Hope
Hope is not optimism. Optimism is a temperament; hope is a posture taken inside conditions that do not warrant it. The body leans forward; the eye looks ahead; the breath lengthens a little — and the lean is held against evidence, not because of it. Vela reads hope through writers who have lived close enough to despair to know the difference.
Working definition · Forward-leaning expectancy—the felt possibility that something good can still arrive.
4320 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Hope is one of the most counterfeited of the emotions Vela reads. Optimism counterfeits it. Wishful thinking counterfeits it. The motivational register counterfeits it most loudly. The reading attends to a more specific posture: hope as the leaning-forward the body assumes under conditions in which the future is not guaranteed and the leaning still matters.
The memoir is densest where hope has had to be argued for. Anne Frank's diary keeps hope as a daily decision under conditions designed to refuse it. Vaclav Havel — the Czech dissident and later president, writing under late-Communist censorship — distinguished hope from optimism in a passage now widely cited: hope is an *orientation of the spirit*, an *orientation of the heart*, not a confidence that things will turn out well. The civil-rights tradition — Martin Luther King's *Letter from Birmingham Jail*, James Baldwin's essays, Audre Lorde's prose — preserves hope as discipline rather than feeling. The literature of chronic illness and disability — Christina Crosby's *A Body, Undone*, Paul Kalanithi's *When Breath Becomes Air* — holds hope inside conditions that have refused the easy version.
The contemplative tradition treats hope as a theological virtue, alongside faith and love. Paul, writing to the early church in Rome, named hope as what is *seen* but *not yet*. Julian of Norwich — the fourteenth-century English mystic — wrote *all shall be well* under conditions of plague, not under conditions of safety. Gandhi held hope as a political method — the long, attritional patience of *satyagraha*. Each of these reads hope as work, not as feeling.
Hope is not the same as optimism, expectation, or wishful thinking. Optimism is a temperament; hope is a posture. Expectation requires evidence; hope holds the future open without it. Wishful thinking faces away from the present; hope faces toward it. The four are kin; the reading keeps them distinct because the writers who have been most honest about each have kept them separate.
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An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.
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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 Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
I wheeled Joe to a cramped office for our legal visit. He continued cheering quietly and kept clapping his hands in excitement. I had to argue with the attending prison guard for permission to close the door and talk confidentially with Joe. The officer eventually relented. Joe seemed to relax when I closed the door. Despite the terrifying start to the visit, he was extremely cheerful. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was talking to a young child. I explained to Joe how disappointed we were that the State had destroyed the biological evidence that might have allowed us to prove he was innocent through DNA testing. We had discovered that both the victim and one of his co-defendants had died. The other co-defendant would not say anything about what had really happened, making it extremely difficult for us to challenge Joe’s conviction. I then offered our new idea about challenging his sentence as unconstitutional, which might create another way for him to possibly go home. He smiled throughout my explanation, although it was clear he didn’t understand all of it. He had a legal pad on his lap, and when I finished he told me that he had prepared some questions for our visit. During the entire visit I kept thinking about how he was much more enthusiastic and excited than I had expected him to be, given his history. When he told me about the questions he had prepared for me, he was practically bubbling. He explained that if he ever got out of prison he might want to be a reporter so “I can tell people what’s really going on.” He spoke with great pride when he announced that he was ready to ask his questions. “Joe, I’ll be happy to answer your questions. Fire away.” He read with some difficulty. “Do you have children?” He looked up at me expectantly. “No, I don’t have children. I have nieces and nephews, though.” “What is your favorite color?” He once again smiled eagerly. I chuckled, since I don’t have a favorite color. But I wanted to respond to him. “Brown.” “Okay, my last question is the most important.” He looked up at me briefly with big eyes and smiled. He then became serious and read his question. “Who is your favorite cartoon character?” He was beaming when he looked at me. “Please, tell the truth. I really want to know.” I couldn’t think of anything and had to force myself to keep smiling. “Wow, Joe, I honestly don’t know. Can I think about that and get back to you? I’ll write you with my answer.” He nodded enthusiastically. — Over the next three months I received a flood of scrawled letters from Joe, one almost every day.
