Being a mom who teaches philosophy makes me somewhat of an
oddity. I spent years, first trying to get a degree done while caring for
babies, then teaching the alphabet rather than teaching Plato, then dragging
older children along into conversations and lectures way too heady for them,
and dragging students home to play with my children, leaving one world to race
to the other, and all this while slowly growing older myself. For a long time
now my students have seemed to welcome my undeniable middle-age, and they have
indicated that something motherly pervades my teaching and philosophy. They
have laughed sometimes uncomfortably at the fact that, as one student put it,
“You’re not safe!” Apparently you can be talking to me about “mundane” stuff of
life, and all of a sudden you find yourself doing philosophy. Or vice versa.
And so my designation, philosopher mom.
As my own ideas about how we know what we
know—epistemology—have developed, I have come to realize that perhaps the most
philosophical thing anybody can do is raise a baby. All those days I was not
doing philosophy to raise my children, I was in fact doing heady philosophy,
and I have reaped profound philosophical rewards in retrospect. Mom says,
“Eye…” and points to it. Then Baby points to her eye and says, “Dah?” and she
says, once again, “eye…” And so it goes. In this lowly game she words his
world. Putting words on the world is the stuff of knowing and the heart of what
God made us to do.
Walker Percy said that in this event of naming, things come
to be, and we, I who names and you to whom I name, are “cocelebrants of what
is.” He noted especially its celebrative aspect. Baby announces, “Ball!” not
simply to induce you to locate his, but for the sheer fun of saying and
savoring the word. But Percy’s main point was this: we always say what we say for
another.
My own epistemology (Longing to Know, 2003) has been slowly growing in the direction of claiming that we should take as our paradigm of all acts of knowing the interpersonal, covenantal relationship. I have been calling this covenant epistemology, and I am just now beginning to write this book.
In 2002 octogenarian scholar James Houston shocked me into seeing that being human might not be best construed substantivally (as a substance with essential attributes, as in “Man is a rational animal”), but should be construed interpersonally: to be human is to be a person-in-relation. He pointed me to the work of John MacMurray, whose mid-twentieth-century Gifford Lectures were published in the books, Self as Agent, and Persons in Relation.
Forget this rational animal stuff, says MacMurray. It’s led us to think that a baby is an animal that is then taught to be rational. An infant is definitely not an animal; it has no instincts. What it is is a person. It is made to be cared for, to reach out to the Other in personal relationship. The infant’s very life depends on it. But it is a love relationship of mutuality. It is exchanged through physical touch; a baby, quite literally, is born into someone’s arms.
To be a person, MacMurray argues, is to be in relationship with another person. The unit of the personal is not the ‘I’, but the ‘You and I’. Interpersonal communion does not wait for language to develop. Rather, language develops in the context of interpersonal relationship. And knowledge, from the first, is “knowledge of the personal Other,” says MacMurray. All this in a chapter titled, “Mother and Child”—!
MacMurray notes that “mother” can’t be a mere biological category. A mother is the baby’s caregiver, female or male (seems to me that was a dog in Peter Pan…) Are you, or have you been, in your caregiving, the personal Other to some wee one’s I? Welcome to the brother/sisterhood of philosopher moms. Our lot is rich indeed.
© 2005, Esther L. Meek.


Esther,
I love this line of thinking. It only makes sense that people made in the image of a tri-personal God would derive their personhood from their relationships. I think it was Julian of Norwich who wrote on the fact that the entire notion of person was developed within Trinitarian thinking and then later applied to people (I could be wrong here. It's been a while since I took those classes.).
As for the Peter Pan dog reference that caught my eye as well. I had a conversation with a friend last week who said that he first became interested in studying relationships (he's a counselor now) because he was able to share his soul with his dog as a child and began to wonder if he could experience that kind of unconditional love and devotion in a human relationship.
Great observations. I can't wait for the book.
Posted by: Mark Upton | September 12, 2005 at 07:26 AM
Dr. Meek, I am not surprised at all the parenting was philosophizing for you. After reading Fergus Kerr's Theology After Wittgenstein I found myself completely fascinated with everything about how my toddlers picked up language skills. It was like I was constantly taking notes to share with W's ghost. (Also I was enabled to read the later W with some understanding for the first time in my life.)
Posted by: Mark Horne | September 12, 2005 at 08:05 AM
Esther,
A voice from the past is sweet. Your ideas of philosopher mom are resounding within my head as I contemplate the theology I learned at Covenant is enfleshed in community - with my biological family, my church family, and my co-workers. It seems that each day, there is something that awakens a voice from my past education, be it Prof. Barrs or Dr. Peterson, that suddenly becomes more than words, more than academic, but real, enfleshed, living, breathing theology. Those are truly wonderful moments.
Jason Brooks
Posted by: jason | September 13, 2005 at 07:44 AM
To Mark, Mark, and Jason! Thanks for responding. I have much to ponder about personhood and knowing, and I am all ears, so am glad for the comment about J of Norwich and about the dog. As for Wittgenstein--what a great story! Very confirming. And Jason--wonderful to connect with you again. You evidence what I think is true of all learning: we come away having indwelt our teachers--having appropriated subsidiarily something larger and more palpable than their lecture outlines; and that is as it should be.
Posted by: Esther Meek | September 13, 2005 at 08:00 AM