Tongue In Cheek Research Articles

Ofsted, quality assure yourself! Applying current inspection criteria to assure the quality of current inspection

With tongue in cheek, I have modified key paragraphs in the current school inspection framework to help those monitoring inspections for quality-assurance purposes judge the quality of inspection teams. Reading them reveals the demanding nature of those expectations and raises the question as to how far inspectors can reasonably be expected to meet them – just as the same question can be posed to problems of the original paragraphs when applied to school teachers and leaders. The modified framework might also be used as the basis for self-evaluation by inspection teams or as a feedback form for schools to submit after an inspection.

Taxicab Metric of a Different Kind

Summary Imagine being tasked with measuring the distance between two points in a city, but you can only use a taxicab’s odometer which displays only whole-number values (the integer part) of its distance traveled so far—such is the display of modern digital measuring devices. This coarse measurement between two points might be called, tongue in cheek, a taxicab metric, but clearly of a different sort from the taxicab metric on a discrete grid that we encounter in combinatorics. We will explore how we might apply probability to our taxicab’s inherent randomness, and along with limit theorems, indeed measure arbitrary distances with any desired accuracy.

Viper on the Hearth's Unfinished Business: Anti-Mormonism and Mormon Studies

<i>Viper on the Hearth</i>'s Unfinished Business: Anti-Mormonism and Mormon Studies

Sincerely Luther: Narrative Letters of the Great Reformer by Neal E. Snider

Reviewed by: Sincerely Luther: Narrative Letters of the Great Reformer by Neal E. Snider Mark D. Tranvik Sincerely Luther: Narrative Letters of the Great Reformer. By Neal E. Snider. St. Louis: Concordia Publishing, 2019. 304 pp. As readers of this journal know, Martin Luther is among the most written-about figures in human history. Novel approaches to his life [End Page 224] and thought are rare, but Neal Snider's book opens a fresh path. The author, tongue in cheek, has claimed to receive 110 "letters" from Luther from beyond the grave. By means of this correspondence, Snider, a retired Lutheran pastor who is extremely well read in the works of the reformer, provides his readers an overview of Luther's life and theology. The result is an imaginative blend of biography, theology, and history with a bit of whimsy mixed in. The first thing I checked in this book was the author's grasp of Luther's profound and tension-filled theology. I am happy to report that Snider has done a fine job of exploring some of Luther's most complicated topics. He handles the gradual "conversion" of the reformer with nuance and subtlety. His summary of the Heidelberg Disputation and the theology of the cross is illuminating. He also does nice work explaining Luther's sacramental theology and the changing contexts that led the reformer to accent the promise in his early career and then underline the value of the element in later life. In Letter 91 he tackles the famous 1525 debate on free will with the humanist Erasmus. I particularly enjoyed Snider's account of Luther's views on the bondage of the will: "Consider the implication of affirming free will in relation to God. If you have a free will, then God is in your hands; He awaits a decision from you. Don't you see the blasphemy? God is at your disposal; you can accept Him and His promises or reject the same. In either case, you are in control of God" (243). That is a fine summation of Luther's argument. Snider also does not duck the troubling writings in Luther's works. There are letters covering his responses to the Peasants' Rebellion as well as one that deals with his hate-filled remarks concerning the Jews. While the author clearly loves his subject, this is not hagiography. Moreover, Snider's eye is clearly on the world of the parish pastor. He devotes moving letters to the topics of marriage, suffering, the struggle of prayer, and the trials of preaching. Throughout the text the reader can detect the experiences of one who has struggled on Saturday nights with sermons, prayed next to many bedsides, and officiated at countless funerals. A few items are missing that might have made this book stronger. It could use an index and a chronology, since those unfamiliar with Luther's life and teaching need such aids to fully comprehend the [End Page 225] reformer. Also, the accent here is clearly on the early Luther. The later Luther is also a fascinating figure but the references to the 1530s and 1540s are brief. Finally, one could get the impression from Snider's book that Luther was a solitary figure leading the charge of reform. References to the wider "Wittenberg movement," as it is known today, would have shown the reformer's dependence on a remarkable community of scholars and preachers. None of these criticisms should obscure Snider's accomplishment. This is an imaginative book that sparkles with insight. It clearly comes from one who has been captivated by the life and theology of Martin Luther and who has sought to pass along his reforming spirit to twenty-first century readers. Mark D. Tranvik Luther Seminary St. Paul, Minnesota Copyright © 2022 Johns Hopkins University Press and Lutheran Quarterly, Inc.

