Rațiunea nu are limite

54 Responses to Rațiunea nu are limite

  1. Bun, dar ce este pana la urma ratiunea ? Din prezentare se intelege ca ratiunea e sinonim cu logica. Fiindca spuneti ca logica este onto-logica. Dar exista, de exemplu, o carte de Antonio Damasio, intitulata ”Eroarea lui Descartes”, in care acest neurolog si cercetator arata cu argumente pertinente ca omul nu rationeaza dincolo de afectivitatea sa. Si ca, asa cum se exprima Unamuno, omul gandeste simtind si simte gandind. Ratiunea umana nu e ceva separat de afectivitatea sa, de simtirea sa. Adica omul nu e ratiune pura. Gandirea normala este una incarcata de afectivitate. Banuiesc ca numai in anumite boli mintale exista o cezura intre ratiune si sentimente. Eu aici ma apropii de viziunea romantica. De curand am citit un roman de Ernesto Sabato, ”Tunelul”, primul din seria celor 3 romane publicate de el. Acolo e vorba de un pictor care se indragosteste de o femeie care i se paruse a fi singura fiinta care ii intelesese mesajul dintr-un tablou. Pictorul era un om extrem de rational. Probabil si el credea ca numai ce este rational este real. Ideea e ca acest pictor analizeaza si diseca la propriu fiecare amanunt, fiecare cuvant si fiecare gest din comportamentul femeii, pana cand devine obsedat si convins de faptul ca ea il inseala. Drept urmare o ucide. Sabato , el insusi om de stiinta, vrea sa arate printre altele ca alienarea omului actual vine si din absolutizarea ratiunii in detrimentul tainei existentei.

  2. polihronu says:

    The Duty of Subversion
    Guy G. Stroumsa

    (Concluding Remarks to Upholding Scripture, Rejecting Scripture: Strategies of Religious Subversion: a Conference Celebrating the Work of Guy G. Stroumsa, Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Jerusalem, 4–5 January 2016; read at the Israel Academy, 5 January 2016)

    First of all, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to the organizers, Moshe, Daniel and Serge (in reverse order of when I first met them) for what must have been a long and exhausting journey. Their efforts, their intention, went far beyond the call of duty of any Doktorkind. I also want to thank all the participants in this scriptural marathon, especially those who came from afar. I will not even attempt to respond to all the sophisticated, wise papers we have heard in the last two days. Enough words have been spoken already, and you must all be tired. Yet, I must offer some kind of rejoinder to your generous participation in this unexpected and undeserved event, which moves me beyond words, so please bear with me for a few moments.

    In the last two days, I have experienced a metamorphosis of sorts. Unlike Gregor Samsa, however, it is like a dinosaur that I now feel, a bit awkward, belonging to a bygone world. Such a feeling is liberating: one may set free some melancholic thoughts, at odds with today’s newspeak. In this room are gathered some of my teachers – Shaul Shaked and Michel Tardieu – and many of my students, from the very first, Arieh Kofsky, to almost the last one, Moshe Blidstein – who can also witness that Oxford is not only a figment of my imagination, but also reflects a real, if short and rainy, chapter in my life. I should like to recall here with gratitude some of the subversive advice I received from my teachers. The late Shlomo Pines asked me long ago, in the Jardin du Luxembourg, not at all tongue in cheek, whether I had already dropped Afrahat, the fourth-century Syriac ascetic author, as a thesis topic. Zwi Werblowsky, who recently passed away, had suggested to me, even longer ago, to switch my main interest from the religions of West Africa to what remained, on purpose, vaguely framed as “Christianity.” The Hymn of the Pearl, read with enchantment with Shaul Shaked, provided the talisman that accompanied me to the world of the early Christian heretics.

    I was not consulted about the decision to hold this conference (nor, it goes without saying, about its participants). I must say that its idea considerably embarrassed me: I find it hard to make “celebration” rhyme with “Stroumsa’s work.” Among the lectures, I missed one “In Stroumsam!” that would have listed all the reasons not to take my work seriously. But of course, I should be the author of such a text, which I don’t think it would be too hard to draft. I was not consulted, either, about the conference’s topic, but I readily admit that it delights me: subversion has always exerted a deep attraction on me, and it even popped up in the title of my own induction lecturette at the Israel Academy, and in that of an article of mine. For me, a révolutionnaire manqué, the comparative study of religions and their cohort of dreams of transformations, of patterns of mutations, both within societies and inside the self, has always represented a deeply subversive activity. I wish to offer here a midrashic reflection of sorts on subversion as an intellectual and moral duty: that of refusing to lie on the Procrustean beds prepared for us.

