A Cautious Defense of Critical (or Analytical) Thinking

Often, and particularly recently, I have been faced with distaste at the idea of critical thinking in a life context and an arts context. Given this, I offer a cautious defense of critical thinking (hopefully, it doesn’t get too bogged down in theory and lit crit jargon [oops] that it becomes inaccessible. It should be pretty clear, but maybe pray for understanding before you start to read ;) ).

So this is going to have two basic parts, one that’s more general and religious and a second that will be more about analyzing books, film, etc., what we can refer to as close reading, with some religious overtones. Ok, so I’m clearly partial to this approach to life and entertainment, partially because I analyze literature for school and my planned future profession, but that just means I have skin in the game, as they say. A passion driving my commentary.  Anyway, here we go.

First, I have found great value and insight by thinking critically. Now, by this I do not mean thinking negatively or thinking in a way to criticize (although I probably do my fair share of that, snarkily tearing down what otherwise may have been thoughtful and sincere commentary). Critical Thinking in this context means looking at things with the eye of an analyst, trying to understand how things work, how comments fit into a larger framework of ideas and perspectives, how the argument is structured, how the logic flows from the assumptions to the propositions to the conclusions, etc. This type of thinking relies on asking questions and seeking understanding. Some claim that the Church discourages such thinking, which culturally is true to a certain extent. After all, there is a danger in beginning to think critically, if you do not understand the proper application of the skills. To borrow a phrase from Bruce C. Hafen, it can become like a shiny, new pin of skepticism used to burst the bubbles of faith and sincerity of all around us.

 

Look at that menacing, shadowy hand preparing to pop this innocent, well-meaning balloon.

I know because I have been guilty of wielding my critical thinking skills like a shiny pin of skepticism. While it would be awesome if everyone understood logical fallacies and proper argumentative structure, they don’t (I'd like to think that basic argumentative structure is a key to fully grasping celestial knowledge, but don't know of any such strict requirement). So people can teach and make comments that are illogical or can be picked apart by those of a more intellectual bent, such as myself. However, to do so frequently misses the point of having such comments and conversations in the first place. They aren’t meant to convince us logically of something, it’s meant to convey a set of feelings and experiences that the individual feels are right.

So, why is it good to think critically if we shouldn’t at Church? Well, the Truth withstands critical thinking. So, while we shouldn’t let it distract us from the sincerity of others, we can use our critical thinking skills to process information and fit things into our own understanding. We can realize how the scriptures work together, the relationships between individuals and stories and principles, piecing together an understanding of the entire Gospel framework.

Having questions can spur our study. As we all learn from primary forward, questions spurred Joseph Smith to action and without that, I wouldn’t be writing about this right now at BYU (questions for the win, despite any later cultural pressure against asking questions).

Now, on to Part Two.

This bit may be slightly less accepted. I think analyzing and looking for themes and messages in books, songs, films, plays, etc. is valuable. I mean, of course I do. Would I study English if I didn’t?

An important question and argument comes up here about authorial intent, which has been happening for a long time and has a variety of answers. The main facet of the argument, at least for my purposes, is two-fold: one, that it matters what the author intended and two, that any interpretation of a work should be based around the intentions of the author.

Those who dismiss any attempts at reading into a work as frivolous, often suggest that the author never intended for that meaning. That may very well be true, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the meaning is no longer there because it was unintended. To illustrate think of a time you said something that carried a different meaning than you intended for the people that heard it. Is the meaning that others interpreted less-valid because you didn’t mean it that way? No. Once a work involves an audience, it becomes something separate that relies upon the audience in part to create meaning. An author may have intended for something to mean one thing, but if no one ever reads it, it is meaningless. At least in part, meaning is derived from the reader interacting with the text.

That got a bit bogged down with some critical theory, but hopefully we mastered the secrets of the fire swamp and made it out alive, unless you found it comfortable enough for a nice summer home.

The point of all that is to say that the author’s intent is much less important than the reader’s response. However, the best response is an informed response that understands some of the author, her background, his cultural context, her societal and historical pressures, etc. All of us are shaped by the time we live, the cultures we surround ourselves with, etc. so to ignore the impact that they have on a work of art is to do a great disservice to the labor that went in to producing it.

 

All these books, waiting to be read. And ANALYZED, while using that glorious spiral staircase. 

Some things may be created primarily to entertain, but they still convey messages implicit or explicit that we receive. To not analyze our entertainment is to be intentionally ignorant of what we partake of and what cultures are influencing and shaping our own thoughts and behaviors.

None of us want that, do we?

There are some caveats to that and some clarifications. First, there are levels of analysis and critical thinking. Not everyone needs to analyze Henry James’ use of free-indirect discourse in Washington Square to create an unreliable and self-undermining narrator or to be dissatisfied with How To Train Your Dragon because the ending undermines the entire narrative arc of the film, destroying what appeared to be the intended moral of the story.

Second, there may be a line where analysis can go overboard and read more into something than is useful. This is particularly true when you begin to see negative frameworks in everything to the point that they restrict your ability to enjoy the works at all. That line varies and is different for different people.

So that’s it. Think critically and much joy will be yours.

