Sunday, August 22, 2010

Dorothy Sayers: A Mind of Her Own

Alice C. Linsley

Dorothy Sayers’ writings reveal her to be one of the most politically and religiously unaccommodating women of the 20th century. She distained propaganda, saw through commercial advertizing, resisted trends, defended human dignity and argued for the integrity of the creative process.

Carl Olson writes, “In an age of skepticism, cynicism, and false ‘freedoms,’ Dorothy Sayers (1893-1957) was a passionate and occasionally scathing voice of reason. Like her friends C.S. Lewis, T.S. Eliot, and Charles Williams, Sayers was a brilliant Christian thinker, an Anglo-Catholic who took doctrine seriously and bristled at the growth of ‘fads, schisms, heresies, and anti-Christ’ within the Church of England.”

Sayers’ writings reveal her opposition to all careless regard for human dignity. Lord Peter is always delicate, even compassionate, in making inquiries of the broken-hearted and the scandalized. He must overcome his lordly pride in order to accept his beloved Harriet Vane on her own dignified terms. On the matter of life and death, Sayers takes the high road, opposing euthanasia on moral and religious grounds.

In those last weeks or hours of pain and unconsciousness, the soul may be undergoing some necessary part of its pilgrimage on earth. It isn’t our business to cut it short. Who are we to take life and death into our hands? ... the wrongness of the thing lies much more in the harm it does the killer than in anything it can do to the person who is killed. Especially, of course, if the killing is to the killer’s own advantage. (Unnatural Death)

Her mysteries, which at places offer rich catholic insight, nonetheless gave offense to both the catholic and the evangelical because she refused to fashion her characters as good High Churchmen or even as born-again Evangelicals.

Well-meaning readers who try to identify the writer with his characters or to excavate the author’s personality and opinions from his books are frequently astonished by the ferocious rudeness with which the author himself salutes these efforts at reabsorbing his work into himself. They are an assault upon the independence of his creatures, which he very properly resents. Painful misunderstandings of this kind may rive the foundations of social intercourse, and produce explosions which seem quite out of proportion to the apparent causes….

“I am sure Lord Peter will end up as a convinced Christian.’


“From what I know of him, nothing is more unlikely.”


“But as a Christian yourself, you must want him to be one.”


“He would be horribly embarrassed by any such suggestion.”


“But he’s far too intelligent and far too nice, not to be a Christian.”


“My dear lady, Peter is not the Ideal Man; he is an eighteenth-century Whig gentleman, born a little out of his time, and doubtful whether any claim to possess a soul is not a rather vulgar piece of presumption.”


“I am disappointed.’


“I’m afraid I can’t help that.”


(No; you shall not impose either your will or mine upon my creature. He is what he is, I will work no irrelevant miracles upon him, either for propaganda, or to curry favour, or to establish the consistency of my own principles. He exists I his own right and not to please you. Hands off.) (The Mind of the Maker)

Sayers was a deeply religion person, but not stuffy. She is well depicted in Mrs. Budge’s description of the affable and astute Miss Climpson, whose high church ways are a mystery to the Chapel-going Mrs. Budge:

“…you might find her up at the church. She often drops in there to say her prayers like. Not a respectful way to approach a place of worship to my mind…Popping in and out on a week-day, the same as if it was a friend’s house. And coming home from Communion as cheerful as anything and ready to laugh and make jokes. I don’t see as how we was meant to make an ordinary thing of religion that way – so disrespectful and nothing uplifting to the ‘art about it. But there! we all ‘as our failings, and Miss Climpson is a nice lady and that I must say, even if she is a Roaming Catholic or next door to one.”

Lord Peter thought that Roaming Catholic was rather an appropriate name for the more ultramontane section of the High Church party.” (Unnatural Death)

Finally, a sketch of Dorothy Sayers would not be complete without mentioning her thoughts on the arts and the necessity of human creativity. She wrote, “Man is never truly himself except when he is actively creating something.” She asserted this because she believed that humans share in the nature of the Creator.

