Good news. Today I received the February issue of This Rock and my article "Elementary Logic and the Beginning of Life" is featured in the "Up a Notch" section. To my great surprise I am in the same issue as one of my favorite authors and a person who was instrumental in my intellectual conversion to Catholicism, Peter Kreeft, who is professor of philosophy at Boston College and author of over forty books. I'll never forget first reading a statement of Kreeft's regarding the intrinsic moral evil of condoms and thinking the man was crazy. Funny to think that I now make arguments similar to his in national publications and consider it an honor to have my name printed beside his, and slightly hopeful that he just might read my article. Perhaps I can expect a phone call or e-mail?
At any rate, I will put the This Rock version up when it becomes available online. For now, check out www.catholic.com. Eventually my writing will be on their website. Also, read Prof. Kreeft's work at www.peterkreeft.com
I have received a bunch of support from fellow bloggers. I intend to link to them once I figure out how to rework this webpage. Any suggestions for this blog? Please let me know. It's supposed to be a forum, not just my random ramblings as entertaining as those might be.
In the near future, look for a post on "Mere Christian Medicine." I'm in the process of putting together an essay which looks at the vocation of the physician from the Christian perspective (the common heritage of Catholic, Protestant, and Eastern Orthodox believers). Until then, thanks for reading. Expect more posts after February 2nd. This date marks our second anatomy exam over what I like to call the three p's of perdition: pelvis, perineum, and peritoneum. Agite gratias Deo.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
re: Anatomy and the Virtue of Humility
Without a doubt Gross Anatomy presents the first greatest challenge to the medical student. Long hours studying, little reward for extra time in the lab, a ridiculous volume of information, having to forget one's old vocabulary (e.g. the leg is not the whole lower limb, it's only the portion from the knee to the ankle), and having to forgo most every other pursuit, not just to get Honors, but for some of us just to pass. Anatomy is the first class I've taken that I loved but was not the best in, which brings me to an important point: humility.
The Greeks weren't big on this virtue, but medicine demands it. People come to the physician at their lowest moments, unequal partners in a covenantal partnership. The patient does not have the experience or knowledge which the physician has gained through countless hours with his head in a book, heart on hold, and hands upon some anatomical structure palpating it's normal and pathological examples. This is why the patient comes to the physician. He comes in a manner completely trusting and utterly vulnerable. This is why a physician needs humility more than others. He must always remind himself of the privilege of knowing what he knows about the human body and human soul. He must never forget that the profession permitted his entrance only after severe scrutiny and that it maintains its relationship with him on the stipulation that he provides care to a patient with competence, excellence, and integrity.
Gross Anatomy, for many of us medical students, is our first introduction to professional humility. And for Catholic medical students, it should be a time to accept our call to serve with humility recognizing that even doctors are human beings with fallibility and the possibility of erring. Most importantly for the Catholic medical student, humility must be accepted in imitation of Our Lord who humbled himself to the point of death, even death on a cross.
So for you premeds, know that one of the biggest adjustments of medical school is knowing that you might not be the number one student. If you do become so, rejoice! God has graced you with superior intellectual talents. And because they are graces, they must be accepted with humility as well. For us all, whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do "Do all to the glory of God." (1 Cor 10:31).
The Greeks weren't big on this virtue, but medicine demands it. People come to the physician at their lowest moments, unequal partners in a covenantal partnership. The patient does not have the experience or knowledge which the physician has gained through countless hours with his head in a book, heart on hold, and hands upon some anatomical structure palpating it's normal and pathological examples. This is why the patient comes to the physician. He comes in a manner completely trusting and utterly vulnerable. This is why a physician needs humility more than others. He must always remind himself of the privilege of knowing what he knows about the human body and human soul. He must never forget that the profession permitted his entrance only after severe scrutiny and that it maintains its relationship with him on the stipulation that he provides care to a patient with competence, excellence, and integrity.
Gross Anatomy, for many of us medical students, is our first introduction to professional humility. And for Catholic medical students, it should be a time to accept our call to serve with humility recognizing that even doctors are human beings with fallibility and the possibility of erring. Most importantly for the Catholic medical student, humility must be accepted in imitation of Our Lord who humbled himself to the point of death, even death on a cross.
So for you premeds, know that one of the biggest adjustments of medical school is knowing that you might not be the number one student. If you do become so, rejoice! God has graced you with superior intellectual talents. And because they are graces, they must be accepted with humility as well. For us all, whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do "Do all to the glory of God." (1 Cor 10:31).
Thursday, January 18, 2007
IC Column: The Pro-Life Dr. King
The pro-life Dr. King
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 1/18/07
Challenges to the legacies of so many influential men have not come from lack of great ideas but from those ideas falling into the wrong hands or otherwise being misconstrued or used for suspect ideological purposes. Such is the case with Martin Luther King, Jr.Because I am a student, I have yet another reason to be thankful for the life, ministry (for his life's work was anything but "a job" as some of my medical student colleagues erroneously view the medical profession), and martyrdom of King. Because the celebration of his life grants us a day off, each year I re-read his "Letter from Birmingham Jail" in thanksgiving for what he did for our country.
