New Year, Wonderful Name

 

Yesterday most of the world celebrated New Year’s Day as January 1st “arrived” around the globe.  For much of the history of the Christian West, however, this date may or may not have marked the actual “beginning of the year.”  Jan. 1 was the first day of the year under the Julian calendar used by the Roman Empire at the time of Jesus’ birth, though many common folk in the empire continued to mark  the start of the new year on March 1, as it had been under the “old” Roman calendar.

January 1 continued to be the first day of the new year when the present Gregorian calendar was introduced in October 1582, when Pope Gregory XIII “removed” 10 days from the calendar to properly “realign” its days with the solstices (Catholics in Europe went to bed on “October 4” that year only to wake up on “October 15”!).  It took a couple of centuries for European Protestants (and the rest of the world) to fall in line, and during that time many of parts of Europe continued to view March 1 as the start of a new year because of its general coincidence with Spring.

January 1 was an important day, however, and Luke’s Gospel tells us why. In Chapter two, right after the famous Christmas passages about angels announcing Jesus’ birth to local shepherds, Luke records in verses 21-22:  “When the eight days were completed for His circumcision, He was named Jesus—the name given by the angel before He was conceived.  And when the days of their purification according to the law of Moses were finished, they brought Him up to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord.”

So, since most of Christian Europe celebrated Jesus’ Nativity on December 25, this “eighth day” fell on January 1 and began to be commemorated as the Feast of the Holy Name.  Luke tells us on that original “eighth day,” Mary and Joseph encountered a man named Simeon at the Temple who’d been told by the Holy Spirit that “he would not see death before he saw the Lord’s Messiah.”  When he saw the Holy Family, Simeon took the baby up in his arms, praised God, and said:  “Now, Master, You can dismiss Your slave in peace, as You promised. For my eyes have seen Your salvation. You have prepared it in the presence of all peoples—a light for revelation to the Gentiles and glory to Your people Israel” (Luke 2:25-32).

Mary and Joseph came in obedience and “done everything required by the Law,” but consider the extra blessings they receive in the process!  When they presented their baby to the Priest, he would ask, “What is his name?”  Joseph would say, “His name is Jesus.” I think this day after the Feast of the Holy Name is a wonderful time to consider the blessings we who believe receive in His Name!

The Epistle Reading for the Feast of the Holy name is Galatians 4:4-5:  “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.  At just the right time; according to His sovereign plan, God sent “the Light of Salvation” to the whole world; redemption for those born “under the law” (Paul in Galatians); a revelation to the Gentiles (Simeon in Luke); so we might be adopted as His Children and share in the blessings of His Name.  What are some of these blessing?

John 20:31 tells us we have life “in Jesus Name.”  Acts 2:38 Peter says our forgiveness “comes in the name of Jesus Christ.”  In Acts 3—after God heals the crippled man at the temple, Peter reminds the amazed onlookers, “By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has completely healed him.” 1 Corinthians 6:11 tells us we are “washed, sanctified, justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Simeon waited his whole life for salvation’s light to come.  Many still walk in the darkness, despite the reality that salvation’s light has come.  Some of us have walked in the blessings of this light for most of our lives; some for a short time.  One day, the whole world will acknowledge this Wonderful Name.  “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:9-11).  Pope Gregory had the power to transform the calendar.  Only Jesus has the power to transform our lives and our world.

Psalm 89 (v.15-16) reminds us, “Blessed are those who worship you, who walk in the light of your presence, Lord.  They rejoice in your name all day long; they celebrate your righteousness.”  As you walk in “the light of His Presence” this coming new year—and every day of your life— Remember his promises.  Receive His blessings.  Rejoice in His Name.  And if you are not yet walking in the Light of Christ, reach out for His Grace.

Posted in Worldviews | Leave a comment

On Comics and Life

I read the comics every day and have done so for as long as I can remember.  One of the things I really miss from my days in the classroom is having a bulletin board on which to proudly display my favorites strips for all to see.  Every handout, quiz, and test was always adorned with some relevant comic, which I obsessively cut out, collected, and categorized for just this purpose.

In addition to daily and Sunday strips, I’ve also collected comic books on-and-off since I was a teenager.  Comics have been and endless source of shared enjoyment with family and students, and they’ve also served as an uncannily reflective lens through which I’ve experienced life myself.

The oldest books in my collection are classic Peanuts paperbacks, icons of my early childhood years (late 50s through the 60s).  These were the golden years of Peanuts influence in popular culture, a time when Charles Schulz’s memorable characters enjoyed a virtual monopoly of public appeal with their simple, honest humor.  Laughs and lessons from a child’s perspective were often laced with timeless wisdom beyond their age, served up for all ages to enjoy.