    For the last half-century, the Hebrew University has been a true home for me, one, which I never really left. A witz describes psychoanalysts as people whose analysis was not quite successful: they were not able to move ahead. Mutatis mutandis, the same could be said about professors and their education. The very first day of my new life in Israel, in July 1966 (I was eighteen, as old as the country), was also that of my baptismal day as a student at the Hebrew University – more precisely, at its summer Ulpan: the early stages of my interminable struggle with Hebrew. Like other ambitious universities, the Hebrew University has always known that its first, absolute commitment was to the search of truth and to what it entails: critical thought, moral backbone, intellectual freedom. The intellectual audacity expected from universities is worthless without the civic courage to constantly question thought patterns and attitudes current in their own societies, to affirm, clearly and loudly, their autonomy and independence from the bodies and governments funding them. In Rabelais’ lapidary dictum: “Science sans conscience n’est que ruine de l’âme.” This permanent questioning is, precisely, their duty of subversion.

    Today, paradoxically, universities are everywhere under threat, asked to “be relevant,” rather than to search for truth, to “deliver” rather than to educate. I say paradoxically, as human societies, despite blatant, shocking inequalities, have never been as affluent as they are today. I cannot analyze this paradox here or even attempt to suggest solutions. I want at least to stress what you all know, that Faculties of Humanities are much more seriously threatened that those of Sciences and vocational schools.

    The natural sciences have an easier time, I think, in their rebuttal of utilitarian demands, as it is relatively simple for them to show the value of pure research: no applied mathematics or physics without pure mathematics and physics. At least in theory, one can still make an argument about la science pour la science, like about l’art pour l’art. A similar argument is far less obvious for the humanities. Very soon, one will hear the argument about what the Germans call the kleine Fächer, the “small fields,” such as, at least in the Israeli context, the paradigmatic Assyriology: too expensive, too few students. And besides, who cares about Assyriology?

    The problem, I fear, is made more complex by the fact that the humanities, the Geisteswissenschaften, in their wish to be taken seriously, have calqued themselves on the Naturwissenschaften. They are still doing that, as shown by the latest fad, “digital humanities,” and by the widely spread tendency to value only what can be quantified. I am all for the use of modern technologies in the service of the humanities, but at the moment, the technologies seem to take over the fields rather than serve them. Faculties of Humanities risk forgetting that their task, beyond producing new knowledge, also consists in offering a reflection on knowledge, on its conditions, its limits and its meaning. Such a second-order reflection is essentially subversive, as it questions the natural acceptance of existing conditions for the reproduction of knowledge in society, including in its educational institutions, and in the political system sustaining them. The humanities are deeply unsettling, and therefore, in this age of increasing resistance to questioning, increasingly unfashionable. By historicizing and relativizing all ideas and world-views, they disturb what is held sacred in all quarters. It is, then, by nature that the humanities, more than any other branch of knowledge in the universities, are subversive. I would go further, and argue that it is only by recognizing and embracing the subversive nature of their craft that humanists can avoid the new, deeply threatening trahison des clercs, to borrow the title of Julien Benda’s famous pamphlet, toward which the market forces of the global village almost inexorably push us all. Almost inexorably, but perhaps not quite: if the historian (even the historian of religion) is no prophet, she or he can never be sure that the claim of subversion will only remain a symbolic gesture of protest, done only for honor’s sake. It may also, perchance, hide the seed of a future rebirth.

    Moreover, the modern university is a secular place: no theological presupposition, no religious limitation may regulate the questioning of scientists and scholars alike. This, we must reckon, creates a particular problem for the study of religion, a problem that cannot be easily dismissed, although it often goes unrecognized. Creating secular knowledge about the sacred is by no means an obvious task, even when one deals with societies far away from ours in either time or space. Nor is the study of religion, despite appearances, perceived as a problem only by those who have religious leanings, and who may feel that their world, their values, are under attack, perhaps even desecrated.

    As I have come to realize over the years, creating secular knowledge about the sacred is also felt as a threat by the secularists, those who feel enlightened, free from the prejudices and fears so characteristic (they think) of religion. The modern, comparative study of religion is a study of humans, not of gods. More precisely, it is the study of humans dealing with the gods. It is, therefore, more akin to anthropology than to theology. While the study of religion cannot protect religion from the secular invasion (indeed, it reflects and often represents this invasion), it also refuses to evacuate religion from the secular world. In its double movement, the study of religion thus antagonizes both the proponents of a religious worldview and those of a secular one, appearing to both as a threat. No surprise, then, if it is deeply unfashionable. At the same time, it is urgently needed, as it stands at the very core of Faculties of Humanities, encapsulating, as it were, the duty of subversion that is theirs.