The Church asserts that there is a Mind which made the universe, that He made it because He is the sort of Mind that takes pleasure in creation, and that if we want to know what the Mind of the Creator is, we must look at Christ. In Him, we shall discover a Mind that loved His own creation so completely that He became part of it, suffered with and for it, and made it a sharer in His own glory and a fellow-worker with Himself in the working out of His own design for it. (Creed and Chaos, Chapter 10)

Painters and patrons of the arts take the leading role in two of her novels: Five Red Herring and Thrones and Dominions, a book which Sayers never finished. In the first, a hot-headed and heavy-drinking Scottish painter is murdered and in the second the flirtatious wife of a patron of the arts is murdered.

In Five Red Herrings we read this description of a temperamental artist:

Graham pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and set to work… The picture came up before their eyes with the conjuring quickness of a lightening sketch at the cinema- the burn, the trees, the bridge and a mass of bulging white cloud, so like the actual canvas Wimsey had seen on the easel that he was thoroughly startled.

You ought to be making a living by impersonations, Jock.”

That’s my trouble. Too versatile. Paint in everybody’s style, except my own. Worries the critics…But It’s fun. Look, here’s Gowan.”

He rubbed out the sketch and substituted a vivid chalk impression of one of Gowan’s characteristic compositions – a grim border-keep, a wide sweep of coast, a boat I the foreground, with muscular fishermen bending over their nets.

“Here’s Ferguson – one tree with decorative roots, one reflection of same in water – dim blue distance; in fact, general blues all over – one heap of stones to hold the composition up. Here’s Farren – view of the roofs of Kirkcudbright complete with Tolbooth, looking like Noah’s Ark built out of nursery bricks – vermilion, Naples yellow, ultramarine – sophisticated naïveté and no cast shadows. Waters – ‘none of these charlatans take the trouble to draw’ – bird’s-eye view of a stone-quarry with every bump identifiable – horse and cart violently foreshortened at the bottom, to show that he can do it. Bless you” – he slopped some beer on the counter and wiped the mess away with a ragged sleeve – “the whole bunch of them have only got one gift between them that I lack, and that’s the single eye, more’s the pity. They’re perfectly sincere, I’m not – that’s what makes the difference. I tell you, Wimsey, half those damned portraits people pay me for are caricatures – only the fools don’t know it.” (Five Red Herrings, Chapter 7)

In Thrones and Dominions, Laurence Harwell backs plays for a hobby while his wife, Rosamund', wants him to back a play by Claude Amery, her "pet poet." This, and Rosamund sitting for the amorous French painter Gaston Chapparelle, strains their marriage. Rosamund turns up murdered in the Harwells’ country estate and Lord Peter solves the mystery.

Sayers seemed to enjoy the demise of undisciplined artists and unfaithful artsy women. They represented people who gave the arts a bad name. Worse, in her thinking they embodied “a loose and sentimental theology” that “begets loose and sentimental art-forms.” (The Man Born to Be King: A Play Cycle on the Life of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ)

Thursday, August 12, 2010

High School Junior Writes About What Matters

The Deepest Desires of Mankind

By Elizabeth Barney, Grade 11


Materialism has been defined as the belief that physical well-being and worldly possessions hold the greatest goods and highest values in life. People have become so successful at fabricating and manipulating the world that we have come to believe that altering our surroundings is the way to solve our problems. Due to these assumptions, materialism now directs our lives. Humans identify themselves and others by beauty, power, and wealth.

The 20th century has seen a huge upsurge in the importance of physical beauty, particularly in women. The fashion, cosmetics, and plastic surgery industries have thrived on the preoccupation that affects women in every sphere, whether they choose to pander to it or not. Alissa Quart wrote, “Youth is nothing less than a metaphor for change.” Kids are just trying to establish their identities (Colson 127). From puberty onwards, young girls are pressured by the media to look a certain way. This is nothing more than grooming young girls to be the sexual objects young men want them to be (Colson 137). Beauty is the beast that drives females to depression (McDowell 169). Without beauty people often feel powerless.

Power is what people have come to see as a capacity to impose control on others and their own unruly emotions. Power comes from taking advantage of differences between people. Humanists believe that man is sincerely capable of delivering himself and his world from all evils without the help of any god (McDowell 189). Napoleon Bonaparte, a former leader in France, had this exact belief. Bonaparte even once said, “I love power. I love it as a musician loves his violin, to draw out its sounds and chords and harmonies.” (Brainyquotes.com)

Barack Obama is another person that is going to go down in history as one who hungers for power. He has said, “Yes, we can change. Yes, we can heal this nation. Yes, we can seize our future.”(Cnnpolitics.com) Obama believes that he can fix the problems of the world with his own power and control. This is evident in how aggressively he climbed to the top in the political world. Humans, especially men – in the military, in the church, in the work place – quickly arrange themselves vertically, according to their power and control. In many cases, the higher someone is on the economic ladder, the higher they are on the power ladder.