It still frightens and amazes me that not too long ago, King was waging war against one of the most facile fallacies ever committed by the mind of man: racism, which is simply taking an accidental attribute (skin color) of a human being as something essential to his personhood (which would make people with different skin colors different kinds of things, which is absurd according to all but the most base of men such as Adolf Hitler, Margaret Sanger, or David Duke). It is no wonder that Richard John Neuhaus, the present editor of the journal "First Things" and King's one-time associate, called the civil rights era an "epic moral drama." Strange words, those.
You see, King's efforts were not about politics. They were not about being Democrat or Republican, Left or Right; they were about moral truth, right and wrong and who was right (desegregationists) and who was wrong (segregationists).
In his "Letter," King gave the simplest reason for his activism. He wrote that he was in the Birmingham jail (after being arrested during a peaceful protest) because "injustice is here." The broadest category to which the sin of racism could be applied is injustice: not giving to people what is due to them by right. King goes on to outline his personal reasons for being involved in the civil rights movement and proves himself quite the intellectual by drawing on Thomas Aquinas, Saint Augustine, Paul Tillich and others.
King speaks of a person's moral obligation to oppose unjust laws. In this connection, he approvingly cites Saint Augustine, "An unjust law is no law at all." But the problem that King recognized is distinguishing just laws from unjust laws. And in this respect, King draws on Thomas's theory of law, and wrote, "A just law is a man-made code that squares with the moral law or the law of God … Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that degrades human personality is unjust. All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality."
And so it goes with a very similar moral crisis in our own day: abortion. Racist laws and abortion laws have one thing in common, they "distort the soul" (both of the woman and the child killed) and degrade human personality on so many levels. One could very easily say that the Roe v. Wade decision (remember, that was the Jan. 23, 1973 event in which the American people voted for more liberal abortion laws? Or wait, no we didn't) presents an even greater epic moral drama, for by it we have not only discriminated against but have slain a large portion of human beings simply because they are smaller than we, don't quite look like we think they should, act like we think they should or because they inconvenience us by demanding equality, justice and the right to live.
So, what was I saying about King's legacy? I agree with Neuhaus' analysis of the "two liberalisms." The first is that of King, "inclusive of the vulnerable and driven by a transcendent order of justice" but the second liberalism is that of today, "exclusive and recognizing no law higher than individual willfulness." Too many self-styled liberals have followed the second, claiming King as their inspiration. The problem is that it doesn't work. King was, it is ever to be remembered, a Christian, even if an imperfect one, who wanted to establish an order of justice and equality for all people: black, white, Catholic, Protestant and - had his life not been taken so cruelly in April 1968 - he would probably now add "unborn and born alike."
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com)
Monday, January 15, 2007
An Eastern Orthodox Physician's Prayer
If only more medical students entered medicine with the gravity of its calling, exemplified in the following prayer, burned into their hearts. No doubt, we would hear less complaints about "rude" and "arrogant" doctors. But that's not even the half of it. For the Catholic doctor (and by extension, all Christian doctors) medicine is a vocation to heal based on the life and ministry of Our Lord. Material success, prestige, respect, wealth, and pride should most certainly not motivate a person to request admittance to this most noble of professions. Rather humility, charity, justice, courage, and hope should beckon the doctor to practice his art with skill, selflessness, and out of a sense of gratitude for the privilege and responsibilities of medical education.
And when the entire profession seems to have fallen away from its lofty calling to "Do no harm" and to serve the indigent, suffering, and helpless as Christ did, it falls to Catholic doctors, a fortiori, to be the vanguard of the profession's renewal and recommitment to the service of life. Not for sectarian reasons, but rather because the dignity of the human person demands it. For each and everyone of us are "created in the image and likeness of God" (cf. Genesis 1:26ff).
A Physician's Prayer: From Our Eastern Orthodox Brethren
O Lord Jesus Christ our God, Lover of Mankind, Physician of our souls and bodies, who didst bear the pain of our infirmities, and by whose wounds we are healed,
Who gave sight to the man born blind,
Who straightened the woman who was bent over for 18 years,
Who gave speech and sight to the mute demoniac,
Who not only forgave the paralytic his sins, but healed him to walk,
Who restored the withered hand of a troubled man,
Who stopped the flow of blood of her who bled for 12 years
Who raised Jairus’ daughter to life
And brought the 4-day-dead Lazarus to life
And who heals every infirmity under the sun,
Do now, O Lord, give your grace to all those here gathered who have labored and studied hour upon hour, to go into all the world, and also to heal by the talent You have given to each of them.
Strengthen them, by your strength, to fear no evil or disease,
Enlighten them to do no evil by the works of their hands,
And preserve them and those they serve in peace,
For You are our God, and we know no other,
And to you we send up glory together with your Father who is from everlasting, and your most Holy, Good, and Life-creating Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.
