27 Aug '07 07:35>1 edit
Much is sometimes made on here of human fallibility—moral and otherwise. Standards are set that humans seemingly cannot meet. Perfection is taken as a divine norm to which humans are held, though they cannot meet it. Nothing short of errorless perfection is considered acceptable.
Divine standards, it is sometimes asserted, are necessary even for us to know what is good, beautiful and true. Not just sometimes, but all of the time.
Every human error, to some, is laid down to “sinfulness”—to inherent moral failure or rebellion.
No person, on their own, can ever be “good enough” to satisfy a perfect God, who is apparently perfectly intolerant of error.
Etc., etc.
Even outside of divine fiat, some philosophical approaches seem to counsel people to adhere to a strict set of principles or rules to guide their behavior—regardless of someone’s personal view of a given set of circumstances. With or without divine fiat, “morality by rule” seems to often be asserted as the only safe course. No muddling through as best one can!
Are such standards of perfection valid? If one admittedly has made errors on one’s own recognizance, is that necessarily a sign that one needs external rules, laws, commands laid down in order to act, by and large, better? (And what of those who lay down the rules?)
A standard of perfection might be useful as a self-set goal—even if one can never actually meet it. Ought it to be accepted as a standard of moral judgment? Ought anything less than moral perfection be reason for guilt or shame? Ought moral error be taken as a sign that one cannot be trusted to make a majority of moral decisions according to one’s own consideration of matters?
Should one not simply accept one’s errors, learn from them as best one can, and move on?
Personally, in retrospect, most of my own moral errors seem to have occurred when I was attempting to adhere to some given standard—rather than just assessing the situation and acting in the way that seemed the most natural response. Thus I no longer place my trust in any given moral theory or “template”. I seem to do best when I simply do the best I can under particular circumstances. I no longer ask more of myself—or less. I take responsibility—and move on.
I am responsible for what I think, feel and do. Not God, not my parents, not society, not the gaps in some philosophy that I have chosen to commit to.
Why should this not be “good enough”?
Divine standards, it is sometimes asserted, are necessary even for us to know what is good, beautiful and true. Not just sometimes, but all of the time.
Every human error, to some, is laid down to “sinfulness”—to inherent moral failure or rebellion.
No person, on their own, can ever be “good enough” to satisfy a perfect God, who is apparently perfectly intolerant of error.
Etc., etc.
Even outside of divine fiat, some philosophical approaches seem to counsel people to adhere to a strict set of principles or rules to guide their behavior—regardless of someone’s personal view of a given set of circumstances. With or without divine fiat, “morality by rule” seems to often be asserted as the only safe course. No muddling through as best one can!
Are such standards of perfection valid? If one admittedly has made errors on one’s own recognizance, is that necessarily a sign that one needs external rules, laws, commands laid down in order to act, by and large, better? (And what of those who lay down the rules?)
A standard of perfection might be useful as a self-set goal—even if one can never actually meet it. Ought it to be accepted as a standard of moral judgment? Ought anything less than moral perfection be reason for guilt or shame? Ought moral error be taken as a sign that one cannot be trusted to make a majority of moral decisions according to one’s own consideration of matters?
Should one not simply accept one’s errors, learn from them as best one can, and move on?
Personally, in retrospect, most of my own moral errors seem to have occurred when I was attempting to adhere to some given standard—rather than just assessing the situation and acting in the way that seemed the most natural response. Thus I no longer place my trust in any given moral theory or “template”. I seem to do best when I simply do the best I can under particular circumstances. I no longer ask more of myself—or less. I take responsibility—and move on.
I am responsible for what I think, feel and do. Not God, not my parents, not society, not the gaps in some philosophy that I have chosen to commit to.
Why should this not be “good enough”?