David Bentley Hart on Creation

I just received in the mail David Bentley Hart's intimidating tome, The Beauty of the Infinite: the Aesthetics of Christian Truth. I was flipping through the book with excitement (because I'm a nerd) and foreboding (because I'm lazy and the book is massive) when I ran across this little nugget in the extensive table of contents.

II. Creation

1. God's gracious action in creation belongs from the first to that delight, pleasure, and regard that the Trinity enjoys from eternity, as an outward and unnecessary expression of that love; and thus creation must be received before all else as gift and as beauty.

Well stated, wouldn't you agree? Creation as, first of all, "gift" and "beauty" as opposed to say creation as, first of all, "product" or "mechanism" or "artifact."

There is a general suspicion of beauty among modern people. Even despite myself, I find it difficult to think of beauty as a (or the) primary aspect of the world, but I think Hart is right to assert that Creation should be understood by Christians as an unnecessary and beautiful gift of the God to be received by his creatures.

Moreover, I can't help but speculate that this view of creation is the best antidote to gnosticism. The notion that the physical world is something to be loathed and, if possible, escaped is shown to be preposterous if the Creation is, first and foremost, a gift of a perfectly loving God.

You Can't Think of Anything Better? Really?

A high school teacher was interview directly following the Obama Inauguration today. (Yes, 'tis true, the Promised One has taken up his rightful place as ruler over the less blessed.) I don't want to comment on the Coronation...ahem! I mean Inauguration. Rather, I want just to focus on this woman-in-the-crowd's comment concerning children and politics. She said:

I can't think of anything better than for kids to become politically active.

Really? Isn't it more important for kids to know the difference between right and wrong or to cultivate the intellectual and moral virtues essential to legitimate political activity or to have fun or to learn how to be a good friend or ....

Actually, I'm not sure it is, on the whole, good or important at all that kids be politically active. And, really, what is it for a kid to be "politically active?" What it was for me was supporting whomever my parents were supporting.

I don't mean to attack this woman particularly, but it seems to me that her view is shared by many these days. And I think that's dumb.

On the Practicing of Old Liturgies

This blog is about practice, not theology. (However, as I read Alexander Schmemann's For the Life of the World, I am becoming convinced that the two are ultimately inseparable.) My inspiration for this post is the following:

A new book is still on its trial and the amateur is not in a position to judge it … Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books … Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us. Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction … [I]f any man is tempted to think – as one might be tempted who read only contemporaries – that ‘Christianity’ is a word of so many meanings that it means nothing at all, he can learn beyond all doubt, by stepping out of his own century, that this is not so.*

This incisive comment by C.S. Lewis on the value of reading outside one’s own historical moment got me thinking about liturgy. Lewis points out that the blind spots which endanger every age are usually (perhaps unavoidably) present in the books of that age. I want to extend that idea into the realm of church practice.

Evangelical liturgies have, almost as a rule, been developed – sometimes very thoughtfully, sometimes very hodgepodgely – during and for this age. These liturgies (it feels a bit strange to call them that) might contain various holdovers from past decades but not many. And even when they do reflect antiquity, they do so vaguely, more in shadow than in substance. Now, this would be fine if our time was one of perfect insight, but it is not. So, I say, just as it is helpful to read what they read of old, why not do what they did of old? (There are myriad other, and better, reasons to embrace ancient liturgy, but I am here just concerned with one.)

__________

* C.S. Lewis, “On the Reading of Old Books” (1944), reprinted in (ed.) Walter Hooper, God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), pgs. 201-3.

Jesus vs. PETA

"Of how much more value is a man than a sheep!" (Matt. 12:12)

Plantinga's EAAN Goes Pop

For all those who should be interested--everybody, that is--Alvin Plantinga has whittled down his Evolutionary Argument Against Naturalism (EAAN) and published it as "Evolution vs. Naturalism" in Books & Culture. Click and read.

Harvesting Paper

The following I learned from Paper University. Go check it out.

Paper comes from trees. Yes, but not just any trees. It comes from trees that have been planted and grown specifically to harvest paper. Most, if not all, of those trees would not be there, if they had not been planted for paper. Moreover, these crops are a renewable resource; trees that are cut down are replaced by new ones. So, (1) the trees of forests, city parks, and your backyard are not threatened by the manufacturing of paper, and (2) the paper industry has actually helped increase the number of trees in the world.