Why I chose Medicine, Or Why Medicine Chose Me
“Tolle, lege; tolle, lege” (Latin: pick it up, read). These simple words from a mysterious source prompted
During that spring I was grappling with what I should do with my life, a not uncommon phenomenon among undergraduates. Since the age of fifteen, I knew that I wanted to be a doctor (Latin: “doctus,” learned) of some sort. I intended to study for a Ph.D. in philosophy or theology and then teach and do scholarly work. It had never occurred to me that I might instead become a “medicus” (Latin: physician). Yet when the possibility dawned on me, I knew I had found my path.
Obtaining a Ph.D. always made sense to me because it would allow me to indulge in the activities I love: teaching, researching, and writing. However, I began to wonder whether it might be true that the healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do. If this were so, then it seemed that the world may need medical doctors to care for the sick more than doctors of philosophy to teach undergraduates. While the latter task is certainly important, I realized that caring for the indigent and suffering was both more fulfilling personally and the vocation to which I am called.
Inspired by this insight and hoping to view the medical profession objectively, while also connecting as closely as possible to patients, I enrolled in classes to become a pastoral-care volunteer. In this role, I have been able to converse deeply and personally with patients regarding their fears, pains, and frustrations. I have witnessed firsthand doctors’ and nurses’ care for patients and the individual patient’s response to that care. This experience—and certainly the stern exhortations of a few patients—has taught me that a physician needs to be more than a scientist; he or she must also, and primarily, be a human being. The doctor must consider not only how a disease presents itself in a subject but also how the subject experiences a disease, with all its life-shattering consequences. I intend to be a physician who listens to, touches, and sees primarily a suffering human being and only then diagnoses and treats the underlying cause of the distress. My pastoral-care experience has taught me how to listen to patients, an invaluable lesson in “bedside manner” for a physician hopeful. However, more than that, it has taught me how to deal with illness “humanely,” an ability I will take with me into medical school where I will learn to grapple with illness “scientifically.” Volunteering has served to affirm my decision to become a doctor. Put more boldly, my volunteer work has ignited in me an insatiable desire to provide medical care to patients like those I have met in my pastoral-care duties.
My resolve has been further strengthened by my work as a Chester Scholar at
When I ask myself why I want to be a physician, a bewildering number of answers comes to mind. Among them are the challenging education it requires, its awesome responsibility, the exciting prospect of lifelong learning, the satisfaction of helping others, the trust and honor with which a physician is regarded by his patients and the community, and even perhaps the purgatorial test affectionately known as the “application process.” Certainly, aside from the last, these are most people’s reasons for becoming a doctor: they are tried and true. These reasons are undoubtedly my own, but in no way do they have the character of banality. Rather, these reasons impassion and animate me every day to fulfill my goal of becoming a caring and learned physician. In fine, while
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Independent Collegian Column: Charles Peguy
Sordid Love and Good Stories
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 1/11/07
Charles Péguy was a gifted French writer who lived before World War I. In fact, it was the Great War that took his life at age 40. He's largely been forgotten by his Catholic coreligionists as a result of his passionate love for the Church, which has not been too popular as of late, and is more often than not written off as "zealotry" - too "John the Baptist" for our modern, restrained times. He has also been neglected by Western secular thinkers who become very easily distraught by the religious fervor and complications which, to be fair, did complicate his life. But complications are the spark of life.Life is indeed a story. And no one wants a story without suspense, temptation, and the possibility that the hero may lose his soul as a result of the challenges he faces. Just think, would "The Lord of the Rings" be a great story without Frodo's accepting a task too great for a hobbit and nearly losing his life in the process? Would the stories behind Christianity be worth believing without God becoming a baby, having the possibility of freely suffering, and ultimately dying? Would your own life be worth remembering were it not for your acts of courage in the face of temptation, the loves which have caused you pain or those moments of severity which punctuate all of our lives, such as consciously awaiting the death of a loved one? Probably not.
Péguy's life is a marvel to behold. He shows us how in this life the possibility of evil - as mysterious as this truth is - in turn makes possible heroism, love and courage. You can't have heroism without danger; and you just can't have courage without fear. Only if there is something of which to be afraid can a person gain that virtue which is basically "readiness to die in battle." The man who enters battle fearlessly because he enjoys bloodshed isn't courageous, but foolish. He deserves no moral approbation. But let's consider a more everyday example.
A columnist friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous, but demanded that I refer to him as "very good looking" if I used his story, recounted to me that last week he was backing out of his parking space at a certain retail facility when he heard a crunch. He had bumped into the car behind his (no doubt because he was too intent on listening and singing along to Muse, his sorry excuse for music). At any rate, he inspected the vehicle and noted no damage, so he decided to cut and run. That was until one of the store's patrons called out to him, made him get out of his car and marched him into the building, calling out the make and model of the vehicle.
The woman, against whom my friend committed the offense, also inspected her vehicle, noting no damage. She sent him on his way and thanked him for doing the right thing. However, and my friend recognizes this, he deserved no moral praise. He didn't do the right thing. He had an opportunity to develop the virtue of courage but buckled when he thought of the likely consequences. You see, then, how the possibility of harm makes possible an act of virtue.
