Why Cacho del Buey?

Vamos arando dijo la mosca sentada arriba del cacho del buey.

This is a saying that I learned in Chile. Actually, Wikipedia lists this as a Chilean proverb and uses the plural of cacho - los cachos. I will explain why I am using the singular - el cacho - but first let me attempt a free translation of the proverb. I am sure that there is an English equivalent saying, but I'll just go with my own creative translation of this one.

So, here goes the translation first, along with a great deal of poetic licence, and a little story.

"Let's get going!  We have some plowing to do, dear Ox!"  That's what the little fly said to the great Ox as she was sitting on top of one of his giant horns.  The Ox, in his humility as great and generous as his large body, kindly allowed Mosca, the little fly, to find a seat. "Get comfortable, dear little Mosca," he said. 'We have a long way to go. We will never see things the same way again if we head out. I am following the Way that is Way itself. I am plowing new ground, but it is really not new at all. Let's get going, little fly friend. My pace is slow but steady."

Okay, so, I just got back from a trip to the Holy Land, and my internal clock is all messed up. To make matters worse, today we return to standard time here in the US - except Arizona, which is always on standard time. It will take me days to reset my clock. Meanwhile, I will probably be getting up in the middle of the night to blog about things I don't understand and making up stories about people I do not know.

My point in using the little ox and fly metaphor is the following - more or less. Before I go any farther, I want to say that my ideas are mine alone - which will probably be more than obvious to anyone who reads this. This is part of my personal journey, as people like to say in our day. I suppose that it is a kind of philosophical and theological pilgrimage. So, by using important words like philosophical, theological, and pilgrimage, I may give my scrawlings greater weight.

You see, shortly before we left on our Holy Land pilgrimage, a kind friend introduced me to two wonderful traveling companions - besides my dear husband and the 20 other people who were with us on the trip. One was St. Thomas Aquinas and the other G.E.M. Anscombe. Well, there is a third, actually, in G.K. Chesterton who wrote a fine little biography of Thomas.

Here is what Chesterton said about Thomas.:

"St. Thomas was a huge heavy bull of a man, fat and slow and quiet; very mild 
and magnanimous but not very sociable; shy, even apart from the humility of 
holiness; and abstracted, even apart from his occasional and carefully concealed 
experiences of trance or ecstasy."

(Christian Classics Etherial Library)

Later Thomas' classmates called him a dumb ox, since he seemed to be clueless in his studies.

Here is Chesterton's description of Thomas as a student.

"Among the students thronging into the lecture-rooms there was one student, conspicuous by his tall and bulky figure, and completely failing or refusing to be conspicuous for anything else. He was so dumb in the debates that his fellows began to assume an American significance in the word dumbness; for in that land it is a synonym for dullness. It is clear that, before long, even his imposing stature began to have only the ignominious immensity of the big boy left behind in the lowest form. He was called the Dumb Ox. He was the object, not merely of mockery, but of pity."

(CCEL)

The lecturer and schoolmaster, Albertus Magnus - and I have no idea who he was - began to work with the Ox. He then said, "You call him a Dumb Ox: I tell you this Dumb Ox shall bellow so loud that his bellowings will fill the world".

...and they did.

In fact, Thomas has had many disciples throughout the centuries. One of those was a woman named G.M.E. Anscombe, said to be the greatest woman philosopher of the 20th century. Sometimes I wonder why a woman of her stature would have to be put into the category of women philosophers and then judged the greatest. After all, philosophy is not football or tennis. I do not see that her being a woman would have put her at some kind of disadvantage when compared to males of the same category.

I wonder who she thought was her equal among the male philosophers of her day, and if she thought she was less than they were just because she was a woman. In fact, I would guess that she had quite an advantage over the men, given the fact that she was the mother of 7 children!  This would have given her a distinct and definite advantage, I would think. Anyway, that's how things go, and maybe making special categories for men and women in such disciplines as philosophy is all right and good, but still I wonder why.

Now I am reminded of a couple of years that I spent in discussion on a theology group online. One of my friends - and I had maybe 2 or 3 on the whole group of several hundred men - dared to see potential in me as a woman and told me that I was the best woman who had ever been in the group. Actually, I think I held my own with the guys when it was a fair fight - which it wasn't always. I did not feel as thought I needed to be part of a special category called women, nor did I feel like I was just one of the guys. Anyway, that's water under the bridge, and I had a good time skewering some arguments until they squealed and died - at least in my mind.

Years before the theology group I had been on another group, but I made a huge mistake. The moderator said frequently that he was open to discussion about anything he said. One time he started to promote a certain book, telling us that we should read it and then he would discuss it. So, silly girl me, I took him at his word. I read the book, which was so full of  internal contradictions, not to mention theological errors, that it was quite easy to demolish, even for someone like me who has never studied logic and who has an undergrad understanding of theology. He refused to discuss it with me, and even tried to humiliate me. Not long after that he wanted me banned from the group. I am not sure how or why, but we broke one another's hearts - at least someone told me a long time later that I had broken his heart. I know he broke mine. Not sure how or why that happened, but I cannot turn back the clock.

Why did I share that? I don't know why. He's gone home now. Rest in peace. See you in the morning.

Now cracks a noble heart.Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Maybe women should not invade the realm of males, like theology or philosophy. Theology may very well be the domain of males, and women should keep a safe distance. Men do theology like they do football.  Men go to war over theology, even. I am reminded of mountain goats in the Canadian Rockies who bash their heads together over and over again in order to show which one is superior. Often, like Mountain Goats, no one really wins, but they all bellow. Now, that may be unkind, but it makes me smile to think of theology in those terms. I can let go of theology and allow the men to dominate that field.

But what about philosophy? To me it seems that women are well suited to philosophy in the sense of being lovers of wisdom. After all, the Bible even personifies Wisdom as a woman. (see Proverbs 4) Wisdom is certainly part of our domain, and we can be generous in allowing men to share in our wisdom as well.

Also, as I think many already know, the Greek word for wisdom is the feminine noun, sophia - σοφία. 

I know that formal philosophy is much more complex than that. It has to do with formulating logical arguments in a serious way. It is a fine science as well as an art. For me, that will not be something I am able to do well. However, by focusing on two great Christian philosophers - Aquinas and Anscombe - I will be better off as a human being than before I started this journey. One is a man and a Saint. The other is a woman and the mother of 7 children - a true feminist. 

Also, I want to read them - Aquinas and Anscombe - in their own words, with translation of course in the case of Aquinas. I am not so interested in reading about them right now, except for the very fine book by Chesterton on St. Thomas Aquinas. 

So, Anscombe has become a focus of interest for me, along with her teacher, Aquinas.

...and I'm probably all wrong about many things, but I want to know the truth - or rather, the One who is Truth. As Chesterton said, "...the appetite for truth may outlast and even devour all the duller appetites of man."  ...or woman for that matter.

So, this little Mosca is going to sit on top of the cacho of that great Buey and enjoy the view and the ride.

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