From From Shame to Sin: The Christian Transformation of Sexual Morality in Late Antiquity (2013)
subgenre of literature that grew up around the fi gure of the penitent prostitute not only demands to be read in light of ancient fi ctional traditions; the narrative possibilities opened by the story of sexual transformation suddenly illuminate the inner logic of the old literature. In other words, penitent prostitutes are good to read with. But the claims of this chapter go beyond the literary. Literature, in the words of Stephen Greenblatt, is “an exceptionally sensitive register of the complex struggles and harmonies of culture.” Th e romances— Greek novels and Christian legends alike— are artifacts of a shared, public system of values. Even a mode of literature as formal and fantastic as the romance refl ects the expectations and experiences of the society that produced it. Th e transformation of female honor in prose fi ction recapitulates the profound revolution in sexual morality in the late classical world. Th e ancient novels are stories of eros in which honorable female sexuality is inviolable, because sexual morality itself is lodged in a social order whose logic provides the syntax of the romance. Th e early Christian literature adopts this form but directly inverts it, preserving the heroine’s corporal integrity but doing so eternally, so that her perpetual chastity becomes, like the apostle’s martyrdom, a rejection of society and society’s claim to represent the constitutive grounds of the self. Early Christian romance is the literature of a persecuted minority; the heroine’s integrity is a renunciation F R O M S H A M E TO S I N of the dominant order and a submission to the grander, invisible, cosmic order. But in the wake of the Constantinian revolution, as Christianity absorbed society, the secular order could no longer serve as an anti- Christian backdrop. Th e symbolism of female sexual honor shifted accordingly. Th e penitent prostitute emerged as a new archetype. Th e penitent prostitute violated, in the most explosive form, the deep, unifying convention of romance— the heroine’s chastity. Th e salvation of the prostitute, by off ering redemption to the fi gure whose claim to social honor was most impossible, symbolized the supremacy of a divine scale of sexual morality. Th e arrival of this new archetype— whose birth depended on the enduring vitality of the ancient array of character types— was a cultural moment of the greatest signifi - cance. Th e heroines of fi ction were transformed from “damsels in distress” at the mercy of fate into empowered sexual agents who determine their own destiny. Th e rise of this new type symbolized not just a new set of sexual norms or values, but a new, Christian order of sexual morality. V I RG I N IT Y I M P E R I L E D I N TH E A N C I E NT RO M A N C E Th
From Untrue (2018)
“One of the things that strikes me is that heterosexually identified women who have had sex with women at some point often say the experience made them feel more entitled to communicate about what they wanted,” Diamond observed after I told her about Skirt Club. “They’ll say, ‘Pumping at my vagina isn’t really doing it for me. There are other things you can do to my body that will thrill me.’ This group of women seems to be less willing to tolerate bad sex.” Diamond said she hoped that women who went to Skirt Club might communicate with their husbands and boyfriends what they liked about it, and what they had learned about their own bodies, and what they wanted. “What we know now,” Diamond mused, “is that fluidity is real. And that our notion that it’s men who always necessarily want variety and women who necessarily want stability is not consistent with what actually happens.” I wanted to get Diamond’s expert, informed thoughts on monogamy while I could. She told me that she concurred with Meana that long-term relationships could be especially tough on female desire. She mentioned that an attraction to novelty is part of our legacy and that we habituate to sexual stimuli over time. That is, the more we have it with someone, the less thrilling it becomes. Oh, that again. You again. The mistake, Diamond told me, is to think that habituation and boredom mean there is something wrong with you or your partner, or with your partnership. Or that there is nothing to be done. A strong predictor of desire in long-term relationships, she told me, is when couples make an effort to do something new together. “I’m not talking about just sex. It could be skydiving,” or taking a dance class, or going on a zip line. “When couples participate in new and thrilling activities together, they often report a resurgence of puppy love from seeing their partner from a new angle. And the simple fact is that our partners don’t stay the same over time,” Diamond says. If we want to be monogamous, we can look for and find novelty in that same person. She concedes that it isn’t easy—“We wouldn’t have all these self-help books if we could just snap our fingers and make it as novel as it used to be!” But it can be done. One way, I considered, might be going to an all-women sex party and then telling your partner about it afterward. You’re not “participating in a thrilling and new activity together” for the party itself, obviously, but being with each other afterward could certainly be novel and exciting.
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
Chapman called Tate, Ikner, and Benson together shortly after the hearing and expressed his concerns. When he asked the local investigators to explain the contradictory evidence we had presented, he wasn’t impressed with what he heard. Not long after that, he formally asked ABI officials in Montgomery to conduct another investigation into the murder to confirm Mr. McMillian’s guilt. Chapman never informed us directly about the new investigation, even though for over two years we’d sought just such a re-examination of the evidence. When the new ABI investigators, Tom Taylor and Greg Cole, called me, I eagerly agreed to share case files and information. After meeting with them, I was even more hopeful about what might come out of the investigation. They both seemed like no-nonsense, experienced investigators who were interested in doing credible and reliable work. Within a few weeks, Taylor and Cole seemed to doubt that McMillian was guilty. They were not connected to any of the players in South Alabama. We gave them files, memoranda, and even some original evidence because we had nothing to hide. I was nervous that if we won a reversal and had to retry the case, we might be disadvantaged by disclosing so much information to state investigators—who would then be better prepared to smear or undermine our evidence—but I was still confident that any reasonable, honest investigation would reveal the absurdity of the charges against Walter. By January, six months had passed since we had filed our appeal at the Court of Criminal Appeals, and a ruling was due any week. That’s when Tom Taylor called and said that he and Cole wanted to meet with us again. We’d talked a few times during their investigation, but this time we’d be discussing their findings. When they arrived, Bernard and I sat down with them in my office and they wasted no time. “There is no way Walter McMillian killed Ronda Morrison.” Tom Taylor spoke plainly and directly. “We’re going to report to the attorney general, the district attorney, and anyone who asks that McMillian had nothing to do with either of these murders and is completely innocent.” I tried not to look as thrilled as I felt. I didn’t want to scare away this good news. “That’s terrific,” I said, trying to sound unsurprised. “I’m pleased to hear that and I have to say I’m extremely grateful that you’ve looked at the evidence in this case thoroughly and honestly.” “Well, confirming that McMillian had nothing to do with this wasn’t that hard,” Taylor replied. “Why would a drug kingpin live in the conditions he was living in and work fifteen hours a day cutting timber on difficult terrain? What we were told by local law enforcement about McMillian didn’t make much sense, and the story Myers told at trial definitely made no sense. I still can’t believe a jury ever convicted him.”
