How far we have come since
Plato worried that the art of writing would compromise knowledge and men would
grow forgetful of what they recorded outside of their own mind. Plato’s
Socrates warns, in Phaedrus, through the legend of the Egyptian god/king Theuth,
If men
learn this [writing], it will implant forgetfulness in their souls; they will
cease to exercise memory because they rely on that which is written. . . . And
it is no true wisdom that you offer your disciples, but only its semblance; for
by telling them of many things without teaching them you will make them seem to
know much, while for the most part they know nothing; and as men filled, not
with wisdom, but with the conceit of wisdom, they will be a burden to their
fellows.
The ancient Greeks attributed
a sacred status to memory; it is an ability unique to man that burns alongside
the flame of reason. Even more than a companion to reason, memory provides the
essential building blocks of reason, the ability to not only differentiate me
from you, cat from dog, idea from idea, but also to relate each of those things
in seemingly unrelated ways.
Fast-forward a couple
thousand years since Plato worried and find that his concern only scratches the
surface of our situation. Today, we have millions of books that sit neatly on
shelves containing facts and fragments of information readily accessible
whenever one needs. One rarely ever decides that he needs a book, however,
since he has the all mighty Google* readily available in just about any
location, allowing him access to the vast networks of recorded information that
is the Internet. The laboring of the mind is a demand of times past. The
saddening fact that follows is that no life comes forth from man without labor.
In our effort to make
education a basic human right, we have debased knowledge by confusing it with
facts and information. We commonly approach knowledge as just one of many
things to be consumed, purchased, traded, sold. We are men who “seem to know
much, while for the most part [knowing nothing].” We blindly believe that we
have “conquered” knowledge; that we control it; that it sits still at our
command and must respond to our beck and call. We are filled “with the conceit
of wisdom.” As such, we exist in a prison far worse than any physical malady or
abuse.
Knowledge does not exist in
a book, in a file, on a computer, or, worse yet, in a database. One does not
capture it, copy it, print it, save it for later. Knowledge arises through the
interplay of the human and the divine. It is a gift in which we partake. One
Thomas has said that truth is the mind conformed to reality. Knowledge, then,
is not “out there” somewhere, waiting to be discovered and put to work; rather,
it is an active participation in reality. Memory provides the foundation for
that participation in reality, allowing us the pleasure of laboring to see the
whole.
*What can my mind do that
Google can’t? You type the word “rose” into Google and you’ll probably get some
search results telling you all about roses, much more, in fact, than I could
ever tell you. The moment I typed the word “rose” above, I saw one, I could
almost smell it, I remembered times I have given roses and the joy in doing so.
I saw them in a hospital, on a bedside table where someone I loved was sick and
I felt the pain and sorrow of loss. I remembered my grandmother, her rose
garden and the time I spent weeding and pruning. I thought of Poison and their
ballad “Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” which led me to think of the crown of thorns
placed on Jesus’ head. As you can see, the human mind is far more expansive
than any reference system.
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