Queer Theology

I should note that, since I identify as straight (and I'm a black cisgender man), I don't pretend to speak with any authority on queer theology. Since this essay arises from my own reading of selected writings on queer theology and therefore inevitably reflects my own perspective on those writings, I don't pretend to write from the perspective of someone who knows from personal experience what it means to think theologically from a queer perspective. I don't present this essay as anything more than a summary of selected writings on queer theology that I've recently read and have found important to take note of and think about.

      What is queerness? Annamarie Jagose (1996) says "its definitional indeterminacy, its elasticity, is one of its constituent characteristics."¹ She says this fundamental indeterminacy makes queerness a difficult subject of study. It may suggest a range of possibilities, evading programmatic description and resisting conventional notions of gender and sexuality.² 
      Rosemary Hennessey (1993) says that queer theory calls into question obvious categories (such as gay, straight, man, woman), oppositions (such as man vs. woman, heterosexual vs. homosexual), and equations (such as gender = sex) upon which conventional notions of sexuality and gender identity are based.³ By embracing the word "queer," queer theory refuses to be shamed or dismissed by the terms of the dominant discourse, and defiantly rejects heteronormativity.⁴
      "Queering" a text or system of texts may therefore be a way of questioning its uncritical acceptance of conventional notions of sexual and gender identity.  Queering theology, for example, may be a way of liberating it from the patriarchal, sexist, and homophobic notions that have historically been reflected in the teachings, liturgy, and institutional structure of the church.
     Alexander Doty (1993) explains there are "queer positions," "queer readers," "queer readings," and "queer discourses."⁵ There may also be queer elements within basically heterocentrist texts or discourses, and queer moments or experiences in the lives of basically heterosexual, straight-identifying people. Just as queer people may negotiate their way through straight cultural spaces, straight people may negotiate their way through queer cultural spaces. In this sense, the use of the term "queer" takes up the standard binary opposition of queer and nonqueer (or straight), while questioning its viability.⁶
      Doty also says that queer spaces or positions aren't the only ones from which queer people read and produce mass culture. Just as with nonqueer people, such factors as race, ethnicity, gender, social class, occupation, education, religion, and nationality are important to social identity construction and contribute to the positions queer people take as cultural producers and reader-consumers.⁷
      What is queer theology? Patrick Cheng (2011) explains that it's the place where queer theory and Christian theology meet, and that it's queer talk about God.⁸ According to Cheng, radical love is at the heart of both queer theory and Christian theology. In queer theory, radical love challenges existing boundaries with respect to gender identity and sexuality, and in Christian theology, it dissolves the boundaries between life and death, time and eternity, the human and the divine.⁹
      Cheng says that queer theology may be defined as (1) theology done by and for LGBTQ people, (2) theology that is self-consciously transgressive in challenging societal norms about sexuality and gender, and (3) theology that is rooted in queer theory, and that critiques binary categories of sexual and gender identity.¹⁰ Christian theology itself is queer, says Cheng, insofar as it challenges and deconstructs--through radical love--binary categories (such as life vs. death, finite vs. infinite, human vs. divine) that are superficially fixed and unchangeable but ultimately fluid and variable.¹¹

      Womanist queer theology may be situated at the intersection of womanist theology and queer theory, and it may arise from the (personal, social, and theological) insights, perspectives, and experiences of black LBTQ women and other LBTQ women of color. It may also arise from the struggles of black LBTQ women and other LBTQ women of color against racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, and other cultural oppressions. Pamela Lightsey (2015) describes it as a theology committed to black LBTQ women and other marginalized groups, and to their full inclusion as members of churches, communities, and society.¹²
      Marcella Althaus-Reid (2003) explains that

      "A queer theologian has many passports because she is a theologian in disapora, that is, a theologian who explores at the crossroads of Christianity issues of self-identity and the identity of her community, which are related to sexuality, race, culture and poverty.¹³
       "...Queer theologies are usually biographical theologies. One needs to follow that diasporic movement which allows us to understand the paths crossed, and the ways in which theological identities are still challenged, transformed, retracted and disguised in Christianity. Queer theologies are tactical theologies, 'using tactical queerness to cruise places occupied by normative straightness.'¹⁴ Queer theologies go into diasporas by using tactics of temporary occupation; disruptive practices which are not necessarily to be repeated, and reflections which aim to be disconcerting...Queer theology is, then, a first person theology: diasporic, self-disclosing, autobiographical and responsible for its own words."¹⁵