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
I’ve also represented people who have committed terrible crimes but nonetheless struggle to recover and to find redemption. I have discovered, deep in the hearts of many condemned and incarcerated people, the scattered traces of hope and humanity—seeds of restoration that come to astonishing life when nurtured by very simple interventions. Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned. We are all implicated when we allow other people to be mistreated. An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others. The closer we get to mass incarceration and extreme levels of punishment, the more I believe it’s necessary to recognize that we all need mercy, we all need justice, and—perhaps—we all need some measure of unmerited grace. Chapter One [image file=image_rsrc32H.jpg] Mockingbird PlayersThe temporary receptionist was an elegant African American woman wearing a dark, expensive business suit—a well-dressed exception to the usual crowd at the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee (SPDC) in Atlanta, where I had returned after graduation to work full time. On her first day, I’d rambled over to her in my regular uniform of jeans and sneakers and offered to answer any questions she might have to help her get acclimated. She looked at me coolly and waved me away after reminding me that she was, in fact, an experienced legal secretary. The next morning, when I arrived at work in another jeans and sneakers ensemble, she seemed startled, as if some strange vagrant had made a wrong turn into the office. She took a beat to compose herself, then summoned me over to confide that she was leaving in a week to work at a “real law office.” I wished her luck. An hour later, she called my office to tell me that “Robert E. Lee” was on the phone. I smiled, pleased that I’d misjudged her; she clearly had a sense of humor. “That’s really funny.” “I’m not joking. That’s what he said,” she said, sounding bored, not playful. “Line two.” I picked up the line. “Hello, this is Bryan Stevenson. May I help you?”
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
REMIGIUS. In which her humility must be praised, that she came not before His face, but behind, and judged herself unworthy to touch the Lord’s feet, yea, she touched not His whole garment, but the hem only; for the Lord wore a hem according to the command of the Law. So the Pharisees also wore hems which they made large, and in some they inserted thorns. But the Lord’s hem was not made to wound, but to heal, and therefore it follows, For she said within herself, If I can but touch his garment, I shall be made whole. How wonderful her faith, that though she despaired of health from the physicians, on whom notwithstanding she had exhausted her living, she perceived that a heavenly Physician was at hand, and therefore bent her whole soul on Him; whence she deserved to be healed; But Jesus turning and seeing her, said, Be of good cheer, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole. RABANUS. What is this that He bids her, Be of good cheer, seeing if she had not had faith, she would not have sought healing of Him? He requires of her strength and perseverance, that she may come to a sure and certain salvation. CHRYSOSTOM. Or because the woman was fearful, therefore He said, Be of good cheer. He calls her daughter, for her faith had made her such. JEROME. He said not, Thy faith shall make thee whole, but, hath made thee whole; for in that thou hast believed, thou art already made whole. CHRYSOSTOM. She had not yet a perfect mind respecting Christ, or she would not have supposed that she could be hid from Him; but Christ would not suffer her to go away unobserved, not that He sought fame, but for many reasons. First, He relieves the woman’s fear, that she should not be pricked in her conscience as though she had stolen this boon; secondly, He corrects her error in supposing she could be hid from Him; thirdly, He displays her faith to all for their imitation; and fourthly, He did a miracle, in that He shewed He knew all things, no less than in drying the fountain of her blood. It follows, And the woman was made whole from that hour. GLOSS. (ap. Anselm.) This must be understood as the time in which she touched the hem of His garment, not in which Jesus turned to her; for she was already healed, as the other Evangelists testify, and as may be inferred from the Lord’s words.
