A Philosophical Happy Hour discussing how personal relations affect our reception and transmission of tradition, especially intellectual tradition.
Intellectual Tradition
Recently, I was fortunate enough to attend, along with a number of colleagues and friends, the 2024 Annual Meeting of the American Catholic Philosophical Association. This year’s president was Dr. Mary-Catherine Sommers, Director of the Center for Thomistic Studies during my time studying in the program. Over the weekend, I listened to Dr. Sommers and a number of her own graduate school compatriots—attendees all at the Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, within the College of St. Michael at the University of Toronto—recollect their time together: how they formed enduring friendships, studied rigorously, spent time learning from great minds, and, in short, truly received not only received fruits for consumption but seeds for handing tradition on further.
My own position within academia, some would say (including myself), appears a bit dubious. I am not a professor of any rank, not even an adjunct—and I never ascended beyond that rank in the first place. At the same time, I have published academic monographs and papers (and continue to do so), present at conferences, and teach courses. I am regularly asked to perform academic service (refereeing for journals, conferences, serving on committees, etc.).
Ours is a changing world. There may be some cause for optimism regarding the restoration and preservation of the university—though I believe the road will be far rockier for schools like the University of Austin than it might appear at first glance—and there will, I hope, continue to be institutions that carry on in traditional modes. But one change I cannot see being undone is the need for continued, systematic, living education; a need that too few institutions are today established to provide. Indeed, such belongs to the mission of the Lyceum (paltry though my capacities are to ensure its success).
Personal Reception
As I sat (or stood) listening to my own one-time professors speaking about Leonard Boyle, or Joseph Owens, or Anton Pegis—names you may not know but ought—and how they had passed on through their own persons the traditions they had received, I felt my shoulders burdened with the weight they had already passed on to me. I have been carrying this weight for some time, of course—I began my undergraduate education under one of these professors in 2006, entered graduate school in 2010, and received my PhD in 2016. But I am not certain I had recognized the weight for what it is.
Having now recognized it (finalized in some sense by this present articulation), I find it, somehow, infinitely lighter. The road ahead of me yet appears very long, and no doubt I will find this burden heavy yet again. But recalling the faces and voices of those who handed it to me will prove, no doubt, a source of renewal in days and years to come.
Conversation for the Sake of Truth
Reading books enters one into a conversation with its authors, no doubt, but that conversation—if reading books is all one can do—tends to be rather one-sided; or, a juxtaposition of two one-sided conversations. The authors speak to us, and we speak back, but they answer only in the same terms. Make no mistake, great benefit to the mind may be reaped by such sowing. But, by contrast, the entrance into living conversation affects a far more fecund habit of thinking, for we shape not only our own minds but partake in the living development of others, as well. We discover truth in conversations of both kind, but, I would like to challenge all to contemplate: does the personal element bring a different dimension of vitality to that truth?
To help facilitate this conversation, I would like to consider this brief 1955 essay by Josef Pieper, on “Conversation as the Place of Truth”. Some questions to consider: 1) are we guilty of engaging others through monologue rather than dialogue? What would this entail? And why do we do it? 2) Have you experienced conversation that sparks a “light in the soul”? How? 3) Do you find yourself struggling with the reception and transmission of tradition today? Why?
philosophical happy hour
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Come join us for drinks (adult or otherwise) and a meaningful conversation. Open to the public! Held every Wednesday from 5:45–7:15pm ET.
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