Confusion

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Surely an eternity of experience of the statues would leave the dog as inartistic as he was at first, for the lack of an original interest to knit his discriminations on to. Meanwhile the odors at the bases of the pedestals would have organized themselves in the consciousness of this breed of dogs into a system of 'correspondences' to which the most heredity caste of custodi would never approximate, merely because to them, as human beings, the dog's interest in those smells would for ever be an inscrutable mystery. These writers have, then, utterly ignored the glaring fact that subjective interest may, by laying its weighty index-finger on particular items of experience, so accent them as to give to the least frequent associations far more power to shape our thought than the most frequent ones possess. The interest itself, though its genesis is doubtless perfectly natural , makes experience more than it is made by it. Every one knows what attention is. It is the taking possession by the mind, in clear and vivid form, of one out of what seem several simultaneously possible objects or trains of thought. Focalization, concentration, of consciousness are of its essence. It implies withdrawal from some things in order to deal effectively with others, and is a condition which has a real opposite in the confused, dazed, scatterbrained state which in French is called distraction , and Zerstreutheit in German. We all know this latter state, even in its extreme degree. Most people probably fall several times a day into a fit of something like this: The eyes are fixed on vacancy, the sounds of the world melt into confused unity, the attention is dispersed so that the whole body is felt, as it were, at once, and the foreground of consciousness is filled, if by anything, by a sort of solemn sense of surrender to the empty passing of time. In the dim background of our mind we know meanwhile what we ought to be doing: getting up, dressing ourselves, answering the person who has spoken to us, trying to make the next step in our reasoning. But somehow we cannot start ; the pensée de derrière la tête fails to pierce the shell of lethargy that wraps our state about. Every moment we expect the spell to break, for we know no reason why it should continue. But it does continue, pulse after pulse, and we float with it, until—also without reason that we can discover—an energy is given, something—we know not what—enables us to gather ourselves together, we wink our eyes, we shake our heads, the background-ideas become effective, and the wheels of life go round again. This curious state or inhibition can for a few moments be produced at will by fixing the eyes on vacancy. Some persons can voluntarily empty their minds and 'think of nothing.'

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Her hand being hidden by a screen, she was ordered to look at another screen and to tell of any visual image which might project itself thereon. Numbers would then come, corresponding to the number of times the insensible member was raised, touched, etc. Colored lines and figures would come, corresponding to similar ones traced on the palm; the hand itself or its fingers would come when manipulated; and finally objects placed in it would come; but on the hand itself nothing would ever be felt. Of course simulation would not be hard here; but M. Binet disbelieves this (usually very shallow) explanation to be a probable one in cases in question.[202] The usual way in which doctors measure the delicacy of our touch is by the compass-points. Two points are normally felt as one whenever they are too close together for discrimination; but what is 'too close' on one part of the skin may seem very far apart on another. In the middle of the back or on the thigh, less than 3 inches may be too close; on the finger-tip a tenth of an inch is far enough apart. Now, as tested in this way, with the appeal made to the primary consciousness, which talks through the mouth and seems to hold the field alone, a certain person's skin may be entirely anæsthetic and not feel the compass-points at all; and yet this same skin will prove to have a perfectly normal sensibility if the appeal be made to that other secondary or sub-consciousness, which expresses itself automatically by writing or by movements of the hand. M. Binet, M. Pierre Janet, and M. Jules Janet have all found this. The subject, whenever touched, would signify 'one point' or 'two points,' as accurately as if she were a normal person. She would signify it only by these movements; and of the movements themselves her primary self would be as unconscious as of the facts they signified, for what the submerged consciousness makes the hand do automatically is unknown to the consciousness which uses the mouth. Messrs. Bernheim and Pitres have also proved, by observations too complicated to be given in this spot, that the hysterical blindness is no real blindness at all. The eye of an hysteric which is totally blind when the other or seeing eye is shut, will do its share of vision perfectly well when both eyes are open together. But even where both eyes are semi-blind from hysterical disease, the method of automatic writing proves that their perceptions exist, only cut off from communication with the upper consciousness. M. Binet has found the hand of his patients unconsciously writing down words which their eyes were vainly endeavoring to 'see,' i.e., to bring to the upper consciousness.