From The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—and Us (2017)
As funny as the couple cartoons and mother-in-law jokes can be, in the real world sexual conflict is anything but humorous. The news is filled with dramatic and heart-wrenching stories about sexual violence, spousal abuse, genital mutilation, sex trafficking, child abandonment, rape, incest, and more. In this book, we’ve seen how mate choice has allowed females of different groups of birds to evolve various mechanisms that expand their sexual autonomy, reduce the efficacy of sexual coercion, and even reduce sexual violence itself. By exploring the history of sexual conflict in humans and our primate ancestors, we will discover that we have been shaped by a similar evolutionary struggle to resolve sexual conflict, overcome sexual coercion and violence, and expand human female sexual autonomy. Indeed, as we will see, the advance of sexual autonomy and the reduction of male sexual control might have been key innovations that made possible the evolution of many unique, complex features of human biology. — Now for a little duck sex redux. Throughout this book, we have explored the coevolutionary “dance” between mate choice and aesthetic diversity. We have also seen how sexual coercion can challenge, constrain, disrupt, subvert, or undermine mate choice and how females have evolved means to advance their sexual autonomy in the face of persistent sexual violence and coercion. In birds, there are basically two mechanisms at work in the evolution of female sexual autonomy. In many waterfowl, for example, females have evolved physical defense mechanisms to lower the effectiveness of forced copulation. Females with mutations for vaginal morphologies that prevent forced fertilization will have sons who inherit genes for their father’s attractive traits. These females will therefore have greater reproductive success (that is, more grandchildren) because other females will be attracted to their sexy offspring. Or rather, they’ll have such success if they’re not grievously injured or killed. Unfortunately, as we saw in chapter 5, the evolution of these elaborate vaginal morphologies has a big downside, because it has instigated a costly, ever-accelerating sexual arms race between the defensive capacities of females and the coercive tools and abilities of males. The reproductive success of the entire species suffers as a result.
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
His dad, who had twice before nearly killed Dante’s mother, was shot by Dante while he slept in a chair. Dante had repeatedly told school officials about his father’s abuse, but no one ever intervened. I discussed Dante’s prior diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder following the attempted murder of his mother in my oral argument before the Mississippi Supreme Court. The Court emphasized the trial court’s refusal to permit introduction of this evidence and granted Dante a new trial. — Our death penalty work had also taken a hopeful turn. The number of death row prisoners in Alabama for whom we’d won relief reached one hundred. We had created a new community of formerly condemned prisoners in Alabama who had been illegally convicted or sentenced and received new trials or sentencing hearings. Most never returned to death row. Starting in 2012, we had eighteen months with no executions in Alabama. Continued litigation about lethal injection protocols and other questions about the reliability of the death penalty slowed the execution rate in Alabama dramatically. In 2013, Alabama recorded the lowest number of new death sentences since the resumption of capital punishment in the mid-1970s. These were very hopeful developments. Of course, there were still challenges. I was losing sleep over another man on Alabama’s death row, a man who was clearly innocent. Anthony Ray Hinton was on death row when Walter McMillian arrived in the 1980s. Mr. Hinton was wrongly convicted of two robbery-murders outside Birmingham after state forensic employees mistakenly concluded that a gun recovered from his mother’s home had been used in the crimes. Mr. Hinton’s appointed defense lawyer got only $500 from the court to retain a gun expert to confront the state’s case, so he ended up with a mechanical engineer who was blind in one eye and who had almost no experience testifying as a gun expert. The State’s primary evidence against Mr. Hinton involved a third crime where a witness identified him as the assailant. But we found a half-dozen people and security records that proved that Mr. Hinton was locked inside a secure supermarket warehouse working as a night laborer fifteen miles away at the time of the crime. We got some of the nation’s best experts to review the gun evidence, and they concluded the Hinton weapon could not be matched to the murders. I had hopes that the State might reopen the case. Instead they persisted in moving toward execution. The media was not interested in the story, citing “innocence fatigue.” “We’ve done that story before,” we heard again and again. We kept getting very close decisions from appellate courts denying relief, and Mr. Hinton remained on death row facing execution.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
CHRYSOSTOM. This was matter of consolation to them, not that they sought the punishment of others, but that they were confident that in all things they had One present with them, and all-knowing. HILARY. And by this their testimony not only was all excuse of ignorance of His divinity taken away from their persecutors, but also to the Gentiles was opened the way of believing on Christ, who was thus devotedly preached by the voices of the confessors among the flames of persecution; and this is that He adds, and the Gentiles. 10:19–2019. But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak: for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak. 20. For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you. CHRYSOSTOM. To the foregoing topics of consolation, He adds another not a little one; that they should not say, How shall we be able to persuade such men as these, when they shall persecute us? He bids them be of good courage respecting their answer, saying, When they shall deliver you up, take no thought how or what ye shall speak. REMIGIUS. How or what, one refers to the substance, the other to the expression in words. And because both of these would be supplied by Him, there was no need for the holy preachers to be anxious about either. JEROME. When then we are brought before judges for Christ’s sake, we ought to offer only our will for Christ. But Christ who dwelleth in us speaks for Himself, and the grace of the Holy Spirit will minister in our answer. HILARY. For our faith, observing all the precepts of the Divine will, will be instructed with an answer according to knowledge, after the example of Abraham, to whom when he had given up Isaac, there was not wanting a ram for a victim. For it is not ye who speak, but the Spirit of your Father that speaketh in you. REMIGIUS. (ap. Raban.) Meaning, Ye indeed go out to the battle, but it is I who fight; you utter the words, but it is I who speak. Hence Paul speaks, Seek ye a proof of Christ who speaketh in me? (2 Cor. 13:3.) CHRYSOSTOM. Thus He raises them to the dignity of the Prophets, who have spoken by the Spirit of God. He who says here, Take no thought what ye shall speak, (1 Pet. 3:15.) has said in another place, Be ye always ready to give an answer to him that demandeth a reason of the hope that is in you. When it is a dispute among friends, we are commanded to be ready; but before the awful judgment, and the raging people, aid is ministered by Christ, that they may speak boldly and not be dismayed.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