Where's the Magic?

I’ve felt recently kind of bogged down with intriguing intellectual questions, wading through a pit of pragmatic alternatives, struggling to find my place in this ambiguous, complicated and grey world. While much of this has been rewarding and reworked my understanding of Gospel principles and realities in a way that strengthened the foundations of my faith, an unnecessary and detrimental side effect has been the loss of the ‘magic’. The feeling of awe and wonder at God’s greatness. The delightful little occurrences that feel like they were caused by wizards and witches from Hogwarts or mutants with extraordinary powers.

 

BANGARANG!

Perhaps an apt analogy can be drawn from the Spielberg classic Hook. Robin Williams as Peter Banning (Peter Pan) is brought back to Neverland and forced to try and remember and recapture the happiness that let him fly. He struggles for most of the film, but eventually taps into that joy. However, this happy thought is more complex and challenging—his children. Illustrating that he has undergone a change, but is now fusing the childlike joy and glee of Neverland with his responsibility and maturity driven by love for others. (The analogy isn't perfect and doesn't extend throughout the film, but I think still has value.)

I’ve had similar feelings to Peter upon his return to Neverland. Bewilderment, thinking that he had achieved a higher state of living than the Lost Boys and everyone else, but this left him lonely and joyless. I occasionally feel similarly at Church, that the comments shared and other things are juvenile or in other ways simplistic and lacking in understanding. While this may be true, my focus on that misses the exuberance for life that their comments and insights convey. Who am I (not 24601) to deride their spiritual experiences and understanding? If what they believe works for them and brings them closer to God, then that’s good enough for the moment (maybe. Obviously, faith needs to be in something that’s true to be faith and not simply empty hoping and wishing, but I think there is probably a range of acceptable beliefs and the intentions will sanctify those that may believe a little wrongly. More thought needs to go into this).

So, as someone with a skeptical mindset, questioning many things and having developed a more nuanced and complicated paradigm for understanding the world and God’s interactions with humankind, why did I lose the sense of wonder? Can I get it back? Where’s the magic?

I think I began to focus too much on institutional and other large-scale problems that are far beyond my ability to resolve. While, it is important to understand those problems and issues, I personally need to focus on what I can do as an individual to bless others. And to look for God’s hand in my life, seeking divine guidance and inspiration—the magic.

Luckily, I had some brushes with the divine magic recently, reviving some spiritual joyous sparks. Like most twenty-somethings, I have been trying to figure out my FUTURE. I spent the summer in DC, which helped and hurt, drawing me towards politics, while simultaneously pushing me away. I loved my experience and the city, but I cannot go into politics, it’ll suck me in and I’ll be forever trapped in its tide, swirling around and around barely gasping for breath. And it doesn’t give me the same joy that reading, discussing and analyzing Dickens or Austen or James or Wilde does. However, it took a father’s blessing and watching Dead Poets Society to drive home what I feel called to do. And just as the wands in Ollivander’s choose the wizard, being an English professor has chosen me.

Yeah, that sounds cheesy and cliché, but it feels right. And, admitting that there can be that sort of guidance, like Inigo’s father guiding his sword to hit the right knot, builds that fire and my faith. Sure, I don’t know if that’s what happened and you can probably come up with a way to explain my feelings, yet I still believe that I was (and ideally am) touched and guided by something divine. That for me is faith. Not knowing, but believing in God’s guiding, sanctifying hand.

And that’s the magic. Pretty simple really. Believing in something a little supernatural. Privileging that belief over the pragmatism that fights with it (a tension I explored about a year ago).

God loves me and you and you, and yes, even you. I choose to believe that because of that love, Our Heavenly Parents guide and comfort us when needed. They reach out letting droplets of divine love and inspiration grace our minds and hearts. That is my happy thought and now I can fly (and fight and crow).

THE END: Judgment, Resurrection, Burning and That Jazz

It’s been a little while since I posted anything—caught up with leaving DC (there was great sorrow) and family stuff before heading back to school (great rejoicing?).

Prof. X wearing Cerebro, reaching a zen state and maybe reliving his entire life or something.

Anyway, this will be sort of a general overview of Last Days-Judgment-Armageddon-Resurrection stuff, with future posts going more in depth into each of those areas (at least that’s the plan, so look forward to that.).

Part of my view for THE END is colored by my overall view of history. I generally view history in a Hegelian fashion—moving forward and upward, but in a cyclical spiral motion, repeating trends and things from the past, but in slightly different iterations. I think for the most part we are living in a time that is better than that of ages past. This is not to say that there is nothing to learn from studying history. On the contrary, I think looking to the past can give us valuable insights into the workings of the world. We can be aware of the implications of decisions by drawing parallels. Obviously there is some limit to this as it is extremely rare for circumstances to match up exactly and the differences may drastically alter the outcome.

All of that is to say that I don’t really subscribe to the whole ‘world is going to Hell in a handbasket’ framework. Sure, there are awful people doing awful things. But, I have more faith in humanity than that. Generally, I think we’re a more loving, just, merciful, Christ-like world. (At least until I read comment sections I can hold that view pretty solidly.)

