One of the more intriguing courses offered at PTS--although so far it's been disappointing--is called The Face of the Other. The reading list is phenomenal--Sartre, Camus, Levinas, Dostoevsky--but what we've read thus far has been covered in class in only the most cursory manner. The class involves a lot of journaling and navel gazing, which I wouldn't mind if they were supported by more detailed lectures and in-class discussion. Anyway, our first assignment was to answer the question, "Who is the Other to you?"
“If there is a theme with which I am particularly concerned, it is the contemporary failure of love. I don’t mean romantic love or sexual passion, but the love that is the specific and particular recognition of one human being by another. The response by eye, and voice, and touch of two solitudes. In short, the democracy of universal vulnerability.”
The above quote is from the Bostonian poet Isabella Gardner. I first came across it in the biographical section in the back of my anthology of 20th century American poets that I read as an undergrad. The words so resonated with me that I committed them to memory then, which was 1991, and they have stayed with me to this day.
Universal vulnerability. That is the Christian’s charge, for to love our neighbor demands that we make ourselves vulnerable to her—in all of her shapes, sizes, and colors; in all of her imperfections; in all of her otherness. The Other is not the nameless, faceless mass of humanity, but the fellow seminarian with whom I share a silent ride on an otherwise empty shuttle bus (save for the driver). The Other is the woman standing alone in the middle of the fellowship hall during coffee hour who looks aloof to the point of unpleasantness, and from whom I keep my distance. The Other is that specific and particular person that God has placed in my path and whom I have chosen to ignore.
The reason for my remaining silent or turning away, no doubt, is fear—not fear in one particular sense but a multi-headed Hydra of fear: the fear of having my overture rejected; the fear of it being too eagerly accepted and then having to submit to the demands in time and energy of a new acquaintance for fear of offending her; and the amorphous and irrational fear of making myself vulnerable to the Other.
And, of course, the Other has been, is, and always will be Yankees fans.
“If there is a theme with which I am particularly concerned, it is the contemporary failure of love. I don’t mean romantic love or sexual passion, but the love that is the specific and particular recognition of one human being by another. The response by eye, and voice, and touch of two solitudes. In short, the democracy of universal vulnerability.”
The above quote is from the Bostonian poet Isabella Gardner. I first came across it in the biographical section in the back of my anthology of 20th century American poets that I read as an undergrad. The words so resonated with me that I committed them to memory then, which was 1991, and they have stayed with me to this day.
Universal vulnerability. That is the Christian’s charge, for to love our neighbor demands that we make ourselves vulnerable to her—in all of her shapes, sizes, and colors; in all of her imperfections; in all of her otherness. The Other is not the nameless, faceless mass of humanity, but the fellow seminarian with whom I share a silent ride on an otherwise empty shuttle bus (save for the driver). The Other is the woman standing alone in the middle of the fellowship hall during coffee hour who looks aloof to the point of unpleasantness, and from whom I keep my distance. The Other is that specific and particular person that God has placed in my path and whom I have chosen to ignore.
The reason for my remaining silent or turning away, no doubt, is fear—not fear in one particular sense but a multi-headed Hydra of fear: the fear of having my overture rejected; the fear of it being too eagerly accepted and then having to submit to the demands in time and energy of a new acquaintance for fear of offending her; and the amorphous and irrational fear of making myself vulnerable to the Other.
And, of course, the Other has been, is, and always will be Yankees fans.
I assume you mean that the course, and not PTS, has been disappointing thus far. I'm somewhat ashamed to admit that I haven't gotten far enough in my own courses to make a decision yet.
ReplyDeleteThat would be a correct assumption. PTS has been a fantastic experience. What courses are you taking?
ReplyDeleteI'm signed up for Intro to OT, Intro to NT, Christine Doctrine, and Philosophy of Religion. Though that's only because it was potentially cheaper to sign up for all four classes, and get extensions. I've only opened the books for OT and Doctrine so far, and even that is being generous.
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