Reply to Objection 4: It is manifest from the words of this gloss that it is chiefly a question of the order of doctrine, in so far as one has to pass from easy matter to that which is more difficult. Hence it is clear from what follows that the statement that certain “heretics” and “schismatics have perverted this order” refers to the order of doctrine. For it continues thus: “But he says that he has kept these things, namely the aforesaid order, binding himself by an oath [*Referring to the last words of the verse, and taking ‘retributio,’ which Douay renders ‘reward,’ as meaning ‘punishment’]. Thus I was humble not only in other things but also in knowledge, for ‘I was humbly minded’; because I was first of all fed with milk, which is the Word made flesh, so that I grew up to partake of the bread of angels, namely the Word that is in the beginning with God.” The example which is given in proof, of the newly baptized not being commanded to fast until Pentecost, shows that no difficult things are to be laid on them as an obligation before the Holy Ghost inspires them inwardly to take upon themselves difficult things of their own choice. Hence after Pentecost and the receiving of the Holy Ghost the Church observes a fast. Now the Holy Ghost, according to Ambrose (Super Luc. 1:15), “is not confined to any particular age; He ceases not when men die, He is not excluded from the maternal womb.” Gregory also in a homily for Pentecost (xxx in Ev.) says: “He fills the boy harpist and makes him a psalmist: He fills the boy abstainer and makes him a wise judge [*Dan. 1:8–17],” and afterwards he adds: “No time is needed to learn whatsoever He will, for He teaches the mind by the merest touch.” Again it is written (Eccles. 8:8), “It is not in man’s power to stop the Spirit,” and the Apostle admonishes us (1 Thess. 5:19): “Extinguish not the Spirit,” and (Acts 7:51) it is said against certain persons: “You always resist the Holy Ghost.”
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
BASIL. (in Const. c. 1.) If also any one from indolence surrenders himself to his desires, and betrays himself into the hands of his enemies, God neither assists him nor hears him, because by sin he has alienated himself from God. It becomes then a man to offer whatever belongs to him, but to cry to God to assist him. Now we must ask for the Divine assistance not slackly, nor with a mind wavering to and fro, because such a one will not only not obtain what it seeks, but will the rather provoke God to anger. For if a man standing before a prince has his eye fixed within and without, lest perchance he should be punished, how much more before God ought he to stand watchful and trembling? But if when awakened by sin you are unable to pray stedfastly to the utmost of your power, check yourself, that when you stand before God you may direct your mind to Him. And God pardons you, because not from indifference, but infirmity, you cannot appear in His presence as you ought. If then you thus command yourself, do not depart until you receive. For whenever you ask and receive not, it is because your request was improperly made, either without faith, or lightly, or for things which are not good for you, or because you left off praying. But some frequently make the objection, “Why pray we? Is God then ignorant of what we have need?” He knows undoubtedly, and gives us richly all temporal things even before we ask. But we must first desire good works, and the kingdom of heaven; and then having desired, ask in faith and patience, bringing into our prayers whatever is good for us, convicted of no offence by our own conscience. AMBROSE. The argument then persuading to frequent prayer, is the hope of obtaining what we pray for. The ground of persuasion was first in the command, afterwards it is contained in that example which He sets forth, adding, If a son shall ask bread of any of you, will he give him a stone? &c.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
AMBROSE. Now our Lord while He ever raises us to look to the future reward of virtue, and teaches us how good it is to despise worldly things, so also He supports the weakness of the human mind by a present recompense. For it is a hard thing to take up the cross, and expose your life to danger and your body to death; to give up what you are, when you wish to be what you are not; and even the loftiest virtue seldom exchanges things present for future. The good Master then, lest any man should be broken down by despair or weariness, straightway promises that He will be seen by the faithful, in these words, But I say unto you, There are some standing here who shall not taste of death till they see the kingdom of God. THEOPHYLACT. That is, the glory in which the righteous shall be. Now He said this of His transfiguration, which was the type of the glory to come; as if He said, There are some standing here, Peter, James, and John, who shall not reach death before they have seen at the time of My transfiguration what will be the glory of those who confess Me. GREGORY. (Hom. 32. in Ev.) Or, by the kingdom of God in this place, is meant the present Church; and some of His disciples were to live in the body up to that time, when they should behold the Church of God built and raised up against the glory of the world. AMBROSE. If then we also wish not to fear death, let us stand where Christ is. For they only cannot taste death who are able to stand with Christ, wherein we may consider from the nature of the very word, that they will not experience even the slightest perception of death, who are thought worthy to obtain union with Christ. At least let us suppose that the death of the body is tasted by touch, the life of the soul preserved by possession; for here not the death of the body, but of the soul, is denied. 9:28–3128. And it came to pass about an eight days after these sayings, he took Peter and John and James, and went up into a mountain to pray. 29. And as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was altered, and his raiment was white and glistering. 30. And, behold, there talked with him two men, which were Moses and Elias: 31. Who appeared in glory, and spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem.