The Everyday Nationalism of Workers: A Social History of Modern Belgium

The Everyday Nationalism of Workers: A Social History of Modern Belgium

C. S. Lewis for Catholics

C. S. Lewis for Catholics David P. Deavel The reputation of Clive Staples Lewis, known as C. S. Lewis to his readers and Jack to his friends, has been a strange one. The quintessentially English writer, born in the north of Ireland, was in certain ways a rather parochial figure who only ventured out of the ambit of England and Ireland on the occasions of a childhood holiday in France, time on the western front in World War I, and a late-life trip to Greece for his honeymoon with a divorced, ex-communist writer who had essentially forced her way into his life and heart. Yet he has found international success, particularly in America. Given that he always called himself an ordinary lay member of the Anglican Church, his strongest following has always been among Evangelical Protestants in America. But second to the reputation among Evangelicals would have to be his reputation among Catholics (and Eastern Orthodox), many of whom consider him to be a writer who tapped into the central truths of Catholic faith and brought them to life not only in his many essays, but also his imaginative stories. Fr. Peter Milward, a Jesuit who studied with Lewis in the 1950s at Oxford, recalled that during his Jesuit formation an instructor was using Lewis’s Screwtape Letters for spiritual training. Don Giovanni [End Page 5] Calabria, an Italian priest who is now St. Giovanni, kept up an admiring correspondence in Latin for many years with Lewis (those letters, along with translations by Lewis’s former student Martin Moynihan, have been published several times). At a conference in the 1990s Fr. Joseph Fessio, the Jesuit founder of Ignatius Press, proposed that a joint ecumenical statement be drawn up for all the historic Christian faiths that would require subscription to Holy Scripture, the Apostles’ Creed, the first six ecumenical councils, and the writings of C. S. Lewis. The proposal was somewhat tongue in cheek, but it was warmly cheered.1 The admiration goes higher up the Catholic hierarchical chain. Walter Hooper, a young Anglican priest and erst-while academic who became Lewis’s secretary at the end of Lewis’s life and spent the rest of his life editing Lewis’s uncollected writings and writing about the man himself, recounted a meeting with St. John Paul II in which he presented some volumes of Lewis to the pontiff. John Paul, who had read much of Lewis’s writing, said to Hooper, “C.S. Lewis knew what his apostolate was, and he did it!”2 Benedict XVI himself cited Lewis’s Four Loves positively in his encyclical Deus Caritas Est (God is Love) as he built up the case for the possibility of lower human loves leading to and becoming incorporated in agape, that specific form of love to which the New Testament calls Christians. Indeed, not only has Lewis been admired by Catholics, but he has been a source of many a conversion to Catholicism. I certainly count him as an indispensable step on the way from my own childhood Evangelical Calvinism. My sixth-grade English teacher, Carol Somsel, required us to read books independently and then show that we had read them, either through taking a computerized test (for a number of books considered classics or standard children’s fare) or through giving her the book and then letting her interview us as to whether we had read and comprehended. That year I plowed through the Narnia tales. They whetted my taste for Lewis. I wanted to know about him and to be like him—to smoke a pipe and wear tweed. Though the assignment was the reading of fiction, in Mrs. Somsel’s [End Page 6] great wisdom she allowed me nonfiction related to Lewis, including: an encyclopedia of the Narnia books; Clyde Kilby’s illustrated C. S. Lewis: Images of his World, with its lush black-and-white photographs of Oxford, Lewis’s beloved Irish landscapes, influential figures like George MacDonald and G. K. Chesterton, and the Inklings themselves (J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams, and Owen Barfield); and even Lewis’s philosophical and theological tomes Mere Christianity and God in the Dock. Given that...