As a kid, I was basically a social Charlie Brown and a philosophical Linus who desperately tried to be a “Joe Cool” Snoopy.  My childhood holidays were synonymous with Peanuts TV specials, and many of my possessions represented the first wave of media merchandising and cartoon commercialism.

By early adolescence, I’d discovered a new love (though I still faithfully fed my newspaper strip addiction).  I’d not had much interest in comic book super-heroes until the Amazing Spider-Man came along.  Here was a high-school honors student, ridiculed and bullied, who gained his “amazing” powers from the bite of a radioactive spider received while on a science field trip.  Suddenly my life was transformed by monthly forays into the life and adventures of a hero who—except for chance circumstance—could be me!

Unexpectedly, the kid behind the spider mask struggled with the same adolescent angst, and teenage tribulations I faced daily.  He swung his way through the same social and cultural turmoil of the sixties and seventies as I did.  He taught me that power brought unanticipated responsibilities and that weakness wasn’t necessarily the absence of strength.  He made me think about things, and he introduced me to a Universe at which I continue to Marvel (now along with my son and students!).

As a young adult, my daily newspaper reading habit introduced me to a comic strip that took social commentary to whole new level.  Gary Trudeau’s Doonesbury captured the essence of—and brutally satirized—current events and cultural trends for a generation of media-oriented Americans.  Few creators have so precisely placed the day’s issues into perspective as has Trudeau (sometimes irreverently, or even offensively, but always poignantly).  Even as my own socio-political perspectives grew more conservative, I continued to appreciate Trudeau’s sharp wit and clever insights even when I disagreed with them.  I’ve grown into middle age with Michael Doonesbury, and along each step of the way Trudeau has powerfully marked and vividly depicted every significant cultural and personal milestones along the way.

The experience of fatherhood created an entirely new context for the comics to reflect the realities of my life.  As my children were growing up, no creator did this more entertainingly than Bill Waterson with Calvin and Hobbes.  It didn’t take much reading for me to recognize my own children—and myself—in the antics of this irrepressible boy and his beloved tiger.  Calvin’s exaggerated imagination and rebellious defiance took a strikingly different tone than did the Peanuts of my youth, yet in many ways its daily premises remained fundamentally similar.  Kids are kids;  life is life.  And for a generation of us who really couldn’t believe we’d become our parents, it provided much-needed comic relief.

Calvin summed up in caricature what really seemed to be happening between contemporary parents and their kids.  In a cultural of mediated precociousness, raising kids was more a matter of negotiation than nurturing.  Still, behind the not-so-subtle cynicism, there were always, always moments which helped us remember the wonders of childhood and relive the joys of absolute irresponsibility and unlimited dreams.  In a fitting twist of comic irony, the foreword to the first Calvin and Hobbes anthology was written by Charles Schulz.

I continue to have my favorites in the daily comics—Get Fuzzy, Pearls Before Swine, Heart of the City, among others.  I also remain a devoted comic book reader, though my “maturing” tastes (and career as a teacher of History and Government) led me to switch my focus from Spider-Man to Captain America.  (I’ll have more to say about the Good Captain in my next “comics” post; so be sure to watch for that!)  My enjoyment of comics now has sadly become a more private experience, though I thoroughly enjoy those “shared moments” that still come my way.  I hope this new “category” of posts will provide the opportunity for more.

I’m not exactly sure if my life has been reflected in comics, or if it is really the other way around.  I do know that comics, more than any other medium for me, capture and express the “spirit” of this last half century through which I’ve lived in a unique and meaningful way.  Their message is often exaggerated, sometimes whimsical, but always an artful and insightful rendering of the “essences” of life’s experiences.

Posted in Comics | Leave a comment

The Measure of Man

Part 3 of The Question of God

So far we’ve examined the role that imagination (part 1) and senses/reason (part 2) play in human efforts to answer “the big questions of life.”  Using the former, we find answers through stories (“myths”) that explain the material world around us—and ourselves—in terms that integrate supernatural and natural “realities.”  Through the latter, we use our capacity think about our experiences in the natural world (or vice-versa), looking for answers in that have rational and material (“scientific”) explanations alone.