NARAL, America’s most powerful abortion organization, hits the right chords when it comes to wealth and promoting. Their website is full of “fun and crazy ways” to push for abortion and to recruit more followers (Colson 54). This is a prime example of how America is being consumed by materialism. NARAL vindicates their argument about killing babies simply for more money. In one general hospital abortion brought $68,000.00 in a ten-year period (Lutzer 105). The world not only justifies killing babies but it also justifies the porn industry. Selling sex is one of the oldest businesses in the world, and right now, business has never been better. Pornography brings America at least $3.9 billion dollars a year (Forbes.com). People are becoming so blinded by material things, such as money, that they are completely forgetting about moral values.

American society has been in hot pursuit of everything that is killing our souls. We spend millions of dollars a year seeking the ideal physical images to find our inner peace. Some of us think we can find that “peace” by being revered by those we have stepped on to get to the top. Others walk through life with their vision completely clouded by dollar signs. All of us have holes in our hearts that we long to fill, but will these materialistic aspirations make us complete? Are physical attributions, authority, and monetary gain really the greatest good and highest value in life?

The world seeks after things that aren’t going to satisfy their deepest desires. They’re deceived into believing that the emptiness they feel can easily be fixed by pursuing everything but the Truth. God created mankind intentionally to hunger for Him and only Him. Beauty, power, and wealth will never bring us true joy; A personal relationship with Christ is the only medicine.

Works Cited

Ackamn, Dan. "How Big is Porn?" Forbes Online. 25 May 2001. http://www.forbes.com/2001/05/25/0524porn.html

Bonaparte, Napoleon. BrainyQuote.com. Xplore Incorporated. 17 May 2010. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/n/napoleonbo150182.html

Colson, Charles. Lies That Go Unchallenged in Popular Culture. Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House Publishers Incorporated, 2005.

Lutzer, Erwin W. Twelve Myths American Believe. Chicago, IL: Moody Press, 1993.

McDowell, Josh. Don't Check Your Brains at the Door. Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Incorporated, 1992.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Jonathan B. Hall on Oral Tradition

We are continuing discussion of oral tradition from here.

Jonathan B. Hall's writings mostly concern the pipe organ and sacred music. Before studying organ, he studied English literature. In this piece, he combines his interests in music and literature.

Over at his blog, Jonathan has written about how symmetry (what I call "binary distinctions") are an aspect of the form that provides greater meaning.  He notes that the loss of grandfather in a popular holiday poem, results in imbalance and loss of meaning. The Bible sustains the binary distinction of male-female, heaven-earth, God-Mankind, because the tension of the opposites reveals the greater meaning.  In this thoughtful piece, Jonathan demonstrates how this is so.

Jonathan writes:

One of the holiday songs we all don’t know in common is “Over the River and Through the Woods,” a poem by Lydia Maria Child (1802-1880) of Medford, Massachusetts.

Five miles northwest of Boston, Medford is, I think, the birthplace of much of our historic New England, Currier-and-Ives iconography of an American Christmas. “Jingle Bells” was composed here, in honor of the sleigh races down Salem Street. The most popular American liquor, Old Medford Rum, was made here. Paul Revere stopped here, rousing Captain Hall of the Medford Minutemen.

My own family roots are deep in the town that gave us all of this iconography.

So, what’s the correction?

The opening lines of the song, that’s what.

Normally, we Americans sing the song like this:

Over the river and through the woods,
to grandmother’s house we go;
ta-dum-da-dee-dum,
ta-dum-da-dee-dum,
da-da-da-dum-dum-dum….

Later on, if anyone’s still singing, we sing: “…now grandmother’s cap I spy! Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?…” and so on. It’s all there on YouTube. But:

Where’s grandfather?

Well, he is supposed to be there too. He’s been edited out—I’ll leave the reader to decide why.