Peguy had many similar situations in his life. In one instance, he unexpectedly, (without asking) fell deeply, torridly, passionately "in love" with a woman with whom he had collaborated. The problem? He was already married. And unlike many men in his circumstances he remained absolutely faithful to his wife, his family and the teachings of the Church. He demonstrated moral courage and paid dearly for it. As a result of his fidelity, he suffered immensely. But he suffered well, for the sake of loyalty to the truth - the guiding principle of his life.
I leave you with a slice of Péguy's wisdom, and I ask you to consider what the following means with regard to moral courage: "It will never be known what acts of cowardice have been motivated by the fear of not looking sufficiently progressive." Does this mean there are certain things we advocate as students because it is posh to do so? That we would support one class of people's so-called rights while infringing on the rights of other, say, unborn persons? That we would rather do nothing in the face of evil than be seen as the modern-day John the Baptists "crying out in the wilderness?" That we would have the dissimulating audacity to be "personally opposed, but …"
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com)
Saturday, January 06, 2007
My Conversion Story. I'll put the published version from This Rock up when it becomes available online.
Patrick's Conversion Story
Every conversion story has its dramatic moments. This should be no surprise considering that history is the drama of God’s search for man and man’s response to being found (cf.
My own story begins like this. I was raised in a serious Christian home. We were Evangelicals of the non-denominational, charismatic kind. In our home, we prayed devoutly, the Holy Scriptures were our life, and charity was the ideal. It could be said truly that Christ ruled our home.
My parents were excellent examples of Christian faith and piety. I well recall getting up early and seeing my dad praying alone in the dark on his knees. My mom perfectly fulfilled the vocation of a Christian wife and mother in her sacrifice, untiring service and love. So to me, Christianity was real and alive. It had profound effects on people’s lives. I knew that to be a Christian was to take Christ and His Word seriously. There could be no such thing as lifeless Christianity for one who had come to “the surpassing knowledge of Jesus Christ” (Phil. 3:8). This atmosphere encouraged seriousness toward Christianity and prepared the ground of my soul for the seeds of Catholic Christian faith.
After attending an Evangelical grade school for kindergarten and a Catholic grade school for first grade (
During that same time, the non-denominational church we were attending became enthralled by the vapid and inane teaching of the prosperity gospel, or the word-faith movement, led by figures such as Kenneth Hagin, Oral Roberts, and Kenneth Copeland. What the word-faith version of Christianity lacked in substantive doctrine it made up for in snappy slogans such as “name it and claim it” which means something like, if you say something (anything!), by the sheer power of your words, it will come true, if only you have enough faith. Or, “don’t speak it into your life” which means, if you admit—even when you have a headache—that you are sick, you are opening yourself up to sickness and closing yourself to the life of health, wealth, and prosperity God promised for you in the Atonement.
I found this “health and wealth gospel” to be nonsensical, offensive, anti-intellectual and deeply perverting of authentic Christianity. It not only bothered me, it induced a crisis of faith in which I had to figure out (or so I then thought) what to believe. I concluded, “If this is Christianity, then I’m out.”
One can imagine how relieved I was when I became a Catholic and found that I did not have to figure out every doctrine of faith or moral truth on my own; the Church had already been doing this, by the Holy Spirit’s guidance, as promised in John 14:26, for 2000 years. I needed only assent to her claim of authority and rest in the peace it brings. I quickly learned that to be a Christian did not mean that I had to be something like a pope (or rather what some non-Catholics view the pope to be) or an avatar of Truth itself. The world had already had a number of popes to defend Christian doctrine, preserve the unity of Christendom, and prevent heresy. It did not need me to pretend to the papacy. And the world had certainly already experienced the Incarnation of Our Lord, and He had entrusted the Church, not me, to be the “pillar and foundation of truth” (1 Tim.
My aversion to the word-faith movement came from an unlikely source. My dad worked in Christian radio. Accordingly, we always and only listened to Christian music. My favorite artist was Rich Mullins, who wrote the inspirational “Awesome God.” Rich was somewhat of a Protestant ascetic. Significantly, he was also something of, what I call, an “asymptotic Catholic.” His music is replete with Catholic ideas about such things as the Eucharist and liturgy, and he himself planned on entering the Church before his tragic death on
At any rate, after a successful career in Christian music, he sold his possessions and gave up his royalties to live in on a Navajo reservation in order to teach music to children. For a music artist, he had a deep sense of piety, and his lyrics betrayed a sophisticated theology.
Rich Mullins admired St. Francis of
With that thought, I began looking for more authentic expressions of Christianity. I attended Lutheran and Presbyterian services, Anglican liturgies, and various youth groups, none of which struck a cord with me. However, one day in the fall of 2001 I looked in the newspaper and saw an advertisement for a Memorial Mass for the victims of the September 11th tragedy. I decided to give it a try, as it were.