From Untrue (2018)
In this case, women who refuse monogamy are not pathological and unrelatable and unlike us. They are, rather, versions of our deepest selves, exemplars of autonomy, perhaps even teachers with valuable lessons to impart. What if we entertained the notion that Alicia Walker’s adulteresses—and the ones in film noir and novels of the nineteenth and twenty-first centuries, and the ones who live as hunter-gatherers in Botswana and nomadic pastoralists in Namibia, and the ones who are married to men and go to all-women’s sex parties in New York and London and Shanghai—might be able to show us the way? The way to more satisfying partnerships and enhanced self-esteem and even to happiness? This would go against everything we’re taught and much of what we feel, to say the least. But I vowed to consider, as I sat down to talk with two women I’ll call Sarah and Annika, that they might be not just peddlers of cautionary tales about cheating and its price but Sherpas of sorts, guides with intimate knowledge of a fascinating, thrilling, and potentially treacherous but ultimately rewarding terrain. Sarah and Annika live only a few towns away from one another, but their experiences of infidelity are continents apart. Nonetheless, they both bring the findings of Chivers, Meana, and especially Walker vividly to life, showing us just how intensely some women want sexual excitement, the risks they will take in pursuing it, and the price they may pay, even in our ostensibly enlightened culture, when they seize the opportunity. Mostly, Sarah’s and Annika’s stories underscore the interplay of female sexuality and context—the culture women live in, the company they keep, the material circumstances of their lives—and beg the question: How free are we, really, if we are not sexually autonomous? How real is our self-determination if exercising it is occluded by “belonging” to a man? And just how deeply and unthinkingly do we continue to accept as “natural and right” certain ideologies that hold us obediently (though perhaps not always willingly) in place? Namely, that femininity is about restraint, about being wanted rather than wanting; that good mothers and women are asexual; that women who step out are essentially unfeminine while men who do so enhance their masculinity, even if we judge them. Annika and Sarah attempted an end run around these beliefs. Chapter Three
From Tropic of Capricorn (1934)
I knew very well I’d have to make a break some day; I knew very well I was pissing my time away. But I knew also that there was nothing I could do about it—yet . Something had to happen, something big, something that would sweep me off my feet. All I needed was a push, but it had to be some force outside my world that could give me the right push, that I was certain of. I couldn’t eat my heart out, because it wasn’t in my nature. All my life things had worked out all right—in the end . It wasn’t in the cards for me to exert myself. Something had to be left to Providence—in my case a whole lot. Despite all the outward manifestations of misfortune or mismanagement I knew that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. And with a double crown, too. The external situation was bad, admitted—but what bothered me more was the internal situation. I was really afraid of myself, of my appetite, my curiosity, my flexibility, my permeability, my malleability, my geniality, my powers of adaptation. No situation in itself could frighten me: I somehow always saw myself sitting pretty, sitting inside a buttercup, as it were, and sipping the honey. Even if I were flung in jail I had a hunch I’d enjoy it. It was because I knew how not to resist, I suppose. Other people wore themselves out tugging and straining and pulling; my strategy was to float with the tide. What people did to me didn’t bother me nearly so much as what they were doing to others or to themselves. I was really so damned well off inside that I had to take on the problems of the world. And that’s why I was in a mess all the time. I wasn’t synchronized with my own destiny, so to speak. I was trying to live out the world destiny. If I got home of an evening, for instance, and there was no food in the house, not even for the kid, I would turn right around and go looking for the food. But what I noticed about myself, and that was what puzzled me, was that no sooner outside and hustling for the grub than I was back at the Weltanschauung again. I didn’t think of food for us exclusively, I thought of food in general, food in all its stages, everywhere in the world at that hour, and how it was gotten and how it was prepared and what people did if they didn’t have it and how maybe there was a way to fix it so that everybody would have it when they wanted it and no more time wasted on such an idiotically simple problem. I felt sorry for the wife and kid, sure, but I also felt sorry for the Hottentots and the Australian bushmen, not to mention the starving Belgians and the Turks and the Armenians.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