• From The Principles of Psychology (Volume 1 of 2) (1890)

  Where the parts of an object have already been discerned, and each made the object of a special discriminative act, we can with difficulty feel the object again in its pristine unity; and so prominent may our consciousness of its composition be, that we may hardly believe that it ever could have appeared undivided. But this is an erroneous view, the undeniable fact being that any number of impressions, from any number of sensory sources, falling simultaneously on a mind which has not yet experienced them separately , will fuse into a single undivided object for that mind . The law is that all things fuse that can fuse, and nothing separates except what must. What makes impressions separate we have to study in this chapter. Although they separate easier if they come in through distinct nerves, yet distinct nerves are not an unconditional ground of their discrimination, as we shall presently see. The baby, assailed by eyes, ears, nose, skin, and entrails at once, feels it all as one great blooming, buzzing confusion; and to the very end of life, our location of all things in one space is due to the fact that the original extents or bignesses of all the sensations which came to our notice at once, coalesced together into one and the same space. There is no other reason than this why "the hand I touch and see coincides spatially with the hand I immediately feel."[408] It is true that we may sometimes be tempted to exclaim, when once a lot of hitherto unnoticed details of the object lie before us, "How could we ever have been ignorant of these things and yet have felt the object, or drawn the conclusion, as if it were a continuum , a plenum ? There would have been gaps —but we felt no gaps; wherefore we must have seen and heard these details, leaned upon these steps; they must have been operative upon our minds, just as they are now, only unconsciously , or at least inattentively . Our first unanalyzed sensation was really composed of these elementary sensations, our first rapid conclusion was really based on these intermediate inferences, all the while, only we failed to note the fact." But this is nothing but the fatal 'psychologists fallacy' (p. 134) of treating an inferior state of mind as if it must somehow know implicitly all that is explicitly known about the same topic by superior states of mind. The thing thought of is unquestionably the same, but it is thought twice over in two absolutely different psychoses,—once as an unbroken unit, and again as a sum of discriminated parts.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  She just looked at me and rolled her tired eyes. She dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh. “I wish I could read you my journal,” she said, looking blankly at the wall. “There is this part of me that wants to believe. I wrote about it in my journal. My family believes, Don. I feel as though I need to believe. Like I am going to die if I don’t believe. But it is all so stupid. So completely stupid.” “Laura, why is it that you hang out with the Christians on campus?” “I don’t know. I guess I am just curious.” She wiped her eye again. “You’re not dumb, I don’t think. I just don’t understand how you can believe this stuff.” “I don’t either, really,” I told her. “But I believe in God, Laura. There is something inside me that causes me to believe. And now I believe God is after you, that God wants you to believe too.” “What do you mean?” she asked, dropping her hands in her lap and sighing once again. “I mean the idea that you want to confess. I think that God is wanting a relationship with you and that starts by confessing directly to Him. He is offering forgiveness.” “You are not making this easy, Don. I don’t exactly believe I need a God to forgive me of anything.” “I know. But that is what I believe is happening. Perhaps you can see it as an act of social justice. The entire world is falling apart because nobody will admit they are wrong. But by asking God to forgive you, you are willing to own your own crap.” Laura sat silent for a while. She sort of mumbled under her breath. “I can’t, Don. It isn’t a decision. It isn’t something you decide.” “What do you mean?” “I can’t get there. I can’t just say it without meaning it.” She was getting very frustrated. “I can’t do it. It would be like, say, trying to fall in love with somebody, or trying to convince yourself that your favorite food is pancakes. You don’t decide those things, they just happen to you. If God is real, He needs to happen to me.” “That is true. But don’t panic. It’s okay. God brought you this far, Laura; He will bring you the rest of the way. It may take time.” “But this hurts,” she said. “I want to believe, but I can’t. I hate this!” Laura went back to her room. The next day I got an e-mail from Penny saying she, too, had talked with Laura. Penny asked me to pray for her as Laura felt trapped. Penny said she was going to spend a great deal of time with her, really walking through her emotions. [image "9780785263708_0067_006" file=Image00013.jpg] I had no explanation for Laura. I don’t think there is an explanation.