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children-of-epiales · 2 years

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Original Character(s) Name Meanings

Tagged by: @lethal-justice

VERY LONG post below! Pls enjoy

☠️ Evangeline Lorena “Nemesis” Soriano-Fuentes

Evangeline: An English name with Greek origins, meaning “good news” in Greek.

- This name was given to her by her mother, Araceli, who thought it would be fitting because the name sounded similar to the word “evangelical” and Araceli’s own name is an epithet of the Virgin Mary.

Why? In all honesty, I wanted to give her a name that was “old fashioned” or sounded like such a name, that also has a definition that has a sort of irony to it (if that’s appropriate for Evangeline’s case) because for a decent part of her life, she feels like she’s no good and that everyone views her as something bad until she creates Nightmare and after she joins Rainbow. That’s when Evangeline starts to feel like her presence is actually good in any way.

Lorena: the Spanish, Italian, Portuguese and Romanian form of Lorraine, which is a region of France named after the Frankish king Lothar.

Why? I wanted to give both Evangeline and her sister names that matched, so both of their first names are English and they have Hispanic middle names

Nemesis: this name has relation to the Greek word némein, which means “to give what is due”; this is also the name of the Greek goddess of retribution (vengeance), or to enact retribution against mortals who disrespect the gods. or who give in to hubris.

- Evangeline chose this name for herself; she was never really into mythology, but knew a couple of people in college who were, or at least were into history and dabbled in studying mythology. Later on, while everyone was deciding what nicknames they would go by, Evangeline looked into the Greek goddess and thought it was appropriate she go by the same name. She did not plan on representing justice or anything close, because “justice” is an uneasy topic for Evangeline.

Why? I’ve been working on different versions of Nightmare for a while. Evangeline’s callsign was always going to be Nemesis, but the early version of her was different than this version; I am a fan of the characteristic of taking matters into one’s own hands and changing the world themself for one reason or another. The early version of Nemesis put up a facade of being “vengeance become human” (or something like that).

Soriano: a Spanish surname meaning “one from the city of Soria”. Soria is a city in Spain.

Why? Knowing the Spanish colonized the Philippines for so long, this seemed like a situation where Evangeline’s maternal side of the family would try to find and keep their ties to their Filipino heritage, despite having ties to Spanish culture. Evangeline herself would do anything to show how proud she is to be Filipina and never fail to remind someone who wanted to say otherwise.

Fuentes: a Spanish surname meaning “fountains”

Why? I actually tried to look for a Hispanic surname that was at least a little common in the Dominican Republic, but this name appears to be used more by Hispanic people in general rather than just the Spanish, so it’s what I went with

☀️Augustin “Soleil” Chaillou Jr.

Augustin: French, Romanian, Czech, and German form of Augustinus, a version of the Roman name Augustus, which means “exalted, venerable”. This name was given to the first Roman emperor (Ceasar Augustus, also known as Octavian).

- Augustin was named after his father; his mother agreed with this, personally liking the sound of the name herself and thinking giving her only child such a name would be very fitting

Why? When I chose this name, it wasn’t to give Augustin any sort of air of superiority but because of his character; I like to think that, as an emperor or a leader of some sort, he would do well in the position due to having such a good character

Soleil: Soleil is French for “the sun” or “sun” by itself

- Augustin gives off the same radiance and light as the sun when he is happy, his family call him Solèy, which is Creole for “sun”, so he chose to use a different version of the word to be addressed by in Nightmare

Why? I wanted to give one of my ocs a callsign similar to Montagne or Dokkaebi, that actually connects with their character, skill, etc.

Challiou: I actually couldn’t find a definition for this name? Sorry about that!

Why? Despite the lack of definition for the name, I chose it because a French scientist with a name similar to Augustin’s bears the same surname

👻Rouen Hera “Reaper” Blake

Rouen: the city of Rouen in Normandy, France

- There’s a small “tradition” on Rouen’s paternal side of the family, agreed on by her parents and her paternal aunts, that resulted in her, her older sister, and one of their cousins being named after the capitals of some countries (continents, islands, etc). Her paternal mother, Marigot, wasn’t named for the capital of St. Martin, but she found it endearing that her kids would do that for her. The city of Rouen was specifically chosen for her because that’s where her parents met.

Why? I wanted there to be a small tradition for one or two of my ocs’ families, I think they’re rather cute (when they’re harmless), and I wanted there to be some sort of signs of love

Hera: actual meaning unknown, but possibly connected to the word haireo, which means “to be chosen”. Hera is the Greek goddess of marriage and women, and the protector of women in childbirth.

Why? I guess you could say Rouen is a different version of the goddess, to her love (any kind that is requited) is something sacred (for lack of a better word, she’s not religious) and she believes those who cheat don’t deserve second chances. She can be forgiving, but it’s difficult for her when she’s angry.

Reaper: no definition; exactly related to the Grim Reaper, which is either a spirit or creature that causes a human to die by taking their soul, or a spirit that escorts a human soul to the afterlife once they’ve died.

- There is irony in this, since Rouen is a doctor; she didn’t chose, it was actually given to her by Evangeline, who thought it was appropriate since Rouen put so much effort into making herself, within Nightmare, a being that brings out fear and is inevitable. It did rub her the wrong way at first, but Rouen grew to like the callsign over time

Why? Majority of my ocs are inspired by something, if there isn’t some inspiration in their character development; Rouen is inspired by a few things, but the connection is being inevitable, which gives off the same air as Nemesis-that those being punished will suffer for what they’ve done

Blake: a variant of Black, an English surname with Old English origins, meaning “black” or “pale”

Why? Odd as this may sound, I wanted to give one of my ocs a first and surname with either the same number of letters or an even or odd number of letters; without her middle name, Reaper’s name is 10 letters, and with it, her name has 14 letters

🎨Sorina-Ileana Leyre “Frică” Huerta

Sorina: Romanian, the feminine version of Sorin, which is possibly derived from the Romanian word meaning “sun”

Why? Sorina’s family, to me, is the typical family where they’re having a little boy who would be a strong and charming gentleman one day, so Sorina would be their little princess until she became a lovely, well-mannered young woman; to me this name sort of gives off that energy

Ileana: possibly a Romanian variant of the name Elena, which is a version of Helen in various languages

- Sorina’s father gave this to her as a second name after she was born and her mother passed away, but only once has it ever been used and the person who said it was scolded by Sorina’s father

Why? I suppose, because of it’s definition, the name is an alternative to Helen, whom was a princess of Troy (assuming the story of Helena and Paris is well-known); the only way Sorina remembers her mother is through stories told by other members of the family and pictures of her, the way Sorina’s father described her mother made her sound like a princess of some sort, when Sorina was younger

Frică: the Romanian word for “fear”

- Sorina chose this name, it comes from years of either being treated like she was less than human or nothing, being hurt, and not being taken seriously by even her own family

Why? This is another personification situation, I suppose all of Nightmare’s callsigns really means them personifying something (a deity, character, etc.) and for Sorina, it’s fear that she wants to personify-not that she doesn’t feel it, but she doesn’t run away from her fear. She embraces it and knows there are others who haven’t, she has no issue using it against them.

#tag game #thank you Ice!#pardon my use of a million semi-colons

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pinkhorrorshow · 4 years

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whats your skincare routine like lately? can you please also share your favorite locations to get facials? please nothing ridiculously expensive unless its worth it!