      What episodes in the life of Jesus might cause us to wonder about his sexuality or about whether he had any sexuality at all? In John 4, when Jesus meets a Samaritan woman, his disciples come upon them, and they marvel that he is alone talking with a woman (John 4:27). In Mark 14, when Judas betrays Jesus, Judas kisses him on the cheek. In John 11:5, we are told that Jesus loved Lazarus, and that he loved Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha. In John 12, after Jesus has come to visit them in Bethany, and they have served him supper, Mary anoints his feet with ointment, and wipes his feet with her hair (John 12:3). What exactly was the nature of Jesus and Mary's relationship? 
      What exactly was Jesus's relationship with some of the women--e.g. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna (Luke 8:1-3)--who traveled with him during his ministry, along with his twelve male disciples? 
      Luke 10:38-42 tells us that when Jesus visited Mary and Martha (of Bethany) in their village, Mary sat at his feet, listening to his teaching, and that when Martha asked him why Mary wasn't helping her serve supper, Jesus affirmed that Mary had acted rightly by not accepting the subordinate role assigned to her.

      If we want to further examine what may constitute a queer Christology as well as a queer theology, then in what ways may Jesus be described as "queer"? Jesus may be described as "queer" in the sense that he's a celibate unmarried preacher who surrounds himself with male disciples, but who also loves women (Mary, Martha, and others). He's "queer" in the sense that his teachings often take the form of parables whose meaning at first seems uncertain or puzzling. He's "queer" in the sense that he's a prophet who refers to God as "my Father" (John 6:40). He's "queer" in the sense that he rides into Jerusalem on a donkey and is hailed by a large crowd as the King who comes in the name of the Lord (Luke 19:37-38, John 12:12-15). He's "queer" in the sense that he tells the crowd outside the temple at Jerusalem, "Destroy this temple, and I will raise it up in three days" (John 2:19).
     God may be described as "queer" in the sense that he transcends sex or gender categories. Jesus calls God his "Father," but God is actually neither male nor female, neither man nor woman. Or maybe he's both male and female, Father and Mother. God created man and woman, but he himself doesn't belong to any sex or gender category. He's "queer" in the sense that he's indefinable and nonbinary.
      But there are at least two problems with the notion of Jesus being asexual or desexualized. (1) Can Jesus be described as fully human if he has no sexuality? If he's fully incarnate, and if he's really "the Word made flesh" (John 1:14), then how can he have no sexuality? (2) If he's "a virgin born of a virgin,"¹⁶ and if having sexual intercourse would somehow debase or degrade him, then sex is considered something impure, unclean, or dirty, and the desexualized Jesus becomes someone whose human nature has been partially erased. Sexuality becomes something incompatible with holiness or sanctity, something that must be erased or expunged from the life of the spirit.
      On the eighth day after his birth, the baby Jesus was circumcised (Luke 2:21), as a sign of the covenant made by Abraham with God that all of Abraham's male descendants be circumcised (Genesis 17:10).
      Mark D. Jordan (2007) describes the typical crucifix depicting Jesus wearing a loincloth and nailed to a cross, with Jesus's body delineated in agonizing detail but without any suggestion of male genitals under the loincloth. Such partial erasure of the body of Jesus is an example of how Christian theology attempts to manage some of the more awkward implications of the incarnation, says Jordan.¹⁷ In paintings depicting the crucifixion, Jesus is almost never presented totally naked; although he was probably naked on the cross, he cannot be portrayed that way. Jordan says,

      "In many traditional readings, sexual shame began in Eden after the fall into sin...Adam and Eve made loincloths because they had sinned. Why do we make loincloths for our images of Jesus, in statues or in paintings? Because we sin. We have to cover him up because of what we have become in our fearful denials...
      "...For the most traditional Christian theology, it would be a sign of full redemption to represent Jesus naked on the cross. His nakedness would be a sign of a redeemed--that is, a humanly mature--community of believers. But we are afraid to look at the body of God as it was...We cannot let Jesus' body be whole, either in death or in life."¹⁸