By Freud’s time, the wide acceptance of “science” as the only valid way of “knowing” reality allowed highly imaginative theories (like Darwinian evolution) to gain widespread intellectual credibility—so long as they were couched in the language of empirical methodology.  Unfortunately for Freud, his own theory of the unconscious failed to win the imprimatur of the scientific community (although it greatly influenced  20th C. social science and popular culture!).  But the broader influence of “scientistic modernism” created an academic culture in which religious interpretations of the human condition were increasingly untenable.  In this atmosphere C. S. Lewis was himself first educated and then professionally engaged.  Yet within him still lingered an attraction to the “deeper” well of Classical learning as a source of truth, goodness, and beauty.

Of course, imaginative interpretations of the human experience are nothing new.  During the “Classical” age of Greece (4th-5th C. bc) such approaches to understanding the human identity, condition, and destiny were foundational to the formation of what we call “Western Civilization.”  Protagoras’ famous utterance, “Man is the measure of all things,” voices a human claim as sole  interpreter of the cosmos that rings down through the centuries.  More significantly, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle aim the imagination not at mere individual interpretation, but rather toward deeper principles woven into the cosmos, directing personal and social existence toward a greater good.  Even the characters and plots of Greek drama (Aeschylus, Sophocles, etc.) were designed to remind audiences of truths they already knew about humanity and the consequences of transgressing those truths (while also providing Freud the source of his famous “Oedipus Complex”!).

Socrates was condemned for insisting that human interpretations of truth must reflect timeless, absolute truths that transcend individual and temporal interpretation.  Though he never himself claimed to have “The Answers,” he believed a well-lived life must be based on the presumption of their existence and the cultivation of their influence.  Plato extended philosophical idealism from the individual to society, advancing in his “theory of forms” the “reality” of eternal, immutable ideas (from which all material reality derives).  A well-lived life aims to subject “lower” natural and material forms of human existence to the higher “virtues” that shape both individuals and societies.  Aristotle’s theory of “four causes” begins with material substances that comprise physical “reality,” but it also considers the essential ideas, activating agents, and ultimate purposes that give true “existence” to natural and material phenomena (metaphysical causes).  These all point to a design in the cosmos, which must logically be an “uncaused cause.”

Classical foundations provided the model for education in the West.  From Plato’s Academy and Aristotle’s Lyceum the “Arts and Sciences” emerged as a unified expression of the “fullness” of human learning. Protagoras provided the basis for modern divisions of learning into man-made, often exclusive categories of “expertise.”  Lewis and Freud were both educated in a culture still shaped by and mindful of its Classical influences (which will ultimately be to Lewis’ benefit).  At this point in their story, however, each is much more captivated by the trends of modernity (a captivity from which Freud will never escape).

Learn more about Classics and the Human Story—

Louise Cowen and Os Guiness, eds.  Invitation to the Classics (Baker, 1998)

Robt. Littlejohn and C. T. Evans, Wisdom and Eloquence:  A Christian Paradigm for Classical Learning (Crossway, 2006)

Posted in Worldviews | Leave a comment

From Darkness to Light

I have worked in academic or ministry settings for more than 20 years.  Everyone whose vocation places them in this world experiences the familiar rhythm of an annual cycle. Our years are marked in quarters and semesters, by “ordinary” time contrasted with the “strong” seasons of Lent, Easter, Advent, and Christmas.  We have arrived once again at the major transition point in both our academic and liturgical calendars.  Reflection often accompanies transition, and this particular turn has brought me to a fresh consideration of Advent through an exchange of images from Isaiah chapter 9 and John chapter 1.

Let’s begin with Isaiah 9:2: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of darkness, a light has dawned.”  The starting point of all humanity—even the people of God to whom this is addressed–is darkness.  We are born “blind” into a broken world over which a dark deception has been drawn.  We are unable to “see” who we really are or even to understand why we are really here.  As 1 Corinthians 13:12 recognizes, our perceptions of reality are but a dim reflection of how things really are.  At its most basic level, our dark deception is this—we believe that “we are on our own”; or worse–that “we are our own.”

But by God’s loving mercy glimmers of grace peek through the cracks.  In this land of darkness, a light shines on dawn’s horizon.  The nature of this light is poetically set forth in John 1:  “Life was in Him,” we are told, and contrary to our lot, “that life was the light of men.” This one born in light “shines in the darkness,” with power even “the darkness did not overcome.” What is so brilliantly illuminated by this Life that is “the light of men?”

In this “child [who] will be born for us,” this “son [who] will be given to us,” Isaiah sees the full reason for His coming:  “The government will be on His shoulders.”  With his coming, the oppressive darkness of our self-deception—that we are in control—is lifted for those who desire to see.  The awful consequences of humanity’s hubris is set right when we rightly acknowledge the Lordship of He who is named “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.”

