Reasons Revisited

I thought of something I wanted to say as a follow up to my post about the Catholic Church and indulgences last week, specifically the part where I said

the major tension I’ve always felt running through Christian thought: on the one hand, there’s the notion that it’s all in God’s hands and we should trust that things happen for a reason and it will all work out. And on the other hand there’s the notion that what we do with our lives matters.

The way I wrote this, the tension is not exclusive to the Catholic Church – heck, it’s something I’ve commented about before, talking about the problem with explanations. But I do think the tension is especially noticeable in Catholicism and some other religions because there’s the additional assumption that the reason is a good reason, motivated by a benevolent and omnipotent planner. A determinist materialist doesn’t have to worry about why bad things happen to good people – they do because that’s the way the atoms bounce.

At any rate, I’ve been thinking about this tension a lot in the wake of the Chris Benoit murder story, as I read about people who knew Benoit try to reconcile their vision of him with what he had actually done. And I’ve seen people talk about steroids and stress and too many chair shots to the head in the effort to find a physical explanation.

And this may well seem odd, but the whole thing got me to thinking about Paul Hester, the original drummer for Crowded House. In 2005 Hester went out to walk his dogs and instead decided to hang himself. He left behind two young kids. And when I thought about how this would affect those kids, and then I thought about a man who would selfishly inflict that pain on his own children, I got pretty ticked off. And because I didn’t want to be angry at a dead guy, who I figure has enough problems, I tried to mitigate the act by reminding myself that Hester had always been subject to funks and may well have been clinically depressed, and so perhaps something in his body had simply overwhelmed him at that moment and made him unable to think through his actions. But if I try to follow that line of thinking, sure, I don’t have any reason to be mad at him anymore – but there’s not really much reason left to think positively, either. If the depression that drove him to suicide was merely a determined physical event, doesn’t the same thing hold true of his drumming talent and the sense of humor that helped define his band and earn him so many fans? Are there any heroes left to sheer for if we’re all just along for the ride?

About Dave Thomer

Born and raised in Philadelphia. Studied philosophy at Fordham University in the Bronx, where I made many great friends and met my wonderful wife. We moved back to Philadelphia, where I studied philosophy some more and became a teacher. Online and off, I'm looking for ways that we can be better citizens and build stronger communities.

July 1, 2007 @ 9:49 pm

Philosophy