Nothing too crazy and has been the same for quite some time. I rotate cleansers Purlisse (my all time FAVE for removing make up), Alypyn, Glossier, E nature, Peach & Lily. Followed by SK II essence. Then daytime toner, I’m finishing up this from Olehenriksen and evening toner is Biologique Recherche. Eye creme before any serums or moisturizers! My fave is Sisley. Daytime serum is typically a vit C and I went back to Drunk Elephant. Then moisturizer which are currently between Augustinus Bader, Glossier, Youth to the People. I'm really not a facial person and have only gone to Christine Chin like 14 years ago and in recent years Joanna Vargas. JV is super nice and I wanted to try microcurrent. I had I think three in total and can’t say it was life changing for how much they cost but it definitely was an incredible pampered experience. But some people absolutely swear by that facial..so idk, depends on the person.

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simulacrist · 5 years

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with: @guilbarcelos

what a gathering of bright stars he seemed to have wandered into. augustinus, late to the party as is his wont, is almost pretty sure that there was no party before he came in here anyway—not that such festivities would be welcomed, considering what he’d heard of the events that precipitated his visit. still, hope springs eternal: give it a fortnight or two, and there’ll be some spirit of good cheer back into these halls in no time, even if augustinus would have to drag it kicking and screaming into these empty, empty halls.

the first to catch his eye, however, is his dear friend guilherme. ( rather serious lad, perpetually in need of a drink or two to loosen up—or at least, that’s how augustinus viewed the other male, and augustinus is not the man who thinks he’s ever wrong. ) the poor man seems to be embroiled in a conversation that would obviously be better served with some sort of intoxicants involved—and who is augustinus to deny them that luxury ?

with great strides, he comes in between them, making himself comfortable in their presence, and he chatters along with the stranger even as a hand raises up in a familiar action of ordering the servants to fetch some wine. ❛ guilherme, my friend, ❜ he says, and though he tries to temper his good cheer, trying to remember what had happened to the poor man, he cannot help but be himself at his core. ❛ sad tidings can only be met with the intoxicating presence of alcohol, don’t you know ? so drink up, my good man. let the wine of friendship and solidarity bless this day forth. ❜

#* ╰ ft. [ guilherme de barcelos ] ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#* ╰ [ guilherme de barcelos oo1 ] ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#* ╰ meine Ruh' ist hin; mein Herz ist schwer ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#i always tell myself — henry this is it ; the day you'll make a short starter; a paragraph and nothing more #and always — *always* — i get met with the taste of failure #such is life

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ducavalentinos · 5 years

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“It is true that in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries emancipated women did not sit on the benches of the lecture halls of Bologna, Ferrara, and Padua, as they now do in many universities, to pursue professional studies; but the same humane sciences to which youths and men devoted themselves were a requirement in the higher education of women. Little girls in the Middle Ages were entrusted to the saints of the convents to be made nuns; during the Renaissance parents consecrated gifted children to the Muses. Jacopo da Bergamo, speaking of Trivulzia of Milan, a contemporary of Lucretia, who excited great amazement as an orator when she was only fourteen years of age, says, “When her parents noticed the child’s extraordinary gifts they dedicated her to the Muses—this was in her seventh year—for her education.” The course of study followed by women at that time included the classic languages and their literature, oratory, poetry, or the art of versifying, and music. Dilettanteism in the graphic and plastic arts of course followed, and the vast number of paintings and statues produced during the Renaissance inspired every cultivated woman in Italy with a desire to become a connoisseur. Even philosophy and theology were cultivated by women. Debates on questions in these fields of inquiry were the order of the day at the courts and in the halls of the universities, and women endeavored to acquire renown by taking part in them. At the end of the fifteenth century the Venetian, Cassandra Fedeli, the wonder of her age, was as well versed in philosophy and theology as a learned man. She once engaged in a public disputation before the Doge Agostino Barbarigo, and also several times in the audience hall of Padua, and always showed the utmost modesty in spite of the applause of her hearers. The beautiful wife of Alessandro Sforza of Pesaro, Costanza Varano, was a poet, an orator, and a philosopher; she wrote a number of learned dissertations. “The writings of Augustinus, Ambrosius, Jerome, and Gregory, of Seneca, Cicero, and Lactantius were always in her hands.” Her daughter, Battista Sforza, the noble spouse of the cultivated Federico of Urbino, was equally learned. So, too, it was related that the celebrated Isotta Nugarola of Verona was thoroughly at home in the writings of the fathers and of the philosophers. Isabella Gonzaga and Elisabetta of Urbino were likewise acquainted with them, as were numerous other celebrated women, such as Vittoria Colonna and Veronica Gambara. These and other names show to what heights the education of woman during the Renaissance attained, and even if the accomplishments of these women were exceptional, the studies which they so earnestly pursued were part of the curriculum of all the daughters of the best families.”

Lucretia Borgia according to original documents and correspondence of her day, Ferdinand Gregorovius.

#lucrezia borgia #auth: ferdinand gregorovius #women's education #15th century #16th century #italian renaissance

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identybeautynet · 3 years

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Meagan Good Shares Every Single Step of Her Nighttime Skin Care Routine