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  Something got crossed in the wires, and I became the person I should be and not the person I am. It feels like I should go back and get the person I am and bring him here to the person I should be. Are you following me at all? Do you know what I am talking about, about the green lumpy places?” The conversation went on like this for about an hour. I went on and on about how the real me was out in the green lumpy places. I wasn’t making any sense. I can’t believe my pastor didn’t call the guys with the white coats to take me away. [image "9780785263708_0111_003" file=Image00040.jpg] I suppose what I wanted back then is what every Christian wants, whether they understand themselves or not. What I wanted was God. I wanted tangible interaction. But even more than that, to be honest, I wanted to know who I was. I felt like a robot or an insect or a mysterious blob floating around in the universe. I believed if I could contact God, He would be able to explain who and why I was. The days and weeks before a true commitment to Jesus can be terrible and lonely. I think I was feeling bitter about the human experience. I never asked to be human. Nobody came to the womb and explained the situation to me, asking for my permission to go into the world and live and breathe and eat and feel joy and pain. I started thinking about how odd it was to be human, how we are stuck inside this skin, forced to be attracted to the opposite sex, forced to eat food and use the rest room and then stuck to the earth by gravity. I think maybe I was going crazy or something. I spent an entire week feeling bitter because I couldn’t breathe underwater. I told God I wanted to be a fish. I also felt a little bitter about sleep. Why do we have to sleep? I wanted to be able to stay awake for as long as I wanted, but God had put me in this body that had to sleep. Life no longer seemed like an experience of freedom. About twelve hours after I had the conversation with my pastor, a friend and I jumped into one of those Volkswagen camping vans and shoved off for the green lumpy places. A week into our American tour, we found ourselves at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, which is more lumpy than green, it turns out. It was a heck of a hike, let me tell you. I was in no shape to do it. So by the time I got to the bottom of that gargantuan hole in the ground, I was miserable.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  It took me a while to realize that these stories, while often used with children, are not at all children’s stories. I think the devil has tricked us into thinking so much of biblical theology is story fit for kids. How did we come to think the story of Noah’s ark is appropriate for children? Can you imagine a children’s book about Noah’s ark complete with paintings of people gasping in gallons of water, mothers grasping their children while their bodies go flying down white-rapid rivers, the children’s tiny heads being bashed against rocks or hung up in fallen trees? I don’t think a children’s book like that would sell many copies. I couldn’t give myself to Christianity because it was a religion for the intellectually naive. In order to believe Christianity, you either had to reduce enormous theological absurdities into children’s stories or ignore them. The entire thing seemed very difficult for my intellect to embrace. Now none of this was quite defined; it was mostly taking place in my subconscious. Help came from the most unlikely of sources. I was taking a literature course in college in which we were studying the elements of story: setting, conflict, climax, and resolution. The odd thought occurred to me while I was studying that we didn’t know where the elements of story come from. I mean, we might have a guy’s name who thought of them, but we don’t know why they exist. I started wondering why the heart and mind responded to this specific formula when it came to telling stories. So I broke it down. Setting: That was easy; every story has a setting. My setting is America, on earth. I understand setting because I experience setting. I am sitting in a room, in a house, I have other characters living in this house with me, that sort of thing. The reason my heart understood setting was because I experienced setting.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  MY FRIEND KURT USED TO SAY FINDING A WIFE IS a percentage game. He said you have to have two or three relationships going at once, never letting the one girl know about the others, always “moving in to close the deal.” One of them, he said, is bound to work out, and if you lose one, you just pick up another. Kurt believed you had to date about twenty girls before you found the one you were going to marry. He just believed it was easier to date them all at once. Kurt ended up marrying a girl from Dallas, and everybody says he married her for her money. He is very happy. Elsewhere in the quandary is my friend Josh. When I first moved to Oregon I was befriended by this vibrant kid who read a lot of the Bible. Josh was good-looking and obsessed with dating, philosophies of dating, social rituals, and that sort of thing. He was homeschooled and raised to believe traditional dating was a bad idea. I traveled with him around the country and introduced him at seminars he would conduct on the pitfalls of dating. He wrote a book about it, and it hit the bestseller list. No kidding. A couple years later he moved to Baltimore and got married. I called him after the wedding and asked him how he got to know his wife without dating. He said they courted, which I understood to mean he had become Amish. But he explained courting is a lot like dating without the head games. He and his wife are also very happy. My friend Mike Tucker reads books about dating and knows a lot on the subject. He says things like “You know, Don, relationships are like rubber bands . . . When one person pulls away, the other is attracted, and when the other person pulls away, well, that just draws the other one even closer.” That sort of thing is interesting to a guy like me because I know nothing about dating. What little I know about dating is ridiculous and wouldn’t help rabbits reproduce. I know you shouldn’t make fun of a girl on a date and you shouldn’t eat spaghetti. Other than these two things I am clueless.

