Barry's Blog

"The unexamined life is not worth living," the philosopher Socrates said many centuries ago. And as we reflect upon it, we would have to say that it is arguably one of the least followed sayings in the world. As philosopher and writer Os Guinness is often fond of saying, our modern world is closer to the paraphrased statement of philosopher Bertrand Russell: "Most people would rather die than think -- in fact, they do." 

Our challenge then, is to lead an examined life in an unexamining age. And there is hardly a better guide to help us in this pursuit than the writer Blaise Pascal, a seventeenth century (1623-1662) figure who was celebrated in his own lifetime as an inventor and mathematical genius. Indeed, in his own lifetime Pascal's fame originated from his remarkable scientific innovations (famous for his work on conic sections and probability theory). He is also celebrated as the father of the modern day computer because he invented a calculating machine that actually worked. Likewise, Pascal was known for his fast driving (albeit in carriages, no less!) through the streets of Paris, and took great pride in developing Paris' first omnibus and public transport system.

But while Pascal is celebrated for his remarkable mind as an inventor, his Pensees (the French word for "thoughts") has become a remarkable spiritual guide to many because of his brilliant mind and uncanny insight into the human heart. Whatever a person's religious worldview (or lack thereof) or philosophy of life, Pascal profoundly challenges us at our deepest levels.

These and other rich nuggets of Pascal's background are penned in Os Guinness' Foreword to The Trinity Forum booklet titled, "The Wager & Other Selections from the Pensees," with commentary provided by Peter Kreeft, professor of philosophy at Boston College. In the next few postings, we will consider some of his most powerful Pensees, along with the commentary that is provided by  Kreeft.

Pascal died young, at the age of 39, and it was only in the last four years of his life, beginning in 1657, that he began to slowly and painfully compose the Pensees. As Guinness points out, "In it he clearly aims to make his case for faith not for the lecture halls of the Sorbonne but for the salons of upper class Parisian society. Writing for the cultured, intelligent free-thinkers with refined manners and easy-going morals, he crafted an argument that is equally accessible and compelling to entrepreneurs and risk-takers of today."

Interestingly, the only thing we have left of his meditations are Pascal's notes, not a book, so we can only surmise the final order and purpose of his intended work. And in some ways this makes it both harder and easier to read. What we will find is that often his comments are cryptic and brief, and make us wonder what the final form might have looked like. But as Guinness reminds us, "Pascal's thoughts have a distilled essence, a diamond-like sharpness, and an explosive suggestiveness....they (Pensees) is not a book to be read through like other books; it is better approached as a series of reflections to be pondered at their own pace."

Here is one of the most remarkable Pensees for us to consider, one that explores the reality of what we human beings really are, not simply physical bodies (represented by the the trendy contemporary philosophy of the new atheists), but something much more:

"Man is only a reed, the weakest in nature, but he is a thinking reed. There is no need for the whole universe to take up arms to crush him: a vapor, a drop of water is enough to kill him. But even if the universe were to crush him, man would still be nobler than his slayer, because he knows that he is dying and the advantage the universe has over him. The universe knows none of this." (#200)

As Kreeft wonderfully writes, "Man is in fact a living oxymoron: wretched greatness, great wretchedness, rational animal, mortal spirit, thinking reed."

The story is told that during World War II, Oxford don and Christian apologist C. S. Lewis was asked by a media interviewer what he would think if the Germans got the atomic bomb, dropped one on England, and he saw it falling right on top of him. "If you only had time for one last thought, what would it be?" Lewis replied that he would look up at the bomb, stick out his tongue at it, and say, "Pooh! You're only a bomb. I'm an immortal soul."

Absolutely brilliant....