This is why lights play such an important role in this annual journey through Advent and Christmas.  Our neighborhoods come alive with light (and, alas, so much more!).  Our sanctuaries are illuminated by candlelight.  Our hearts are strangely lit by hope, whether we believe or not.  All because, one day long ago, the Light “became flesh and took up residence” in our hearts, our sanctuaries, and even our neighborhoods.

Because He is Light, we are able to see through the darkness that blinds us.  Because He is Lord, we are set free from the deception that we are.  Because He was “born in the flesh,” we are “born of God.”  No wonder these days we mark are so filled with wonder.  Whether we count ourselves among “those who receive Him” or amidst those still “walking in darkness,” the Truth is that the Light has come.  Let us rejoice and be glad.

Posted in Worldviews | Leave a comment

The Metaphorical Gospel

I have, on numerous occasions, stood before a class of high school seniors and asserted, “Reading the Lord of the Rings changed my life.  It gave me my first glimpse of the Gospel and started me down the path on which I ultimately found Christ.”  Until recently, I wasn’t sure exactly how to explain why, though I tended to use the concept of having experienced a “baptized imagination” (without really knowing it!).

I’m now beginning to understand the “cognitive metaphors” at work my young life, providing glimpses into myself and reality I could imaginatively “know” but had no context (at that time) for rationally grasping.  I clearly recall the imaginative “feelings” stirred by my reading of The Hobbit, LOTR, and the The Silmarillion (read in that order, from late high school into my early college years).  They centered on three ideas that captivated me in ways that were both powerful and elusive:  1) realities that transcends appearances; 2) the past as a source of meaning; and 3) the allure of “lordship” evoked by a lost/restored king.

Tolkien pointedly wrote in an oft-quoted letter, “The Lord of the Rings is fundamentally religious and Catholic.”  Tolkien scholar Joseph Pearce asks that if this is so, “why is Christ never mentioned in its pages?”  He goes on to answer his own question.  “Christ is never mentioned by name simply because Tolkien’s myth takes place many thousands of years before the incarnation. He is not mentioned in The Lord of the Rings for the same reason that he is not mentioned in the Old Testament. He had not yet revealed himself in the flesh and, consequently, is present implicitly through grace, not explicitly in person.”  He concludes, “Christ is, however, king of Tolkien’s myth, the unfolding of which points to him in much the same way that the Old Testament points to him.” (http://catholiceducation.org/articles/arts/al0161.html)

This explanation nicely captures my own experience reading Tolkien as a “longing pagan.”  To begin with, I desperately wanted there to be more to reality than appearances offered.  I desired that the metaphorical idea of “life as a journey” would be made real, not only in longed-for adventures and experiences, but also as an existential truth.  I knew I should be “going somewhere” with my life, I simply did not know where to go (or how to go there).  Bilbo’s adventure implied that such “direction” in time, place, and even character might come from unexpected places and lead down unseen (but still providential) paths.  Frodo’s quest augmented that sense of direction with other “essentials”:  mutually-supportive and sacrificial fellowship, dependence on deliverance beyond one’s abilities, and transcendent will to persevere in the face of suffering and defeat.  In both adventure and quest–and in my own life–there were hidden designs at work and things that were “meant to be.”

But where could I look for that true direction, that full meaning, that ultimate design?  It was easy to see the hobbits’ world was shaped by a deep, directing cultural history into which glimpse were given through songs, stories, poems and proverbs. Could that be true for me as well?  My sense that profound meaning came from the past was amplified by reading The Silmarillion.  Here were my Genesis, my Chronicles, my Prophets, Psalms, and Proverbs, long before I ever opened an Old Testament.  In the Music of the Ainur I heard “a way things were meant to be” (and it was Good).  In Melkor’s discord and saw that disharmony originated in prideful refusal to submit (and insistence on having one’s own way).  “He desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men . . . and wished himself to have subjects and servants, and to be called Lord, and to be master over other wills.”  In Beren and Luthien I experienced the sacramental power of love.  In the choices of Turin, that the gift of free will bears bitter fruit when wielded in anger and vanity (but that grace yet abounds).

These and countless other tales from the past give meaning to the “present” and impress eternal truths upon the reader.  Most importantly, they provide the context for “Lordship” that is essential for understanding the role of the King and the significance of his return.  This more specific claim on my life was longer in the understanding.  It was easy to imagine myself in a world of purpose and meaning in which I was called to play an important part.  Much more was involved in acknowledging the Lordship of the Source of purpose and meaning over my life.  And to bend my knee to that rightful King was even longer in coming. But I think it helped to have already seen it, in Aragorn, willed so selflessly, won so valiantly, and worn so nobly.