I was completely enamored of the grandeur of the Mass, the reverence of the people, the expression of longing and contentment on the faces of those proceeding to receive the Eucharist, and the palpable ancientness and eternal character of the liturgy. In contrast to the Protestant services, the Catholic Mass was focused on Christ and His work, not on what the minister had to say about the day’s readings.
At the end of this mysterious drama of the Last Supper, I thanked the priest. “I am not a Catholic”, I said. “Um” I stumbled, “Minister? “Reverend?” “I am not sure what to call you. But I am deeply impressed with what just happened.” The priest responded, “I am Father Mike Williams. Call me ‘Father.’ And, if you’re interested in learning more about Catholicism come to the RCIA classes beginning next Tuesday.” RCIA is the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults and is the normal way non-Catholics enter the Church. It involves formation in Catholic teaching, fellowship, prayer, and preparation for the Sacraments.
That Tuesday, I somehow convinced my former-Catholic parents to take me to the classes. I was considerably nervous. I was only fifteen at the time and always self-conscious about my youth. I seriously feared that one had to be over eighteen years of age to convert to Catholicism (it seemed then that one had to be over eighteen to do just about anything). Thankfully, that is not true!
From the first moments of RCIA, I began to read Catholic apologetic works voraciously. Patrick Madrid’s Surprised by Truth was heartening. Karl Keating’s Catholicism and Fundamentalism provided me with arguments to justify my newly fulfilled faith to my parents and friends. Karl Adam’s immortal The Spirit of Catholicism gave me a firm understanding of authentic Catholic tradition.
I began having an uncountable number of “ah ha” moments, where I realized, “This person is Catholic too.” I was reading
I was planning on entering the Church at the Easter Vigil, but for various familial reasons, I decided to postpone my conversion for an indefinite period of time. Someone arranged for me to meet with a Protestant minister who wanted to expose the errors of Catholicism. Unfortunately, he recommended Dave Hunt’s work, A Woman Rides the Beast, which is fraught with so many fabrications and falsehoods it is unbelievable. Fortunately, I had the previous mentioned work of Keating and other apologists. I was needless to say, unconvinced by the minister. I called Father Mike and told him that no matter what, I had to enter the Church. I had made a huge mistake in delaying.
On
A year later, my wife (then, my girlfriend and a member of my “old church”) and I started the marriage preparation process. We knew we wanted to live our Christian vocations in the Sacrament of Marriage. She decided to enter RCIA a little over two years after I did, and was received into the Church, to my great joy (and all of Heaven’s), on Easter Vigil 2004. About a month later we were married.
Moreover, my dad and mom recently returned to the Church, both making a decades-overdue confession; further, my two younger sisters entered the church Easter Vigil 2006. Lastly, my mom’s friend, who also attended the aforementioned non-denominational Church, completed RCIA and in so doing brought her husband back to the practice of the faith “ever ancient, ever new”. God really does answer prayer!
In looking back, I am grateful for mine and my family members’ conversions (or reversions) to the Catholic faith. My wife and I often thank God for the simple joy of being Catholic. I encourage everyone who is praying for the conversion of a family member to persevere. Even the most unlikely converts often unexpectedly find themselves aboard the Barque of St. Peter. I know I did.
Patrick is a former lecturer in philosophy at
Independent Collegian Column on Chastity and Contraception
Men should go sex-less
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 12/7/06
The Journal of the American Medical Association reports that a male contraceptive pill is nearly on the horizon. As you know, and this reputable journal admits as much, "Men … currently have just two contraceptive options - condoms and vasectomy." Contraception, in Latin, means "against conception."So what the JAMA is really saying is that as far as avoiding babies goes, men have but two options. I say this tongue-in-cheek for despite the astute medical journal's inability to understand this, men have actually more than two options. And, allow me to insist that it doesn't take a medical degree, a doctorate or hundreds of hours in an anatomy lab to figure this one out.
That is, one could refrain from sex. I'll admit, in marriage this would be ridiculous. But for the hoard of people out there who are in transitory relationships, sexual intimacy is often reduced to mere genital pleasure and, in my opinion, is at best a misguided attempt at love - a "sexual lie" in the estimation of Pope John Paul II.
What I mean specifically is that some sexual acts, their contexts or their execution are simply not perfective of the human person (i.e. they're not "good" in the Aristotelian sense).
At any rate so far as I know, the only time a person has gotten pregnant without sexual intercourse is the subject of our next holiday, and granted, that was rather a special case.
Abstinence is a sure-fire plan barring the occasional messenger of God, who, not unlike that giant Kool-Aid pitcher but with significantly greater finesse and authority, breaks into your home and greets you with the words, "Hail, full of Grace" (But I don't think that one's going to be repeated). Thus, while abandoning the pursuit of so-called "sexual freedom" is not a popular idea, I think it could work.
Men could avoid conceiving children by acting more like men - preferring their beloved to their libido and treating sexuality as a gift. So you can see that what the idea lacks in popularity it makes up for in being so revolutionary. Moreover, just because it's unpopular doesn't make it untrue. I'm sure it was rather cachet to be anti-Semitic in Nazi Germany, but nevertheless, we all rightfully agree that being pro-Jewish was the better, true and morally superior position.