• From Dirty Pretty Things (2014)

  Before I even had time to fully open the heavy wooden door, it was pushed from the outside by a long black-stockinged leg, a room service tray held between two white-gloved hands. The girl flashed a crooked smile and tossed her head back, sending the red ponytail she wore bouncing across her milky white bare shoulders. “Where would you like this?” she cooed, two emerald green eyes sparkling in my direction. It was a rhetorical question. I watched as she set the tray down on the walnut writing desk and hopped onto the bed. I knew instantly there was something not quite right about this strange scenario being played out in the dimly lit room. She just didn’t belong in this movie. Her ivory cream–colored cutoff top, short cobweb gray skirt, and tattooed arms didn’t fit the normal room service uniform script. “Come up here,” she said, patting the spare space next to her on the bed. “Look, I’m not sure what this is all about but I think there has been some kind of mistake.” A confused and somewhat clumsy cliché retort, but the only one that seemed to make any sense in this moment of fast-unraveling reality. “Think of me as an adventure,” she replied, sliding off her red heels. I didn’t really know what to think as my tired eyes fell softly into hers. “My name is Lucy. Lucy Lockett. You can call me Arousal. All my special friends do.” “Pleased to meet you, Lucy. Do you work for the hotel?” “Call me Arousal and no, I don’t work for anyone. Now, how about you take off that robe and hop into bed. All this chitchat is getting in the way.” “In the way of what? Listen, I think there has been a serious mix-up and you’ve got the wrong room. I didn’t book a hooker and to be perfectly honest I really think you should leave.” She laughed. Flashing a row of perfectly white teeth. Her mischievous eyes smiling. “Relax. I don’t fuck for money. I fuck for fun, for poetry, for words whispered late at night by strangers.” I felt a curious sense of calm slowly wrapping itself around me like a comfy blanket on a cold winter’s morning. A hazy whiteness seemed to fill the hotel room as the walls dissolved away to nothing and I found myself standing naked, my back against a tree in a forest. Arousal was on her knees, her pretty little mouth sucking my hard cock, eyes looking up at me.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  But suddenly her eyes opened, eyes that had grown quite dark and were full of tears. And in a troubled voice she blurted out: “What does this man want from me –! What have I done to him -?!' At which she burst into tears. – The Consul glanced at his wife and looked at his empty cup, a little embarrassed. 'Dear Tony,' said the Consul softly, 'what's the point of this echauffement! You can be sure, can't you, that your parents only have your best interest in mind and that they cannot advise you to turn down the job that is being offered to you. You see, I assume that you don't yet harbor any decisive feelings for Herr Grünlich, but that will come, I assure you, that will come with time... A young thing like you never really knows what it really wants... It looks as confused in the head as it does in the heart... You have to give your heart time and keep your head open to the encouragements of experienced people who plan to ensure our happiness..." 'I don't know anything about him -' Tony managed disconsolately, squeezing her eyes with the little white cambric napkin that had egg stains in it. "All I know is that he has golden whiskers and a brisk business..." Her upper lip, which trembled when she cried, looked unspeakably touching. The Consul, with a movement of sudden tenderness, drew his chair near her and stroked her hair, smiling. 'My little Tony,' he said, 'what should you know about him? You're a child, you see, you wouldn't know any more about him if he hadn't spent four weeks here, but fifty-two... You're a little girl who doesn't yet have eyes for the world and who focuses on eyes of other people who have good intentions for you..." "I don't understand...I don't understand..." Tony sobbed in disbelief, cuddling her head like a kitten under the stroking hand. "He comes here... says something nice to everyone... leaves... and writes that he... I don't understand... how did he get there... what have I done to him?!..." The Consul smiled again. 'You've said that before, Tony, and it shows your childish perplexity. My little daughter doesn't have to believe that I'm pushing her and tormentwants ... All this can be considered calmly, must be considered calmly, because it is a serious matter. That's what I'll answer Mr. Grünlich for the time being and will neither refuse nor approve his request... There are many things to consider... So... we see? deal! Now papa goes to work... Farewell, Bethsy...” "Goodbye, my dear Jean." "You ought to have some more honey, Tony," said the Consul, when she was left alone with her daughter, who remained motionless and with her head bowed. "You have to eat enough..." Tony's tears gradually dried up. Her head was hot and full of thoughts...

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  “Because I can’t be here anymore. I don’t feel whole here. I feel, well, partly whole. Incomplete. Tired. It has nothing to do with this church; it’s all me. Something got crossed in the wires, and I became the person I should be and not the person I am. It feels like I should go back and get the person I am and bring him here to the person I should be. Are you following me at all? Do you know what I am talking about, about the green lumpy places?” The conversation went on like this for about an hour. I went on and on about how the real me was out in the green lumpy places. I wasn’t making any sense. I can’t believe my pastor didn’t call the guys with the white coats to take me away. I suppose what I wanted back then is what every Christian wants, whether they understand themselves or not. What I wanted was God. I wanted tangible interaction. But even more than that, to be honest, I wanted to know who I was. I felt like a robot or an insect or a mysterious blob floating around in the universe. I believed if I could contact God, He would be able to explain who and why I was. The days and weeks before a true commitment to Jesus can be terrible and lonely. I think I was feeling bitter about the human experience. I never asked to be human. Nobody came to the womb and explained the situation to me, asking for my permission to go into the world and live and breathe and eat and feel joy and pain. I started thinking about how odd it was to be human, how we are stuck inside this skin, forced to be attracted to the opposite sex, forced to eat food and use the rest room and then stuck to the earth by gravity. I think maybe I was going crazy or something. I spent an entire week feeling bitter because I couldn’t breathe underwater. I told God I wanted to be a fish. I also felt a little bitter about sleep. Why do we have to sleep? I wanted to be able to stay awake for as long as I wanted, but God had put me in this body that had to sleep. Life no longer seemed like an experience of freedom.

