Winter Issue 6
The German train of thought is filled with long strings of very abstract reasonings. - J.I. Packer
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On Asking Better Questions
By Conor Wilkerson
I think questions are wonderful, though even as I say this I hear my friends with inquisitive toddlers saying, “You speak of what you do not know.” That may be the case, but nonetheless questions are vital to both the academic and spiritual life. In fact, questions (one in particular) are what instigated my Regent journey in the first place.
It almost seems strange to say it now, but my original question was “Where did the Devil come from?” It appeared to me that this sinister figure was a mere vapour in the Old Testament, if present at all, and I was quite curious about it. The remarkable thing about my Regent sojourn is that I discovered my question wasn’t nearly compelling enough. This question, which I first thought so probing, turned out only to scratch the surface of larger and deeper reservoirs.
If there is one thing that Regent has given me (and it’s given me many) it is better questions. As many of us know, “deconstruction” is a very Regent-esque expression. I, however, came to Regent already fairly deconstructed. My “devil” question was only the academic byproduct of much wrestling, and like Jacob I was walking with a limp from the experience. To be sure, Regent helped me to do some answering, but it also showed me better questions and better ways of asking. There were larger and deeper questions of faith, reality, and soup that I still needed to discover (jam and peanut butter, or just peanut butter, or maybe just butter—there’s beauty in simplicity, right?). As I asked better questions I ended up getting better answers, and both the answers and the enriched questions strengthened my gait.
My first semester (Fall 2016) seems like it was ages ago, yet I can still palpably recall the nervous energy that stirred in me during orientation. I am now on the verge of leaving Regent and, yet again, another question looms large in my mind, one that my fellow graduates may share: “What now?” This question is only a third of my original one (when you’ve been at Regent for this long you think a lot about word count), but this question is no less urgent. However, as I think about what’s next, I’m reminded that sometimes my questions aren’t big enough.
Jesus seems to have had this, dare I say, vexing habit of challenging people’s questions with bigger questions and probing parables. I have come to realize that often my questions, which are too small, are a symptom of a diminished imagination. They are a sign that I have diluted in my mind what God is capable of doing in the world and in me. So as I ask my question of “What now?” I welcome some vexation. I welcome God’s probing. I welcome the question and better ones. And I welcome an expanded imagination that does not curtail God’s vastness.
Whatever questions you may be asking these days (What’s next? When will we get to hug again? What courses should I take? What topic should I write on? Do I need to buy that new pen when I have seventeen at home? What am I going to have for dinner?…) may you always be open to bigger and better ones. And may your imagination always be open to the expansive wonder of God. That’s what I’ve learned from Regent, and toddlers.
On Hot Dogs and Sandwiches
An Exercise in Disagreeing Well
By Rachel Hart & Mary Beth Lascurain
MBL: Hi Rachel, thanks for agreeing to have this conversation. As you know, I would not call a hot dog a sandwich, but I understand you disagree. Would you like to get us started by describing your position?
RH: Hi Mary Beth! Sure thing. It’s simple: a hot dog is a sandwich because it’s able to be hand-held food with bread and something inside that bread. Boom, sandwich.
MBL: Okay, seems straightforward. In my view, a sandwich requires more than just that—there is a certain flatness to what is between the bread, a flatness oriented to the cut of the bread. Further, there is a directionality—the cut should be horizontal with the item in the neutral position. So for those two reasons, I cannot in good conscience call a hot dog a sandwich. But I do appreciate that you spell it “hot dog” and not “hotdog.”
RH: Yes, we can agree against all other heathens that the correct spelling is “hot dog” with the space between. So by your definition of what is needed for ‘sandwich’-ness, you’ve excluded at least two sandwiches that have come to mind for me—meatball subs, and Banh Mi’s. Meatball subs have non-flat contents, and both of those generally don’t have their bread cut horizontally as you described. So would you disqualify those (and others?) from the category of sandwich?
MBL: I understand meatball subs can be sticking point for some people, since most subs are sandwiches. But yes, I would say that is not a sandwich. As for Banh Mi’s [Googling to get some pictures to make sure…] I would want to discuss further with someone with more knowledge of Vietamese cuisine, but I think the ingredients do tend to be distributed more along a plane aligned with the cut of the bread rather than along an axis. But again, I feel it would be irresponsible of me to have a firm opinion on the matter without learning more.
RH: Mmm, ok that’s fair! And that is a controversial hot take on the meatball sub. By your classification you’re also excluding open faced sandwiches (we can go there in conversation) but what has me really curious, is would you consider a hamburger a sandwich, then? And how do you feel about and/or categorize fancy sandwiches, like a croque monsieur or a croque madam? Because of the extra ingredients outside the bread, do they not get classified as a sandwich? Because I would say (speaking Christian Neoplatonically), even by your definition, while a hot dog is not inherently a sandwich (nor some of these others by your understanding) they still participate in the ontology of ‘sandwich’ just more imperfectly than other sandwiches
MBL: So many questions! As to open-faced “sandwiches”—I punctuate it that way for a reason. They are on the verge of being sandwiches, but not there yet. Regarding fancy sandwiches, I would say that just because the filling has to be inside, the presence of a condiment or sauce alone does not nullify the sandwich-ness. But I think your last point is getting to the heart of the matter; I do not subscribe to Christian Neoplatonism, so any definition predicated on that is going to fall short in my view. So I would be happy to work with a category like “sandwich-adjacent” to recognize a certain sandwich-like-ness of hot dogs and other items that don’t quite meet all the criteria for a sandwich. Would you say that your classification of hot dogs as sandwiches is based on a Neoplatonic ontology (Christian or otherwise)?