Meagan Good Shares Every Single Step of Her Nighttime Skin Care Routine Nighttime Skin Care Routine I use an eye cream from Urban Skin Rx called Vitaleyez; it’s really good for dark circles, for bags, and for tightening the skin underneath my eyes and getting rid of fine lines and wrinkles. Then I will use either Augustinus Bader’s The Cream or this one by Silvana called Ultra Lifts Anti-Aging Lotion. It’s basically anti-sagging and hydrating. Clear Skin Retinol Serum This retinol serum fades scars, clears acne, and promotes healthy skin cell turnover. SkinMedica HA5 Rejuvenating Hydrator Dr. Waldorf doesn't use serum every day, but she does pull out this hyaluronic acid powerhouse when needed. "My primary concern is dryness," she says. "The HA5 is great to layer with my sunscreen." Urban Skin Rx® Vitaleyez Retinol + Vitamin C Complex This eye serum is formulated to combat dark circles, puffiness, and fine lines. Augustinus Bader The Cream Augustinus Bader's cult-classic product is an ideal, anti-aging lightweight moisturizer. Usually I have in my goddess locs, so I use a hair wrap from my Good Girl Wraps line at night. I developed these wraps because I got my hair inspired by Lisa Bonet—I really wanted it to look soft and pretty, and I wanted it to be a very specific look. So my hairstylist and I created the goddess locs together, and then after I started wearing them, I found that a lot of girls were asking me, “How do you tie them up at night?” And then the other question is, “How do you work out?” You can put the locs in a bun, but if you’re jumping around, the bun falls down. So I created the Good Girl Wrap as a way to be able to put it over your hair and hold your hair down, so while you’re working out, your hair is not flopping everywhere, and then at night you’re able to tie your hair down so that you can sleep on your pillow comfortably. It’s silk and cotton, so it acclimates to your body heat. Solid Light Gold Good Girl Wrap This satin hair wrap is ideal for sleeping, working out, or giving your hair the love it deserves. I put on Eucerin, which I love—it’s super, super moisturizing. And then I use Vaseline on my lips, and on some of my tattoos. It’s just the simple, 100% Vaseline, but they sent me a bedazzled jar that has an “MMG” on it. Eucerin Original Healing Lotion Eucerin is well-loves for its consistent and timeless ability to heal and nourish even sensitive skin. Vaseline Healing Jelly Sometimes, simpler is just better. “Vaseline is the best for the worst areas, especially after showers and bathing,” Viseslav Tonkovic-Capin, M.D., a dermatologist at Cass Regional Medical Center, tells SELF. “It is inexpensive, it seals moisture into the skin the best, it almost never causes allergies, and it does not cause acne.” My number-one go-to thing for bedtime—and I can’t believe that it works—is this spray called This Works. Ha! It’s a pillow spray, and I spray it on my pillow and my sheets, and as soon as I lie down, I fall asleep. It’s like magic. I also crack the window in my room so I have a little bit of fresh air, and I turn on a little space heater so that it's not too cold. I have a little teddy bear that I love to bring to help me sleep when I’m traveling. His name is Javier. I think I found him at Urban Outfitters years and years ago, and he’s just a funny-looking square bear that looks like SpongeBob Square Pants, but he’s a teddy bear. He’s very funny looking. But I travel with him, and I sleep with him. I also have sheets I can’t live without. I was working on a show, and my cast mate was like, “Girl, do you have any sheets?” We were in this apartment, and I just had the sheets they gave us. She’s like, “No, you need to try these sheets.” I was like, “A sheet is just a sheet.” She was like, “No.” So I started using these sheets—they’re called Pure Bamboo—and now I’m obsessed with them. They are the softest sheets of life. When you lie on them, you feel like it’s butter and you’re soaking into the bed. This Works Deep Sleep Pillow Spray Spray this all over your pillows and sheets for a relaxing drift-off into sleep. Pure Bamboo Sheets 4-Sheet Set These super-soft sheets are crafted from 100% organic bamboo. I try to get seven hours of sleep. I’m a bit of a night owl, so it varies. When my day starts, my phone starts going off immediately and I have a whole morning ritual that I do as well, so I feel like from the moment I open my eyes, I’m going, going. Night is the only time where nobody’s reaching out to me; I can rest, I can relax, I can unwind, and just have time for Meagan. So because of that, I tend to go to bed pretty late. Sometimes 2 a.m., sometimes a little bit later, but I make sure that when I do that, my day allows me to have gotten seven hours of sleep, and then also to have an hour in the morning before I even start getting dressed to really pray and meditate and read my Bible. But I try to just time it out, and it starts with what I do in the evenings to make sure that I get those seven hours. When I have 17- or 18-hour days on set, I take little naps when I can, or drink a little bit of tea. I don’t mind those days because I’ve been in the business since I was a kid, and so I’m used to it. I try to stay away from coffee, but I just drink something that has a little bit of caffeine in it. The biggest thing for me is just trying to have a positive attitude and push through. I take the stance that tomorrow’s not promised, so I want today to be the best way that it can be. So that’s how I try to live in terms of self-care, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically: What do I need to do for Meagan so that Meagan can do what she’s supposed to do in the world, in this season? This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity. beauty tips : Nighttime Skin Care Routine . Read the full article

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luxurybeautyreviews · 7 months

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#Best #Mother'sDay #Presents

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ownskinblog · 3 years

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Say It Ain't So! ITG's Favorite Oil Brand Is

Say It Ain’t So! ITG’s Favorite Oil Brand Is

Imagine, for a moment, a Top Shelf on Into The Gloss—what are you looking at? Biologique Recherche’s P50, for sure. And Essie’s Clambake undoubtedly, along with Augustinus Bader’s The Cream, Bioderma, and Embryolisse. In the oil section you’ve got Vintner’s Daughter, but an even older standby is Rodin Olio Lusso. Ah, Olio Lusso. That big budget oil that spread faster in the fashion world than…

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ladystylestores · 4 years

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Brands Supporting Essential Workers – theFashionSpot

https://ift.tt/3g2CXAR

Carolina Herrera Spring 2020; Image: Imaxtree

We’re all grateful to all the essential workers out there who are treating our family and friends, delivering groceries, teaching classes online, collecting our garbage and much, much more. So we decided to say thanks by paying tribute on our site to all of their efforts. As part of our #WeSayThanks campaign, we’re offering a totally collectible T-shirt and donating $5 per shirt to various COVID-19 charities. So buy one for yourself, another for your BFF, a couple for your neighbors…

In the same vein, we decided to highlight other brands that are doing their part to give back to the essential workers on the front lines. Here’s a breakdown of how many beauty and fashion brands are giving back during the current health crisis. We encourage you to support them so they can continue to support essential workers and their families.

Acaderma: Donating 150 bottles of its The Oasis moisturizing serum to hospitals across the United States.

Adam Lippes: When you purchase two of the designer’s famous T-shirts, he’ll donate one to a medical hero. You’ll even receive an extra tee as a thank you.

Alexander Wang: Donating 20 percent of the proceeds from its online pop-up archive shop to the United Nations Foundation’s COVID-19 Response Fund.

Allbirds: Supplying shoes to health care professionals and other essential workers.

American Eagle Outfitters and Aerie: Plan on donating over 1 million masks to public health workers in vulnerable communities.

Anne Klein: The company delivered 100,000 masks to essential workers in the United States.

Augustinus Bader: The brand plans on giving away 2,000 units of its The Rich Cream to hospitals around the world. It’s also donating 20,000 units of its own hand sanitizer to hospital workers.

BABOR: Producing hand sanitizer disinfectant at its Aachen, Germany facility and distributing it to police officers, nursing homes and medical facilities in the Aachen region.

Blenders Eyewear: Delivered 10,000 goggles to frontline medical workers at hospitals across Southern California, including UCLA Medical Center, Sharp Memorial Hospital and Scripps Medical Center.

Brandon Maxwell: Producing PPE, including gowns.

Bvlgari: Manufacturing several hundred thousand bottles of hand cleansing gel with sanitizer to be distributed to all medical facilities through the Italian government.

Carolina Herrera: Making both hospital gowns and masks for sanitary personnel and food manufacturers.

Catbird: Giving $10 of the purchase price from its Mother of Pearl Love Token to Direct Relief.

Chanel: Plans on producing over 50,000 face masks and gowns for France’s essential workers, like health care professionals and police.

CHI: Donated $1 million worth of its hand sanitizer to the cities of Houston and Tomball, Texas.

Christian Dior: Using its workshop to produce masks for exposed essential workers like supermarket cashiers.

Christian Siriano: Started making face masks to help deal with the shortage.

Collina Strada: Producing masks in conjunction with Masks4Medicine.

Coty: Donated $1 million for protective gear for health care professionals. It also teamed up with Kylie and Kris Jenner to produce hand sanitizers for hospitals in Southern California.

Curls: Donating N95 ventilator masks, gloves and hand sanitizer to health organizations across the country.

Dr. Barbara Sturm: Held a maskathon to raise funds and awareness for the World Health Organization and First Responders First.

Draper James: Handed out free dresses to teachers.

DROMe: Making protective masks for Italian hospitals.

Endure Beauty: Partnered with luggage brand Zero Halliburton on care packages as a way to say thank you and provide comfort to frontline workers who are away from home.

EOS: Donated 50,000 units of its Shea Better Hand Cream to some of New York City’s hospitals and health care workers. It also donated another 50,000 hand creams to support health care workers across the United States.