Here’s how Miss Child wrote the poem:

Over the river and through the wood,
to grandfather’s house we go;
the horse knows the way
to carry the sleigh
through the light and drifting snow…

Grandfather’s house. Not Grandmother’s. The early appearance of “grandfather’s house” in the original text makes “grandmother’s cap” all the more delightful, all the more poetically balanced, when it appears in its proper place in the poem.

There’s equality, too; it’s Grandfather’s House, but the first person we see, the one whose sight delights us first, is Grandmother! (The “cap” is a synechdoche, standing in for Grandmother the way “house” does for Grandfather, only with greater personal immediacy. We meet the Grandparents via synechdoche; neither one is erased.)

What a beautiful image of America, the spiritual Zion, and our heavenly destiny. Grandfather’s House. This poem resonates because it’s also deeply anagogic: the poet is also thinking of our journey home to God, Who may be appropriately envisioned as an elderly male (though of course, God transcends gender, even if we cannot). The poetry is exquisitely Christian:

Over the river: by the agency of Baptism; by crossing the Jordan. (Literally, the Mystick River that flows through Medford.)

Through the woods: the vale of tears, the earthly life of uncertainty. The Selva Oscura. (Literally, the religiously-iconic wilderness of Massachusetts.)

Grandfather’s House: heaven.

Grandmother’s cap: the foretaste of glory. What great female saints we shall meet there as well! How welcoming; how like a complete family it shall be. (May one dare to think of our Lady?)

Even:

Is the pudding done? The feast of the Kingdom.— O sacrum convivium… futuræ gloriæ nobis pignus datur.

From now on, I will make a point to teach and lead this song with its correct, deeply-resonant text. Grandfather’s house it is, and shall remain!

Thursday, August 5, 2010

The First Ruler, Part 3

Alice C. Linsley
(Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.)


     It was cool when Ra left his cave but it grew warmer as he descended to the spring-fed lake. He stood on the bank of the lake facing the east and began his prayers as the sun rose over the horizon. Using the half of the sacred ostrich egg, Ra scooped up water and poured the water on the ground, forming a straight line from west to east, between where he stood and the bank of the lake. He prayed:

“Father, I greet you as you come from your house in the east and begin your daily journey to your abode in the west.”

Ra then poured water in a line perpendicular to the first line, this one running north to south to form a cross. Then he prayed again:

“I have but one dwelling place as I am but dust and will return to dust. Father, grant that my territory might extend from the north to the south for as far as the eye can see.”

Then Ra stood at the center of the lines he had made with the water, at the center of the cross, and he poured the last of the water over his head and prayed:

“May I not give offense, since you see all things. Make me clean with this water as the rains wash away the dust. As the water brings life and sustains life, make me and my house to live before you. Shower me with blessings from above. Make my house into a great house. Grant that my son may have a territory like you have, with two houses, that he too may go forth like a bright light.”

When he had finished his prayers, Ra turned to hide the ostrich egg in the tree of life and was startled to see Ha's mother standing under the tree. She was watching him. He was sure that he was seeing a ghost and he started to run away but stopped when she called him by name.

"Ra, It is I. Don't be afraid."

Ra turned to face the woman.

"But I thought you were dead.  You didn't want to live. You..."

The woman stepped toward Ra and smiled.

"The Southlanders found me and took me to one of their villages. I'm alive and I've come to tell you.  It is time to make friends with the Southlanders. They are strong and know many things. They know how to read the stars and they count days by the Moon. They have work cycles for the men and for the women - 6 moon cycles for the women during which they plant and harvest and store grain.  That's the time when they bring forth their young. And there are 6 for the men when they hunt, make war and sit in council. Their numbers increase because they have food and good shelter. They have good water and they take blood from the earth."

"What do you mean 'they take blood from the earth'? How is that possible?"

"They have made great caves in the high mountains and they bring red stones out of them. Then they pound the stones to a powder and use it to make images on the walls of their caves and to bury their chiefs and their ruling women. They believe that life is in the blood as we believe that life is in the water."

"But how can I make friends with them? They will surely kill me and take Ha and my sons."

"Sons?  You have sons? Why didn't you tell me?  Take me to see them. Let's go now!"