The JAMA goes on to euphemistically assert that there are many men interested in "assuming responsibility for their own fertility." But that is precisely what a male-contraceptive pill would preclude: responsibility.
The patient who takes such a drug would be abandoning his fertility, not embracing it - let's not mince words.
In fine, the biological function of sexuality is inextricably linked to the bearing of children (to say nothing of its meaning). That's not the whole of it, but it is a big part. However, watch out for those scientists and editors at the JAMA who would have you think otherwise.
They slave their whole life trying to avoid the most precious and worthy thing in human life - children. All this while incessantly attempting to couch their pursuits in terms that are nice, acceptable and quite nonsensical, if you ask me. (And in a way, you did because you're reading my column).
It all just goes to show that being highly educated does not make one wise.
As G.K. Chesterton observed in the first half of the 20th century, "You can tell a sentimentalist by his weakness for euphemism. They say birth control; they mean less birth, and no control." Some things never change. Merry Christmas.
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com)
Independent Collegian Column on Chastity and Contraception
Men should go sex-less
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 12/7/06
The Journal of the American Medical Association reports that a male contraceptive pill is nearly on the horizon. As you know, and this reputable journal admits as much, "Men … currently have just two contraceptive options - condoms and vasectomy." Contraception, in Latin, means "against conception."So what the JAMA is really saying is that as far as avoiding babies goes, men have but two options. I say this tongue-in-cheek for despite the astute medical journal's inability to understand this, men have actually more than two options. And, allow me to insist that it doesn't take a medical degree, a doctorate or hundreds of hours in an anatomy lab to figure this one out.
That is, one could refrain from sex. I'll admit, in marriage this would be ridiculous. But for the hoard of people out there who are in transitory relationships, sexual intimacy is often reduced to mere genital pleasure and, in my opinion, is at best a misguided attempt at love - a "sexual lie" in the estimation of Pope John Paul II.
What I mean specifically is that some sexual acts, their contexts or their execution are simply not perfective of the human person (i.e. they're not "good" in the Aristotelian sense).
At any rate so far as I know, the only time a person has gotten pregnant without sexual intercourse is the subject of our next holiday, and granted, that was rather a special case.
Abstinence is a sure-fire plan barring the occasional messenger of God, who, not unlike that giant Kool-Aid pitcher but with significantly greater finesse and authority, breaks into your home and greets you with the words, "Hail, full of Grace" (But I don't think that one's going to be repeated). Thus, while abandoning the pursuit of so-called "sexual freedom" is not a popular idea, I think it could work.
Men could avoid conceiving children by acting more like men - preferring their beloved to their libido and treating sexuality as a gift. So you can see that what the idea lacks in popularity it makes up for in being so revolutionary. Moreover, just because it's unpopular doesn't make it untrue. I'm sure it was rather cachet to be anti-Semitic in Nazi Germany, but nevertheless, we all rightfully agree that being pro-Jewish was the better, true and morally superior position.
The JAMA goes on to euphemistically assert that there are many men interested in "assuming responsibility for their own fertility." But that is precisely what a male-contraceptive pill would preclude: responsibility.
The patient who takes such a drug would be abandoning his fertility, not embracing it - let's not mince words.
In fine, the biological function of sexuality is inextricably linked to the bearing of children (to say nothing of its meaning). That's not the whole of it, but it is a big part. However, watch out for those scientists and editors at the JAMA who would have you think otherwise.
They slave their whole life trying to avoid the most precious and worthy thing in human life - children. All this while incessantly attempting to couch their pursuits in terms that are nice, acceptable and quite nonsensical, if you ask me. (And in a way, you did because you're reading my column).
It all just goes to show that being highly educated does not make one wise.
As G.K. Chesterton observed in the first half of the 20th century, "You can tell a sentimentalist by his weakness for euphemism. They say birth control; they mean less birth, and no control." Some things never change. Merry Christmas.
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com)
Independent Collegian Column: Memento Mori
Remember your death
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 11/16/06
The old Penny Catechism observed that, "The four last things to be ever remembered are Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell." Those are some weighty things. But how often do we think about them? Placed in such a grave category as "The four last things to be ever remembered," you'd think they would occupy our reflection a bit more often - especially at a university where we ought to explore the big questions and we actually have the time and leisure to do so (that goes, at least, for you undergrads). Yet, they remain as unmentionables inside our benighted ivory tower of science, empiricism and materialism. That is, they remain things that we shouldn't discuss.Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to be macabre, but thinking about these things, especially the first, could do us some good.
It seems to me that the idea of death has taken on a sort of Victorian character about which we "enlightened" moderns have become more than a bit prudish. If you mention death, you are accused of being morbid. Yet, death is one of the few tangibles in life. Sooner or later, we will all face it in one manner or another. As college students or even med students our youth may cause us to live life as if we were immortal. But the sad reality is we are not. Sure, death is natural in one sense, but I think the most agreeable fact about death is that it strikes us as completely and utterly unnatural - an affront to our human dignity (like problem-based learning). Of course, this is part of the reason many people choose to become physicians: to alleviate the burden of and concomitant suffering often associated with death and dying.
