Breaking Bread with the Dead

1. Presentism, overload, and acceleration shrink our "Now."

The narrower your sense of Now, the more tenuous you are.

Information overload. In the internet age, we are constantly bombarded with data, forcing us into a state of "informational triage." Like battlefield medics, we must make ruthless, instantaneous judgments about what deserves our attention, often dismissing anything that isn't immediately relevant. This constant filtering narrows our focus to the present moment.

Social acceleration. The world feels like it's changing faster and faster, creating a sense of "frenetic standstill." We are constantly in motion, adapting to shifting rules and expectations (like the "situational" conduct of life), yet feel trapped and unable to make meaningful long-term choices. This acceleration further locks us into the immediate present.

Loss of depth. The combined forces of overload and acceleration reduce our "temporal bandwidth," the width of our present moment. Trapped in the "pre-packaged bubble of the new," we become vulnerable, lacking the "personal density" to resist being blown about by fleeting trends and anxieties.

2. Expand your "temporal bandwidth" for personal density.

Personal density is directly proportional to temporal bandwidth.

Beyond the present. To escape the anxiety and weightlessness of being trapped in the immediate "Now," we must expand our "temporal bandwidth." This means consciously engaging with the past and the future, not just the present. It's about stretching our sense of time in both directions.

Accumulating density. Engaging deeply with the past, in particular, helps us accumulate "personal density." This density is not just knowledge; it's a kind of inner substance that anchors us, making us less susceptible to the whims of the moment and the pressures of social acceleration. It's a balm for agitated souls.

A form of self-help. While often dismissed, this engagement with the past is a vital form of self-help. It's not about banal reassurances but about building resilience and depth. By stepping out of our transitory moment and into "bigger time," we gain the stability needed to make considered judgments and resist being controlled by external forces.

3. "Breaking bread with the dead" means engaging the past generously.

Art is our chief means of breaking bread with the dead.

Table fellowship. Engaging with people from the past, primarily through their writings, is like sitting down to a meal with them. This "table fellowship" requires openness, much like the ancient debates about who was "clean" enough to share a meal. We must be willing to invite them to speak, even if they are different or challenging.

They speak at our invitation. Unlike demanding contemporaries, the dead speak only when we give them the "blood of our attention." We have the power to silence them if they offend, but the real opportunity lies in choosing not to, in using our power to give them utterance and listen to what they have to say.

Beyond defilement. The modern sense of being "defiled" by the past's errors can lead us to reject it entirely. However, a generous engagement means acknowledging differences and flaws without letting them prevent the conversation. It's about seeking connection across time, even when faced with views that seem alien or repulsive.

4. The past's value lies in its difference, not just likeness.

I believe that any significant increase in personal density is largely achieved through encounters with un-likeness.

More than affinity. While finding common ground with historical figures is pleasurable, the true power of engaging the past comes from encountering its difference. As L. P. Hartley said, "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." This otherness is not a barrier but an opportunity for growth.

Reckoning with otherness. Reading old books is an education in reckoning with otherness. It's a relatively nonthreatening way to practice engaging with perspectives fundamentally different from our own. This practice can be invaluable for navigating differences in our present world.

Partially completed discrimination. Simone Weil suggested the past offers a "partially completed discrimination." Because we are less emotionally invested in past events, we can step back and see them more clearly, discerning "the eternal" (what always matters) through the buffer of time. This distance allows us to draw nourishment from figures like Emperor Aurangzeb, despite vast differences.

5. Confronting historical figures' flaws requires nuanced judgment.

We tend to consider only those elements that reflect the dominant concerns of our moment, which are not the only concerns that are relevant to human judgment.

Acknowledging vices. Engaging with the past means confronting the flaws of historical figures and texts – the racism of Hume, the sexism of Aristotle, the anti-Semitism of Wharton. We should not ignore or minimize these vices; they were wrong.

Beyond negative selection. However, applying only "negative selection" (dismissing figures based on their shortcomings) drastically shrinks the pool of those we are willing to learn from. This approach, fueled by informational triage, simplifies judgment but deprives us of wisdom. We must look at the "whole person," acknowledging their virtues alongside their vices.