Also, it takes 10-20 years for trees to mature to the point at which they can be useful in making paper and other wood-based products. Because of this slow rate of maturity, paper crops create a rather stable ecosystem for various wildlife. Therefore, it is safe to assume that (3) animals are (excluding those who are squished by falling trees) overall benefited by the paper industry.

The Big Q: Why, then, should we recycle? Well, preserving the world's trees is not--if Paper University is to be trusted--a good reason. After all, if the production of paper actually leads to more trees and does not threaten already existing trees, then it is tough to sustain a "no trees for paper" policy. There is, however, another, perhaps less "heroic", reason to recycle, namely, to reduce the amount of paper in landfills. All things being equal, I think that less trash in landfills is a good thing. (Still, I suspect that all things are not equal and that fanatical doomsday tales of landfill ooze attacks are at best verisimilitudinous.) Perhaps there are more complex, scientific reasons to recycle paper, but I don't know what they are. Paper U probably discusses the issue in detail somewhere.

In short, if what I have said above is accurate, then we ought not to feel much compunction concerning our use of paper, especially if our uneasiness is based on the false notion that paper production contributes to deforestation. That's bunkum. And I'm sick of being told noble lies in service of supposed noble efforts to save some aspect of our world. I would rather know the truth (or that the *experts* are not sure what is the truth) than be deceived into doing what some elite group thinks is best.

Me First and the Way of Ideas

A friend of mine (who has a nice, virile voice) recently asked me to sum up "modern philosophy" for him. Something like an avalanche of heterogeneous mind boulders came tumbling down upon me when I first began pondering what a summary of modern philosophy should include. Next, I was overcome by the impulse to run for cover and pretend that such a question was never asked of me. But slowly the challenge took root in my subconscious and burgeoned as a duel-bulbed bit of philosophical flora (that is, phlora).

My friend's name is Jey.

What grew up in my mind was no doubt stunted and woefully pathetic in comparison with the sort of phlora that would have blossomed in a more arable intellectual garden. Nevertheless, this was what arose from my aridity.

I think the following statement from Descartes' first meditation is quite illuminating: "So today I have expressly rid my mind of all worries and arranged for myself a clear stretch of free time. I am here quite alone, and at last I will devote myself sincerely and without reservation to the general demolition of my opinions." (my emphasis)

Tradition, testimony, any communal source of knowledge: All of it is not to be trusted. If I am to make any progress toward knowledge (and most importantly) certainty, then I must chuck everything I have come to believe through sources outside myself and begin anew from the solid foundation that is ME.

Of course, Descartes was only one of the moderns, and he was a rationalist. The empiricists believed experience was the only (or at least the primary) fodder to which reason is applied. But the same Cartesian doubts about the reliability of sense experience plagued at least some of the empiricists (Berkeley and Hume, to be sure).

It was no accident, therefore, that the modern project led to such anti-commonsense positions as Berkeleyan idealism, Humean skepticism, and Kantian transcendental idealism...and maybe postmodernism (which might more accurately be called hyper-modernism).

In the midst of all this self-centered muck arose Thomas Reid, the great Scottish defender of common sense. He went after "the way of ideas," which he thought lie at the root of all this counterintuitive malarkey. As I understand it, the way of ideas is essentially the view that in between us and the world are ideas or sense impressions--representations, one hopes, of things-in-themselves. There is no getting beyond them or outside them. They are the things we experience. (And for all the doubting that Hume did, I don't think he ever questioned this doctrine of mediation.) Reid, on the other hand, tried to defend a sort of direct realism. His goal was to get rid of this odd veil between mind and world and thereby to restore a commonsense view of the world. He thought that the absurd implications of the way of ideas amounted to a reductio against the view. He says, "A traveller of good judgment may mistake his way, and be unawares led into a wrong track; and while the road is fair before him, he may go on without suspicion and be followed by others; but when it ends in a coal-pit, it requires no great judgment to know that he hath gone wrong, nor perhaps to find out what misled him." The way of ideas, Reid thought, led straight into a filthy morass of skepticism and/or idealism.

In short, I think two things are most distinctive of modern philosophy. One is the turn to the individual as the primary and best source of knowledge. The other is the Way of Ideas, which when combined with Cartesian individualism leads to skepticism. There are probably more key ideas that mark modernity, but this is my best shot.