ÉTICA: The sustainable lifestyle brand shifted production to exclusively produce FDA-approved medical and non-medical grade masks and PPE. It has produced over 4,000,000 units for various governmental and health agencies since late March.

Fleur du Mal: The brand is earmarking 10 percent of online proceeds for NYC Health + Hospitals.

Fresh: Delivered thousands of skin care products to health care professionals in many New York hospitals.

Fur: Offering a full-size Fur Oil to help all those on the front lines take care of themselves after a long day of work.

Garnier USA: Making its own hand sanitizer and plans on handing out 2 million units to frontline retail employees across the country.

Giorgio Armani: Making protective gear for health care workers.

GLAMGLOW: Donated units of its Bubblesheet and Thirstymud masks to 1,000 health care workers across the country.

Glow Recipe: The brand is giving away full-size Blueberry Bounce cleansers and a one-month supply of Banana Soufflé Moisture Cream to health care providers.

Graff: The fine jewelry brand donated $1 million to the Solidarity Response Fund.

Guerlain: Producing hand sanitizer for French health care workers and hospitals.

H&M: Producing PPE for hospitals and health care workers.

Herbivore Botanicals: Created Hand Hero, a rinse-free, hand-purifying gel with 75 percent alcohol, and donated 50,000 units to United Way in the Seattle area and 25,000 units to hospitals across New York City.

Hermes: Donating 31,000 masks and 30 tons of hand sanitizer to public hospitals in Paris.

Kate Spade New York: Set to donate $100,000 to Crisis Text Line to help provide mental health counseling and emotional support to doctors and nurses.

KES: Donating face masks to medical facilities and organizations serving the homeless in New York City for every mask you buy.

Kinkō: Created nearly 10,000 bottles of Prebiotic Hand Purifier to donate to Texas hospitals, medical facilities and homeless shelters along with essential small businesses in need.

La Perla: Donating 10 percent of proceeds to the COVID-19 Solidarity Response Fund hosted by the United Nations Foundation and Swiss Philanthropy Foundation in support of the World Health Organization. It also donated 10,000 masks to frontline workers in Bologna and another 10,000 masks went to the Porto City Hall Field Hospital in Portugal.

La Roche-Posay: Donated almost 1 million purifying hand gels to hospitals and clinics throughout the world.

Loewe: Donating 100,000 surgical masks to the Spanish Red Cross.

L’Oréal: Dedicating $720,000 to the Chinese Red Cross Foundation to be spent on medical supplies like masks and protective gear for medical professionals.

LoveShackFancy: Plans on handing out 300 face masks to those working on the front lines.

Mane Club: For every hair mask purchased on the brand’s site, $1 will be donated to A Million Masks to help provide US NIOSH-approved N95 Respirators and KN95 Respirators from CE-certified factories to New York City’s busiest emergency rooms and intensive care units.

Michael Kors: Donating $750,000 to NYU Langone Health and $750,000 to NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

Michael Stars: Making non-medical masks for health care workers.

Milk Makeup: Collaborated with the Wu-Tang Clan to raise over $100,00 for New York City’s COVID-19 Emergency Relief Fund. It also donated $250,000 worth of skin care products to New York City first responders across city hospitals.

Monbouquette Jewelry: The brand donated 15 percent of new necklaces purchased to Direct Relief, a nonprofit working within the United States and internationally to equip doctors and nurses with lifesaving medical resources.

Nike: Teaming up with Good360 to donate over 140,000 shoes, apparel and equipment to health care workers around the world.

Nili Lotan: Opening up its archive for customers to buy past pieces for up to 70 percent off retail with 10 percent of the site’s monthly profits going to charity (starting with NYU Langone Health).

Noon By Noor: Donated 20 percent of April sales to the COVID-19 Solidarity Response Fund.

NUDESTIX: The brand is donating 20 percent of each Sun & Sea Palette purchased to the COVID-19 Solidarity Response Fund.

PCA SKIN: Donated 100 percent of April daily care mask sales to FABRIC’s Arizona Apparel Foundation to ramp up production of PPE.

Prabal Gurung: The high-fashion brand gave N95 respirator masks to New York City hospitals and frontline medical personnel.

Prada: Produced 110,00 face masks and 80,000 medical garments for Tuscan hospitals.

Puma: Giving away more than 20,000 pairs of sneakers and over 5,000 pieces of apparel and accessories to health care workers.

Pyer Moss: Allocating $10,000 to purchase necessary supplies for medical workers. The brand is also making 1,000 mask covers for frontline workers.

REEF: The brand pledged 5 percent of online sales to the National Association of Emergency Medical Technicians (NAEMT Foundation) to support EMTs and first responders across the country.

Reformation: Producing face masks for health care professionals, grocery store employees and food delivery workers.

Retrouvé: Donated a percentage of its April online sales to the Frontline Responders Fund to help get PPE to the people who require it most.

Rowing Blazers: Making face masks and donating some to workers at New York City’s Food Bank.

Roxanne Assoulin: Donating 10 percent of proceeds from its Remind Yourself bracelet to the COVID-19 Direct Relief Fund.

Sandro: Delivered 1,000 masks to a French hospital in Aulnay-sous-Bois with more to come. The brand also plans on giving masks to other hospitals all over Europe and in New York City.

Sant and Abel: The luxury sleepwear brand launched a “buy one, give one to a frontline hero” initiative. Until the end of May, shoppers can gift a set of Sant and Abel pajamas to a frontline hero of their choosing when they purchase a pair of pajamas.

SEEN: The hair care brand has donated more than $5,000 worth of product (like gentle shampoo and conditioner to help tackle skin issues from PPE) to frontline health care workers at hospitals in New York, New Jersey and Texas. It’s also offering a Buy a Bundle/Donate a Bundle program on its site.

SeneGence: Created and donated over 2,000 hand sanitizers to organizations in need in California and Oklahoma. It will also donate 500 lip balms, hand creams and sanitizers to hospitals across the United States.

Skylar: Launched its own brand of hand sanitizer and donated 20 percent of the initial production to UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles and Mount Sinai Hospitals in New York City to aid health care professionals.

Stella & Dot: For every Care Pouch (boasting EVER, KEEP and Stella & Dot products) purchased, it will donate a Care Pouch of similar or greater value to the GLAM4GOOD Foundation that will distribute the pouches throughout the year to frontline workers and communities most impacted by COVID-19.

StriVectin: Donated 2,000 hand creams to health care workers throughout the country.

Tanya Taylor: Made 5,000 non-medical grade masks for New York City hospitals. Plus, for every purchase of an item in its archive sale the brand will produce and donate five additional masks.

The Body Shop: Donating care packages to hospitals in the United Kingdom and 30,000 units of cleansing products to shelters and senior citizen communities.

The HydraFacial Company: Distributing reusable medical masks to those working in health care, public safety and emergency personnel environments.

ThirdLove: Donating 1,000 sets of bras and underwear to the nurses, doctors and health care workers at the University of California San Francisco and several hospitals. That’s on top of the 2,000 surgical masks it donated to the university.

Tommy Hilfiger: Handing out over 10,000 white T-shirts to health care workers in Europe and the United States.

TOMS: Started its own COVID-19 Global Giving Fund and it’s donating one-third of net profits to support workers currently on the front lines. So for every $3 TOMS makes, the brand will donate $1 to the fund.