It all, for me, comes together in the beautiful images evoked in the “All that is Gold” poem from the Fellowship of the Ring (speaking  prophetically of Aragorn):

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

Here, metaphorically embodied, was a king through whom I was prepared to meet the King.  Here is the paradox of the suffering servant, the branch from the stump of Jesse, the light in the darkness, the broken bread, the crown of thorns, the King of Kings.  Here is the Gospel.  It just took reading the same words over and over to finally and fully see what they had been showing me all the time.

Posted in Classics, Worldviews | Leave a comment

Seeing is Believing

Reflections on “The Question of God,” part 2

Program Two of the Question of God (www.pbs.org/wgbh/questionofgod) is titled, “Science or Revelation.”  It takes us into the world of science in the late 19th Century–a world Sigmund Freud would make his home for the rest of his life.  Here the “naturalistic” worldview held sway and was gaining increasing power to shape culture.

The path to Freud’s naturalistic worldview goes back much farther in Western Civilization then the 19th Century.  It began with the “Natural Philosophers” of Ancient Greece, also known as the “Pre-Socratics.”  Xenophanes famously observed, “Man has created the gods in their own image.”  As their name implies, these early mathematicians and naturalists sought natural rather than supernatural explanations for why things were as they were.  They rejected the mythical stories of the gods as rationale for natural phenomena, speculating variously that truer answers were to be found in basic constituent substances and the natural interactions between them that produced change.

Their initial emphasis on the four elements (earth, water, air, fire) initiated the empirical quest for explanations about the world that could be observed, experienced, and explained.  As panelist Michael Shermer put it, “All phenomenon have natural explanations. There is no supernatural, there’s just the natural and stuff we can’t yet explain.”  Three important early Greeks provide a basic framework for the naturalistic worldview that influences science down to our time.  Parmenides focused on the constants in the natural world, concluding that human reason (rationalism) is the primary path to knowledge.  Heraclitus thought since natural world was always in a state of flux, and our senses helped us discern the “universal reason” (logos!) behind all this change (empiricism).  Democritus proposed the existence of immutable, irreducible particles (“atoms”) that constituted all “knowable” reality (materialism).

The Classical and Medieval worldviews that influenced C. S. Lewis will be more thoroughly considered later, but suffice to say that the interplay between natural and supernatural played a more significant role in the cosmology of those periods.  While the “scientific revolution” of the Renaissance and Baroque era gave us Copernicus and Galileo’s heliocentric universe; Bacon’s Scientific Method; Descartes’ “cogito ergo sum”; and Newton’s Universal Laws; these “new views” remained rooted in a worldview heavily influenced by Christian understandings of the uniqueness of human agency in the cosmos.

The Enlightenment’s emphasis on human reason and rejection of traditional authority (particularly religious authority) was followed in the 19th Century by the impact of Darwin’s evolutionary theory.  By the time Freud was taking up serious scientific and medical studies, the influence of rationalism, empiricism, and materialism on the scientific worldview was profound.  Man was a highly-evolved, thinking animal progress-ing toward an ever greater understanding of—and control over—the natural world and his place in it.

Freud the scientist argues vehemently against the existence of God. He points to the problem of suffering and he develops the psychological argument that the whole concept is nothing but a projection of a childish wish for parental protection from the vicissitudes and sufferings of human existence. He also argues against the objection of those holding the spiritual worldview that faith “is of divine origin and was given us as a revelation by a Spirit which the human spirit cannot comprehend.” Freud says this “is a clear case of begging the question” and adds, “The actual question raised is whether there is a divine spirit and a revelation by it, and the matter is certainly not decided by saying this question cannot be asked.”

Learn more about Science, Revelation and the Human Story—

Steven Shapin, The Scientific Revolution (U. Chicago, 1998); Never Pure: Historical Studies of Science (J. Hopkins, 2010)

Thomas Cahill, The Hinges of History Series (Doubleday, 5 volumes, more planned):  How the Irish Saved Civilization (1995); The Gifts of the Jews (1998); Desire of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus (2001); Sailing the Wine Dark Sea: Why The Greeks Matter (2004); Mysteries of the Middle Ages (2006)

Posted in Worldviews | Leave a comment

Tolkien & the Reality of Fantasy (part 2)

To help us more clearly understand Tolkien’s use of Myth as the basis for “reality in fantasy,” let’s turn to his fellow Inkling, C. S. Lewis, and his “myth retold,” Till We Have Faces.  Lewis considered this work a favorite among his writings, though he acknowledged it was probably the least read.  Inklings scholar Thomas Howard provides some insights regarding Lewis’ classic tale that can be helpfully extended to Tolkien’s work as well, particularly regarding the nature of Myth.*