So Ra and Ha's mother climbed to the cliff where Ra's family lived and as they climbed higher, both began to call out to Ha so that she would not be frightened as Ra had been.  When they reached the cave, Ha threw her arms around her mother and cried for joy and the two women embraced each other and wept and laughed. Ra watched his wife and her mother, noticing how much they looked alike with their eyes the color of roasted coffee beans and their long black hair framing their wide faces. They had the same high cheek bones. The older woman was almost as beautiful as the younger.

"I would have come sooner," Ha's mother said. "But I was very weak.  The wife of the chief cared for me until I was strong enough to return. She wanted me to stay and serve her, but I slipped away.  The chief will not be angry because I told him that I would return with a gift for him. If we make friends with the Southlander chief we can live more securely as neighbors."

"But won't the chief's wife be angry that you ran away?"

"Not if I bring her something of value when I return."

"What do we have of value that the Southlanders don't already have?"

Ha's mother frowned and shook her head. 

"It is something we must think about. But now, let me see these fine sons."

She sat down and took the youngest grandson into her arms. Ha sat beside her mother and smiled. 

"Let's talk about this later, " Ha said to her husband.  "Now is time to celebrate.  My mother is alive!  She is here."

Later that night Ra, Ha and Ha's mother considered how they might make friends with the Southlander chief who had saved Ha's mother. 

"We can give them ostrich eggs," Ha suggested.

"No. They have many ostriches wehre they live and the villagers use them as we do."

"Perhaps they would like our horde of turtle shells. Our's are very large and make excellent vessels for gathering seeds and berries. and for storing grain."

"No. They have turtles there," Ha's mother explained.  "We must think of something truely special to offer them, soemthing that they do not have. I know!  The tree that throbs with life.  They don't have a tree like our's.  Their sacred tree is the opposite. The branches look like serpents, all twisted about and they say the tree serpents speak to them when they eat a certain plant. Whereas with our tree, it is the roots that look like serpents going down into the ground, not trying to climb up to the heavesns. It is as if the 2 trees were reversed. Isn't that strange?"

"But we can't take the tree to them," Ra protested.  "It can't be moved, and if we cut it down it will no longer live and we will no longer have the tree wo mark the holy place." 

"Then we must bring the chief to the tree and offer it to him here."

Ra didn't like that idea. It frightened him and made his face turn down.  What would happen when the Southlanders knew about the tree?  Why should he invite them to come here where he and his family lived in peace?  What Ha's mother was asking of them was not good.  It smelled of great danger.  There had to be another way to make friends with the Southlander chief who saved Ha's mother from death and let her come home to them. There had to be a way to offer friendship without surrendering his holding, the place that he needed to build a territory for his son Ka.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Mother Goose: A Modern Oral Tradition

Mother Goose is an archetypical country woman who supposedly wrote stories and rhymes that have become standard fare for the nursery. Nobody knows who she is or whether she even lived, though most would agree that her roots are in England.  In fact, there are different versions of her rhymes so even the words aren't set in stone.

The Mother Goose ryhmes are a good example of how oral tradition preserves meaning while not always preserving form.  We are not going to explore the possible social critique conveyed in these rhymes. We are interested only in how the various versions maintain meaning. Consider the following versions of Bah, Bah Black Sheep.

Bah, bah, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry have I,
Three bags full;
One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.

Here's another version:

Bah, bah, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
One for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.
Bah, bah, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.

The The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford University Press, 1951, 2nd edn., 1997), p. 88, has this shorter and more formal version:

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
One for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.

Ed Pacht, a regular reader has made this observation:

I've always been intrigued with nursery rhymes -- as a teen My uncle found me reading a book about nursery rhymes, and failing to notice that it was a historical and political commentary, made fun of me for being concerned with stuff I should have outgrown. These rhymes, whether really old ones or relatively modern do indeed carry a great deal of meaning, and do it by being preserved in a form. I'm afraid I don't see that you've demonstrated your theseis here: that oral tradition preserves meaning while not always preserving form. The two versions you quote preserve the form remarkably well, but in actuality reverse the meaning rather than preserving it. I find this to be a common phenomenon in the transmission of folklore. In this case the climactic line in each version concerns a little boy in the lane. Without attempting to identify the historical referent (though it can certainly be fruitful to make the attempt), it is quite clear that the whole point has been reversed.