This week, I intended to write about the meaning of human life according to Aristotle, but things did not go as planned. On Sunday morning, I got the frightful phone call we tend to dread more and more as we get older. It was my mom. She said, "Your grandpa passed away." Everything stopped. I cried.
You have to understand, I am a med student with a significant amount of responsibilities and pressures, most of which prevent me even from having adequate time and space to mourn. Moreover, I am strong. Part of me went into medicine because I think I can "handle" dying in all its affronting reality. But I can't; I admit it. When "Sister Death," in the words of St. Francis of Assisi, greets you, she doesn't come in a very friendly manner. She comes to tell you that the world as you know it has ended, the person whom you love is gone and that your time, too, is winding down. That's quite a jolting memento mori (Latin for "Remember your death").
In her worthy novel of the same name, Muriel Spark envisages a world in which Death himself phones a number of elderly people and gives them the simple message: memento mori. The interesting part of the novel concerns how each of the characters respond to this simple reminder. Some become extremely neurotic and end their days in horrifying torment. Yet, there are those characters that take this as a friendly reminder and learn to live each moment as a preparation for passing on. We could learn a lot from such a reminder.
A famous Hippocratic phrase has it that Ars longa, vita brevis (The art [of medicine] is long, but life is short). We medical students face this striking reality every day, forced to memorize more facts than there are combinations of letters to make up words. But the dictum applies to all: one has but a short time to fulfill one's calling. Therefore, the sooner a person realizes that life should be lived with a "view to the end," the better that person will make his or her life.
Socrates said, "the unexamined life is not worth living." Without a conscious reflection upon the mystery of human death, one cannot claim to have a sufficiently examined life.
Nothing can prepare a person for the sadness of death, but you can be prepared to deal with the reality itself. So, memento mori. And remember, although death is the first of the "last things," someone famous once said, "The last enemy to be destroyed is death." But this is something I do not think even medicine will have a hand in accomplishing.
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com)
Independent Collegian Column: A University's Purpose
A university's purpose
Patrick Beeman
Posted: 11/6/06
It would have been too lengthy, but I really wanted to entitle this piece "What is a University: Reflections from someone who has been in one for too long." Granted, being in medical school is not the equivalent of being a sixth-year undergraduate senior; nevertheless, the question of "why I am here" pops into my mind at least twice a minute during my med school classes. Yet, it would seem that answering this question is intimately tied to the question of a university's purpose.The word "university" comes from two Latin words meaning "turned toward unity." A university, then, is a "whole" - a place where many elements are gathered into one thing. This should be pretty obvious considering the recent merger. On a superficial level at least, one can see the many different colleges here (Medicine, Law, Arts and Science) are part of one grand place we all know and love, the University of Toledo. Now the mediaevals, being a backward people and all, took the concept of a "university" a lot more seriously than we. They believed that the "one" into which the sundry elements were gathered was truth. For them, a university was a place where many different elements were at the service of discovering and knowing the truth.
In this connection, James V. Schall, a professor at Georgetown University, identifies three classical purposes of a university: 1. to preserve the scientific, literary and artistic achievements of humankind's past; 2. to "separate the true from the false; yet to know the false, to record it, to keep it, but to know that is false;" and 3. to ensure that knowledge is preserved, increased, and passed on to the coming generation. No doubt these lofty ideals seem so unreal when we are sitting in yet another lecture on "Cultural Competence," or some inane subject or useless requirement.
Nonetheless, much of our education is not at the service of Schall's lofty ideals; in our present context, as members of the UT community, we must ask ourselves if these and the ultimate purpose of pursuing the truth will be preserved in the institutions and goals of our university.
Recently, the so-called "White Paper" (isn't most paper white?) was released which, according to these pages, "describes how UT should narrow its focus to fields of science and technology." I love science and technology; and if the next test goes well, I just might become a doctor (let's hope this is a good thing for my future patients). However, I cannot imagine how impoverished my life would be without the study of Latin or my acquaintance with great minds like Plato, Aristotle, St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas or my being forced to take a class in British Literature in which I was able to read (it seems for the last time now that I am in medical school) Shakespeare and Chaucer.
One of my med school friends commented that it might be okay to focus more on science and technology because UT is best in these areas (the humanities not being one of our strengths). Some might add the idea that we should just phase out the humanities if we cannot be good in them. However, I would retort by pointing out G.K. Chesterton's immortal quip that "anything worth doing is worth doing badly." That is, some things are so important that they ought to be done for themselves whether they are done the way Einstein could do physics or Shakespeare could write sonnets.
Don't get me wrong, science is great. It's just that a university is a place where many things should be included in the pursuit of knowledge and truth. And science just cannot provide a coherent worldview or frame in which to live one's life. You simply need the humanities to learn to deal intelligently with the "ultimate questions."