     Leo Steinberg (1993) explains, however, that it has only been in the period since the Renaissance that Christ's genitals have typically been erased or concealed in works of art. In hundreds of Renaissance paintings, the genitals of the Christ Child or of the dead Christ are openly displayed. Steinberg explains that Renaissance artists had no theological difficulty depicting Christ's genitals, because of Christ's sinless nature and exemption from genital shame as the penalty for original sin.¹⁹
      Susannah Cornwall (2011) examines contemporary debates in queer theology regarding such questions as: What is queer? Is queer theology synonymous with gay or lesbian theology? Is queer theology inherently white or western in outlook? Is the bible queer? Is the Christian theological tradition queer? Given the history of discrimination against LGBTQ people in the Church, should LGBTQ people remain in the Church?"²⁰
      Cornwall says that

"queer has sometimes been called an ethically empty referent, since it rejects any static link between signifier and signified, and seeks to resist and critique regulatory discourse, including normativity...The questions are these: have the queer theologians over the last decade in particular been any more successful than those of the 1980s and early 1990s at negotiating queer in its definitional recalcitrance rather than freezing it into another regulatory identity? Has queer shown itself in practice to be a truly different methodology for theologians, or simply one cut from the same basic cloth as feminist and liberationist theologies and perhaps, therefore, unable adequately to critique or interrogate them?"²¹

      Elizabeth Stuart (2002) argues that queer theology differs from gay and lesbian theology in not being an identity-based theology and in fundamentally questioning the notion of stable gender identity. According to Stuart,

"queer theology...is not really 'about' sexuality in the way that gay and lesbian theology is about sexuality. Queer theology is actually about theology. In gay and lesbian theology, sexuality interrogated theology; in queer theology, theology interrogates sexuality."²²
       
      Robert E. Goss (2002) describes the importance of queer Christology and queer theology to the struggle for LGBTQ liberation. He says,

      "In his message and practice of the coming reign of God, Jesus embodied a preferential option for the oppressed. In his social practice, he modeled a new basileia [from the Greek term, basileia tou theou, "Kingdom of God"] network of social relations that were nonexploitative, nonhierarchical, and nonoppressive...Jesus was radical in his practice of solidarity with oppressed men and women...
      "...For centuries...the crucifixion stripped Jesus of his sexuality, his humanity, and the sociopolitical reality of his death. Christian discursive and nondiscursive practices have repeated Jesus' crucifixion. They remain acts of violence against the sexually oppressed. However, God's revelation on Easter aims to bring an end to crucifixions, not perpetuate them in the deployment of oppressive power relations.
      "The gay and lesbian reclamation of Jesus and his basileia practice becomes the generative matrix for reinterpreting Jesus' death and the Christ event in a nonhomophobic, nonheterosexist, and nonoppressive context... 
      "Jesus was put to death for his basileia solidarity with the poor, the outcast, the sinner, the socially dysfunctional, and the sexually oppressed. Jesus died in solidarity with gay men and lesbians. His death becomes a "no" to closeted existence, to gay/lesbian invisibility and homophobic violence...Easter becomes the event at which God says no to homophobic violence and sexual oppression...
       "Easter becomes the hope of queer sexual liberation. The queer struggle for sexual liberation will triumph; this is the promise of Easter...
      "On Easter, God made Jesus queer in his solidarity with us. In other words, Jesus "came out of the closet" and became the "queer" Christ...
      "...To say Jesus the Christ is queer is to say that God identifies with us and our experience of injustice. God experiences the stereotypes, the labeling, the hate crimes, the homophobic violence directed against us."²³ 
   

FOOTNOTES

¹Annamarie Jagose, Queer Theory: An Introduction (New York: New York University Press, 1996), p. 1.
²Ibid., pp. 96-99.
³Rosemary Hennessey, "Queer Theory: A Review of the differences Special Issue and Wittig's The Straight Mind," in Signs, Vol. 18, No. 4 (Summer, 1993), p. 964.

⁴Ibid., p. 967. 

⁵Alexander Doty, Making Things Perfectly Queer: Interpreting Mass Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), p. 2.

⁶Ibid, pp. 2-3.

⁷Ibid., p. 5.

⁸Patrick Cheng, Radical Love: Introduction to Queer Theology (New York: Seabury Books, 2011) p. 2.
⁹Ibid., p. x.
¹⁰Ibid., pp. 9-10.
¹¹Ibid., p. 10.
¹²Pamela Lightsey, Our Lives Matter: A Womanist Queer Theology (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2015) pp. 1-2.
¹³Marcella Althaus-Reid, The Queer God (London: Routledge, 2003) p. 7. 
¹⁴Benigno Sanchez-Eppler and Cindy Patton, "Introduction: With a Passport Out of Eden," in Queer Diasporas, edited by Cindy Patton and Benigno Sanchez-Eppler (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000), p. 14.
¹⁵Marcella Althaus-Reid, The Queer God (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 8.

