THE BOOK BINDER

THE BOOK BINDER

The second Friday of February, I decided to pay a visit to the shop of the old  Book Binder, down the block.  I hadn’t been to his shop for years since I ran out of worn out books for him to restore .

The Book Binder’s name was Daniel, and when two heavy volumes of legal notes bound in big rings were dumped into my lap, I thought of Daniel and his vanishing craft.

I suppose you only think of the man’s existence when you need  him.  I needed to have the bulky materials bound in book form and this called for a craftsman of Daniel’s skills.

When I entered the shop I was greeted by the lanky man seated in Daniel’s chair. I told him I needed to see Daniel for some special work. The man with a bit of smile introduced himself as Daniel’s nephew. He said Daniel died three years ago, and he’s minding the shop now.  He said he’d been expecting me to drop by after all these years, because his uncle, had left instructions to give to Judge Drilon the six  volumes of the 1970’s edition of the Reader’s Digest  which remained uncollected.

I was dazed by the surprising news of the Book Binder’s departure,  who, was summoned by the Author of the Book of life. The fact that I did not know of his demise gave a mixed feeling of loss and regret.  I regretted seeing him too late.  I wondered why Daniel never called to remind me of the uncollected books, I still had with him. Perhaps he knew  I would eventually come.

Daniel’s nephew pointed to me the six volumes fully bound with my name embossed on the maroon covers.  He drew out the first volume,  flipped the cover,  picked  the slip of paper, inserted between the cover and  handed it to me. “Uncle left you a note,” he said.

Scrawled in Daniel’s handwriting, the note reads: “P900.00, less payment P600.00, balance, P300.00”.

The last message from the Book Binder,  before leaving the world of the living, reminded me of my unpaid account.

I paid my debt to the dead man, gathered my books, together with the half forgotten memories I had with him. 

A LESSON FROM THE PHILOSOPHER

A LESSON FROM THE PHILOSOPHER

In my younger years I studied under a Professor whom the students called the “Philosopher”. He spoke English with a trace of  British accent,  he had more hair on his face than his head,  he taught using the ancient Socratic method,  lectured on heavy and weighty  subjects like ethics and morality. But unlike the other mentors, he stood out to be the most dogmatic  which did not make him any less popular since his reputation as a bigot had drawn more curiosity in a campus well known to be steep in secular humanistic liberalism. 

The Professor believes that as there are immutable laws of nature which govern the Universe, there are likewise immutable moral laws which should govern human conduct. A simple enough postulate, which led to one incident in class I could not forget.

One day a  classmate, stood for permission to comment on the professor’s thesis. The Professor, noticeably eccentric in class could be gentle or harsh like a tyrant, depending on which side of the bed he arose. I  anticipated the Professor was likely to stand, the student, down, but instead he gave permission  to speak.  

The class became very quiet.

The student began, “Sir, permit me to express a contrary thought. The concept of right and wrong, good and bad, even the morality of one’s conduct  should not be confined to any rigid  moral absolutes.  History shows that there were acts or practices  considered as taboo,  immoral, or even wrong, but now acceptable in the modern age. Women now wear pants, men now wear their hair long, modern  literary works of fiction now contain expletives, and sexually explicit language,  works of art portray  a woman’s body in all her naked glory.  Different moral truths hold for different people. A  particular  conduct may be good for one person but bad for another, good in a particular cultural setting but unacceptable in another. Standards of right and wrong are mere products of time and culture. That is how I see it, Sir”.

I felt the air of tension as the Professor glared at the young man who dared disagree with his strongly held beliefs. I could have heard a pin drop.

The Professor turned his gaze at the class, and said, “Very well said,” and turning again to the student, asked, “What is your name  young man?”

Our classmate replied, “I’m Tadeos Tiglawan, Sir,” apparently pleased.

The Professor took the rostrum and addressed the class, “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. Tiglawan here, is- I appreciate his boldness to freely speak his mind- what you may call a moral relativist. He believes that the standard of right and wrong is subjective, and therefore what I may hold  and believe as right, or wrong, is only so far as it concerns me.”

I thought Tadeos  was off the hook. The class awaited the Professor’s long winded lecture, in defense of objective moral truths, which he so passionately espoused. But we were in for a surprise.

The Professor looked at Tadeos and exclaimed, “ Mr. Tiglawan, pick up your things and leave. I have no more use for you. You will not pass in this subject. I have resolved to give you a failing grade of 5. That’s it. Go out.!”

Tadeos  his face turning red in rage, shaking, answered, “You have no right to fail me in this class, what you are doing is unreasonably wrong, unfair and unjust!”

“Says who, Mr. Tiglawan, you?” the Professor with a sneer replied, “Did I hear you say I am wrong, unfair and unjust? How can you judge me to be wrong, or unjust? Didn’t you say earlier that a particular conduct may be good for one but not for another? Well I believe it is entirely good for me to flunk you in this class, that’s how I see it, that’s how I feel . I can’t help it. You may feel bad about it but I can’t help you. Since it absolutely  makes no sense to you to consider any objective standard of moral truth, what is your basis in saying that what I am doing is wrong? Because you feel bad about it so it is wrong? I consider it good to dispense with your presence in this class, if you feel bad about it, then it is unfortunate, I happen to be the Professor and you are not!”

And turning his attention to the class the Professor blurted out,  “Did you get the point?”

This lesson had stayed with me all these years. I became a Christian, and I realized the Christian faith is basically dogmatic, but Christians could hardly be described as narrow minded.  The secular humanism of the modern age is largely unsympathetic to religious beliefs, and frowns upon dogmatism. It is fashionable to be called open or broadminded. The secular world calls an open mind a great mind. “Nowadays the really great mind is thought to be both broad and open-broad enough to absorb every fresh idea which is presented to it, and open enough to go on doing so, ad infinitum,” says John Stott.

If the humanistic idea of open mindedness  means not being able to shut it down for the sake of openness, then what spineless pathetic creatures we would become, never reaching any firm or settled conclusions or belief. Christ aptly describes this type of open mindedness as “children tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting.(Ephesians 4:14).

“An open mind,” muses Samuel Butler, “is all very well in its way, but it ought not to be so open that there is no keeping anything in or out of it. It should be capable of shutting its doors sometimes, or it may be found a little draughty.”   

“We need to distinguish between the tolerant mind and the tolerant spirit,” reminds  John Stott. “Tolerant in spirit a Christian should always be” he says, “loving, understanding, forgiving and forbearing others, making allowances for them, and giving them the benefit of the doubt… but,” he asked, “how can we be tolerant in mind of what God has plainly revealed to be either evil or erroneous?”