• From Dirty Pretty Things (2014)

  Pulling my robe tightly around my naked waist I stumbled toward the door, unlocked the chain, and turned the handle. Before I even had time to fully open the heavy wooden door, it was pushed from the outside by a long black-stockinged leg, a room service tray held between two white-gloved hands. The girl flashed a crooked smile and tossed her head back, sending the red ponytail she wore bouncing across her milky white bare shoulders. “Where would you like this?” she cooed, two emerald green eyes sparkling in my direction. It was a rhetorical question. I watched as she set the tray down on the walnut writing desk and hopped onto the bed. I knew instantly there was something not quite right about this strange scenario being played out in the dimly lit room. She just didn’t belong in this movie. Her ivory cream–colored cutoff top, short cobweb gray skirt, and tattooed arms didn’t fit the normal room service uniform script. “Come up here,” she said, patting the spare space next to her on the bed . “Look, I’m not sure what this is all about but I think there has been some kind of mistake.” A confused and somewhat clumsy cliché retort, but the only one that seemed to make any sense in this moment of fast-unraveling reality. “Think of me as an adventure,” she replied, sliding off her red heels. I didn’t really know what to think as my tired eyes fell softly into hers. “My name is Lucy. Lucy Lockett. You can call me Arousal. All my special friends do.” “Pleased to meet you, Lucy. Do you work for the hotel?” “Call me Arousal and no, I don’t work for anyone. Now, how about you take off that robe and hop into bed. All this chitchat is getting in the way.” “In the way of what? Listen, I think there has been a serious mix-up and you’ve got the wrong room. I didn’t book a hooker and to be perfectly honest I really think you should leave.” She laughed. Flashing a row of perfectly white teeth. Her mischievous eyes smiling . “Relax. I don’t fuck for money. I fuck for fun, for poetry, for words whispered late at night by strangers.” I felt a curious sense of calm slowly wrapping itself around me like a comfy blanket on a cold winter’s morning. A hazy whiteness seemed to fill the hotel room as the walls dissolved away to nothing and I found myself standing naked, my back against a tree in a forest. Arousal was on her knees, her pretty little mouth sucking my hard cock, eyes looking up at me. I reached down and took hold of her red ponytail, forcing her head up and down. My eyes closed as her wet lips worked their magic. “No, not yet,” she said, suddenly stopping and standing up, her lipstick smudged.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  “Oh, you know, it is probably in my room, or maybe around, you know, who knows?” “Well maybe you should put it somewhere where you won’t lose it.” “Well, you know, if I lost it, what would I have lost, right?” I asked her. “You would have lost your backpack,” she answered matter-of-factly. She had sort of a bothered, questioning look on her face. “Right. Right, but you know, what would any of us lose by losing our possessions. Maybe we would gain something, like relationships, like the beauty of good friends, intimacy, you know what I mean, man? Like we wouldn’t be losing anything if we lost our stuff, we’d be gaining everything.” “Yeah,” she said. “That’s fascinating. Well, just shave, okay. If you need a razor I will get you one.” She was getting very flustered or something, really wanting to pull out of the conversation. I figured she hadn’t met anybody fascinating like me before. “Yeah,” I told her. “Yeah, if I need anything I will come looking for you. That’s sweet of you, real sweet.” “Honestly, it’s my job,” she told me. “Cool. That’s chill,” I said. “What?” “That’s chill. You know, on ice.” “Right.” She said this very slowly. She stood there silently, just looking at me like I was a big, mysterious puzzle. “So tell me,” I said, breaking the silence, “what do your people call you?” “My people?” “Yeah, like your friends, your close ones.” “Are you asking my name?” “Right on. Your name. What’s your name?” “Janet.” “Janet. Right. Janet. Planet Janet from the Jupiter scene.” Long pause. “Right,” she said slowly. “So are you in school, Janet? Like, are you in college or just the school of life?” “I was homeschooled. I’m going to Bob Jones next year.” “Bob who?” “Jones. It’s a college.” “Cool. That’s chill.” “Listen, Dan,” she started. “Don,” I corrected her. “My name is Don, actually.” “Right,” she said slowly. “Is that what your people call you?” “Yeah.” I think she might have been making fun of me or flirting or something. “You should probably shave,” she continued. “And I wasn’t going to tell you, but maybe you should take a shower.” She was definitely flirting. “No prob, Janet, you know, thanks for mentioning it. I’ve been living in the woods, you know, out in the open and all. Don’t need a shower out there, right?” “Not out there, no. But since you will be with us now, you know, maybe you should try it out.” “Right on. Cool to know the rules, you know.” “Well, Don, it was certainly interesting meeting you. I am sure I will see you again. Maybe won’t recognize you though.” She motioned toward my beard and smiled. I didn’t know what she meant at first, but then I got it. She meant she wouldn’t recognize me after I shaved. “Oh, yeah, cool,” I told her. “Maybe not, huh? But don’t worry, I will remind you who I am.”