My plea to the administration is this: please don't forget the humanities; they might not bring in much money, but as Schall observes, a university in which Plato or Augustine are not read is simply not worthy of the name.
© Copyright 2007 Independent Collegian
Independent Collegian Column: The Virtue of Alcohol
The virtue of alcohol
Patrick Beeman
Allison Dow is a puritan. Certainly you've read her column in these pages and may have got the impression that she has more in common with Margaret Sanger than, say, the Pilgrims who so thankfully gave us our most recent holiday. I would aver that her allegiances lie more closely to those in America, who are often disavowed as "puritanical" (which conveniently rhymes with "tyrannical") than she would like to admit. George W. Bush, for instance, is officially a Methodist; and as we all know historically and notoriously, those Methodists could be quite a teetotaling bunch. But I get ahead of myself.Last week, I had the pleasure of drinking some coffee with Allison and the rest of The IC columnists. In response to my innocent remark, "too bad we aren't sipping draught Strongbow cider right now," she accused me of being an alcoholic. Now being the rather reflective medical student that I am, I immediately began thinking about the meaning of the virtue of temperance and its relation to drink.
As you well know, according to the Western tradition, there are four "cardinal" virtues. The word "cardinal" comes from a Latin word meaning "hinge." Hence, there are four virtues upon which a well-lived life swings, as it were. They are given as Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance. Let's consider the last.
Temperance as a word has taken on a rather soft meaning as of lately. Normally, it is associated solely with moderation in food or drink. One thinks of the prohibition or temperance movements of time past. However, in his marvelous little work, "The Four Cardinal Virtues," the German philosopher, Josef Pieper, observes that temperance is the virtue of "selfless self-preservation." That is, temperance is a virtue which gives man the ability to rightly order himself with respect to the goods of the material world in way that is at once pleasurable without being hedonistic and restrained without being austere.
A person who has temperance enjoys, to the fullest, all aspects of life: sex, drink, food, etc. Yet there is a caveat; enjoying the material world "to the fullest" necessarily means not being enslaved to the joy of sex or the pleasure of drink or what have you. There is a certain apposite context for enjoying each of these things outside of which they lose their proper meaning. No doubt, we all recognize that Jared after the "Subway diet" is in a better position to enjoy life to its fullest than the man who actually fit into those gigantic pants he so smugly holds up in every commercial.
Temperance is a virtue which we need in order to make life something exciting - kind of like an adventure. Alcoholics and teetotalers have one thing in common: they both lack the virtue of temperance. The alcoholic cannot say no. The teetotaler cannot say yes. Both are vicious (i.e. having to do with vice). As Aristotle observed, a virtue is the habit of choosing readily, reasonably and joyfully the excellent middle ground between two extremes of action, one with respect to excessive action (drinking too much), and the other with respect to defect (not drinking at all).
I often quip that I converted to Catholicism so I could enjoy beer, as opposed to some modern forms of Christianity which are teetotaling (a markedly un-Christian idea, if you ask me). In all seriousness though, one thing certain about the Catholic Church is her ability to affirm the pure joy and goodness of redeemed creation. Look at her saints - St. Francis of Assisi (a joyful ascetic if there ever was such a thing), St. Pierre Giorgio (one can't find a picture of this saint without a mug of beer in his hand or cigar in his mouth) or G.K. Chesterton (not officially a saint, but a person with a real joie de vivre if there ever was one). Or consider this prayer from the Rituale Romanum: "Bless, O Lord, this creature beer, that Thou hast been pleased to bring forth from the sweetness of the grain: that it might be a salutary remedy for the human race: and grant by the invocation of Thy holy name, that, whosoever drinks of it may obtain health of body and a sure safeguard for the soul, Through Christ our Lord. Amen."
Religion has some powerful arguments for enjoying the goodness of drink. But it is the puritans whom we need to watch with care. For as the Psalm reads, "You bring bread from the earth, and wine to gladden our hearts (104:14)." Pace, Allison.
Updates
Okay. I'm in the process of updating this blog. I have been rather busy with anatomy lately. I finally got published. Check out the December issue of This Rock magazine which contains my conversion story. Also, I have been writing for the Independent Collegian (www.independentcollegian.com) as the College of Medicine representative of the University of Toledo's newspaper. Further, I submitted a piece to First Things (www.firstthings.com) on Hippocrates and medical education and a short story to dappledthings (www.dappledthings.org). I am awaiting their acceptance (please pray that they get published, I really think they are timely). Lastly, I am working on a few other writing projects, but mostly awaiting the arrival of my son, whom I want with all my soul to be named Augustine, after St. Augustine of Hippo. He is due February 21, 2006.
I plan on posting some of my published writings on this blog. And keep all of you updated on topics of medical and Catholic import.
In Christo,
Patrick C. Beeman
University of Toledo
College of Medicine
I plan on posting some of my published writings on this blog. And keep all of you updated on topics of medical and Catholic import.
In Christo,
Patrick C. Beeman
University of Toledo
College of Medicine
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