Reflexivity and food systems research

This commentary is the result of an imperfect fit of much of the content below for a collection on sustainability and food. Ultimately I choose to remove this as it went through the review process, realizing it was a likely a round-(w)hole–square-peg type of situation. It was perhaps a bit tongue in cheek or “obtuse” for a more “scientific” way of considering the issue of food systems sustainability. In one of the disciplines from which I write, anthropology, the reflexive turn—refuting the outright positivism of neutral and objective studies, which make claims to a knowable and absolute truth—has become a part of the intellectual landscape for generations. This has led to more scientific studies wherein anthropologists are generally more honest about the extent and limitations of their research and writing. The ethnographic texts that implied omniscient and omnipresent accounts of the cultural group have generally faded from favor toward more partial accounts that are (1) reflexive in their thorough descriptions of the methods employed, and (2) those which disclose, to a greater or lesser extent, one’s positioning. These lessons have not generally permeated larger-level discussions of global food systems. Below, I take up the idea of positioning, highlighting tensions that don’t quite make the cut of being labeled or disclosed as a potential “conflict of interest” in academic publications, but nevertheless have implications in terms of how research is conducted, written up, and ultimately becomes accepted knowl­edge in particular disciplinary and professional accounts.

Introduction: Margin Release

Introduction: Margin Release

240: Tongue in Cheek: A Case Series of Macroglossia in Mechanically Ventilated Patients With COVID-19

Copyright © 2020 by the Society of Critical Care Medicine and Wolters Kluwer Health, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

"Your name shall liue / In the new yeare: as in the age of gold" Sir Thomas Salusbury's "Twelfth Night Masque, Performed at Knowsley Hall in 1641" and its Contexts

"Your name shall liue / In the new yeareas in the age of gold" Sir Thomas Salusbury's "Twelfth Night Masque, Performed at Knowsley Hall in 1641" and its Contexts Rebecca A. Bailey On Twelfth Night, 1641, James, Lord Strange, the future 7th Earl of Derby, and his wife Lady Charlotte de la Trémoille hosted a masque at Knowsley Hall, Lancashire. The principal masquer was Lord Strange's heir, Charles Stanley, and the masque itself was devised by Sir Thomas Salusbury, kinsman of the Stanleys, and head of a prominent family from North Wales in Lleweni, Denbighshire.1 In Stuart England, the elite genre of the Stuart court masque was something of a hybrid dramatic form (see Butler, Stuart; Ravelhofer; Shohet; Knowles). David Lindley, tongue in cheek, described the court masque as "an elaborate framework for an aristocratic knees-up" (Lindley x). Martin Butler further reminds us that "the masque aimed to bind the court together, represent the monarch to the political nation at large and stimulate confidence in the values with which the monarch sought to have his government associated" (Stuart 20). As Julie Sanders has argued, the provincial or regional masque is of special interest as it demonstrates the "fluid interplay" or "flow" between "amateur and metropolitan sites of performance," encouraging us to ask how these site-specific texts "reconnect us in vital ways with the complex and dynamic geographies of performance" ("Geographies" 134–35). Salusbury's "Twelfth Night Masque", which witnessed Lord Strange's children performing speaking roles, on one level smacks of amateur family dramatics, allowing us a rare glimpse into an intimate Derby family gathering. Yet, with prominent figures performing from leading North West families—such as the Molyneuxes of Sefton, Lancashire, and the Hoghtons from Hoghton Tower, Lancashire—one has to ask, how "private" [End Page 465] was this event? This is especially pertinent as masquing roles were also played by long-standing retainers from established gentry families, such as the Farington, Fox, and Tyldesley families of Lancashire. Indeed, a key aim of this essay is to tease out the Deleuzian rhizomatic logic at the heart of this performance, whereby "routes of identity" are "formed through connections and traverses" to create what Augé has pinpointed as an "organic sociality" (Deleuze and Guattari 262; Augé 94). Mike Crang in Cultural Geography elucidates Deleuze's term "rhizomatic" through the vivid image of "brambles" that "send out shoots to produce a tangle of plants each criss-crossing the other" (Crang 172). In the masquing space of Knowsley Hall, these entwined branches of identity reached London and beyond. As this essay uncovers, fascinating resonances exist between Salusbury's "Twelfth Night Masque" in Lancashire and court masques performed at Whitehall, such as Ben Jonson's and Inigo Jones's Love's Triumph Through Callipolis (1631), and William Davenant's and Inigo Jones's Britannia Triumphans (1638) (Jonson and Jones, Love's Triumph 319–42; Davenant and Jones). Of course, as 1641 dawned, such "routes of identity" were under especial scrutiny as the country teetered towards Civil War. The occasion of Salusbury's masque itself, "Twelfth Night," was famously a time of misrule, and the topsy-turvyness associated with this masquing occasion was fast becoming part of everyday life. Lord Strange, as the principal magnate of the North West, was a key figure in this growing national crisis. By the mid-1630s, Lord Strange had very deliberately removed himself from court, virtually retiring to his estates in Lancashire as a mark of his displeasure with Charles I's increasingly Laudian court. However, when the Bishops' Wars of 1638–40 broke out in Scotland, Lord Strange had rallied immediately to King Charles's standard, believing it to be "an honour to give honour to your sovereign" (James Stanley, "Letter" 22; on the Bishops' Wars see Fissel). Thus, Salusbury's "Twelfth Night Masque" offers an intrinsic insight into Lord Strange's own self-fashioning (of which the estate, the region, and the national landscape were each a part) at a moment of acute political anxiety. Employing a cultural-geographical approach allows us to consider the ramifications that this site-specific performance offers into the Stanley family, the region and the country...

