An ethics that is in-failing (but not a failure) adheres to a different rhythm/metron; it resides as signage because it wholly depends upon the sacral for its enactment. The little things of the world are too beautiful to be “true” and yet they exist, so that their beauty is and must be the truth. The world is too fallen to possess such beauty, and yet the world is the place where that beauty is made known, so that beauty abides by a truth other than the world in order to be the bearer of the world. That truth is beyond but never leaves the world as the way in which true transcendence reconfigures a soul in longing, to be “more human than any human was ever likely to be.”33 A subordinated ethics lives by that riddle, by the beauty not of the world in order to be the bearer of the world, by the truth that condemns in order to save. It is the ethics of surrender and endurance, of paradox and seeming contradiction, of the anarchism born only of the ardent desire for true order and life-giving entelechy. It is the incommunicable uniqueness of each human soul in communion with its transcendental mystery, and in union with other incommunicable souls.34 What indeed is art but the attempt to capture the beauty of this temporal passing moment in relation to its mysterious transcendental a-temporality? What are tears for if not the recognition of its uncapturable but utterly human relation? Even—perhaps especially—the polis cannot escape this without escaping its essence, meaning, and beauty.
Ethical meaning can persist only by a loving suppression, as being shaped and filtered by the spiritual and the exotically primitive. It requires that it be born, not of or in isolation, but in the connatural non-mediated un-reflective love of play and ecstasy which knows no loss. It is this formation which prepares us for all other formations, all of which lead to our own anticipation of forgetfulness. This is the beyond-reason recognition of that-which-is-fated and that-which-is-free as the prime compatibility prefiguring all human action. This emphasis on the formation of the non-reflective love is crucial to any subsequent ethical reflection. The danger of a non-subordinated ethic, which mimics the truth but cannot carry it, is that it is consistently disseminated by an intelligence which has begun in reflection, in the awareness of ego and concept, which must merge and inhabit and then dictate to existence its meaning.35 It begins in the type of reflection whereby the mind must make a bridge to the world, a bridge it can never complete without remaking the world in the image and likeness of the ego.36 Thinking of itself as aware of itself and its responsibilities, it may reject those who dictate to existence its meaning, but then dictates to existence its alternative forms of meaning, placing itself in the same trap, the same ideological cul-de-sac. If ethics is resolutely a praxis, it cannot begin or end in a political theoria. This praxis summons existence to prepare the prerequisites for a consecrated sensibility, a mythic entrenchment of the soul in existence. When a genuine subordinated ethic takes on genuine reflection, it sees not from a conceptually abstractive or theoretical ground but from how the soul is the form of the body.37 It sees with the eye which knows itself as sight because it is in and of the world, and would be blind without it. Thus, to prepare for this praxis requires an enactment which is not preparation in the reflective theoretic sense, but abidance in the non-reflective love of Being, which those who anticipate their own forgetfulness can remember in the child at play. This exteriorizing praxis lives by a reclamation and inculcation of un-reflective living, of living so awash in the acts of mercy, ritual, familial bond, that it knows nothing but play and imagination. And here both Rousseau and Hobbes might agree. This is the resurrection of the affective intelligence from the materialisms and psychologisms which reduce the soul to the appetite, and/or mistake the ego for its own appetite as the meaning of the appetitive power.
If praxis is what it is only in act, and seeks the seamless act of the good without hesitation, then how it begins, how it is formed, takes on a different but not opposing path to the theoretical and contemplative life. In fact, if we understand that the intellect must guide the will, then the intellect has a place of primacy in that it situates the distance needed to distinguish the desire for the good from what is actually good. By that same token, the intellect leads only because it is first guided, first sparked by desire—so much so that the fulfillment of the intellect and will leads to something far closer to the true appetitive depth in the blinding clarity of love. For no knowledge of God, even speculative knowledge of the highest order, satisfies us,38 because it entails the distance or the estrangement from the full with-ness of lover and beloved. If the intellect is to guide the will, it must itself be guided by a primal appetitive praxis which has set the stage for genuine reflection. Why else does Aristotle open his Metaphysics with that shocking antithesis to common sense: all men by nature desire (stretch forth/yearn) to understand.39 What triggers this non-predatory erotic lust? This originary praxis has so immersed the body and soul in the communion with Being, that when the dark night does come, when the dryness and the anticipation of our forgetfulness replaces our non-reflective love with vicarious innocence, reflection returns to a source that is not reflection, that is not the ego enclosed on itself, attempting to build a bridge from idea to reality, but to the source which genuinely triggers the intellect to lead and which provides its hearth and home—in that mystery which sentiment craves but cannot name: the non-teleological end.40 Practice does indeed make perfect.
This journey into the gainful loss of the subordinated ethic will seek the voice of the other, both in its non-reflective love as foundational to any genuine ethic, and in its anticipation of forgetfulness, which is the recognition of what is lost and what is always in-failing. As such, we will find ourselves traversing the theological, philosophical, poetic, and literary registers in an effort to illuminate the voice of the other, not in the form of the ego but in the form of itself. This will be a dialogue between two seemingly contradictory voices: that of Dostoyevsky’s holy idiot Prince Myshkin41—who is neither Christ nor an alter Christus—and St. Thomas’s Five Ways. Myshkin’s voice is the language of presence, the attempt at reconciliation in a world of disintegrating images, and it is in recoil from the methodical awareness which demonstration and proof place upon the task of living justly. This voice will guide our conceptual unpacking of the Five Ways, no longer one of abstractive certainty but of a certitude which plays to and for the connatural ground of un-reflective love. We will approach “proof” in the strangest sense of the word: one unafraid of the fact that our conviction requires we be en route, that the certitude gained is never final, and could never situate us in the truth, even and especially when it provides the truth to secure the path. It is providing instead the admission into our gainful loss, into a subordinated ethics which enacts truth in us as movement, as doing, as seamless unity so in-tune that it forsakes us and even lets us doubt. The truth gained is the very movement of how praxis should manifest, giving us passageway into Being rather than replacing that viatoric entrenchment. It is the truer certitude born not of a strained attempt to read the world, but from the otherness which reads its nature within us. For all play, every game, has its rules as part of, and essential to, the game. They are not imposed upon the game but flow from the playful game itself.
From the dialogue between Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot and St. Thomas’s Five Ways, we will seek to uncover how that-which-is-fated and that-which-is-free are one and the same in the subordinated ethics. What is understood as the theological apocalyptic42 will find its companion ethic in this essential subordination. The Holy Idiot and the Dumb Ox have much in common. It is one thing to be Anselm’s fool who can mouth the words but cannot think the thought, and quite another to be Dostoyevsky’s idiot, the dumb ox who can only speak the to be of what is. Speaking in the mythic language of creation, and the entanglement of virtue and vice, will also assist in setting the stage to view this non-reflective love, this incarnational animal, in its supernatural