    A few weeks ago, after the last Paris terrorist massacres, a dear friend of mine from Berlin expressed her shock at the speed with which French politicians were switching to a warlike vocabulary. The reticence to speak of war is easily understandable, and highly commendable, certainly on the side of Germans, who can afford historical amnesia even less than others can. My immediate reaction to her remark, however, was that I had never considered the world I lived in to be a peaceful one. From the Qumran scroll describing the eschatological War between the Sons of Light with the Sons of Darkness and Mani’s Sermon of the Great War to more recent bouts of religious violence, in Jamestown, Waco, Ayodhya, Bali, Beirut, New York, Ankara or Bamako, war has always been omnipresent. We know, moreover, that not all Sons of Darkness belong to the enemy camp; some also sit in our midst. For me, then, humanism is conceivable only in a world at war; it must be a fighting humanism. In his theses On the concept of history, written in 1940, Walter Benjamin could say: “the emergency situation in which we live is the rule.”

    “Ultimi barbarorum!” Spinoza’s cry of rage and despair, which he inscribed on a placard when hearing of the lynching of his friends, the De Witt brothers, in 1672, might have cost him his life, had not his lodger wisely locked him up in his room. “Ultimi barbarorum!” This cry resonates today in this impossible city, Jerusalem. Before the end of my first year of studies at the Hebrew University started the Six Day War – a war still going on, almost fifty years later. A life of learning and of teaching under such conditions is something difficult to grasp, and quite hard to sustain, as no university can remain an island of reason in a sea of madness, of honesty in a situation of injustice, certainly not when it stands, and quite concretely so, at the very seam between conqueror and conquered. We have certainly tried, students and teachers alike, to keep our labs, our libraries and our seminar rooms aseptic, as it were, to concentrate on what we were doing, isolated from the world looming right outside our window. Wissenschaft als Beruf: we have done our best to take Max Weber’s injunction seriously. We have played by the rules of democracy, while a whole people was, and still is being kept under military occupation, without civil rights, now for almost half a century – deprived of its freedom by those whose children read about Israel’s Exodus from Egypt and the books of the prophets in the original biblical Hebrew! For many among us, this has been at times intolerably stressful, unbearably painful. At some point, the bow must break. Under some circumstances, it is in the mode of protest that the duty of the scholar must be expressed. Cultivating the humanities in such a climate does not necessarily entail the splendid isolation of a (more or less) air-conditioned ivory tower. It can also express a potent protest, represent, as it were, a subversive activity against the reigning order. I have long been impressed by what Raja Shehadeh, a Palestinian writer from Ramallah, has called şumūd, a noble way of resisting daily brutality and the constant rape of the soul by stubbornly sticking to one’s beliefs, way of life, and ethos. Insisting on remaining oneself, on keeping high one’s torch of values in front of politicians lending their support to thugs, “thugs for God’s sake,” one might call them, and transmitting this torch to the youth: there is a real element of subversion here, perhaps even, who knows, a powerful one.

    We are left here with a theologico-political aporia rooted in the very nature of Zionism. Like all movements of national liberation, Zionism achieved its goals, at best, only very partially. Here, the founders of the Hebrew University were quite lucid, aware from the start of the deep-seated ambiguities of the adventure in which they were taking part. I shall mention here only Yehuda Leon Magnes, the first President of the Hebrew University, Martin Buber, the first President of the Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, and Gershom Scholem, another President of this Academy. In his magnum opus, a biography of the seventeenth-century false messiah Sabbatai Zevi, first published (in Hebrew) in 1959, Scholem could warn of the explosive mixture of old messianic ideas and modern political ideals. Today, the dialectics of the return to Zion threaten to lead to what is perceived, by too many, as Israel’s “manifest destiny”: after the Reconquista of the whole land, the segregation into reserves of the Palestinians, or even their eventual expulsion. The supreme jewel in David’s crown, for them, would be the re-building of the Jerusalem Temple and, one imagines, the ensuing restoration of daily blood sacrifices (what else would one do in the Temple?), after a pause of a mere two millennia.

    It is certainly important, and tragically fascinating, to study the sinuous paths through which religious tradition and cultural legacy can – and do – degenerate into such lunacy. This urgent task is that of historians of religion. But it is not our only task, nor is it our most immediate one. If we wish to avoid what might soon lead to nothing less than a conflict of world dimensions, we must also fight the present neo-messianic madness urgently, and furiously. When fair is foul, and foul is fair, civic courage meets intellectual duty, and intellectual courage means civic duty. The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, its Faculty of Humanities, and its students of religion, must be at the front line in this subversive war against the murderous folly threatening our society and our humanity.

  3. Poate ca Sabato vrea sa spuna si faptul ca ratiunea lipsita de iubire e oarba. Nu vede dincolo de opacitatea lumii si a fenomenelor. Zicea un apologet crestin, Ravi Zacharias, ca 1/2 + 1/2 fac 1. Dar jumatate de copil plus jumatate de copil nu fac un copil. La fel Noica se intreba : cum 1 si cu 1 fac 2, cand prietenul se intalneste cu prietenul si fac una ?