¹⁶Tertullian, On the Flesh of Christ, Chapter 20, translated by Peter Holmes. From Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 3. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885). Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. Online at http://newadvent.org/fathers/0315.htm. 
¹⁷Mark D. Jordan, "God's Body," in Queer Theology: Rethinking the Western Body, edited by Gerald Loughlin (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), p. 383.
¹⁸Ibid., pp. 384-385.
¹⁹Leo Steinberg, The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983) p. 18.
²⁰Susannah Cornwall, Controversies in Queer Theology (London: SCM Press, 2011), p. v.
²¹Ibid., p. 39.
²²Elizabeth Stuart, Gay and Lesbian Theologies: Repetitions with Critical Difference (Brookfield, VT: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2002), p.102.
²³Robert E. Goss, Queering Christ: Beyond Jesus Acted Up (Cleveland: The Pilgrim Press, 2002), pp. 166-168.

A Guiding Theology of Love

What are the necessary and sufficient conditions for a theology of love? Must there first be love or first be God? If God and love are one, then a theology may also be a  "loveology," and a loveology a theology.
      In a theology of love, it may not be a matter of our theology determining our beliefs about love, but of our beliefs about love determining our theology. Love may be the starting point, the wellspring of our theology. Thus, a theology of love may also not be a matter of love being transformed by theology; it may be a matter of theology being transformed by love. 
      We must therefore love one another before we can truly have a theology of love. This is not to say that the term "God" can't have any real meaning for us if we don't have a theology; it's rather to say that the term "God" can't have any real meaning for us if we don't have love (not only for God, but also for one another, and for all creation).
      We can't know God if we can't know love. This isn't to say that love comes before God; it's rather to say that God is love (ho theos agape estin, 1 John 4:8). God not only is love, but also has love for us (1 John 4:16) and for the world. Love comes from God, and the love that God has bestowed on us we can give to others.
      If we can't know God without knowing love, then love may bring us a kind of knowledge and understanding that can't be attained through purely cognitive or non-emotional means. Our knowledge and understanding of God, of others, and of the world may depend on our loving them in one way or another, and therefore also on our being actively engaged with and committed to them in one way or another. We can't understand others by assuming that we can be purely objective observers standing apart from them. We must allow ourselves to be vulnerable to and potentially changed by others, by responding to them with love.¹
      A theology of love may be opposed to a love of theology, if the theological aspects of love are given greater regard or considered more important than the actual acts of love we share with others. A theology of love may not depend on the kinds of purely abstract or theoretical commitments that may be involved in a love of theology.
      A theology of love may, however, be biblical, exegetical, hermeneutical, and philosophical, as well as moral and practical (pastoral, evangelical, social, and political).
      The statement "God is love" may be seen as simplistic or problematic if it's assumed to be a claim that love is all that God is or that God is nothing other than love. Love may be expressed by, or may be found behind, every act of God, but we may have to clarify the meaning of the statement "God is love" by saying that God is not only love, but also Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. God may have other attributes besides love, such as mercy, justice, wisdom, and understanding. 
      If God loves us, then God may also suffer with, and for us, when we fail to obey his will or fail to follow his purpose for us. A loving God may also be a vulnerable and suffering God. If our suffering were of no consequence to God, then he would not feel anguish or compassion for us, and he would not show mercy toward us. God saves us from sin and suffering by freely giving his grace to us, and by restoring us to wholeness in our relationships with himself, with others, and with the world.
      The Lithuanian-French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas described philosophy as "the wisdom of love," rather than "the love of wisdom" (the traditional rendering of the Greek term philosophia). Philosophy serves love by calling us into a relation of responsibility and non-indifference to others.² In this relation of responsibility and non-indifference to others, the differences between ourselves and others are not erased.³ Rather, each of us is unique in our own responsible selfhood. The "here I am" by which we bear witness, in the name of God, to our responsibility to others is made before all theology.⁴ It signifies that we are at the service of, and ready to assist, others, and that our own being is for others. Thus, it also signifies a philosophy of love, at the service of love.
      1 John 4 tells us that to love is to know God, and that whoever loves knows God. But human love is imperfect, while divine love is perfect. So we must truly love one another in order for our love to be perfected, and for it to resemble the kind of love God shows us. If we can truly live in love, then we can also truly live in God (1 John 4: 7-16).
      Saying that God is love is not the same as saying that love is God. The latter assertion implies that God is a mode of love's being, rather than that love is a mode of God's being. If God is a mode of love's being, or if God's being is incidental to love, then there's no real need for a theology; there's only need for a "loveology." To say that God is love is to acknowledge God as a divine person who can show love toward us. But to say that love is God is to erase God's personhood. Saying that God is love therefore does not mean that love is God or that love and God are the same thing.
      A theology of love is a theology about, or centered on, love, as personified or revealed by God. It takes love as an essential attribute of God, without which God would not be what we believe, hope, or know him to be. Without love, there would be no such being or person as God, and without God, there would be no such feeling or emotion as love. God and love are inseparable. To know God is to know love, and to know love is to know God (1 John 4:7-8).
      Knowing God is, of course, not the same as fully understanding God. We may know God's love for us, but we can never fully understand his infinite wisdom, mercy, compassion, justice, truth, etc., because such infinite attributes are beyond human understanding. By knowing that God loves us, however, we may also know that he wants us to love him, and that he wants us to show others the same kind of love he shows us.
       What kind of love is it that God has for us? God's love is a constant, unwavering, and unconditional love. Thus, he freely offers us his grace, whether we deserve it or not. According to 1 John 4:10-11, if God so loves us that he sent his only Son into the world to expiate our sins, then we also ought to love one another.
      If we truly love God, then we will keep his commandments (John 14:15). Since God has commanded us to love one another (John 15:12), we must show our love for one another in order to show our love for God. If we say we love God but don't show our love for one another, then we're not keeping his commandment, and we're not acting according to his Word, as revealed to us by God, in the person of his Son.