Work: What is it good for? (Absolutely nothing)—a critical theorist’s perspective

AbstractThe title of this focal article (unashamedly paraphrased from Edwin Starr’s classic 1970 antiwar song) is only partly intended to be tongue in cheek; work is a strange thing with a very checkered history. For the most part, it is something we take for granted. Most able-bodied adults work. Working hard is taken as a sign of being an upstanding citizen. Right wing politicians even insist that “government handouts” only be made available in exchange for participation in “workfare” programs. Moreover, work is not just something we do; over the last 100 years or so, it has become a defining, constitutive feature of who we are as human beings. Our very sense of identity and well-being is tied up with our relationship to work. It is no accident, after all, that the first question we ask a stranger is, “What do you do?” (and we are not asking about their hobbies); we see this question as a way of taking the measure of that person.

From Bits to Bodies: Perfect Humans, Bioinformatic Visualizations, and Critical Relationality

In December 2014, computational biologist Lior Pachter posted the results of his “tongue in cheek” in silico genome experiment on his personal blog, where he declared his discovery that “the perfect human is Puerto Rican.” In this article, I analyze the “perfect human” experiment. I argue that despite the use of 21st-century, cutting-edge technology in computing and genomics, Pachter’s experiment and his use of visualization can be usefully juxtaposed with earlier modes of visualizing heredity, namely the development of composite portraiture in the late-19th century and late-20th century technologies of “morphing.” I temper the celebration of Pachter’s creation of a “mixed race” perfect human in silico with a challenge to its ostensibly progressive stance. I instead suggest that it must be understood in the broader context of eugenic hauntings and contemporary tensions around questions of sex, sexuality, race, nation, and indigeneity. I argue that the scientific, specifically genomic, stories that we tell, can be productively read in light of critiques of biogenetic kinship and the naturalization of heterosexual love. I conclude by arguing that the perfect human experiment makes a particular kind of argument about what it means to be human and perfect and what constitutes legitimate and cognizable modes of relationality.

