John (Jean) Buridan must have been quite a guy. A brilliant but little known French philosopher of the 14th century, Buridan is the stuff of legend. Supposedly, he knocked Pope Clement VI silly one day by hitting the Holy Father over the head with a shoe during an argument. By another account, he met his end when the King of France had him tied up in a sack and thrown into the Seine River following an affair with the Queen. Though tales like these can’t be proved, they fit the profile of this quirky University of Paris professor and priest.
Buridan is probably best known for an illustration of the idea of paradox called “Buridan’s Ass.” The paradox long predates Buridan’s own life, but later satirists named an element of his thinking with this title. If an ass (that would be a donkey) were to find itself standing equidistant between a bale of hay and a pail of water, it would — hypothetically, at least — die of both hunger and thirst. Frozen by indecision between the hay and the water, the animal would perish. Like a panicked bird flying round and round in a closed room, until it collapses from confusion and exhaustion, the donkey would be paralyzed by two competing options.
We know this “disease of the mind.” It happens to us all the time. We compile arguments for and against. We weigh pros and cons. We become stuck at a crossroads. For lack of a better name, I’d like to call it Buridanitis.
Abraham Lincoln once gave a speech in the legislature about a house divided against itself being unable to stand… which he likely borrowed from 4th-century St. Augustine who talked about his torn inner self with similar language… who likely borrowed the same idea from Jesus, who once said, “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and a divided house falls” (Luke 11:17).
Whatever the origins of intellectual paralysis, romantic indecision, and the challenge of being overwhelmed by nearly unlimited choice every day, we do not want Buridanitis. It is no way to live. It will immobilize and stifle our otherwise blessed lives.
I think about the ways we are infected with uncertainty when I contrast the way of Jesus. At the end of his earthly life he was pummeled. People knocked him cruelly about like a punching back. He ended up on the gallows. Yet no matter what the circumstance, Jesus knew who he was. There was obvious direction to his life. In his teenage years, he told his parents that he “must be” in his Father’s house (which meant either the temple or the heart of God, or both). In his later years, he “set his face toward Jerusalem” (which meant he understood the consequence of traveling there). Jesus knew who exactly who he was.
If a donkey, in hypothetical terms, gets paralyzed between a pile of hay and a bucket of water, Jesus, in real terms, does not get paralyzed when having to choose between a good and meaningful life and an unpleasant execution that will save others.
It may be that Jesus, through his death, helps us get one thing straight. It is this: We must first decide who we will be in life. Then, we can let our commitments and goals follow. I’m afraid we often get this ordering confused. We first decide what our goals should be, and what commitments we would like to make. Then we try and decide who we will be based on those goals and commitments. Sounds to me like a perfect recipe for Buridanitis.
Pastor Peter Marty,
"Whatever your heart clings to and confides in, that is really your God." ~Martin Luther
Source: ELCA New Service