FOOTNOTES

¹Norman Wirzba and Bruce Ellis Benson, "Introduction," in Transforming Philosophy and Religion, edited by Wirzba and Benson (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2008), pp. 2-3.
²Emmanuel Levinas, Otherwise than Being: Or Beyond Essence, translated by Alphonso Lingis (Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1998), p. 162.
³Ibid., p. 138.
⁴Ibid., p. 149.

Baltimore 10 Miler, 2019

The Baltimore 10 Miler was held Saturday, June 1, 2019. The weather was warm and sunny, with a temperature of 84 degrees. The route of the race was the same as last year, starting in Druid Hill Park, passing through Wyman Park, over to 28th St., along 28th St. to Greenmount Ave., then up Greenmount to 33rd, along 33rd to Lake Montebello, around Lake Montebello, and then back to Druid Hill Park.
      The overall men's winner was Jeremy Ardanuy, 26 years old, from Baltimore, who finished in a time of 53:16, with a pace of 5:20 per mile. The overall women's winner was Natalie Atabek, 27 years old, from Bethesda, Maryland, who finished in a time of 1:02:51, with a pace of 6:17 per mile.
      My son Douglas and I ran together for most of the race, until he picked up his pace near the end and finished a minute ahead. His finish time was 1:18:22, with a pace of 7:50 per mile. He placed 198th out of 1632 in his age group, 255th out of 3764 runners overall. And he actually sent a text to his mom during the race!
      I finished in 1:19:09, with a pace of 7:55 per mile, 4th out of 35 in my age group, 278th out of 3764 runners overall. This was 6 minutes better than my time last year, so I was pleasantly surprised. The men's winner in my division, Nicholas Caruso, from Shrewsbury, PA, finished in 1:11:16, with a pace of 7:08 per mile.

Crossing the finish line.

With Doug, after the race.