Tory Burch: Teamed up with 1199SEIU United Healthcare Workers East to supply $5 million worth of scrubs, sneakers and more to health care workers. The brand is even giving 3,000 yards of fabric to Catholic Health Services of Long Island to make face masks and hospital gowns.

UGG: Delivering robes, slippers and more to frontline workers and first responders staying at hotels.

UNIQLO: The brand donated 20,000 units of AIRism innerwear to Montefiore Health System and NYC Health + Hospitals.

Universal Standard: Giving a free piece from its Foundation collection to medical workers.

Veil Cosmetics: Plans on donating over $15,000 in beauty products to hospitals, including Mount Sinai and NewYork-Presbyterian.

Vera Bradley: Making masks for essential workers and passing out other much-needed gear like scrubs.

Vince: Donated 30,000 face masks to New York and Los Angeles hospitals.

Wander Beauty: Donated a Good to Go Mini Hair Essentials Kit to a health care worker for every purchase of a full-size skin care, hair or body product from April 1 through April 3.

Join Evolve Media’s #WeSayThanks campaign to show support to essential workers and thank them for their selfless acts of kindness and heroism. To learn how to get involved, please visit https://www.evolvemediallc.com/wesaythanks/ for more information.

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Morgan C. Schimminger

As passionate about feminism as she is about fashion, Morgan C. Schimminger spends much of her time writing and editing pieces on everything from celebrity style to the fight to keep funding for Planned Parenthood. She earned her bachelor’s degree in English from the University of California at Berkeley and a master’s degree in publishing from Rosemont College. Morgan has contributed to a variety of publications, including StyleBakery, Uptown, metro.pop and Sister 2 Sister. Every week for theFashionSpot, she profiles the Top 10 Best Dressed Celebs and provides a daily dose of stylish stars via Look of the Day.

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simulacrist · 5 years

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with: @gaelicstatues

augustinus has heard tell that the prince consort ( and, his mind helpfully supplies: the future king of scotland ) is a sporty man, and sporty men must need stick together in times of peace, lest they get bored out of their minds. it’s only a pity that there weren’t more activities available—augustinus has heard great things about the sports in that fair island up north and had been keen to see if perhaps there’d be an opportunity to learn such activities for the festival—but as it is, they would have to make do with the noble sport of fishing. it’s not an activity that rests well with the imperial heir, the activity still far too lethargic for him for it to be an efficient outlet of his energy, but perhaps a relaxing activity is what he needs right now. ( as if. ) for now, he turns towards his current partner: ❛ odd that spring has caught us here, hasn’t it ? ❜ he says, making conversation. the line bobs along in the water but doesn’t quite yet catch anything, so he feels confident in taking his attention away from it to turn his focus towards the other male. ❛ i must admit, a potluck and dining with enemies one has literally been trying to kill just months before is... a bit unnerving. ❜ he pauses, lets the words lie in between them for a while, before suddenly remarking: ❛ i’ve half a mind to bring whatever i may catch here for the rotten thing. it saves me the trouble of thinking too deeply about it, really. ❜ and though he does not ask, the question is implicit in his words: what are you going to bring ?

#* ╰ ft. [ patrick stuart ] ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#* ╰ [ patrick stuart oo1 ] ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#* ╰ meine Ruh' ist hin; mein Herz ist schwer ♔ augustinus habsburg ⏤ convos !#i didn't use gifs bc idk if ur still experiencing resource lack w damian lewis ?#just @ me if u want me to add one in tho #and the obligatory note to also @ me if u want me to change anything !

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faithfulnews · 4 years

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Pascal & the Magisterium

By Paul J. Griffiths

May 4, 2020

“Magisterium” is a Latin word that designates, for Catholics, the church’s teaching authority, vested principally in its bishops. Grammatically, the word is a noun in the genitive plural and means, literally, “what belongs to teachers”—teacherly things, that is. In theological usage, the teacherly thing indicated most directly by “magisterium” is authority. Jesus had this, Scripture tells us: it was strikingly and surprisingly evident in his teaching, and he is referred to as “teacher” (magister) in Latin versions of Scripture. The church’s bishops, as Jesus’ inheritors in this respect, have it too.

Authority asks for submission, and when it’s recognized, submission ordinarily follows. When the state trooper’s blue lights flash in my rearview mirror, I pull over. That’s because she has authority and I recognize it. If I didn’t, I might ignore the flashing lights. That she does in fact have authority explains why, if I ignore those lights, things won’t go well for me in the short-term future. Authority is real: it belongs to those who have it whether it’s acknowledged or not. But for it to become active, it must be acknowledged, whether willingly (I pull over) or not (I’m forced off the road).

It’s a commonplace that teachers have authority. If you want to learn something from someone and you don’t recognize their authority to teach it to you, you won’t be able to learn it from them. This is most obvious when what you want to learn is technique: ordinarily, the teacher demonstrates the technique (the fingering that makes it possible to play the Goldberg Variations, or the best way to make a villanelle), and then you try it for yourself. If you don’t recognize the teacher’s authority by observing and imitating her demonstration of whatever it is you’re trying to learn, then she won’t be able to teach you. The authority of a teacher is ordinarily limited to its proper sphere. It’s not reasonable to expect your piano teacher to also instruct you in the proper use of a chainsaw, in rather the same way that it’s not reasonable to take the state trooper’s authority to extend to the establishment of foreign policy.

All this applies to the magisterium. It has its proper sphere, which is, roughly speaking, what belongs to Catholic faith and morals, with extensions into the governance of Catholic life by law. Its authority does not extend to instruction in the arts, or to empirically observable fact, or to mathematical truths. Generally, it also does not extend to questions of historical fact, or to politics, or to literature. If it does have anything to say about such questions, it’s because answers to them are understood to have an effect upon Catholic faith and morals. And mostly they don’t.

As with other kinds of authority, magisterial authority is effective only when it’s freely recognized, or when teachers can force recognition on those who’d rather not give it. Since most non-Catholics don’t recognize magisterial authority at all, and since the church’s teachers, unlike state troopers, have few means at their disposal to make them do so, magisterial authority is, by and large, effective only for Catholics. And it’s not always effective even for them, because sometimes they refuse to recognize it, and the bishops either can’t or don’t do what would be necessary to make them.

So here’s the picture, drastically simplified but accurate as far as it goes: the church’s bishops have authority to teach Catholics about what we Catholics should believe and how we should act. And that authority binds: we are to assent to, and act upon, these teachings. Because of the magisterium we can say, as the centurion said to Jesus, that we know what authority is and that we live our lives responsively to it. That is good knowledge to have, for all human life is lived, more or less, under authority, and it’s among the privileges of Catholic life for that condition to be explicit and theorized.

Pascal considered himself a faithful Catholic, and this was central to his self-conception.

But living a life under authority in this way comes with interesting difficulties, and with the help of Blaise Pascal (1623–1662), a peculiarly sharp thinker on this as on most other topics, I want to consider one of them. Suppose you’re a Catholic and that you take yourself to be bound by magisterial teaching: you’re aware of it and you take it seriously; you don’t shrug off difficulties in this sphere by replacing what the bishops teach with what seems good to you. Suppose, next, that a magisterial teaching is promulgated on a sharply delineated topic about which you take yourself to know a good deal. Suppose, further, that what the magisterium has to say about this topic is, so far as you can see, simply wrong. And suppose, lastly, that the situation of the church in your time and place makes silence on the matter seem to you either imprudent or improper. What do you do? Pascal was faced with just such a situation.