In one version, which I would guess to be the older, there is NONE for the little boy, contrasting him sharply with the Master and Dame, and producing a mood of deprivation and crying, as well as a bit of a mystery as to the disposition of the third bag. There most certainly is a story here, probably filled with intrigue and perhaps moral significance.

In the other version (probably altered from the original) there is ONE for the little boy, putting him on a par with the master and dame, eliminating both the mystery and the feel of tragedy, and converting the story to as rather simple and bucolic one with little significance.

I've heard both versions before and have been much struck with the contrast. Whatever the referent of the original, when the events had receded from memory, the form of the rhyme persisted, altered to carry a much less puzzling meaning. Similar things have happened to the classic Faerie stories and other folk tales, in which the rough edges have worn off and the deeper significance has eroded, while the outline and form have remained constant. Compare earlier and later versions of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood and others.

I would propose that oral tradition most certainly preserves form, but often alters meaning, and that use of oral tradition in historiography needs to involve finding out what the story originally conveyed and why the change occured.

Here is my response to Ed's excellent observation:
 
You are quite right!  None for the little boy and one for the little boy appear as reversals, but I was thinking in terms of a 4-way proportion. There are three bags and presumably 3 people, but if this is about taxes (as often supposed), the the narrator must keep something for himself. Then it seems that, though the form is different, the point is the same: heavy taxation disempowers the one being taxed, the narrator.

An old-guard Republican would argue that the heavy tax makes it impossible for the one taxed to spare something for the neighbor boy. The Democrat/Socialist would argue that 3 bags should be distributed to 3 parties: 2 ruling members and one on welfare. Where does that leave the one being taxed?

Ed responded:

The original may well have refered to the heavy taxation placed upon wool in late medieval England, a tax that was almost confiscatory -- different only in degree from Stalin's treatment of the Ukraine. That original version with that specific cause would certainly bear your interpretation: none for the boy because the King and his collector (perhaps the narrator) got his bag.

The second version (One for the boy) serves as a good example of what happens when the original referent for a beloved rhyme is forgotten. Someone reciting it was unhappy with the seeming disappearance of one bag, so he gave it back to the little boy, thus producing the pleasant, warm, and friendly version I learned as a kid -- everybody satisfied, no one crying, the narrator being only an observer. Precisely the opposite effect, taxation having disappeared from the equation.

My response:

In pre-literate societies, which depend on story-tellers (such as griots) to preserve history from generation to generation through narrative and genealogy, usually both form and meaning are preserved since the story is regarded as sacred.  This is why anthropologists claim that meaning in oral tradition is stable among tribal peoples. Yet there is evidence that form is more likely to change than meaning.

Consider the seemingly opposite interpretations of Afro-Asiatic cosmology as it is presented in the Bible. In one tradition the Earth is the center with the Sun (God's eye, chariot or solar boat) making a daily circuit.  This geocentric cosmology stresses God's omnipresence and omniscience. Yet the ancient Afro-Asiatics, who were great observers of nature, also had a heliocentric tradition by which they oriented their sacred buildings and defined God, whose emblem was the Sun, as the sacred center of all things. The traditions - geocentric and heliocentric - take different forms, but they are saying the same things about God.

This relates to the confusion about Science and the Bible.  Both sides miss the point that both the geocentric and heliocentric forms speak of the same metaphysical center. Jacques Derrida, after all his deconstructive "freeplay" of narratives, concluded that the center is real, absolute and fixed, and that it is called by different names, including God. In a series of lectures that Derrida delivered at Villanova University, he said: "It would be possible to show that all the terms related to fundamentals, to principles, or to the center have always designated the constant of a presence, ... essence, existence, substance, subject, ... transcendentality, consciousness or conscience, god, man, and so forth.” The existence of the metaphysical center is detected by examining the reversal of form. This reversal of the subordinated term of an opposition is no small aspect of deconstruction's strategy. Derrida's argument is that in examining a binary opposition and reversal, deconstruction brings to light traces of meaning that cannot be said to be present, but which must have metaphysical existence. This is not a new idea or even a new approach to meaning. It is consistent with the mystical approaches of the Afro-Asiatics and Derrida, as a North African Arabic-speaking Jew, introduced Western Philosophy to their interpretive approach to meaning.

For more on Oral Tradition, go here.