Plato's Parmenides, on the One and the Many

In Plato's Parmenides, the narrator is Cephalus of Clazomenae, who arrives in Athens and is greeted in the market place by Adimantus and his brother Glaucon. They go to meet Antiphon, the half-brother of Adimantus and Glaucon, in order to hear him recount a legendary conversation that Socrates once had with Zeno and Parmenides. Parmenides was about sixty-five years old at the time, Zeno was about forty, and Socrates was about twenty.
      The conversation began with Zeno arguing that if there is a plurality of things, then they must be both like and unlike one another. Socrates responded, however, that if unlike things cannot be like and like things unlike, then there must not be a plurality of things. Since Zeno agreed with this conclusion, Socrates remarked that Zeno shared with Parmenides the view that all things are one, and not many. (128b)
      Socrates proceeded to distinguish between being one thing and having many aspects, explaining that in this sense a given thing can be both one and many. (129d)
      Parmenides responded by asking Socrates whether the abstract form of something (such as largeness or smallness or beauty or justice) as a whole can be shared by a plurality of things, and whether, if this were the case, it would mean that the form as a whole would be in a number of separate things and would therefore be separate from itself. (131b)
      Socrates responded no, this would not mean that a form shared by many separate things would be separate from itself. The form itself would still be one and the same thing. (131b)
      Parmenides then responded that a form shared by many separate things must therefore be divisible into parts, and that each thing that shares in that form will therefore only be able to share a part of it. (131c) But if equality, for example, were a form that things could share, then they would only be able to share a part of it, and would share in something less than equality itself, so they must actually not be able to share in equality either in part or as a whole.
      Socrates admitted this would be a problem, if the abstract forms of things were taken to be divisible into parts. However, he explained that if a form covers all cases of a single thing, then it can still be one and the same in all cases of that thing.
      Parmenides then told Socrates that if he wanted his theory of forms to be thoroughly exercised, he must examine the consequences both for a plurality of things (with reference to one another) and for a single thing (with reference to itself) of there being, or not being, a plurality of things. (136a) The One cannot have a plurality of parts and still be the One. (136c) Moreover, it cannot have a beginning, middle, or ending, because such stages would be parts of it, and it would no longer be the One. (136d) Nor can it be at rest, because then it would remain in the same place, and would be encompassed by something other than itself. Nor can it be in motion, because then it would be undergoing alteration, and would not be the One. 
      Furthermore, the One cannot be different from itself or the same as another. Nor can it be the same as itself or different from another, because it is simply the One. (139b) For the same reason, it cannot be equal or unequal to itself or to another. (140b) It cannot be older or younger than anything, or the same age as anything. It has nothing to do with time, and thus has never become, was never becoming, and never was, and will not become, be becoming, or be in the future. (141e)
      Parmenides concluded there is no way in which the One can have being. How can this be the case with the One? In order to answer this question, Parmenides described the consequences of the contradictory proposition that the One can and does indeed have being. If the One has being, then number also has being. If number has being, then the One is both one and many, whole and parts, limited as well as indefinitely numerous. (145a) It is both at rest and in motion. It is both the same as, and different from, itself, and the same as, and different from, others. (146b) It is equal both to itself and to others, and it is both greater and smaller than others.
      The One is also becoming older than something becoming younger, and in this sense it is becoming both younger and older than itself. (152b) But since in being and becoming it must take the same time as itself, it also becomes neither younger nor older than itself. (152e)
      The One both is and is becoming older and younger than itself, and than others, and also neither is nor is becoming older or younger than itself, or than others. (155c)
      Parmenides then described the consequences of the proposition contradictory to the proposition that the One is, the proposition that the One is not. If there is no One, but only things other than the One, then those things cannot be One or many. There cannot be many without a One. Parmenides concluded that without the One, there is in fact nothing at all.
      The One, as defined by Parmenides, has an elusive and paradoxical nature, but this seems to be more a matter of definition than of cosmic or logical necessity. The dialogue between Socrates and Parmenides is perhaps more interesting for the philosophical and logical questions it raises than for the convoluted and often problematic arguments made by Socrates about the theory of forms and by Parmenides about the nature of unity and plurality.
      Parmenides' method of inquiry is dialectical. He considers the consequences of a given proposition, and then considers the consequences of a contradictory proposition in order to get at the truth of the matter. In this way, he is able to reveal unrecognized inconsistencies and overlooked implications of previous assumptions made by his interlocutors.
      Many of the logical arguments in the Parmenides fail to be persuasive or convincing. Nevertheless, they stimulate further examination of, and critical reflection upon, their meaning. For example, Socrates asks Zeno, "What does this statement mean, Zeno? 'If things are many,' you say, 'they must be both like and unlike. But that is impossible; unlike things cannot be like, nor like things unlike.'" (127e) Why exactly is it impossible that if there are many things, some may be like and others unlike one another? it is indeed possible. This fact wouldn't entail that the same things that are alike in some respect are simultaneously unlike in the same respect. That would indeed be contradictory. But Socrates does assume that this is what is entailed by Zeno's statement, and he then turns the statement around by saying, 'if things can't be both like and unlike, then there can't be a plurality of things.' His argument is formally valid (it takes the form of modus tollens or denying the consequent), but he commits the informal fallacy of equivocation by changing the implied meaning of Zeno's statement from 'among a plurality of things, some must be like and others unlike one another,' to 'in order for there to be a plurality of things, the same things that are alike in some respect must also be unlike in the same respect.'
      Similarly, the assumption that Parmenides initially seems to make in describing the One is that there is nothing other than the One. The many are actually nothing other than the One, and the One is all there is. Thus the One has no beginning or ending, no size or shape, no location in time or space, no boundaries or limits, and no relation of likeness or unlikeness to anything else. But then Parmenides makes the contradictory assumption that there are indeed things other than the One, and that they are a plurality. Thus, the One may consist of a plurality of things, and it may be both One and many. (145a) It may be a whole consisting of many parts, have a beginning and ending, be at rest as well as in motion, and be like or unlike other things. Neither of these assumptions seems any more plausible or justifiable than the other.
      