Today Pascal is mostly known for the Pensées, the title given in 1670 to the first publication of a collection of literary fragments left in disarray at his early death. These contain the outlines of an apologetic in favor of Catholic Christianity, a subtle and interesting understanding of the human condition with observations on death, boredom, amusement, the meaning of social and political life, and much more. The Pensées were widely read in the seventeenth century, as they have been ever since. Pascal also wrote a considerable quantity of polemical theology, mostly against the Jesuits, some of it published under a pseudonym during his lifetime. But during his life he was mostly known as a mathematician and scientist. He made contributions to the development of calculus, designed and built the first working calculating machine, planned the first mass-transit system in Paris, performed experiments that showed the possibility that a vacuum can exist—and much more. And since he died at thirty-nine, he managed to fit all this into a short career.

Pascal lived at perhaps the last moment in European history when it was halfway reasonable to think yourself capable of having significant expertise in every department of human knowledge. He doesn’t rival his younger contemporary Leibniz (1646–1716) in the range of his knowledge—who could?—but he makes Descartes (1596–1650), whom he met, and Spinoza (1632–1677) look positively provincial in their interests. But many people have great intellectual capacities. That alone wouldn’t make him memorable. Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet (1627–1704) was more of a polymath than Pascal, and vastly more learned. But Pascal could write with lucidity and force, and Bossuet, like most intellectuals, could not. Pascal, therefore, was read much more widely during his life, and has been ever since. The ability to write well, with lucidity, concision, wit, and force, is at least as important in intellectual life as the capacity to think, and since there is no profundity of thought that requires obscurity in writing, it’s surprising how many thinkers with important things to say haven’t been able to find clear language with which to say them. Pascal isn’t among them: his writings were and still are a stimulating pleasure to read.

Pascal considered himself a faithful Catholic, and this was central to his self-conception. Were he to have lost or abandoned his faith, he would have lost something as close to himself as his ability to write French or think mathematically. And so, when he found himself at odds with the magisterium, he took it seriously; and because he was the kind of man who wrote about whatever he took to be important, he wrote about this situation. In fact, he wrote a lot about it, over a period of more than ten years, which means that we have a good deal of material from his hand on which to draw.

Those who thought that the results of Pascal’s experiments must be wrong because of what the Aristotelian tradition said were ridiculous fools, and Pascal did not hesitate to ridicule them.

Pascal’s understanding of theological topics such as God, grace, church, and the nature of the Christian life were deeply influenced by the published work of Cornelius Jansen (1585–1638), a Dutch theologian and bishop. Jansenism, named for Jansen, was a Catholic reform movement of Augustinian inspiration. It was eventually judged heretical in significant part, and it disturbed French Catholicism, and eventually European Catholicism, for a century and a half after Jansen’s death. During Pascal’s life, the movement was institutionally centered on the convents of Port-Royal in Paris, and Pascal was among its principal apologists. Jansenism survives now largely as a label for a set of heresies about grace and predestination, and for a harshly rigorist understanding of the disciplines of the Christian life. That is regrettable, for some of the most knowledgeable and skilled theologians of the seventeenth century were, or later came to be called, Jansenists, and there’s more to be said in favor of their work, and of the tendency within Christianity that it represents, than such a dismissive summary permits.

Augustinus (1640), Jansen’s principal work, is a large study of Augustine, with a particular focus on Augustine’s understanding of grace as set out in his late anti-Pelagian works. The Augustinus was a foundational text for Pascal and the Port-Royalists. They took Jansen’s work to be correct as a reading of Augustine, and orthodox with respect to the doctrines of grace and human agency. They also took it to be an essential corrective to other, largely Jesuit tendencies within Catholicism that, as they believed, over-accommodated Christianity to the pagan mores of seventeenth-century France, and gave too much independence to human agency. In May 1653, Pope Innocent X issued a bull condemning five propositions on grace and attributing them to Jansen’s Augustinus. Innocent described these propositions as rash, false, impious, blasphemous, scandalous, and concluded that they were, collectively, heretical. The Port-Royalists, including Pascal, responded with a flood of polemical writing.

Innocent’s bull, Cum occasione, makes two claims. First, that a certain understanding of the workings of grace is heretical; and second, that precisely such an understanding is endorsed by a particular book—namely, the Augustinus. Pascal acknowledged at once the right of the magisterium to rule on questions about grace, and accepted that the five condemned propositions do enshrine an unorthodox and unacceptable understanding of grace. But he also insisted he had never held such an understanding of grace, and neither, so far as he could tell, had any of the so-called Jansenists, particularly not Cornelius Jansen, whether in the Augustinus or anywhere else.

Pascal’s response calls into question the right—and perhaps also the capacity—of the bishops to rule on matters of fact that can be settled by ordinary empirical investigation. Matters of that sort, Pascal argued, should be investigated by those best equipped to do so, and with the methods best adapted to the task. And the question of whether the Augustinus really did endorse, defend, or explicitly mention any or all of the condemned propositions is exactly a matter of that sort. It’s a question of fact. If you want to know what’s in the Augustinus, there’s just one appropriate method: it’s to study the book. If it includes the five propositions in question, then the references can be given, the quotations supplied, and anyone who wishes can confirm for themselves the facts of the matter. Pascal notes that no one—not Innocent, not the consultors in Rome who advised him, not those among the French theologians and bishops who had it in for Pascal and his friends—had been able to show where the condemned propositions are to be found in the Augustinus. And that, Pascal writes, is because they aren’t there. No matter what Cum occasione says, the Augustinus does not endorse or even contain any of the condemned propositions, much less all of them.

And Pascal tightened the screw. Matters of fact such as the one at issue don’t and can’t require the assent of faith. He writes, in the Provincial Letters, that “when the church condemns texts, she supposes them to contain an error that she condemns; and then it’s a matter of faith that the error has been condemned; but it isn’t a matter of faith that the texts in fact contain the error that the church supposes to be there.” In other words, whatever the pope or the bishops might say about matters of fact, positions on such matters cannot require the assent of faith. They’re simply not that kind of thing. No one’s orthodoxy or salvation depends on whether so-and-so wrote such-and-such in a particular book. People can disagree about what Jansen wrote, or about the best way to interpret it; but the magisterium has no special expertise in such matters.

In pursuing this argument, Pascal applied tools he’d developed in earlier controversies. (He was, from beginning to end, a controversialist: a man for whom the intellectual life was essentially an agonistic matter.) One such controversy had been about whether nature abhors a vacuum. Most of Pascal’s contemporaries thought that it did, and that therefore a vacuum could never be established or observed. Pascal devised experiments that showed, decisively, that a vacuum can indeed be established and observed; and he was scathing about those (again, mostly Jesuits) who thought the question about vacuums could be resolved by appealing to what Aristotle and his interpreters had written. Pascal considered that method inappropriate to the question, which was one of physics, not Aristotelian exegesis. Those who thought that the results of Pascal’s experiments must be wrong because of what the Aristotelian tradition said were ridiculous fools, and Pascal did not hesitate to ridicule them. So also here: the question about what’s in the Augustinus is one that can be investigated by ordinary means (read the book, provide the references), and those who think it can be answered by appeal to what the bishops say misunderstand both the nature of the question and the scope of magisterial authority.