Objection 3: Further, as Christ’s cross was the instrument of His passion and death, so were also many other things, for instance, the nails, the crown, the lance; yet to these we do not show the worship of “latria.” It seems, therefore, that Christ’s cross should not be worshiped with the adoration of “latria.” On the contrary, We show the worship of “latria” to that in which we place our hope of salvation. But we place our hope in Christ’s cross, for the Church sings: “Dear Cross, best hope o’er all beside, That cheers the solemn passion-tide: Give to the just increase of grace, Give to each contrite sinner peace.” [*Hymn Vexilla Regis: translation of Father Aylward, O.P.] Therefore Christ’s cross should be worshiped with the adoration of “latria.” I answer that, As stated above [4120](A[3]), honor or reverence is due to a rational creature only; while to an insensible creature, no honor or reverence is due save by reason of a rational nature. And this in two ways. First, inasmuch as it represents a rational nature: secondly, inasmuch as it is united to it in any way whatsoever. In the first way men are wont to venerate the king’s image; in the second way, his robe. And both are venerated by men with the same veneration as they show to the king. If, therefore, we speak of the cross itself on which Christ was crucified, it is to be venerated by us in both ways—namely, in one way in so far as it represents to us the figure of Christ extended thereon; in the other way, from its contact with the limbs of Christ, and from its being saturated with His blood. Wherefore in each way it is worshiped with the same adoration as Christ, viz. the adoration of “latria.” And for this reason also we speak to the cross and pray to it, as to the Crucified Himself. But if we speak of the effigy of Christ’s cross in any other material whatever—for instance, in stone or wood, silver or gold—thus we venerate the cross merely as Christ’s image, which we worship with the adoration of “latria,” as stated above [4121](A[3]). Reply to Objection 1: If in Christ’s cross we consider the point of view and intention of those who did not believe in Him, it will appear as His shame: but if we consider its effect, which is our salvation, it will appear as endowed with Divine power, by which it triumphed over the enemy, according to Col. 2:14,15: “He hath taken the same out of the way, fastening it to the cross, and despoiling the principalities and powers, He hath exposed them confidently, in open show, triumphing over them in Himself.” Wherefore the Apostle says (1 Cor. 1:18): “The Word of the cross to them indeed that perish is foolishness; but to them that are saved—that is, to us—it is the power of God.”
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
I’ve represented women, whose numbers in prison have increased 640 percent in the last thirty years, and seen how our hysteria about drug addiction and our hostility to the poor have made us quick to criminalize and prosecute poor women when a pregnancy goes wrong. I’ve represented mentally disabled people whose illnesses have often landed them in prison for decades. I’ve gotten close to victims of violent crime and their families and witnessed how even many of the custodians of mass imprisonment—prison staff—have been made less healthy, more violent and angry, and less just and merciful. I’ve also represented people who have committed terrible crimes but nonetheless struggle to recover and to find redemption. I have discovered, deep in the hearts of many condemned and incarcerated people, the scattered traces of hope and humanity—seeds of restoration that come to astonishing life when nurtured by very simple interventions. Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned. We are all implicated when we allow other people to be mistreated. An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others. The closer we get to mass incarceration and extreme levels of punishment, the more I believe it’s necessary to recognize that we all need mercy, we all need justice, and—perhaps—we all need some measure of unmerited grace. T Chapter One Mockingbird Players he temporary receptionist was an elegant African American woman wearing a dark, expensive business suit—a well-dressed exception to the usual crowd at the Southern Prisoners Defense Committee (SPDC) in Atlanta, where I had returned after graduation to work full time. On her first day, I’d rambled over to her in my regular uniform of jeans and sneakers and offered to answer any questions she might have to help her get acclimated. She looked at me coolly and waved me away after reminding me that she was, in fact, an experienced legal secretary.
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
Walter’s experience taught me how our system traumatizes and victimizes people when we exercise our power to convict and condemn irresponsibly—not just the accused but also their families, their communities, and even the victims of crime. But Walter’s case also taught me something else: that there is light within this darkness. Walter’s story is one of many that I tell in the following chapters. I’ve represented abused and neglected children who were prosecuted as adults and suffered more abuse and mistreatment after being placed in adult facilities. I’ve represented women, whose numbers in prison have increased 640 percent in the last thirty years, and seen how our hysteria about drug addiction and our hostility to the poor have made us quick to criminalize and prosecute poor women when a pregnancy goes wrong. I’ve represented mentally disabled people whose illnesses have often landed them in prison for decades. I’ve gotten close to victims of violent crime and their families and witnessed how even many of the custodians of mass imprisonment—prison staff—have been made less healthy, more violent and angry, and less just and merciful. I’ve also represented people who have committed terrible crimes but nonetheless struggle to recover and to find redemption. I have discovered, deep in the hearts of many condemned and incarcerated people, the scattered traces of hope and humanity—seeds of restoration that come to astonishing life when nurtured by very simple interventions. Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned. We are all implicated when we allow other people to be mistreated. An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy and we condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others.