  4. Mazael Feuerstein says:

    Domnule Constantinescu, ceea ce de fapt ne desparte sunt poate doar diferente dogmatice, si insasi aceasta idee ma face cumva sa rad :-D.

  5. Daca omul este sau nu o fiinta rationala nu intra in discutie aici. Sunt de acord cu Kurt Godel ca ratiunea precede mintea umana. Sunt de asemenea de acord cu Wittgenstein cand spune ca poti picta un tablou dar nu poti picta relatiile dintre elementele tabloului. Universul a fost rational inainte sa existe ratiunea umana ( a nu se intelege design inteligent).

    Logica vine de la logos si ratiune vine de la ratio. In principiu inseamna acleasi lucru: masura.

    Faptul ca putem masura universul cu mintea este un argument suficient cu privire la rationalitatea lui.

    Stiu ca anti-rationalismul se poarta dar asta nu inseamna ca trebuie sa il adopt.

  6. In the last two days, I have experienced a metamorphosis of sorts… it is like a dinosaur that I now feel, a bit awkward, belonging to a bygone world. Such a feeling is liberating: one may set free some melancholic thoughts, at odds with today’s newspeak.

    Today, paradoxically, universities are everywhere under threat, asked to “be relevant,” rather than to search for truth, to “deliver” rather than to educate.

    The natural sciences have an easier time, I think, in their rebuttal of utilitarian demands, as it is relatively simple for them to show the value of pure research: no applied mathematics or physics without pure mathematics and physics. At least in theory, one can still make an argument about la science pour la science, like about l’art pour l’art. A similar argument is far less obvious for the humanities.

  7. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    Ratiunea in sine nu este limitata sau ratiunea noastra ca proprietate a ceierului personal nu are limite? Nu vreau sa zic ca eatiunea exista independent de creierul nostru. Cu alte cuvinte, un creier mult mai dezvoltat, care ar apartine ipoteticei civilizatii despre care ati vb. si presupunand ca are ratiune, are aceasta ratiune limite mai largi decat ratiunea noastra? Este ratiunea limitata de structura neuronala sau putem toti ajunge la aceleasi adevaruri, doar ca o specie cu un creier mai dezvoltat ajunge mai repede si noi mai incet?

  8. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    sau ratiunea e la fel, doar capacitatea de operare cu date e mai mare? Da atunci limita ratiunii e data de aceasta capacitate. Toate astea ma duc cu gandul la faptul ca vom ajunge la o limita a cunoasterii daca in viitor creierul nostru nu va evolua biologic, nu cultural. Vreau sa lasam deoparte aici limitele de educatie, de munca personala, de norocul in viata de a avea un mediu prielnic si altele asemenea.

  9. Si eu cred in ratiune si intr-o logica a existentei. Doar ca eu nu vad universul ca pe un sistem inchis, suficient siesi. Daca credem ca universul isi este suficient siesi si ca ratiunea sa este total imanenta si pe deplin actualizata, atunci cum mai putem interpreta suspinul acela al intregii creatii de care vorbeste Pavel ? Daca exista un suspin al creatiei, inseamna ca menirea si logica lui nu e deplin imanentizata. Trebuie ca universul si mai ales omul sa aiba o deschidere catre transcendenta. Aceasta este taina creatiei. Altfel cred ca riscam sa cadem intr-o forma de panteism.

  10. polihronu says:

    „o forma de panteism”

    Si care-ar fi problema? Daca tot e sa adoptam antropomorfismul lui Saul din Tars, de ce nu ar suspina intreaga creatie exact cum suspinam si noi – in absenta zeului? Nu cumva absenta zeului face posibila transcendenta?

  11. Paul Csavdari says:


    Logica vine de la logos si ratiune vine de la ratio. In principiu inseamna acleasi lucru: masura.

    Sigur. Atata doar ca logica „masoara” folosind cuvintele. Iar ca ele-si schimba „greutatea” ori „volumul” dupe cum vrea muschiu’ celui care le foloseste, nu conteaza. Important este doar sa „masori” cu logica si-apoi poti sa „tai” in stanga si-n dreapta, fara sa-ti pese de nimic, fiindca orice s-ar spune contra „nu intra in discutie”… 🙂

    Sunt de asemenea de acord cu Wittgenstein cand spune ca poti picta un tablou dar nu poti picta relatiile dintre elementele tabloului.

    Vezi? Asta-i problema ta. Ca nu poti „picta” fix ce-i mai important din tot „tabloul”: relatiile, conexiunile dintre elemente. Si nu poti face asta fiindca te-a „orbit” logica… 🙂

  12. Dupa mine, chiar si principiile de baza ale logicii sunt extrem de relative. Principiul ratiunii suficiente de pilda, istoria si experienta au aratat ca ceea ce pare suficient pentru cineva poate parea insuficient altuia. Putem demonstra rational ca exista alte minti in afara de mintea mea proprie ? Nu putem. Trebuie sa acceptam asta ca pe o intuitie de bun simt, dar o demonstratie de rigoare logica absoluta nu exista.