Till We Have Faces is subtitled “A Myth Retold” (even though most published versions and many reviews call it “A Novel”).  Howard considers the distinction essential.  As a particularly “modern” literary form, novels “do not concern themselves with ultimate reality.”  While they may raise existential questions, their primary focus is on social manners and mores and on psychological nuances exemplified by characters navigating their world.  Myths, on the other hand, “see the lives of men as over-arched by the gods” who are there and “call us to account” over against Realities that are simply “there” (and not of our own making).  “There are lines you cannot cross,” Howard points out, “there are laws you cannot break, and things before which you must bow.” (And, by inference, unavoidable consequences for failing to do so).

Myth, then, at its most “artful” (as it surely was in the hands of Lewis and Tolkien), does not “represent” Realities, it embodies them in an almost incarnational sense.  In this fashion it differs (importantly) from allegory, which presents symbolic representations as “stand ins” for correlating realities.  In Myth, there are no “layers” of meaning; as Howard puts it, “something is what it is,” and in being so it embodies a reality that is “there.”  The Hobbit’s “Necromancer,” more fully unveiled as Sauron in L.O.T.R., does not represent evil, he embodies Evil.  As Tolkien writes in “Mythopoea”:  “and of Evil this alone is deadly certain:  Evil is.”  This Primary Reality (and by its converse, that “evil lies not in God’s picture but in crooked eyes”) is what comes through in the powerful narratives crafted by these two masterful myth-makers.

Myth, Tolkien believed, is a vehicle through which we can “know” Truth through the faculty of imagination.  Imagination, in turn, is Humanity’s Gift, given by our Creator to help us find ourselves in Him and to understand our proper place in His Reality. In Fantasy, we weave layers of reality into Secondary Worlds that (at best) may artfully point us toward Realities in the Primary World (the World of God’s Creation).  But such stories also can (and often do) confuse us with illusions that are pleasing to our “crooked eyes” and leave us stranded in the half-truths of secondary worlds.

In Mythic Fantasy, artfully crafted and rightly understood, we are presented incarnated Realities with which we are called to align ourselves. We are, as Tolkien puts it in his “Mythopoea,”  “renew from mirrored truth the likeness of the True.”

*Thomas Howard quotes are from an interview with Ken Myers in the Mars Hill Audio Conversation, “Till We Have Faces and the Meaning of Myth (www.marshillaudio.org)

Posted in Classics | Leave a comment

Once Upon a Time

Reflections on “The Question of God,” Part 1

Repetition is one of the distinguishing characteristics of the teaching life. If your subject area remains the same for many consecutive years, you find things that work well and use them, with careful tune-ups and adjustments–year after year.  I always approached teaching as a narrative process.  Each year I was telling a story, and–like in any good story–there were always my favorite parts.  I found particular joy and comfort in reaching the same place each year with different students in the seats getting different things out of the same lesson.

Every year since it was first broadcast on PBS in 2004, I used a wonderful video series, “The Question of God,” in my Senior Worldviews class.  Tonight I wrap up the nine week program for the first time with college students.  Based on a popular Harvard course taught by Dr. Armand Nicholi, this series examines the formation and implications of two contrasting worldviews through the lives of Sigmund Freud, life-long critic of religious belief, and C.S. Lewis, celebrated Oxford don, literary critic, and perhaps this century’s most influential and popular proponent of faith based on reason (learn more at the Question of God website pbs.org/wgbh/questionofgod/program/index.html).  I thought I’d share some highlights from the guiding narrative I’ve created (with some help from the Q.O.G. website) to go along with each week’s viewing and discussion.

From the outset, I think it important to look back to the very different paths in the Human Story that brought Freud and Lewis to the same cultural moment in Western History.  That “moment” is generally called “modernity,” and it is characterized by a marked decline in Classical and Christian influences in Western culture.   Science and Reason had risen to intellectual and cultural prominence during the 17th-19th Centuries, and while religion was still an important cultural presence in Europe, its influence was waning.

Freud’s path to modernity is rooted in the story of European Judaism.  This tale of cultural marginalization, persecution, perseverance, and the ultimate achievement of a measure of prosperity weaves from ancient through medieval times.  The Jewish story is the story of a Transcendent God whose chosen people are called to faithfully represent His Reality through story, ritual, tradition, and the fulfillment of sacred obligations (mitzvot).  After the Enlightenment (17th/18th C.), many Jewish intellectual elites embraced a secularized Judaism that preserved cultural identity and marginalized religious observances.