Pascal continued to deny that particular matters of fact can be resolved by magisterial authority.

In 1656, after complicated backroom maneuverings in France and at Rome, Alexander VII promulgated the bull Ad sanctam, which responded directly to Pascal’s argument. Pope Alexander wrote that the five propositions of Cum occasione were drawn from the Augustinus, and are condemned “in sensu ab eodem Cornelio Iansenio intento”: in just the same sense as that intended by Jansen. This raised the temperature. Alexander didn’t back off from what Innocent had written, but rather intensified it in two ways. Now the five propositions were not merely said to have been taught or endorsed by Jansen in the Augustinus, but to have been excerpted from that book; and the sense in which they were condemned was said to be exactly the sense intended by Jansen. That second claim introduced a new problem: it was no longer just a question of what was written in the book, which is a matter of public record, but also of what the person who wrote it meant by it, which isn’t.

Pascal did not retreat. In 1657, partly in response to Ad sanctam, he restated a clear distinction between two ways of coming to assent to some claim. One is by reason, which means deploying for oneself whatever means of investigation are best suited to the claim in question. The other is by relying on authority, which means faith or trust in those best equipped to rule on the topic. Pascal subdivided this second way, faith, into two kinds. First, there’s divine faith, which means faith in what God has entrusted to the church, available to Catholics in Scripture and tradition. Here tradition means “what’s proposed to us by the church, with the assistance of the Spirit.” The church, Pascal writes, is infallible on those matters. And then there’s human faith, which means faith in authoritative people, those best equipped to teach us truths about particular matters (historical, empirical, and so on). And then Pascal writes this:

Everything that has to do with a particular point of fact can only be assented to by human faith. That’s because it’s quite clear that such matters can’t be founded upon Scripture or tradition, which are the two channels through which God’s revelation, on which divine faith is founded, comes to us. And that’s why the church can be in error on questions of fact, as all Catholics recognize.

And this:

To command those who are entirely persuaded of the truth of some point of fact to change their opinion in deference to papal authority would be to require that they abuse their reason against the order of God himself, who has given us reason to discriminate true from false so that we can prefer what we take to be true to what we take to be false.

This makes the tension very clear. In spite of what Alexander’s bull says, Pascal continued to deny that particular matters of fact can be resolved by magisterial authority, and he did that because of an epistemology—an understanding of what knowledge is and how it’s arrived at—that places conclusions about such matters beyond the scope of magisterial teaching. So if you should find yourself in the position, as Pascal did, of having what you take to be clear, even decisive evidence in favor of some conclusion about a question of fact, you shouldn’t abandon that conclusion because a pope or some bishops say the opposite.

It’s worth pausing here to note that Pascal is correct about the question of fact at issue. None of the five propositions condemned by Innocent and Alexander is to be found verbatim in the Augustinus, and if Alexander said otherwise, then he was wrong. Thanks to Google Books, you can test this at home. The 1640 Louvain edition of the Augustinus—1,463 pages of turgidly serious Latin on double-columned badly-photographed pages—can be downloaded gratis. You can read it all with the text of the condemned propositions at hand, and if you do, you’ll find that none of them has been excerpted from the book—not, at least, if “excerpted” means “taken verbatim.” And if you consult the latest edition of Denzinger’s Compendium (2012), you’ll find that its notes to the relevant sections of Innocent’s Cum occasione claim that the first of the condemned propositions is found “literally” in the Augustinus, at 3.III.13. But it isn’t—or not if “literally” means “verbatim.”

Of course, to say that the condemned propositions aren’t found verbatim in the Augustinus is perfectly compatible with saying that the condemned propositions are an adequate summary of the positions defended in that text. I’ll make no claim about that one way or the other. Here I focus on the matter only to provide a clear instance of Pascal’s strong claim, quoted above: that it’s possible for the magisterium to err on matters of fact, and that if we think we have decisive evidence that this has happened, we’d be abusing our faculties—and, I’d add, our consciences—were we to pretend otherwise.

But that isn’t the end of the story. Following Alexander’s bull—and after much back-and-forth among the French bishops, the Roman consultors, and various political factions, to which Pascal contributed with the vigor you might expect—the French vicars general demanded that priests, religious, and teachers of theology sign a formulary of submission to the bulls of 1653 and 1656, in wording designed to make it impossible to maintain a distinction between the condemned propositions and Jansen’s teaching of them. This was in October 1661, just nine months before Pascal’s death. Pascal’s last surviving written contribution to the debate, composed during the last months of 1661, speaks to a situation in which, as he sees it, the Port-Royalists have only three choices: sign the formulary without reservation, which would mean agreeing that the propositions are heretical and that Jansen taught them; refuse to sign; or sign with the reservation that the signature has to do only with matters that concern the faith—i.e., not with the question of what Jansen did or didn’t write or intend or teach, but only with questions of substance about the workings of grace.

Pascal explicitly rejects the third option. By now, he writes, “it’s a point of doctrine and of faith to say that the five propositions are heretical in the sense given them by Jansen.” To sign the formulary, then, is to submit to the denial of the-five-propositions-in-the-sense-given-them-by-Jansen. That complex object can no longer be disaggregated into its components (the five propositions on the one hand; Jansen’s teaching on the other). Attempts to do so have been ruled out by Ad sanctam and the formulary. If one signed the formulary, one’s signature meant submission to all of it; anything else would be bad faith. It would be “abominable before God and despicable before men.” But it’s not clear from this last surviving writing on the matter which of the other two possibilities—signing without reservation or not signing—Pascal endorsed. He died the following August.

At first blush it might seem clear which option Pascal must have favored. If, as he’d been consistent in arguing for the preceding six years, the magisterium’s authority doesn’t extend to matters of fact, and yet explicit submission to a teaching on just such a matter was now being required of French Catholics, shouldn’t he have refused to sign? Wouldn’t signing have been acknowledgement of a kind of authority the bishops don’t in fact have? Perhaps. But it seems to me that there’s something else Pascal might have done—and some evidence to suggest that it’s what he did.

The evidence: First, it’s clear that by late 1661 Pascal was at odds with other Port-Royalists on the question of the signature. The disagreements circled around whether the fact/doctrine distinction could be maintained, whether it was proper to sign with reservations, and whether it was proper to sign at all. That there were such disagreements shows at least that Pascal’s final position wasn’t identical with any of those held by other prominent Jansenists in 1661 and 1662, and since those positions were, essentially, sign with reservation or don’t sign, it’s at least possible that Pascal advocated signing without reservation. Second, there’s some (disputed) evidence in support of the view that Pascal died in full communion with the church, having confessed, received the last rites, and, during the last few days of his life, fully acknowledged to his confessor the right of the church to require his assent to the claims of the formulary. That’s the sworn testimony given after Pascal’s death by the priest who attended him in his last days. This testimony was accepted by the bishop of Paris, who’d commissioned an investigation into Pascal’s death in response to a request that his remains be disinterred from their burial place because he was a heretic who’d died separated from the Church. And third, there’s evidence (again, not probative) that close to the time of his death Pascal asked Jean Domat, to whom his papers were consigned, to destroy his writings on the signature if the religious of Port-Royal found themselves under persecution, but to preserve and publish them if they’d submitted. That report makes more sense if Pascal finally advocated signing without reservation.

Your task as a Catholic thinker is always to do the best you can at what you’re thinking about.