  13. Scepticismul lui Hume de exemplu. Putem accepta cauzalitatea, dar e evident ca nu o putem demonstra logic. Pozitia lui Hume, recunoaste si Searle, este imbatabila dpdv logic. Asta nu inseamna ca nu exista cauzalitate. Doar ca nu o putem nici demonstra, nici infirma, cu rigoare logica absoluta.

  14. Ca idee, cred ca e bine sa ascultam si partea cealalta. Discutia despre vase de sange si colagen gasit in fosile de dinozauri si despre faptul ca o groaza de astfel de ”ramasite” contin inca carbon 14 s-a mai purtat. Dar tot e inexplicabil.

  15. Daca intr-adevar teoria e falsificabila, atunci dupa aceste descoperiri ar trebui sa fie considerata falsa. Si totusi…

  16. polihronu says:


    E un punct in care trebuie sa-ti porti dialogul interior de unul singur. Altfel, o sa incep sa cred ca esti doar un apologet nesimtit.

  17. AV,

    De cand e CBC media o sursa seriaosa?

  18. Este ratiunea limitata de structura neuronala sau putem toti ajunge la aceleasi adevaruri, doar ca o specie cu un creier mai dezvoltat ajunge mai repede si noi mai incet?

    Ai dreptate. E vorba doar de viteza de operare si asta se vede la testele de inteligenta. Un adevar necesar este acelasi in orice lume posibila. Putem concepe universuri diferite ca legi ale fizicii, dar matematica este aceiasi. Orice inteligenta din orice lume are aceleiasi metematica, adica aceleasi legi ale logicii.

  19. Paul,

    Tu confunzi logica ca facultate cu manualul de logica.

    Poti picta elementele in aceiasi relatie ca in realitate, de fapt asta e tabloul, dar nu poti picta pictura, ca sa fiu mai clar. Am vrut sa arat ca este imposibil sa raspunzi la intrebarea de ce lumea este inteligibila.

  20. AV,

    Este demonstratia teoremei lui Pitagora suficienta? Sau sa iau un exemplu clasic din filozofie, este demonstratia lui Socrate cu privire la aria patratului in Meno suficienta? Meno sustine ca nu exista adevaruri necesare ci doar opinii. Asa ca ajungem sa traim intr-o lume in care toate opiniile sunt valide, exceptand cazul ca sunt incorecte politic, si adevarurile universale sunt imperialism. Nu vezi ideologia din spate?

  21. Mazael,

    Razi tu Harap-Alb.

  22. Hume este deci sceptic cu privire la metafizica. Kant a dus argumentul mai departe: legile lui Newton sunt adevarate dar cand e vorba de cauza primara ne impotmolim.

  23. Paul Csavdari says:


    Tu confunzi logica ca facultate cu manualul de logica.

    Sigur. Si matematica cu manualul de matematica… 🙂

    Confuzia e la tine. Cand o sa renunti sa mai folosesti interschimbabila logica cu ratiunea, matematica, fizica, chimia etc., atunci o sa fii „mai clar”. Jongleriile cu cuvinte nu ajuta. Te-ai intrebat de ce μάθημα e una iar λογική e alta? Sau argumentele contra dogmelor tale „nu intra in discutie” ?… 🙂

  24. ”De cand e CBC media o sursa seriaosa?”

    Nu conteaza sursa aici fiindca experimentele lui Mary Schweitzer sunt celebre si s-a vorbit mult despre asta desi in mediile evolutioniste s-a luptat sa fie trecute sub tacere. Dar mai e si alta problema. Realitatea e ca nici metodele alea de datare radiometrica nu dau aceleasi rezultate. Am consultat nenumarate surse. In functie de izotopi, diferentele merg pana la sute de milioane de ani intre diversi izotopi. Sunt de fapt ajustate, aproximate,ca sa nu contrazica teoria. Cand ai o teorie gata facuta si accepti ca fapte valabile numai ce nu contrazice teoria, unde este lipsa de sinceritate ? Eu nu sunt creationist, nici evolutionist. In acest moment consider ca nu putem sti nici macar aproximativ ce s-a intamplat de-a lungul a miliarde de ani. Repet, nu se stie precis nici cine era Negru Voda si cine a intemeiat statele medievale romanesti. Si avem documente scrise de atunci si nu sunt decat 700 de ani. Dar avem pretentia ca stim ce a fost acum 3 miliarde de ani.