How to Ensure Your Supervisory College Meeting Is an Abysmal Failure

This tongue-in-cheek short article is based on my conversations with central bankers and bank supervisors regarding the operation of supervisory colleges. The tone of the article was inspired by a “tongue in cheek” presentation by the Honorable William B. Traxler, Jr., judge on the 4th Circuit Court of Appeals, Richmond, Virginia, at a bar meeting in South Carolina in the late 1990s and more recently, by a dinner speech given by Norman T.L. Chan on Nov. 22, 2017, entitled “How to Get Rid of Banking Supervisors.” Mr. Chan indicated his motivation for the title of the speech was to attract “a few more senior bankers to help foot the dinner bill.”

Distortions in Macroeconomics

Distortions in Macroeconomics

Commentary

Response to Venise T. Berry, “Crossing Over: Musical Perceptions Within Black Adolescent Culture,” JPMS vol. 5, 1993 “CAUTION,” warns the back cover of George Clinton’s 1986 album R&B Skeletons in the Closet, “Segments of This Album May Contain JUNGLE MUSIC!” This tongue-in cheek

Translating Early Medieval Poetry: Transformation, Reception, Interpretation ed. by Tom Birkett and Kirsty March-Lyons

Reviewed by: Translating Early Medieval Poetry: Transformation, Reception, Interpretation ed. by Tom Birkett and Kirsty March-Lyons John Kennedy Birkett, Tom, and Kirsty March-Lyons, eds, Translating Early Medieval Poetry: Transformation, Reception, Interpretation (Medievalism, 11), Cambridge, D. S. Brewer, 2017; hardback; pp. 250; R.R.P. £60.00; ISBN 9781843844730. Arising from a conference, ‘From Eald to New: Translating Early Modern Poetry for the 21st Century’, held at University College Cork in June 2014, the essays in this volume deal mainly with translation, very broadly defined, from Old English, Old and Middle Irish, and Old Norse. Sixteen contributors are listed, the majority from Ireland and the United Kingdom. The editors’ introduction strikes an encouragingly positive note, reflected in some of the other essays: they affirm that ‘something of a renaissance has been taking place in the reception and remediation of poetry from the early medieval period’ (p. 2). In a wide-ranging essay discussing relevant scholarship and the studies included in the volume, they indicate that the book’s primary focus is on twenty-first-century responses to the medieval poetry rather than the history of past responses (pp. 6–7). Five essays focus on Old English. Chris Jones raises questions about what should be considered to belong to the corpus of Old English poetry and discusses its use by modern poets, whose approach to the material is often rather free. Hugh Magennis mainly discusses the translations from Old English by Edwin Morgan, who translated into both Standard English and Scots. Inna Matyushina, focusing on ‘The Wanderer’ and the translation into Russian of Vladimir Tikhomirov, suggests that in some ways a better translation of Old English is possible into that language than into Modern English, especially if the English translator tries to imitate Old English metres and vocabulary. M. J. Toswell discusses Jorge Luis Borges’s interest in Old English and his translation work, a subject Toswell considers relatively neglected. The final, somewhat provocative essay in this part of the volume, Rory McTurk’s ‘“Let Beowulf now be a book from Ireland”: What Would Henryson or Tolkien Say?’, takes a somewhat negative view of Seamus Heaney’s bestselling Beowulf translation and, somewhat surprisingly in the present context, his translation of The Testament of Cresseid by the late fifteenth-century Scottish poet Robert Henryson. Perhaps tongue in cheek, McTurk calls for a translation of Beowulf into Irish. The next three essays deal with translation from medieval Irish. Elizabeth Boyce argues for a need to widen the range of such poetry available in English translation: the translators’ well-established focus on nature and lyric poetry gives a misleading impression of the corpus. Lahney Preston-Matto translates [End Page 196] Aislinge Meic Conglinne, the language of which suggests a date around 1100, into English, discussing the society that produced the work and the challenges facing the translator. She claims to translate for a general audience and American undergraduates. Tadhg Ó Síocháin presents a translation into Modern Irish of the eleventh-century poem known as Find and the Phantoms. Commenting on his translation technique, he argues for the use of some archaic and dialect words as a way of vitalizing Modern Irish. The Middle Irish text is also provided, along with a reprint of an 1886 English translation. Four essays consider translation from the Old Norse. Hannah Burrows lists and discusses reworking and translations of stanzas from Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks often known as The Waking of Angantýr. Many of the works discussed date to the eighteenth century, though the twenty-first century has seen a revival of interest in the text. Carolyne Larrington provides a very lively discussion of her translation of the Poetic Edda, both the first version published in 1996 and the revised edition of 2014. She outlines many changes, some of them stemming from a realization that the likely audience for the 2014 version would be undergraduates studying the poems in translation, rather than general readers. Heather O’Donoghue presents an interesting case that, without explicitly acknowledging it, Thomas Hardy was strongly influenced by the story of Brynhildr in writing The Return of the Native. Turning to television, Gareth Lloyd Evans shows that Michael Hirst’s popular...