Democrats Who Used to be Republicans but Still Call Themselves Republicans for Obama

Donkeys fumbling about in elephant's clothing tend to look a bit clumsy (not to mention flabby).

It has come to my attention that there is a movement afoot called "Republicans for Obama." The name of this group strikes me as a misnomer. For it seems to me that to be identified with a particular political party requires, first and foremost, that one embrace a particular political vision. If you are supporting Barack Obama for president, then it is likely that you, on the whole, do not embrace the republican perspective. To wit, you have no right to fly the republican flag. You are a democrat (or maybe just a *fan*), not a republican.

On (Punk Rock &) Modern Reformationism

Punk rockers (or, perhaps better, protest rockers) always need something against which to fight: the “establishment,” social prejudices and inequalities, war, puritanical parents, whatever, something. Punk, in other words, is a parasite. It thrives when its host thrives. It dies (or flies) when its host dies. So, for example, when government officials declare war, many punks discover a renewed vibrancy, for the host on which they feed and nourish themselves has itself been renewed. One consequence of the parasitic punk is that its chief mode of being is violence, attack. I sense something similar is going on in some Christian Reformed circles.

I have always admired Reformed folks (of the Westminster Seminary variety) for their fervent and unswerving dedication to faithfulness in proclaiming the true Gospel and preaching the Scriptures accurately, but, through prolonged exposure, my admiration has gradually given way to weariness. I have grown tired, not of their passion for truth but, of their consistently draconian denunciations of those they (usually rightly) oppose. Indeed, it seems to me that the entrenched method of these reformers is to express their allegiance to the truth through critique as opposed to something like fides quaerens intellectum (‘faith seeking understanding’). Attack mode is default mode. They gain nourishment through sound refutations, confident condemnations of wayward doctrinaires (e.g. Joel Osteen), and the occasional, snide (but clever) cheap shot on those outside the inner ring. This tradition, as it presents itself to me in southern California, has little by way of independent life. It feeds off the host of heresy, impropriety, and tomfoolery. One gets the impression that Christianity began (or began again) with the Reformation or, more specifically, with Reformational criticism of the Roman host that lost its way.

Of course, the parasite analogy only goes so far. Surely, there are positive contributions, besides good objections, provided by modern Reformers (just as there may be some positive musical contributions made by punk rock), but the overwhelming spirit and source of being is (permit me a weak metaphor) that of intellectual hatchet throwing, not theological home building.

Protest rock, from time to time, might be useful in combating societal and political ills, but in itself it is a weak musical genre. It lacks that self-sustaining quality that gives things lives of their own. The same goes for some forms of Reformation Christianity. Don’t get me wrong. Every community of Christians must, in this world, be actively engaged in theological, cultural, and philosophical criticism. But that engagement ought to flow out of the life of the Church, not constitute it.

Rome

Ponte Sant'Angelo

Roman Forum

Fontana di Trevi

Roman Colosseum

Jonathan Wang

This guy.

Saint Peter's Basilica

Inside St Peter's

Piazza del Popolo

Raphael's "School of Athens"

Saint Peter with the Keys to the Kingdom

Anti-Bush Communists in Rome -
Bush was in Rome visiting with the Pope.
(I'm not sure about you, but I'll take President Bush
over Communism any day.)

Florence

The view from the lodgings of one Jon Wang--
host, friend, and rock legend

Christ's Baptism - door of Battistero di San Giovanni

Inside the Battistero

The world's best ever artist, hands down.
Go to Florence and see his David.

Dante - Author of the Divine Comedy
and famous former resident of Florence

Duomo -
Scaffolding I've found is something
you need to get used to in old Europe

Basilica di Santa Croce -

Burial place of Dante, Galileo, Michelangelo, Machiavelli, and others

Ponte Vecchio

Dante's Tomb

The Bottom half of Cellini's "Perseus"
and a fake David in the background.

Scooters dominate the streets here;
oh yeah and behind them is one of the most
beautiful churches in the world

Good clock

Sunset on the Arno

Florence just after sunset, from Piazza Michelangelo

Categorical Statement:
Ponte Vecchio is the most beautiful bridge in the world.

Stonehenge