  25. Mazael Feuerstein says:

    :-D, :-D, :-D, :-D, 😀

  26. alterego1968 says:

    De acord cu cea mai mare parte a prezentarii. In privinta „experientelor mistice” , cred ca merita sa mai discutam, adica in ce masura sunt ele mistice, supranaturale, pur subiective, eventual auto-induse, ori cine stie, daca nu cumva notiunea e departe de a acoperi fenomenul. E posibil sa cadem in tot soiul de capcane pe care aceasta conventie numita limbaj ni le intinde.
    Sunt oarecum placut surprins ca matematica a reusit sa depaseasca stadiul de „limbaj” si ca putem vedea clar ca ea e anterioara speciei, ca urmare nu poate fi o conventie, cum afirma Russel, daca bine mi-aduc aminte. Felicitari!
    Intrebarea care nu apare direct in prezentare, dar pe care n-o putem ocoli este : ” In ce relatie ne aflam noi cu Ratiunea vesnica?”. Putem avea acces la ea acum, ori poate intr-un viitor indepartat, ori poate intr-o viata viitoare? Acum vreo 2000 de ani „Marele Mistic” zicea ca acest lucru e posibil pentru oricare dintre noi in aceasta existenta biologica, in pofida oricarei forme de determinism.
    O fi drept, n-o fi drept, cine mai stie. Mai mult, spune explicit ca Ratiunea este adevarata identitate a fiecaruia dintre noi. Asta mi-e de ajuns sa-i dau titlul de cel mai mare umanist al tuturor timpurilor. Daca l-am lua cu adevarat in serios, daca am scoate din vocabularul nostru termeni ca „mistic”, „supranatural” si am privi o atare perspectiva cat se poate de natural, in cativa ani poate, am ajunge la un asemenea nivel al cunoasterii incat am reusi sa trecem granitele galaxiei. Totul tine de modul in care ne raportam la Ratiune, cine credem ca este Ea ori cine credem ca suntem noi.

  27. alterego

    Dar sa nu uitam ca Ratiunea divina depaseste cu mult ratiunea umana si o transcende. Iar ratiunea umana nu poate cuprinde de una singura Ratiunea divina.

  28. Problema e ca si daca am depasi granitele galaxiei, asta nu ne-ar face mai fericiti in mod personal si nu ne-ar aduce implinirea. Cu ce devin eu personal mai bun, mai fericit, fiindca niste cosmonauti depasesc fie si granitele galaxiei ?

  29. polihronu says:

    „Ratiunea divina depaseste cu mult ratiunea umana si o transcende”

    De unde stii? Ce-i aia „ratiune divina”? Si cum de ratiunea ta limitata poate emite vreo propozitie cu privire la anvergura „ratiunii divine”?

    „ratiunea umana nu poate cuprinde de una singura Ratiunea divina”

    Si ce adaugi tu la ratiunea umana pentru a reusi performanta asta? Niste iratiune?

  30. ”Si ce adaugi tu la ratiunea umana pentru a reusi performanta asta? Niste iratiune?”

    Presupun ca raspunsul e : harul.

  31. polihronu says:

    De ce presupui?

  32. Polihronu,

    Dar tu de ce crezi ca Dumnezeu nu exista ?

  33. polihronu says:

    Mi-a fost dat harul necredintei.

  34. polihronu says:

    Iar eu am raspuns la fel de serios ca si tine.

  35. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    Intuitia ca exista ceva in spatele universului, ceva gen Dumnezeu, cred ca se datoreaza diferentei mari dintre capacitatea noastra de a opera cu date si complexitatea si diversitatea a tot ce exista. Nu e un argument rațional, e mirare omului in fata infinitului care il face sa umple golul zicand: exista ceva acolo. Un salt evolutiv a creierului nostru ar putea estompa diferenta asta si atunci sa nu mai existe gandul asta generat de sentimentul vastitatii si complexitatii. Ma intreb daca universul e cu adevarat mare si complex sau noi suntem mici si cu un creier simplu. O furnica daca ar avea constiinta si toate atributele ceierului nostru dar si-ar pastra numarul de neuroni, capacitatea de perceptie prin organele de simt, puterea de a opera cu un numar dat de informații, ar avea un univers mult mai mic de miscare si in consecinta restul universul si complexitatea lui i-ar parea mult mai mare decat ni se pare noua. Sentimentul ei ar fi de Dumnezeu la patrat.

  36. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    in istoria evolutiei, creierele noastre si psihicul nostru sunt abia la inceput, sunt ca membrele pestilor care se tarau din apa in anumite conditii. Un astfel de creier care abia incepe sa se tarasca pe malul constiintei si ratiunii, un mal care e inca scaldat de valurile inconstientului si irationalului, naste dumnezei.