• From The Triumph of Christianity (2018)

  < 52 < Lecture 7  The Earliest Christian Missions `This is seen in a famous chapter that occurs right after Paul’s conversion in chapter 9 but before he begins his mission. Chapter 10 describes a strange vision given to Peter. yIn the vision, he sees a sheet filled with animals of all kinds, kosher and non-kosher, lowered from heaven. He then hears a voice from heaven instructing him to eat the animals. That’s a problem, since as a good Jew he follows the rules of kosher. But God tells him to eat the unclean food anyway. yThat is a preface to what is to come. The narrative of Acts shows that God wants to break down the barriers between Jews and Gentiles, symbolized in this vision of non-kosher foods to be eaten. yPeter is told to take the message of Christ to a non-Jew, a Roman centurion named Cornelius, who is pious but uninstructed in the true faith. yPeter is reluctant, but he follows his divine orders, speaks with Cornelius and the gentiles with him, and proclaims to them the gospel. As he does so, the Holy Spirit comes down upon them, similar to the way it did on the apostles themselves at Pentecost, and they all convert. yPeter then baptizes them. He reports back to the other apostles in Jerusalem that now gentiles have begun to join the church. `It is not long after this that Paul goes on his first missionary journey, traveling to major cities outside of Palestine. In the narrative, Paul always makes his first stop in his missionary efforts at the local synagogue, but Jews repeatedly reject his message of the crucified messiah. He is compelled to take his message to Gentiles, who are far more receptive. `Within the narrative of Acts, this conversion of gentiles creates a huge conf lict with other Christian leaders. The resolution of the conf lict is one of the major themes of the book. yMany of the original Jewish converts in the book insist that to follow the Jewish messiah, a person has to follow the Jewish law as given by the Jewish God. Converts have to be or become Jewish.

• From The Triumph of Christianity (2018)

