It can be a delightfully dizzying experience.
On the second Sunday of Easter the common lectionary gospel reading is the story of "doubting Thomas." Here's the gist of it: the disciples are gathered together and Jesus appears to them. This is good news, because these same disciples saw Jesus executed. In the appearance, the disciples see the wounds in Jesus's hands and side and believe it to be him.
Thomas is not with them, but the others tell him, "We have seen the Lord." He doesn't believe them and says he will need to see for himself, and also touch the wounds before he will believe.
A week later Jesus appears for a second time, and this time Thomas is present. Thomas sees and touches, and so believes.
Jesus say to the disciples that it's good they believe because they have seen and touched, but it will be more blessed of those who believe even thought hey have not seen or touched.
The last words of Jesus in the story seem tailor made for future generations of followers who did not have the luxury of sight or touch.
The story highlights three ways of believing that things are: First, we can see them. "I saw it with my own eyes." Second, we can touch them. "I felt it." These first two ways are quite simply through the senses. The disciples might just as easily have smelled Jesus, heard Jesus, or tasted Jesus (for this a kiss would have been sufficient, no need to bite off a chunk!) The third way of believing in the story is because someone tells us. We derive many of our beliefs this way. A great deal of "knowledge" we acquire, from first being able to understand, is because we are told it is so.
Thomas's so-called doubts are quite sophisticated. He is told something is the case, but he wants to investigate for himself. He wants to test out, find some justification for his belief in "what is" before he is willing to believe it. I admire much about Thomas. His is the spirit of modernity—don't take things at face value just because someone says it is so. Question all that can be questioned. After all, that's what I do in my day job!
The trouble with that same spirit is that it becomes problematic when you think that through your questions you can provide absolutely certain answers. Absolutes are off the table! Nature is more complex than the simplicity of the absolute. (If any reader is in the habit of saying "Absolutely!" in response to questions in a conversation, think again!)
There was no absolute certainty when Jesus appeared (and presumably disappeared) to the disciples. And far less certainty for us who read the story nearly two thousand years later. Thomas's questions have multiplied for us. We require more answers and clarifications before we add "things that are" to our plausibility structures (ideas, beliefs, meanings that help us make sense of life).
What I have enjoyed about John Ryder's book is his expansive understanding and willingness to accept "things that are" (that is, nature) to include not just physical or spacial "things," but also the non-materiality of art, story, myth, God, faith, knowledge, and ideas. In other words his pragmatic naturalism is not merely a reductive materialism, but includes the whole of nature, material and non-material. My little pug Molly (snuggled up to me as I write) "is," but then, so too, Harry Potter "is," and the boat in the picture above our fireplace "is," and Jesus appearing to the disciples "is." To be sure all these exist in different orders: the pug materially and in affection, Harry Potter in narrative and imagination, the boat in art and beauty, and Jesus in narrative, religious experience, and tradition.
The most helpful question is not whether someone "is or is not," but given that all in nature is (which includes imagination and possibility), how useful is that in helping us make sense of life, in making life more meaningful.
This week, our son's dog Marley died. He was a beautiful Border Collie who had lived a good, long and happy life. Last night I had a brief dream about Marley. He was young and frolicking with a tennis ball—his favorite thing to do. If John Ryder is correct (and I think he is) that all that can be imagined "is," then Marley "is" too. Not in the order he was before he died, but certainly in my dream. My imagination of Marley frolicking "is" as real as the snow "is" that has made our gardens a winter wonderland on April 3!
+Ab. Andy