There’s a Double Tongue in Cheek: On the Un(Translatability) of Shakespeare’s Bawdy Puns into Romanian

AbstractThe translatability of William Shakespeare’s titillating puns has been a topic of recurrent debate in the field of translation studies, with some scholars arguing that they are untranslatable and others maintaining that such an endeavour implies a divorce from formal equivalence. Romanian translators have not troubled themselves with settling this dispute, focusing instead on recreating them as bawdily and punningly as possible in their first language. At least, this is the conclusion to which George Volceanov has come after analysing a sample of Shakespearean ribald puns and their Romanian equivalents. By drawing parallels between such instances of the Bard’s rhetoric and three of their Romanian translations, my article aims to reinforce the view according to which Romanian translators have succeeded, by and large, in translating Shakespeare’s bawdy puns into their mother tongue.

A poetic tongue in cheek.

A poetic tongue in cheek.

Introduction to the Neo-Adlerian Approaches to Psychotherapy Special Issue, Part 1

Introduction to the Neo-Adlerian Approaches to Psychotherapy Special Issue, Part 1 Jon Carlson, Guest Editor Alfred Adler becomes more and more correct year by year. As the facts come in, they give stronger and stronger support to his image of man. Abraham Maslow I have always read and accepted that Sigmund Freud was the founder of modern psychotherapy. As I have evolved in the therapy profession, I have become aware that this claim is wrong, as much of what happens in contemporary psychotherapy has very little to do with Freud (Carlson, 2015). As I explored this fact a little more, I realized that when Freud allegedly created modern therapy in Vienna, a group of others was in attendance. One of the group members was Alfred Adler. He, not Freud, was selected by the group as their president. Adler had been invited by Freud to join the group in 1902. According to Mosak and Maniacci (1999), Adler published a strong defense of Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams, and consequently Freud invited Adler over on a Wednesday evening for a discussion of psychological issues. The Wednesday Night Meetings, as they became known, led to the development of the Psychoanalytic Society. In 1911, Adler left the group and formed the Society for Free Psychoanalytic Research. It has been said, tongue in cheek, that the “free” meant “free from Freud.” Adler’s society soon changed its name to Society for Individual Psychology. The focus of this new group included the acknowledgment that human functioning was not only biologically based but also powerfully influenced by social, familial, and cultural factors. In a 2015 article, I wrote that Adler was the originator of contemporary psychotherapy, while my friends John and Rita Sommers-Flanagan (2012) wrote of Adler, “He’s like a man from the future who somehow landed in the middle of Freud’s inner circle in Vienna” (p. 79). For several years I have been fortunate to study the work of Adler and to have realized that he was probably a man from the future and the actual father of psychotherapy. In this special issue of The Journal of Individual Psychology, several of my Adlerian friends and colleagues have joined me in determining just how accurate this realization is. The contributors to this special issue have been invited on the basis of their knowledge of Adler as well as at least one other area of therapy. In their [End Page 92] articles they were asked to discuss the similarities and differences between the two and to determine whether the approach came from Alfred Adler. Both cases—whether any similarities came directly from Adler or were discovered on their own—still serve as a validation of Adler’s ideas. It is hoped that it will become clear that most contemporary theories and approaches are actually neo-Adlerian and not neo-Freudian. A great debt is owed to Alfred Adler and his early collaborators. In his historical overview of psychotherapy, or what is called the “talking cure,” Peter Bankart (1997) claimed that “Adler’s influence on the developing fields of psychology and social work was incalculable” (p. 146). For many years I was aware that most of the strategies and techniques used today can also be used or integrated by Adlerian therapists. It was not until I was developing this special issue that I realized why. It is because they may have actually been taken from Adler or that the approaches are similar enough that they are compatible. Albert Ellis (1970) stated, “Adler strongly influenced the work of Sullivan, Horney, Fromm, Rogers, May, Maslow and many other writers on psychotherapy, some of whom are often wrongly called neo-Freudians, when they more correctly could be called neo-Adlerians” (p. 11). Many of the previous issues of The Journal of Individual Psychology highlight the great impact he has had on their approaches. In the works of Buddha and Jung there are abundant similarities with Adler’s work. Many of today’s theories seem to have taken or borrowed one or more components of the Adlerian approach and to use those components singly as a complete approach. Some of these approaches emphasize thinking, others feeling, and others actions...