  < 130 < Lecture 19  The Conversion of Constantine `There are numerous irreconcilable differences between these accounts: When did it happen? What did Constantine see? What was he told? And how did he react? Just as the accounts differ, so do the explanations of how to resolve the differences. yScholars have devised numerous theories, some of them involving a single dream or vision that Constantine remembered differently over the years, some of them involving many dreams over a long period of time. yOne problem is that scholars who study the phenomenon of conversion have shown that committed converts to a new religion often tell the story very differently years later based on what has happened in the meantime, which affects their memory of the event. `We will probably never know the precise details. The next lecture tackles the nature of his faith in more detail. Reading Ehrman, The Triumph of Christianity, chapter 1. Lenski, ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Constantine. Potter, Constantine the Emperor. New York: Oxford University, 2013. Stephenson, Constantine. Van Dam, Remembering Constantine at the Milvian Bridge. Question ̧Summarize the events that appear to have led up to the conversion of Constantine. In your judgment, how important was his conversion for the ongoing success of the Christian church? < 131 < TABLE OF CONTENTS Lecture 20 Did Constantine Did Constantine Really Convert?Really Convert? S cholars since the 19th century have questioned whether Constantine’s conversion to Christianity was genuine or a political ploy. In the view of the skeptics, it was a front: Constantine recognized where the Christian church was going, and he jumped on the bandwagon, realizing the enormous political benefits that could result. This lecture, however, argues that Constantine comfortably fits the profile as a Christian convert. Constantine’s Shift `Constantine shifted from worshiping the Balkan gods of his homeland, the Roman state gods, and the gods of the army and of his family to worshiping the one God of the Christians, maintaining that Christ alone could bring salvation. When he announced his change of allegiance, he probably had no idea what he was actually getting himself into; for instance, there’s good reason to think that Constantine converted long before he knew anything about the Christian Scriptures or obligatory rituals. `He certainly didn’t know anything about the theological quagmires he was very soon to find himself immersed in, with earth-shattering subtleties. He may also not have known anything about the ethical expectations of this new faith. Regardless, at some point, possibly after a long period of transition, he shifted from being a pagan to being a Christian.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  HILARY. At the trumpet signal they go forth to meet the bridegroom alone, for then shall the two be one, that is, the flesh and God, when the lowliness of the flesh shall be transformed into spiritual glory. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Or, that the virgins go forth to meet the bridegroom alone, I think is to be understood that the virgins themselves constitute her who is called the bride; as we speak of the Christians flocking to the Church as children running to their mother, and yet this same mother consists only of the children who are gathered together. For now the Church is betrothed, and is to be led forth as a virgin to the marriage, which takes place then when all her mortal part having past away, she may be held in an eternal union. ORIGEN. Or, At midnight, that is, at the time of their most abandoned carelessness, there was a great cry, of the Angels, I suppose, desiring to arouse all men, those ministering spirits crying within in the senses of all that sleep, Behold, the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him. All heard this summons, and arose, but all were not able to trim their lamps fitly. The lamps of the senses are trimmed by evangelical and right use of them; and they that use their senses amiss have their lamps untrimmed. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) Or, All the virgins arose, that is, both elect and reprobate are roused from the sleep of death; they trimmed their lamps, that is, they reckon up to themselves their works for which they look to receive eternal blessedness. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) They trimmed their lamps, that is, prepared to give an account of their deeds. HILARY. Or, the trimming their lamps is the return of their souls into their bodies, and their light is the consciousness of good works that shines forth, which is contained in the vessels of the body. GREGORY. (ubi sup.) The lamps of the foolish virgins go out, because the works which appeared outwardly to men to be bright, are dimmed within at the coming of the Judge. That they then beg oil of the wise virgins, what is it but that at the coming of the Judge, when they find themselves empty within, they seek for witness from without? As though deceived by their own self-confidence, they say to their neighbours, Whereas ye see us rejected as living without works, do ye witness to our works that ye have seen. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) From habit, the mind seeks that which uses to give it pleasure. And these now seek from men, who see not the heart, witness to God, who sees the heart. But their lamps go out, because those, whose good works rest upon the testimony of others, when that is withdrawn, sink into nothing.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  Timm stood up in one of the back pews. It was a blond boy of country appearance, with a tan jacket and short, broad fingers. He kept his mouth funneled open with an eager and foolish expression, and hastily adjusted his open book, straining to look straight ahead. Then he lowered his head and began to read, long, halting and monotonous, like a child from a primer: " Aurea prima sata est aetas... " It was clear that Dr. Mantelsack was asking questions outside of the rules and didn't care who hadn't been examined the longest. It was no longer so threateningly likely that Hanno would be summoned, it could only have happened through an unfortunate coincidence. He exchanged a happy look with Kai and began to relax and rest his limbs a little... Suddenly Timm was interrupted in his reading. Whether it was that Dr. Mantelsack didn't quite understand the reciter or that he wanted to get some exercise: he left the lectern, strolled leisurely through the class and stood, his Ovid in hand, close to Timm, the one with short invisible ones movements had put his book aside and was now completely helpless. He snapped his funnel- shaped mouth, looked at the ordinary with blue, honest, troubled eyes, and couldn't manage another syllable. "Well, Timm," said Dr. Mantelsack... "Now all of a sudden it doesn't work anymore?" And Timm grabbed his head, rolled his eyes, breathed heavily, and finally said with a mad smile: "I'm so confused when you stand by me, Doctor." Dr. Mantelsack smiled too; he smiled flattered and said, "Well, collect yourself and go on." With that he walked back to the lectern. And Timm collected himself. He drew his book in front of him again, opened it while looking around the room, visibly struggling for composure, then bowed his head and found himself again. "I'm satisfied," said the professor when Timm had finished. 'You've learned well, there's no doubt about that. Only you lack the rhythmic feeling too much, Timm. You are clear about the ties, and yet you were not actually speaking hexameters. It seems to me that you memorized the whole thing like prose... But as I said, you've been diligent, you've done your best, and whoever is striving... You may sit down." Timm sat down proudly and beaming, and Dr. Mantelsack wrote a probably satisfying note after his name. But the strange thing was that at that moment not only the teacher, but also Timm himself and all his comrades were of the sincere opinion that Timm was really and truly a good and diligent student who fully deserved his good grades. Hanno Buddenbrook was also unable to evade that impression, though he felt something in him reluctantly resisting it... Again he listened intently for the name that would now be heard... "Mumme!" said Dr. Mantelsack. "Once again!

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  17. Then Jesus answered and said, O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? bring him hither to me. 18. And Jesus rebuked the devil; and he departed out of him: and the child was cured from that very hour. ORIGEN. Peter, anxious for such desirable life, and preferring his own benefit to that of many, had said, It is good for us to be here. But since charity seeks not her own, Jesus did not this which seemed good to Peter, but descended to the multitude, as it were from the high mount of His divinity, that He might be of use to such as could not ascend because of the weakness of their souls; whence it is said, And when he was come to the multitude; for if He had not gone to the multitude with His elect disciples, there would not have come near to Him the man of whom it is added, There came to him a man kneeling down, and saying, Lord, have mercy on my son. Consider here, that sometimes those that are themselves the sufferers believe and entreat for their own healing, sometimes others for them, as he who kneels before Him praying for his son, and sometimes the Saviour heals of Himself unasked by any. First, let us see what this means that follows, For he is lunatic, and sore vexed. Let the physicians talk as they list, for they think it no unclean spirit, but some bodily disorder, and say, that the humours in the head are governed in their motions by sympathy with the phases of the moon, whose light is of the nature of humours. But we who believe the Gospel say that it is an unclean spirit that works such disorders in men. The spirit observes the moon’s changes, that it may cheat men into the belief that the moon is the cause of their sufferings, and so prove God’s creation to be evil; as other dæmons lay wait for men following the times and courses of the stars, that they may speak wickedness in high places, calling some stars malignant, others benign; whereas no star was made by God that it should produce evil. In this that is added, For ofttimes he falls into the fire, and oft into the water, CHRYSOSTOM. is to be noted, that were not man fortified here by Providence, he would long since have perished; for the dæmons who cast him into the fire, and into the water, would have killed him outright, had God not restrained him. JEROME. In saying, And I brought him to thy disciples, and they could not heal him, he covertly accuses the Apostles, whereas that a cure is impossible is sometimes the effect not of want of power in those that undertake it, but of want of faith in those that are to be healed,