  37. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    sau dumnezeu e organul-concept al psihicului nostru, cu care face fata la noul mediu. Nu e usor sa traiesti intr un vid, fara nicio siguranta ontologica, avand doar concepte si adevaruri provizorii, si fiind constient ca sunt asa, doar daca le consideri pe cele matematice absolute. Dar adevarurile matematice nu-ti dau siguranta si confort emotional, ele par reci si seci pt cei mai multi si cei mai multi nici nu stiu matematica. Conceptul de dumnezeu ajuta pana incurca. Ca un rotobil la copil, daca nu lasi conceptul ca sa mergi in marea nesiguranta ramai handicapat. Nu stiu daca exista sau nu dumnezeu. Stiu doar ce stiu pana in momentul asta. Nu prea mult. Dar daca exista si tot ce a putut face ca sa ne ajute sa-l cunoastem este o carte, eu cred ca nu prea vrea sa-l cunoastem. Si ne-o dat si o minte prea slaba ca sa-l putem cunoaste. Ne-o dat o pipeta ca sa sugem oceanul.

  38. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    am urmarit mare parte din postarile de pe vector, o sa le iau odata iar pe toate. E un concept inalt si luminat despre dumnezeu. Faptul ca Edmond a scos din biblie o astfel de intelegere a lui dumnezeu e ca si poetul care din bube, mucegaiuri si noroi…etc. E o viziune revolutionara. O fost foarte emotionant si eliberator cand, dupa o viata in care am incetcat sa fiu altceva decat om, vine Isus, in intelegerea lui Edmond, si ne cere sa fim oameni. Eu am lasat in urma religia, da ceva tot a ramas, ca o trauma. Trauma nu s-a vindecat respingand subiectul ei ci transformand sibiectul, pe dumnezeu, in ceva care incepe sa semene a dumnezeu, iar acest ceva e dumnezeul prezentat de Edmond. Poate o evolutie a creierului va aduce o astfel de evolutie a conceptului de dumnezeu. Dar problema ramane ca un concept e tot un concept si nu inteleg credinta. Pot crede intr un ideal, intr-un Isus asa cum mi s-a prezentat pe vector de Edmond, dar ca ideal. Nu pot crede ca exista pe bune. Pentru un dumnezeu ca realitate obiective,nu ca ideal, nu vad ce legatura are credinta, aici e vb de cunoastere si noi nu cunoastem nimic si umplem vidul necunoasterii cu un dumnezeu creat de noi. De ce e o virtute sa crezi ca exista ceva ontologic cand tu nu cunosti nimic despre acel xeva, nici prin ratiune, nici prin matematica, nici prin experienta directa? Starile mistice nu stiu daca ajuta. In zona asta eu am avut doar experiente cu plante psihedelice. In urma lor as fi putut crea cosmogonii gen cele gnostice, e usor. Intriin stare, pui intrebarea despre realitatea ultima, despre motivatia ultima a existentei si ti se da prin imagini, pe care le intelegi in complexitatea lor, cu tot ce trebuie pt o cosmogonie completa. Motivatie, proces strutura etc.

  39. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    De ce credeti ca nu exista dovezi istorice legate de Isus?

  40. Amaranthine Sophia,

    Eu gandesc ca trebuie sa plecam, dpdv crestin, de la 3 premise care sunt fundamentale in crestinism si nu pot fi eludate:
    1. Dumnezeu a creat lumea din nimic
    2. Lumea, asa cum arata acum, este cazuta.
    3. Caderea nu se datoreaza intentiei divine, ci actiunii libere a unei fapturi rationale, fie aceasta om sau demon. Asta inseamna ca starea actuala a lumii nu se datoreaza intentiei directe a lui Dumnezeu.
    De aici rezulta ca dificultatea de a-l cunoaste pe Dumnezeu cu facultatile naturale ale omului, din creatie, vine din starea cazuta a lumii actuale. Dar lumea fiind totusi creata de Dumnezeu, trebuie ca mai pastreaza inca in adancurile ei, semnatura si amprenta de nesters a divinitatii. Eu as face aici aluzia cu ”noumenul” kantian sau lucrul in sine, care e bun si are vocatia implinirii prin harul Creatorului sau. Asta ar fi observatia mea legata de dificultatea de a-l cunoaste pe Dumnezeu direct din creatie. Am mai precizat si cu alta ocazie, creatia in starea actuala nu este intr-o ordine. Poate ca de aceea si dezbinarea fiintei umane ( Pavel spune : nu fac binele pe care-l doresc ci raul pe care nu-l voiesc), cat si cunoasterea fragmentara si dezbinata a lumii. Ordinea adevarata va fi instaurata numai la eshaton, aici putand fi doar intrezarita sau pregustata partial.
    Omul totusi e o faptura insetata de Dumnezeu fiindca e o faptura constienta si insetata de sens.
    La intrebarea daca exista sau nu dovezi istorice legate de Iisus, as spune ca e indubitabil ca Iisus a existat, dar pentru a crede in El ca Dumnezeu si om, nu e suficient sa apelezi la dovezile istorice, ci mai trebuie si credinta. Credinta in prima instanta este o lupta, o agonie. Trebuie sa te lupti ca sa crezi. Cred ca este si un har, insa Dumnezeu nu refuza acest har nimanui, cu conditia ca si omul ”sa se incapataneze” de a-l cauta. Aceasta agonie reprezinta crucea noastra si singurul dar pe care-l putem face noi lui Dumnezeu este fidelitatea noastra. O sa-ti spun o pilda care vine din traditia rasariteana dar care ilustreaza foarte bine ceea ce am spus. Se spune ca un monah, calugar, nu putea iubi. Ii era greu, poate din cauza unei nevroze, crize sufletesti, sau a propriei nefericiri, sa iubeasca pe semenii sai si sa se bucure de fericirea lor. Atunci a hotarat in sinea sa sa se comporte ca si cum ar iubi. Cu alte cuvinte, desi ii venea atat de greu sa faca bine gratuit celor din jur, facea asta caznit. Se caznea sa fie bun. Era o lupta si o agonie care ii aducea nenumarate infrangeri, dar el nu dezarma. Dupa 30 de ani de asemenea lupta istovitoare si neputincioasa, intr-o buna zi, Dumnezeu i-a daruit harul iubirii de oameni. Aceasta pilda este impresionanta si fiindca seamana mult cu cea a slabanogului din evanghelie care nu avea om sa-l arunce in apa, dar care, dupa o lupta de 38 de ani, nu isi pierduse speranta. Cred ca trebuie sa reinvatam sa speram.