REFERENCES

"Parmenides," translated by F.M. Cornford, in The Collected Dialogues of Plato, edited by Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (New York: Random House, 1961).


      

Perfectionist Fallacies

In logic, the perfectionist fallacy may be represented by the argument that if some solution to a problem doesn't solve the problem perfectly, then that solution is unacceptable. Any imperfect solution to a problem is unacceptable, even if a perfect solution is unnecessary or unavailable.
      In our thinking about ourselves, we may sometimes be misled by the perfectionist fallacy, which may take a variety of forms. These potentially harmful and deleterious forms of perfectionism are to be avoided if we want to be at peace with ourselves and in harmony with others.
      The first perfectionist fallacy may be committed when you say to yourself, "My thoughts are only worth expressing if they're totally original, groundbreaking, and revolutionary."
      The second perfectionist fallacy may be: "Anything I do or any activity I engage in is only meaningful if I'm 'making an impact' or 'making a difference' with regard to intellectual, philosophical, scientific, political, moral, or social problems."
      The third perfectionist fallacy may be: "My life will only mean something if I'm remembered by future generations for what I did, said, wrote, discovered, or accomplished."
      The fourth perfectionist fallacy may be: "I can only be happy if I don't feel guilty about anything. Happiness means freedom from guilt."
      The fifth perfectionist fallacy may be: "I can only be happy if I've truly fulfilled my potential for human, technical, professional, or social achievement."
      The sixth perfectionist fallacy may be: "If I'm an underachiever, then my life isn't (or wasn't) really worth living, or it isn't (or wasn't) really as worth living as it could have been."
      The seventh perfectionist fallacy may be: "In order to be the best I can be, I must constantly strive for perfection."
      The eighth perfectionist fallacy may be: "When I try to get better at something, and I reach a plateau, I've probably reached my limit, and I'm probably not going to get any better at doing it, even if I change my approach or redefine what it means to get 'better.'"
      The ninth perfectionist fallacy may be: "There is someone other than God who is perfect. Perfection is possible for me, just as surely as imperfection."
      The tenth perfectionist fallacy may be: "If I can't be perfect at something, then I can't be truly happy."
      In our thinking about others, we may similarly be misled by various forms of the perfectionist fallacy, involving false assumptions about the reliability or perfectness of our knowledge of others. These false assumptions may include:
      (1) "I can determine everything I need to know about a person just by looking at them."
      (2) "I can always (or almost always) determine a person's race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or nationality just by looking at them or listening to them speak."
      (3) "If someone doesn't agree with me, it's because they're prejudiced, ignorant, uninformed, irrational, or haven't been listening to what I've been saying."
      (4) "If people don't understand what I'm saying, it's because they're ignorant, unenlightened, or haven't been paying attention, rather than because I haven't expressed myself clearly."
      (5) "If someone is homeless, then it's because of choices they've made. They're the ones who're responsible for the fact they're homeless."
      (6) "If someone is unemployed and on welfare, then it's because they lack a work ethic and don't want to work."
      (7) "If someone lacks job skills, then it's because they don't have the aptitude for a job and never applied themselves in school and never valued getting an education."
      (8) "The difference between wealthy and poor people is that poor people don't take advantage of educational, professional, and employment opportunities."
      (9) "If someone fails at something, then it means they're a loser."
      (10) "The difference between successful and unsuccessful people is the difference between winners and losers."
      All of these false assumptions may hinder or impair our capacity for compassion and understanding, as well as diminish our sense of our own well-being and our ability to promote the well-being of others.