As part of his intellectual legacy, Freud strongly advocated an atheistic philosophy of life. Freud’s philosophical writings, more widely read than his expository or scientific works, have played a significant role in the secularization of our culture. In the 17th century people turned to the discoveries of astronomy to demonstrate what they considered the irreconcilable conflict between science and faith; in the 18th century, to Newtonian physics; in the 19th century, to Darwin; in the 20th century and still today, Freud is the atheist’s touchstone.

Lewis was the product of Anglo-Irish Protestantism and a traditional Classical Education.  The Anglican Church of his upbringing was as much a cultural institution as a spiritual one, one which the educated Lewis (like many “moderns” of his time) would eventually find irrelevant and unnecessary.  His desire for “enchantment” in the world was initially fueled by encounters with the natural world around him and the literary canon of Classical Antiquity and Medieval Christendom.

But Lewis embraced an atheistic worldview for the first half of his life and used Freud’s reasoning to defend his atheism. Lewis then rejected his atheism and became a believer. In subsequent writings, he provides cogent responses to Freud’s arguments against the spiritual worldview. Wherever Freud raises an argument, Lewis attempts to answer it. Their writings possess a striking parallelism. If Freud still serves as a primary spokesman for materialism, Lewis serves as a primary spokesman for the spiritual view that Freud attacked.

Armand Nicholi, host and panel moderator for The Question of God, nicely sums up the focus of the series:  “Whether we realize it or not, all of us possess a worldview. A few years after birth, we all gradually formulate our philosophy of life. We make one of two basic assumptions: we view the universe as a result of random events and life on this planet a matter of chance; or we assume an Intelligence beyond the universe who gives the universe order, and life meaning. So each of us embraces some form of either Freud’s secular worldview or Lewis’s spiritual worldview.”

Next time we’ll take a look back at the Classical foundations of these two worldviews.

Learn more about the “story” of the lives of Freud & Lewis—

Alan Jacobs, The Narnian:  The Life and Imagination of C. S. Lewis (Harper One, 2005)

Phillip Rief, Freud: The Mind of the Moralist (Viking Press, 1959)

Posted in Worldviews | Leave a comment

Tolkien & the Reality of Fantasy (part 1)

In the wildly popular 1999 film The Matrix, Morpheus famous asks Neo, “What is real?” This familiar and provocative phrase is perhaps the quintessential philosophical query.  Attempts to answer are rooted deep in Classical Platonic idealism and branch out into science, metaphysics, language, literature–indeed, across the entire canopy of human experience.  J.R.R. Tolkien had much to say, both academically and creatively, about the nature of reality and its relationship with mythopoetic fantasy.  Artfully employing his philological skills, Tolkien crafts careful explanations and expressive images of what is “really” happening when Storytellers weave their Tales on the loom of life.

Modern understandings of “Fantasy” often imply some element of separation between reality and the imagination.  From this perspective, “fantastical” stories present “layers” of reality for the reader to explore and engage (sometimes on a variety of levels).  The reader seems free, to an extent, to “imagine” reality as seems fit.  Authors may, in a sense, “impose” more directly correlated meanings on their “realities” using allegory, but still both the crafting and interpreting of such symbolic representations resides to a large extent with the writer and the reader.

Tolkien, at the beginning of the “Fantasy” section of his famous essay “On Fairy Stories,” treats the role of the Imagination (and its relationship with “reality”) a bit differently.  First, he questions the “modern” distinction between the human mind’s capacity for image-making and the imagination’s power to “give to ideal creations the inner consistency of reality.” The difference between the two, Tolkien asserts, is “a difference of degree,” not “a difference in kind.”  “Imagination,” he thinks, describes both the human capacity to form fantastical images as well as its power to express particular “realities” within them.  This “achievement of the expression” of reality Tolkien calls “Art.”  And the key to true Art is its resonance with, not its mere presentation of, true “reality.”

For human “creators” to achieve true Art, they must see things “true-ly”—particularly themselves.  We are all, Tolkien believed, “creatures”; the power of creation belongs to God alone.  Since we are, however, created in His Image, at our best we may become a “sub-creators.” Such “artful” works as we may produce—in their depictions of “unreality” in relation to the Primary World—might ultimately inspire Secondary Belief that “imagines” even more powerfully the “realities” of the Primary World readers (and writers) inhabit.  “Fantasy (in this sense),” Tolkien writes, “is not a lower but a higher form of Art, indeed the most nearly pure form, and so (when achieved) the most potent.”