  41. Amaranthine Sophia says:

    pai asa ma pot convinge de orice, ma automanipulez cativa ani sa cred ca cerul e verde. Harul e predispozitia cuiva sa fie credul si nu sceptic.

  42. taranprost0 says:

    A.V. – Pilda asta a ta bătătorita nu este o găselniță creștină ci aristotelianism curat. Continuă așa ! …

  43. taranprost0 says:

    A.V. – Pilda asta a ta bătătorita nu este o găselniță creștină ci aristotelianism curat. Continuă așa ! …Și nu prea ține de spiritul răsăritean.

  44. taranprost0 says:

    Ai „harul” credinței sau te chinui să-l obții ?

  45. Paul Csavdari says:


    Eu gandesc ca trebuie sa plecam, dpdv crestin, de la 3 premise care sunt fundamentale in crestinism si nu pot fi eludate:

    Problema este ca dupa ce ti-ai stabilit „premisele”, nu mai ai la ce sa gandesti. Tot ce-ti ramane este sa „descoperi” concluziile, pe care le-ai bagat deja in „premise”. Adica te invarti in jurul cozii si tot ce obtii e „indoctrinare cu propriile idei stabilite in premise”. Daca chiar vrei sa gandesti, pune-ti in discutie premisele. Abia atunci iti vei folosi „gandirea”… 🙂

  46. AS,

    Majoritatea istoricilor recunosc ca este foarte improbabil ca Iisus sa nu fi existat si cred ca rastignirea a avut loc asa cum este descrisa in Marcu. Invierea nu poate fi verificata istoric si aci isi aul locul scepticismul sau credinta.

    Din puct de vedere al chimiei creierului cred ca experientele pishedelice si cele mistice sunt cam acelasi lucru, diferenta fiind intre droguri endogene si exogene.

    Problema existentei/non-existentei lui Dumnezeu, lasand la o parte aspectul vulgar al religiei care este si cel predominant, exista argumente puternice in favoarea idealismului filozofic/teologic, cel mai recent fiind al lui Godel. Exista insa si un argument politic, care tine de nevoia de a lupta impotriva hiper-multiculturalismului si relativismului extrem al timpului, si de nevoiea unei ideologii radicale care sa justifice un salt periculos inainte. Te gandesti ca pana si un ateu hardcore ca Lenin recunoaste in notele despre Hegel ca numai idealismul german poate duce la revolutii radicale si de aceea mterialismul marxist este impotenet.


    Daca luam in serios Epistola catre Romani, lumea a fost creata in stare cazuta. Vezi Barth. Notiunea lumii necazute tine doar de un ideal in mintea noastra. Caderea este ceva ce fiecare experimenteaza atunci cand se intalneste cu Legea (Romani 7). Tot Universul suspina in durerile nasterii, adica sub blestemul Evei, iar Isha nu a devenit Hava, adica viata, decat prin cadere. Universul necazut este mort, la fel ca si cerul in care vor sa mearga strigoii crestini.

  47. „Cred ca sunt german” – Diavolul in Maestrul si Margareta de Bulkacov.

  48. AV,

    Pilda asta imi aminteste finalul din 1984.

    “He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother”

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