Inconsistency is human. Figures like the American Founders or John Milton held noble ideals while simultaneously upholding or tolerating practices we find abhorrent. They opened doors they didn't fully walk through. Recognizing this pervasive inconsistency in human nature – including our own – fosters humility and the "ability to make proportionate moral judgments."

6. Avoid sanitizing the past or seeking only concurrence.

Surely we have lost something vital when we have lost the power to be startled, even offended, by the voices from the past.

The danger of sanitization. Some approaches to the past sanitize it, reshaping figures or texts to fit modern sensibilities. This is seen in interpretations that ignore the patriarchal aspects of The Taming of the Shrew or cherry-pick Stoic philosophy to confirm pre-existing views (like the "Red Pill Stoics"). This denies the past its genuine otherness.

Theater of concurrence. Reading or engaging with the past solely to find confirmation of our current beliefs creates a "theater of concurrence." It's comfortable but offers no real challenge or growth. If old books merely reaffirm what we already think, why bother reading them?

Embrace the startling. The power of the past often lies in its ability to "startle, even offend." This dissonance forces us to confront different ways of thinking and being. While we needn't accept offensive views, losing the capacity to be challenged by them means losing a vital opportunity for enlightenment and increased personal density.

7. Seek "authentic kernels" through wrestling, not just agreement.

Your classic author is the one you cannot feel indifferent to, who helps you to define yourself in relation to him, even in dispute with him.

Beyond immasculation. When faced with texts embodying problematic ideologies (like patriarchy), we needn't become "immasculated" (adopting the text's viewpoint) or simply reject it. Instead, we can read in a "double fashion," acknowledging the flaws while seeking a "utopian moment" or "authentic kernel"—something deeply human that resonates.

Generous thinking. This approach requires "generous thinking"—a disposition to give attention beyond what might seem deserved, fueled by the hope that something good will come of it. It's not blind admiration but a willingness to engage deeply, even with difficult material.

Wrestling for blessing. Like Jacob wrestling by the Jabbok, engaging with the past is often a struggle. We argue, dispute, and push back. But this wrestling is not to defeat the past, but to gain something of value from it—a "blessing." This active, demanding engagement is essential for genuine connection and growth.

8. Encounters with past likeness and difference offer unique insights.

That he was not like us—that he spoke from a world whose contours made it so different from ours—made those words somehow easier to receive.

Both likeness and difference. The power of engaging the past comes from encountering both what is like us and what is profoundly different. Frederick Douglass found resonance in both a dialogue about slavery and a speech about Catholic emancipation. Peter Abrahams was moved by both Harlem Renaissance writers and dead English poets.

Refuge and revelation. For individuals facing oppressive circumstances, like Shamyla finding solace in Little Women in Peshawar, old books can offer refuge in their difference. Yet, they can also reveal unexpected likenesses, showing shared human constraints or experiences across vast divides of time and culture.

Crackling tension. This simultaneous experience of connection and alienation creates a "crackling" tension. It challenges our assumptions, reveals the limits of our understanding, and illuminates the enormous range of human experience. This dynamic engagement is far more enriching than seeking only what is familiar or comfortable.

9. Temporal bandwidth fosters meaningful action and future promises.

By increasing our personal density we also increase our power to make genuine promises...

Beyond the provisional. Being anchored in the present makes our language and actions "merely provisional," driven by fleeting desires and external pressures. We become like Swift's "Projectors," focused on an abstract future devoid of real people.

Standing by words. Increasing our personal density through temporal bandwidth allows us to "stand by words," to speak and act from a place of substance. This enables us to move from mere "projecting" to genuine "promising"—binding ourselves to the future of others.

A genealogy of love. By engaging generously with the past, acknowledging its complexities and our kinship with those who came before, we cultivate the capacity for love. This love extends not just backward but forward, enabling us to make meaningful promises to future generations and serve as links in a living chain, leaving them "clean earth to till."

Last updated: June 10, 2025