Tolkien refers to (and includes a selection from) his poem, “Mythopoeia,” in this essay.  Reading the two together is particularly helpful.  The poem artistically expresses the idea of Myth, while the essay treats the concept more indirectly through its considerations of Fantasy, Story, Imagination, and Art.  The poem stanzas quoted in the essay articulate the same “point” as essay itself, but they do so poetically (imaginatively, artfully) rather than prosaically (using philology and rhetoric).  Which passage is more imaginatively powerful?  Certainly (in my view) the poem.  Which communicates “reality” more truly?  Neither (again, in my view), because they each (in their own way) point toward the same reality (just in different ways).

Tolkien’s views on fantasy and reality are premised on an important presupposition:  that there is a Reality “there” that is not of our own making, and that all of us as creatures are bound by its truths, principles, conditions, and consequences (whether we believe in them, or this Reality, or not!).  Next time we’ll look to C.S. Lewis “myth retold“–Till We Have Faces–for insights helpful in understanding Tolkien’s themes, particularly regarding the nature of Myth.

Posted in Classics | Leave a comment

Liberty’s Languish

“I know my country has not perfected itself. At times, we’ve struggled to keep the promise of liberty and equality for all of our people. We’ve made our share of mistakes, and there are times when our actions around the world have not lived up to our best intentions.” Barack Obama

 

“We believe in individual initiative, personal responsibility, opportunity, freedom, small government, the Constitution. These principles, these American principles are key to getting our economy back to being successful and leading the world.” Mitt Romney

Regardless of which of these men you voted for (or chose not to), I think most honest people would be able to see some truth in what they each say and believe about America.  In their own way, each desires the “best” for America and believes he knows how to get there.  Where they differ is in their interpretations of what that “best” looks like, and where it comes from.

More importantly, though each would rhetorically express a conviction that this “best” comes from “God,” I have never been convinced that either of them really meant it.  That’s not how most modern politicians really think anymore (even if they sometimes, by necessity, still say it).  In fact, it’s beginning to seem as if a majority of the modern American electorate—and those they elect–don’t really think so anymore, either.  And that is what is really most significant about this election.

I say this speaking from an understanding of reality that is Gospel-centered and reflects, as such, certain presuppositions about man, God, and the nature of the human condition that don’t always resonate with modern political dynamics.  For modern progressives, governmental policies and social action (directed by intellectual elites) correct the evils of the past, provide security for the present, and guide us toward the “best” future.  For modern capitalists, free markets and individual initiative (directed by corporate elites), transcend the limitations of the past, provide opportunity for the present, and promotes growth toward the “best” future.  The former is willing to sacrifice liberty for equality; the latter values liberty over equality.  The former grants sovereignty to the State; the latter promotes the sovereignty of the individual.

From a Gospel perspective, I am only “free” to the extent that I accept God’s sovereignty over all things, or I presume to exercise that sovereignty myself, or I willingly (or even unknowingly) surrender that sovereignty to the State or some ideology.  My identity as an “individual” is subject to the admonishment that I am my brother’s keeper, and that as a reflection of Christ my primary identity is to be a lover of God and of my fellow man.  To be a “libertarian” is to deny that I owe obedience to anything but myself and my own fulfillment, freedom, etc.

Each modern perspective represents (to me) a faulty extension of true liberty for license, and an abdication of values that once shaped political culture and motivated the statesmen in public service.  To me, true liberty is the freedom I have to submit myself to rightful authority, to restrain myself from undignified excesses, to reject the intrusion of illegitimate tyranny, and to resist the temptations of selfish indulgence.  To strive for such personally (with God’s help) is to be truly virtuous.  To lead with such convictions is to be a true statesman.  What we have today are partisan politics and a cultural aesthetic overwhelmed by the rampant individualism, materialism, and pragmatism.  Of course there has never been such an “ideal” culture (or “ideal” statesmen), but I do believe we’ve lost the ability to even value the idea of the “ideal,” and that makes us poorer individually and culturally.

As a teacher, I challenged my students to weigh the impact of both values and interests in public policy (and in historic turning points, foreign policy, even “worldviews”).  The human condition is always shaped and defined by both, and neither is ultimately “best” in and of itself.  But when our interests come to sacrifice the common good at the altar of selfish individualism, partisan ideology, and personal pleasures, we are woefully out of balance as human beings.  Similarly, when our values cease to be rooted in spiritual realities and moral “first principles,” we’re left with utilitarian virtues at best and, at worst, we subject ourselves to the tyranny of those who control cultural forces (media, entertainment, markets, politicians, etc.) toward their own selfish ends.

 

Posted in Civics | Leave a comment