This Week's Spotlight:

I shall now direct you to one of the best blogs around--one of my "imaginary friends" along the sidebar--Assimilatio Dei. Although I know who the writer is, and exchanged brief "hello"s with him at odd points during college, we were never what I consider to be "friends." Hence, the Imaginary category. However, his writing is both personal and profound--a thing of beauty when you have a few minutes to stop and allow yourself to reflect.

He has written several posts, both recently and throughout his archives, about St. Thomas Aquinas, one of the best and holiest thinkers of our time. Here, A.D. describes a mental exercise he performs, which our tutors actually encouraged us to practice during college. I am sure all of us who have tried this particular game have experienced the same feeling of, "oh, yeah--not quite." It is an exercise that re-acquaints us with the intellectual and spiritual void that looms between ourselves and the mind of the great saint.

With every post about St. Thomas Aquinas, A.D. calls to mind that not only was the man one of the most intelligent thinkers in the history of philosophy, but he was also a very humble, childlike person. He writes a beautiful reflection summarizing St. Thomas' intellectual achievements and spiritual greatness--accompanied by his humility, confirmed by his confessor on the occasion of his death: "It was the confession of a five year-old boy." Although I cannot locate the post now, it is my favorite of his.

I like to read what he has to say, because I have encountered the assumption (more than once) that if you use your intellect to understand Truth --specifically, Truths about the Catholic Faith-- then you are automatically conceited and uncharitable. Not only was this not so of the greatest apologist that ever lived, but it is also untrue of many who study and follow his philosophy. This week's spotlight blogger, for example.
Most who delve into the study of philosophy and theology quickly become aware of their littleness in the company of giants. However, they also become very excited about what can be known through reason--and the fact they are allowed to understand things alongside the giants. For some, this excitement leads to pride. For others, it leads to awe and humility. But those who fall into pride make it difficult for the rest to share their love of Truth.

We learned in college to listen to the truth of an argument, regardless of who was speaking it. This is more difficult than it sounds. But those who were most successful at it were able to recognize truth when it was presented and synthesize conclusions more quickly than the rest of us. It has become more and more clear to me that politics--whether in government or in the workplace--would benefit greatly from this lesson.

Someone said to me recently that all arguments are personal, because what you bring forward is your personal belief. This has echoed in my head for several months, and I still disagree with it. As A.D. pointed out in one of his recent posts, all arguments must start in agreement. And if it is assumed that both parties are truly searching for truth--and not to "win the argument"--then the attachment to personal opinion is only present insofar as it aids the journey to the rightful conclusion.

Read Assimilatio Dei's work. This man is truly searching for Truth, and will banter with the best and worst of us.