From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)
I told Walter before I left the prison, “They don’t know what we now know about your innocence. As soon as we present the new evidence to them, they’ll think differently.” My hopefulness was genuine, in spite of everything that had happened already. But I was underestimating the resistance we would face. I’d finally been able to hire some additional lawyers for the organization, which gave me more time to investigate Walter’s case. One of my new hires was Michael O’Connor, a recent Yale Law School graduate with a passion for helping people in trouble that had been kindled by his own struggles earlier in life. The son of Irish immigrants, Michael had grown up outside of Philadelphia in a tough working-class neighborhood. When his high school friends started experimenting with hard drugs, so did Mike, and he soon developed a heroin addiction. His life descended into a nightmare of drug dependency and chaos, complete with the growing risk of death by overdose. For several years he floated from one crisis to another until the overdose death of a close friend motivated him to crawl his way back to sobriety. Throughout all of this heartache, his family had never abandoned him. They helped him stabilize his life and find his way back to college. At Penn State he revealed himself to be a brilliant student, graduating summa cum laude. His academic credentials got him into Yale Law School, but his heart was still connected to all the brokenness his years on the street had shown him. When I interviewed him for the job, he was apologetic about the darker episodes in his past, but I thought he was perfect for the kind of staff we were trying to build. He signed up, moved to Montgomery, and without hesitation jumped into the McMillian case with me. We spent days tracking leads, interviewing dozens of people, following wild rumors, investigating different theories. I was increasingly persuaded that we would have to figure out who really had killed Ronda Morrison to win Walter’s release. Aside from my appreciation for Michael’s invaluable help with the work itself, I was grateful finally to have someone around to share the insanity of the case with—just as I was discovering that it was even crazier than I thought. After a few months of investigation, we’d uncovered strong evidence to support Walter’s innocence.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
Objection 5: Further, one should proceed from that which precedes to that which follows after. Now the commandments precede the counsels, because they are more universal, for “the implication of the one by the other is not convertible” [*Categor. ix], since whoever keeps the counsels keeps the commandments, but the converse does not hold. Seeing then that the right order requires one to pass from that which comes first to that which comes after, it follows that one ought not to pass to the observance of the counsels in religion, without being first of all practiced in the observance of the commandments. On the contrary, Matthew the publican who was not practiced in the observance of the commandments was called by our Lord to the observance of the counsels. For it is stated (Lk. 5:28) that “leaving all things he . . . followed Him.” Therefore it is not necessary for a person to be practiced in the observance of the commandments before passing to the perfection of the counsels. I answer that, As shown above ([3834]Q[188], A[1]), the religious state is a spiritual schooling for the attainment of the perfection of charity. This is accomplished through the removal of the obstacles to perfect charity by religious observances; and these obstacles are those things which attach man’s affections to earthly things. Now the attachment of man’s affections to earthly things is not only an obstacle to the perfection of charity, but sometimes leads to the loss of charity, when through turning inordinately to temporal goods man turns away from the immutable good by sinning mortally. Hence it is evident that the observances of the religious state, while removing the obstacles to perfect charity, remove also the occasions of sin: for instance, it is clear that fasting, watching, obedience, and the like withdraw man from sins of gluttony and lust and all other manner of sins. Consequently it is right that not only those who are practiced in the observance of the commandments should enter religion in order to attain to yet greater perfection, but also those who are not practiced, in order the more easily to avoid sin and attain to perfection.
From From Shame to Sin: The Christian Transformation of Sexual Morality in Late Antiquity (2013)
Stoicism, gnosticism, and popular fatalism all spurred the articulation of a libertarian notion of free will among orthodox Christians. These concerns converge in the remarkable work of Bardaisan, an almost exact contemporary of Clement. According to Eusebius, Bardaisan dedicated a work On Fate to the emperor Caracalla. It was not the only learned tract on fate the emperor received. The greatest Aristotelian of the high Roman Empire, Alexander of Aphrodisias, also penned a treatise On Fate dedicated to Caracalla and his father, Septimius Severus; Alexander’s work attacked both astrology and Stoic determinism in staking out a strongly libertarian view of moral action. If the historian Cassius Dio is to be believed, all of this learned instruction failed to take, and Caracalla was so convinced of the veracity of astrology that he dispensed honors and punishments based simply on horoscopes. He might have found Bardaisan’s outlook more congenial, because the dialogue preserved under the title Book of the Laws of the Countries, composed by a disciple of Bardaisan, reflects a Christian attempt to make strategic concessions to the power of astrology while preserving intact the core of moral freedom. The dialogue surveys the bewildering variety of human customs to argue that such vast differences must imply a wide scope for indeterminist views. Bardaisan developed a unique cosmology and anthropology. He distinguished between a realm of nature and a realm of liberty. “It is man’s natural constitution to be born, grow up, become adult, procreate children, and grow old … this is the work of Nature, which does, creates and produces everything as it is ordained.” These affairs of the body man shared with all living creatures. “As matters of their mind, however, they do what they will as free beings disposing of themselves and as God’s image.” One proof of moral freedom was the ability of individuals to change. “There are people who used to go to prostitutes and get drunk but who, when they received guidance from good advisors, became decent, continent men and despised the lust of the body.” Bardaisan, like the apologists before him, was concerned to reconcile human freedom and divine justice. “We are justified and praised on account of those things we do of our own free-will, if they are good, but if they are bad, we become guilty thereby and are reproached with them.”72