It seems to me that there are two components to the Second Coming. First, a bunch of really wicked people that get burned to a crisp. Second, some really righteous people that are so good Satan is powerless (that’s one reading, anyway).  I feel like most talk of the Second Coming typically focuses on the first component, warning us not to be wicked and to pay our tithing for fire insurance (ha ha ha. Seminary jokes are the best…). I think it may be more helpful to focus on the second, but that’s just me.

JUDGMENT. What an imposing word, especially in all caps. I still haven’t settled on a view of judgment that is completely satisfying for me (particularly because TIME. How are we all supposed to be judged in some intimate, individual, incredibly personal experience? There are billions of people. I mean, maybe judgment’s already happening, but I don’t know), but I’ll sort of sketch out the general principles that I think will be a part of it and some ideas that I’ve had that make sense to me.

 So here’s kind of what I think, it’s a little out there and the specifics aren’t that important, but I like them. When it’s your turn you go into some incredibly comfortable room, probably surrounded by bookshelves, walking on thick, shag carpet to be greeted by Jesus with a huge grin and welcoming hug. Kindness beams from his eyes as he hands you some celestial food (popcorn and chocolate milk are good candidates), motioning for you to take a seat in the most comfortable chair you can imagine. You take a seat and then the lights dim and some crazy holographics come up (a bit like when Xavier uses Cerebro to search for mutants). Only this follows your life. There are some bars across the top that show your spirituality, sensitivity to the Light of Christ/Holy Ghost, along with a set of boxes that need to be checked corresponding to various ordinances of salvation. As you interact with people you see chain reactions in varying colors. You realize that the colors correspond to whether the impact you had was positive or negative. The images flash by, sometimes pausing to show an extended benefit or harm to an individual, often people that you had no idea you touched the way you did.  Perhaps these people even come in and out of the room thanking you for the impact that you had on their lives. It’s a very touching experience.

The film draws to a close and then Jesus comes back in and you chat a bit. At this point you receive whatever Kingdom you will be most comfortable in, or earned, or deserve or something like that.

Now, a brief thought on resurrection. People seem to emphasize the perfect frame aspect, which I think has a much stronger spiritual component than physical. Sure, your body will be ‘perfect’, but I think the range of perfect bodies is quite large. Perhaps this is because I sort of like my physical peculiarities (my crooked pinkies most notably). Anyway, that’s the gist—probably perfection in a harmony of the physical and spiritual rather than appearance.

That’s a wrap.

DC Reflections: Slamming Poetic

Here are some thoughts that I had as I pondered my experience in DC. Dedicated to all of you who read this and probably many that won't. Presented in a sort of poetic style, different than my typical prose entries.

Reflections. Not quite what the title refers to, but maybe.

My time in the district draws to a close

I’ve been here not long, but enough to compose

I wish I could stay, but the best I can do is promise to come back

I’ve got other places to be, people to see, promises to keep.

Part of me will stay here, in the streets where I walked

On the poles of the metro, the rail on the escalators, and through the metal detectors

It doesn’t really make sense, but it’s true.

The little things will remind me of my word.

I am drawn to the city, with its gridlock and partisan politicking

The frustration pulls me in, grabbing hold of me and keeping me here

I can’t let go, I can’t look away.

Like a train wreck about to happen, I’m glued to the scene

What’s next?

Why?

I’m disillusioned and disenchanted with the system.

Disheartened with the brokenness.

Politics is a religion and I’ve lost my faith.

Yet I can’t get out.

Some spark of belief remains.

A tiny flame, waiting to be blown into something more.

The spark withstands the torrential downpours of discouragement.

I walk the gilded halls of the Capitol, and something stirs within.

It feels right.

It feels true.

Whatever that means.

How can the building feel true?

Is it the building that gives the feeling of truth?

Or is it what those gilded, tiled floors represent?

The spirit of freedom lives.

In the quiet hours, when the press are silent and the Tea Party’s over, I can feel something there.

It feels true. There’s no other way to put it.

Life.

Liberty.

And the Pursuit of Happiness.

Those things still ring true in those tourist-worn corridors.

And maybe that’s why I have to come back.

To pick up and brush off the dream that’s been trampled and forgotten.

To put aside the left and the right and find the American.

I know we’re there, waiting to explode our powers.

When the moments right, we’ll be ready.

We’re waiting.

Hoping for the day to come when that arc of the moral universe bends all the way toward justice.

I’ve got to do my part.

Grab a hold of that arc and pull it down, bringing it right up to Lady Justice.

We’ve all got something to do.

And we can only do it together. I need you.

The Moral Universe needs you.

To stop injustice everywhere- You are needed.

Really? I sometimes ask myself.

What can I do?

I’m just a tall, scrawny, privileged white guy

How can I fight the system?

I am the system.

I don’t want to destroy myself.

But, I can change myself.

Follow those wise words- ‘be the change you want to see in the world’.

I can change. Changing the system, bit by bit.

That drive, that hope for change.

That’s the real spark.

That’s what keeps my faith going.

Not words on a page.

Not the works of the top dogs.

But the goodness and realness of you. All of you.

Thank you.