Pascal’s case shows with unusual clarity what it is to hold together two judgments that might at first seem incompatible, and what it’s like to act consistently with such a balancing act. The first judgment is: I’m convinced that p is the case. The second is: I see that the magisterium teaches not-p, and I acknowledge its authority to do so. Acknowledging that an authority teaches not-p doesn’t require you to abandon your assent to p (Pascal never abandons his view that none of the five propositions is found in the Augustinus). What it does require is submission (the signature) to the authority of the teacher who teaches not-p. Not to acknowledge that authority would be, in the Catholic case, to separate yourself from the form of life in part constituted by such an acknowledgment; it would be to look the state trooper in the eye as she asks you to roll down your window and say, “I don’t recognize your authority to direct my action; I’ve nothing to say to you.” You may do that. But doing it comes with a price: it’s the price of removing yourself from the form of life in which state troopers have authority to enforce local laws. That, mutatis mutandis, wasn’t a price Pascal was prepared to pay in the Jansen case, and I’m with him on that. Within the Catholic form of life, the magisterium does in fact have authority to do what it did in that case.

But acknowledgment and submission don’t require pretense. If it seems to you that such-and-such is the case (that the five propositions aren’t in the Augustinus), then clarity of thought and strength of conscience not only don’t require you to pretend otherwise, but require the opposite: when occasion demands, you must say that what seems to you to be the case does in fact so seem, and when relevant you must give your reasons for this judgment. Theologians call this expressing a doubt: I see that the magisterium teaches p, but, so far as I can tell, not-p is the case, and here’s why. We’ve seen Pascal doing this, con brio. The modifier “so far as I can tell” is important. You might be wrong (that’s always true), and seeing that the magisterium seems to be teaching that you are should place your sense of your own rightness under pressure. Pressure of that kind is usually a good thing for the intellectual life: it clarifies conviction by accentuating difference.

The pressure of authority had at least one very clear effect on Pascal’s thought: it led him to suggest that when the magisterium says that so-and-so’s teaching of such-and-such is heretical, the right response is not to try to disaggregate the teaching (separating the so-and-so from the such-and-such), but rather to treat it as a complex whole. That’s what Pascal did in his last surviving letter about the formulary. The nature of that complex whole then requires further clarification. Maybe the best way to describe it is heresies-about-grace-insofar-as-they-are-endorsed-by-Jansen; or maybe it’s whatever-Jansen-wrote-that-supports-this-heresy, or grace-heresies-best-labeled-“Jansen’s”—and there are more possibilities. Once disaggregation is rejected new possibilities for thought open up, both for the speculative theologian (Pascal) and for the teaching church. One such new possibility appeared, as we’ve seen, in Alexander’s Ad sanctam: he develops what Innocent had written in Cum occasione by mentioning the sense in which Jansen intended the five propositions. This, as I’ve noted, postulates an extra-textual something, and moves everyone’s thought away from the textual particulars of the Augustinus and toward something else—a trajectory of thought, an implied grammar, or some such. This magisterial move wouldn’t have occurred without Pascal’s polemics; and those, in turn, wouldn’t have occurred without magisterial pressure. The benefit is mutual, and is the result of the magisterium doing what it should and of a theologian doing what he should.

The other question that Pascal’s case raises and illuminates for us is about the place matters of fact have in magisterial teaching. Suppose we understand a matter of fact to be one capable, in principle, of exhaustive investigation by observation. One example: the presence of a sequence of words in a particular book—affirmed, as we’ve seen, variously, by Innocent X and Alexander VII in the case of Jansen’s Augustinus. Another example: the involvement of a Roman official named Pontius Pilate in the trial, condemnation, and execution of Jesus of Nazareth—affirmed scripturally and credally (“suffered under Pontius Pilate”).

Pascal came to see that his attempt to maintain an impermeable distinction between matters of this sort and matters of faith and morals couldn’t be sustained. But the attempt is helpful to us in two ways. First, it shows that when the magisterium instructs about matters of fact, as it often does, it doesn’t do so with any concern for those matters considered in themselves. Pontius Pilate is interesting to the church only because he was involved with Jesus; had he not been, the church would have had nothing to say about him. It follows from this that it’s a misconstrual of the church’s teaching about Pilate to treat it like an encyclopedia entry, from which data about Pilate can be extracted and considered independently from the story about Jesus. This is compatible with the thought that some things said about Pilate are incompatible with the church’s teaching. That would be true, for example, of the statement “Pontius Pilate was actually in Rome when Jesus was tried.” If you’re a faithful Catholic and you find yourself believing that statement (perhaps you’re a historian and you’ve come to think that this is what the evidence shows), then you’ll find yourself in a position similar to the one just discussed: believing something incompatible with what the church teaches, while also affirming the church’s authority to teach what it teaches.

But there is an interesting, if subtle, difference. Pascal’s insistence on an impermeable distinction between matters of fact and matters of doctrine, and what I take to be his later abandonment of that hard distinction, shows that the tension between the church’s teaching about Pilate and the historian’s findings isn’t best understood as a direct contradiction. It’s not as it would be if you find the church teaching it’s not possible for women to be ordained to the priesthood while you find yourself believing that it is possible. That’s a direct contradiction. But in the Pilate case, the church teaches about Pilate only in his relation to the figure of Jesus: Pilate has no significance for the church outside that relation. His name serves as synecdoche for something like “empire-as-related-to-Jesus.” The point of the church’s teaching about him isn’t to make an entry into a chronicle of events, but to locate Jesus in time and place, and to show something about the significance of his trial and death. Those purposes can be served in other ways, and, so far as I can see, nothing much hinges upon whether the name of the Roman official who condemned Jesus was Pontius Pilate. That much remains of Pascal’s insistence that no one’s salvation rests upon a matter of fact.

And that is the final gift that the Pascal case gives. It provides Catholics who want to think about matters of fact spoken to in one way or another by the magisterium with a fundamental guiding question: What is the significance for the life of the church of the magisterium’s teaching about this matter of fact? There will always be some such significance if, as I’ve suggested, the church never teaches about matters of fact simply as such. Whenever we find ourselves in disagreement with the magisterium about a matter of fact, we should begin by trying to understand what that significance is.

If you want to think as a Catholic about the Lord God, about the human person, or about the good society, you’ll find the magisterium there as a companion and a blessing, albeit one that sometimes comes with painful difficulties. Pascal’s case, on my reading of it, shows how that blessing may be welcomed and the difficulties embraced, to the benefit of all concerned. If you never find yourself in a situation like that of Pascal—seeing that the magisterium teaches one thing while, as far as you can tell, the opposite is true—that is likely an indication that you’re not thinking hard enough, and therefore not doing the job the church needs you to do as a thinker. If, when you do find yourself in Pascal’s situation, you pretend to yourself and the world that you don’t take to be true what you do take to be true, you’re also failing, this time by treating the magisterium as if it were Big Brother and concealing the truth out of fear. Your task as a Catholic thinker is always to do the best you can at what you’re thinking about; to be as clear as you can about the conclusions to which your thinking leads you; to delineate, as clearly as possible, what differences you have with the magisterium’s teaching; and, at the same time, to acknowledge the magisterium’s authority, recognizing that you are more likely to be wrong than the church is. All that together makes a delightfully difficult task. Neither the delight nor the difficulty should be forgotten or covered over. Together, they’re the Catholic thing.

Issue:

May 2020

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