• From The Triumph of Christianity (2018)

  < 56 < Lecture 8  The Conversion of Paul y Also within the New Testament, there are reasons for thinking Paul did not write six of the books that claim to be written by him, as scholars have recognized since the 19th century. Examples include Titus and Ephesians. ` Another problem involves the book of Acts. Even though Paul is the hero of Acts, there are reasons for thinking that its account is not always historically accurate. ` Whenever there is a clear overlap between what Acts says about Paul and what he says about himself—that is, when they are talking about the same thing—there are almost always differences. Sometimes these are very difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile. y As one example, Paul, in his letter to the Galatians, makes a very big point that immediately after his conversion, he did not go to speak with the other apostles in Jerusalem: Peter, James, and the rest. He tells us that in fact he did not go there for three years. y But in the book of Acts, after he is converted in chapter 9, the first place he goes is Jerusalem to meet with the other apostles. He makes the trip right off the bat. That raises the question: Which was it? y That kind of problem occurs again and again in the narrative of Acts. If there are frequent conflicts whenever their accounts overlap, it is hard to know if Acts is accurate when there is not any overlap. y That matters because a good deal of allegedly common knowledge about Paul comes only from Acts and not Paul himself. Biographical Information ` This lecture now turns to the question of what we can know historically about Paul’s life and teaching, based in part on a judicious consideration of the book of Acts and especially a careful reading of the letters he almost certainly wrote, which occasionally provide autobiographical comments. Examples include Philippians 3 and Galatians 1–2.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  She had arrived a few days before my other sister, and each night we spent alone together she stayed up drinking long after I had gone exhausted to bed. There was a note of defiance in how she drank, an assertion of adulthood, but also something desperate, I thought, an escape either from or to. Her estrangement from my father was recent enough that the loss still held a kind of electric charge for her, so that at times as we spoke I thought I could see her jerk with the pang of it. All my life, she told me in those first nights we spent together, speaking with the wonder of someone for whom the examination of life still offers the promise of revelation or escape; all my life I’ve lived to please him, she said, every choice I’ve made has been his choice, it’s like nothing I’ve ever wanted has been my own. So what do I do now, she asked, how do I even know what I want to do? She had always been driven; as a child she worked harder than any of the rest of us in school, she excelled at sports, she was the president of her class, in everything she did she was exceptional. She questioned all of it now, she said, everything she had done, everything she had wanted, not just these public ambitions but also more private needs. We had never talked about sex before; she was so much younger and I had always shied away from it, though she knew something about my own history from the poems I had published, which she searched out and read with an attention they seldom, probably in no other case received. I just wanted to get it over with, she said about the first time she had sex, it was a relief, I didn’t want it to be a big deal. She was fourteen when she started sneaking out at night, she told me, boys would wait for her, their cars running on the next street over; they were always older guys, she said, first seniors at her school and then college students she met at parties. I’d lie about my age, she said, I’d say I was sixteen or seventeen and they’d believe me, or maybe they just pretended to believe me. It’s not like there were that many of them, she said, seeing the dismay I felt, I didn’t even have sex with all of them, I just liked being with them, I liked the attention.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  AUGUSTINE. (lib. i. de Bapt. per. c. 30) Because He does not say, Except a man be born again1 of water and of the Spirit, he shall not have salvation, or eternal life; but, he shall not enter into the kingdom of God; from this, some infer that children are to be baptized in order to be with Christ in the kingdom of God, where they would not be, were they not baptized; but that they will obtain salvation and eternal life even if they die without baptism, not being bound with any chain of sin. But why is a man born again, except to be changed from his old into a new state? Or why doth the image of God not enter into the kingdom of God, if it be not by reason of sin? HAYMO. (Hom. in Oct. Pent.) But Nicodemus being unable to take in so great and deep mysteries, our Lord helps him by the analogy of our carnal birth, saying, That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. For as flesh generates flesh, so also doth spirit spirit.