Aaron Renn made a splash recently with a tweet, subsequently expanded into a Substack post, in which he explained the importance of choosing the right ‘status hierarchies’ to climb in life and acknowledged some of his poor decisions on this front earlier in his career. (Critical, though charitable, responses to Renn can be found here and here.) I found the original tweet unsavory and couldn’t manage more than a quick skim of the longer post. In my limited interaction with his work, my sense is that Renn is (at least in some ways) a perceptive interpreter of culture and, yet, I find his vision of the world deeply uncompelling.

In reading the tweet, my mind quickly went to a post @ayjay wrote on his blog a while back that, not coincidentally, begins as a polemic against Renn’s “negative world” thesis. But, after rejecting the sort of “strategic thinking” approach employed by Renn and others, Jacobs narrates his own rather circuitous career path. As he explains, his vocational trajectory has not been pre-meditated; there isn’t some grand strategy or plan to work at elite academic institutions or write for the most respected outlets. Instead, Alan has made certain commitments along the way and then has allowed providence to direct his steps and open (or shut, as the case may be) doors along the way. No to strategies; yes to commitments. (And yes to sprawl.)

It’s instructive to see these two writers describe the twists and turns of their respective career paths and, more to the point, to hear the lessons they’ve both drawn from those experiences. I know which path seems more appealing to me.

William T. Cavanaugh:

The church’s confession of sin can become a kind of resignation to the inevitability of sin, the constancy of the “not yet,” which requires, with a fated and regretful sigh, that we take up the sword again to restrain sin with sin. When the acknowledgement of our sin circles back to a tragic view of the world, our humility becomes demonic. A true understanding of eschatology requires neither tragic resignation to sin nor a triumphal declaration that the church is the realized eschaton. It requires a fully penitential “overaccepting” of human finitude and sinfulness by receiving the healing kingdom that God, through Christ and the Spirit, has planted right in the midst of our bloodstained history. The recognition of our sinfulness becomes not recognition of our tragic fate but a humble acknowledgement that we are not in charge of making history come out right by violent means. Our fate has been transformed into our destiny, which is to receive the kingdom of God in humility and thankfulness. The city of God is not the shape of our triumph, but of our repentance.

William T. Cavanaugh:

The American nation-state has found its solution to the problem of pluralism in devotion to the nation itself. The nation-state is made stronger by the absence of shared ends, and the absence indeed of any rational basis on which to argue about ends. In the absence of shared ends, devotion to the nation-state as the end in itself becomes ever more urgent. The nation-state needs the constant crisis of pluralism in order to enact the unum. Indeed, the constant threat of disorder is crucial to any state that defines its indispensability in terms of the security it offers. Pluralism will always be a crisis for the liberal state, and the solution to the crisis of pluralism is to rally around the nation-state, the locus of a mystical communion that rescues us from the conflicts of civil society. Though the American consensus as a natural law tradition of reasoning is dead,…another kind of American consensus is alive and well. It is the consensus that America is, as former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright put it, “the indispensable nation.”

I’m teaching on Christology and the Council of Chalcedon in the morning. In honor of the occasion, I’m posting this picture (from the Nuremberg Chronicle) of the Council, which (I trust) perfectly captures how the proceedings went down.

The Definition of Chalcedon (451) states,

In agreement, therefore, with the holy fathers, we all unanimously teach that we should confess that our Lord Jesus Christ is one and the same Son, the same perfect in Godhead and the same perfect in manhood, truly God and truly man, the same of a rational soul and body, consubstantial with the Father in Godhead, and the same consubstantial with us in manhood, like us in all things except sin; begotten from the Father before the ages as regards His Godhead, and in the last days, the same, because of us and because of our salvation begotten from the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos, as regards His manhood; one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, only-begotten, made known in two natures without confusion, without change, without division, without separation, the difference of the natures being by no means removed because of the union, but the property of each nature being preserved and coalescing in one Person (prosopon) and one subsistence (hupostasis)–not parted or divided into two persons (prosopa), but one and the same Son, only-begotten, divine Word, the Lord Jesus Christ, as the prophets of old and Jesus Christ Himself have taught us about Him and the creed of our fathers had handed down.

Rob Horning, on “the emergent way of seeing” encouraged by generative AI:

No one is entitled to a unique experience, or at least to a unique representation of it. The photo that one takes of some event doesn’t belong to the picture taker; it belongs to the “field of what is representable,” which once was the shared possession of an entire culture but is becoming the property of AI companies, who are trying to turn that field into a closed, proprietary model. Then, every image you take of “your” experience will be quickly demonstrated to be derived from an existing idea already latent in the total model of all possible experiences. […]

[We end up with] the sense that “a model could have generated this” whether it had or not. It projects a subjectlessness onto a scene, subtracts the specific intentionality from any point of view, and sees the average, the predictable, the over-seen, exalted into a kind of glossy, mediocre sublime. No one is missing out on anything. Behind everything distinctive is an ordinary pattern if you scale up enough. And that is the scale at which tech companies want us to situate our consuming selves, where we plug into a feed not to “connect with people we know” — a local and financially inconsequential level that can only sustain so much time on device, and which is readily revealed as an inadequate substitute for better and more secure ways of keeping in touch — but to connect with the machine and to learn how to see the way it sees and enjoy its endless bounty.

What percentage of my life is taken up with re-staging the pillows on our living room couches? I shudder to think…