What the Church Means by 'Faith'; What Eric Voegelin Meant by 'Faith'

In a familiar passage from the Gospel of St. Matthew, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” They answered: “Some say John the Baptist, others say Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” Then Jesus asked: “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” The faith of Peter implicit in his declaration, which Christ recognized as revealed to Peter by the Father, is the faith of the Church, which Christ founded on Peter by virtue of his answer. It is a faith “by hearing,” as in “hearing the Gospel,” passed down from the disciples through all the generations to the present through the Church. It is the only faith possible, this side of Christian mysticism, for those who did not know Christ when He walked the earth, that He was Who He said He was, who Peter understood Him to be. We might imagine the question “But who do you say that I am?” put to Eric Voegelin. Would his answer be: “You are the differentiation of soteriological truth?”; “You are what Paul will behold in his ‘Vision of the Resurrected’”?; or something else? These sorts of answers would not have gotten Voegelin promoted to first Pope. Voegelin, who hated to be labeled, spoke of himself, perhaps with tongue in cheek, as a “pre-Nicene Christian.” The Council of Nicea rejected Arianism, the doctrine that Christ was the Son of God in the sense that He was created by God the Father, and therefore subordinate to the Father, in favor of a Christology holding that the Father and Christ were consubstantial, the first two Persons of the Trinity. Did Voegelin view Jesus as just a man who came to the full realization that he was God’s son in the sense in which we all are in some sense God’s sons, thereby emphasizing Christ’s humanity at the expense of what the Church considers to be His divinity as well? Voegelin’s Christology, and his approach to Christianity generally, is notoriously controversial, and much has been written on it. In particular, Voegelin rejected the concept of reason as it appears in the theology of the Church as definitive of the distinction between the natural and the supernatural. On the other hand, Voegelin did have a concept of faith that was central to his work. His concept of faith was not limited to Christianity, and can be found independent of it. It is not the faith that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, passed on “by hearing” through the mediation of the Church, although Voegelin may have accepted that faith as well. It is rather faith “by experience,” specifically the experience of tension toward transcendence which, Voegelin would say, constitutes the meaning of human existence. Voegelin found faith in this sense expressed not only in Christianity, but in Greek philosophy, and whenever and wherever a sufficient degree of “differentiation” had been achieved in human history. Voegelin would say that the “tension” in “tension toward transcendence” can also be rendered as the Christian theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Two related questions appear: Was Voegelin open to the “faith” of the Church, and does the Church recognize “faith” in the Voegelinian sense? The paper explores these concepts and issues by comparing Voegelin on faith with Thomas Aquinas, the paradigmatic orthodox Christian theologian-philosopher.