RH: While you say you don’t subscribe to Christian Neoplatonism your line ‘on the verge of being sandwiches but not there yet’ sure sounds close to it!
MB: Ah. By “on the verge of being sandwiches,” I meant that there is only one step left to make an open-faced “sandwich” into a sandwich—just flip the one half over the other!
RH: Still sounds close to that ‘participation’ to me ;) But I understand! Back to your question: Yes, I would say that ontology is a simpler (dare I say common-sensical?) way to give the same category of ‘sandwich-adjacent’ which you’re adopting to describe hot dogs et al. It’s still recognizing that a hot dog isn’t a sandwich in the same way that other sandwiches exist, while still maintaining that there is some form of participation in being a sandwich. At the same time, it gives an opportunity for other categories, i.e. while a hot dog does not fully participate in being a sandwich it fully participates in its hot-dog-ness.
MBL: Wow, okay. This is where it is becoming apparent to me that theological education is important for everyone and truly touches on every area of life. Do you envision a Platonic ideal of sandwich, then? Does it have a certain kind of bread or certain fillings—and does that mean that other kinds are less fully sandwich?
RH: Mmm great questions. I agree, theological education touches on every area of life, especially food! I would say yes, there is probably some ideal form of sandwich, but I don’t know explicitly what that is, and can see it revealed in all these other forms of sandwich that I experience in life, through the handing down of cookbooks through the years, and the instruction of other culinary greats I can learn from. I’m uncomfortable saying then that other kinds are ‘less fully’ sandwich, because it’s not about identifying to what extent things are not, rather seeing what is.
MBL: One of the issues I have with Platonic ideals is that it can’t help but implying (to me, anyway), that variations are essentially defects. I appreciate that you are trying to use it as a more positive category, but if something is a sandwich and it is less aligned with the ideal (even though all we can really do is grasp toward that ideal, with the help of those who have come before), then it is less “correct” (because it has a different kind of bread or cheese or condiment or whatever). Does that make sense?
RH: Yes, it does! And that’s why it’s important too to distinguish between Platonism and Christian Neoplatonism, because there are some things I don’t want to be saying or are easily misunderstood—like variations being defects. As for the hot dog, from what I have learned about sandwiches, there’s some kind of participation happening! But maybe only enough to make it sandwich adjacent.
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We had a lot of fun discussing, and we hope you had fun reading. Debating hot dogs might seem like a frivolous exercise, but learning how to disagree with one another is a skill we practice at Regent with a hope of applying it to the whole of life. It might be easier if we all agreed on everything, but we all benefit from people with different ideas from our own. May this encourage you to think critically, debate charitably, and not take yourself too seriously (and perhaps inspire you and a friend to write the next in this series)!
Atrium
By Alice Hodgkins
For Jolene
A friend once told me—poet fashion—
that at night it reminds her of a ship.
I see it.
I see it in the pale wood panels meeting above our heads
and the salty grey of the pillars.
I see it in the way we clatter together in its belly:
seasick, homesick, lovesick, joysick.
But I think she mainly meant its light:
its bulbs hung like lanterns,
its upwards view to starry infinity,
its inside glow so intimate with outside’s velvet darkness
that their whispered conversation laps always at our edges.
From the Archive
I’ve been having some fun recently digging through the Et Cetera archives — or more properly, the Regent student newspaper archives, since it hasn’t always been called the Et Cetera. As an extra treat, I’ll be sharing occasionally from this treasure trove of Regent’s history; it’s surprising sometimes how little the culture of this school has changed over the years.
To begin with, here’s a look at the (sort of) very first edition of the student newspaper—still unnamed. Prior to this, there had been a simple one-sheet newsletter dubbed “Family Affairs”. The updated paper was mostly the same idea, but it also seems to have been trying for broader horizons: it became a folded sheet, with a long quote on the front (together with a header illustration) and a cartoon on the back page. As you can see, someone has marked the front page in pencil: “Sept 1977?” which seems to be a good guess. With the next issue, the paper would get an official name: The Regent’s Page, later to be shortened to The Page.
As I read that front page quote on this first issue, I couldn’t help but feel it was resoundingly appropriate to our current time, when we are feeling deeply the loss of gathering together as a Regent family. It feels like Aelred of Rievaulx is describing a distant memory or dream. As we start experimenting with hybrid classes this week, maybe something of that communal sense will return as—masked and distanced—we hang out in the atrium or outside during a break. Hope you’re able to make it at least sometimes…and hope to see you there.
If you feel like responding to any of this week’s articles, feel free to write a letter to the editor by clicking the link below.