Piety & Theology

Augustine’s piety was rooted and grounded in theology.  For Augustine, masculine piety is inseparably connected with theologizing.  The separation of theology from worship, which has proved so disastrous to modern thought, was unknown to him.  The separation of theology from piety was unthinkable. Theology and devotion were fused aspects of a single faith.  

. . . no one will love what he has no prospect of making his own by understanding; faith without the hope of understanding would be no more than compliance to authority (Brown, Augustine of Hippo. 279).  

No separation of faith and reason.  No opposition.  Certainly no warning, ever, against the dangers of theology. 

The thoroughly modern, and I should say, thoroughly erroneous antithesis between love and logic, feeling and reason, heart and head, practical and doctrinal, etc. had not meaning for him.  Augustine writes no separate treatise concerning the theology of piety or devotion, simply because all of his works, from Contra Academicas to The City of God must be understood as such.  And I might add, they all should be read devotionally.  

Augustine’s devotion is theologically stimulated and regulated just as his theologizing is devotionally sustained and controlled.  Thus the authenticity of a man’s piety is properly tested by the clarity and profundity of his theology and conversely the genuineness of his theology is properly tested by the intensity of his devotion.

Back to Blood

The first chapters of Tom Wolfe's new novel Back to Blood are terrific.  Classic Wolfean social commentary. The spoof on the "green" car is hilarious.  But the book is not for the faint of heart; it's pretty raw, as are most of Wolfe's novels.

My New Book

Golden Gilead

So I had to read Gilead again because Robinson's new book arrived from Amazon a few weeks ago. I read through Gilead twice four years ago (has it been that long?), but since her new book Home is something of prequel (so I hear, anyway) I figured I needed to reacquaint myself with the story of John Ames first.

Well, once again I am amazed at how good Gilead is. I'm afraid Home is not going to measure up. I haven't read any reviews yet, so I'll just wait and see.

Last night I remembered this gem from Pastor Ames (writing in the 50's). He's talking about a Bible study at the church that he was leading.

Two or three of the ladies had pronounced views on points of doctrine, particularly sin and damnation, which they never learned from me. I blame the radio for sowing a good deal of confusion where theology is concerned. And television is worse. You can spend forty years teaching people to be awake to the fact of mystery and then some fellow with no more theological sense than a jackrabbit gets himself a radio ministry and all of your work is forgotten. I do wonder where it will end.

It will never end. Some things never change.

Last Minute Gift?

I have a book recommendation for you. This book might be especially helpful for friends who are troubled this time of year. The book is called A Table in the Mist: Meditations on Ecclesiastes. Yeah, it's my book.

You can order A Table in the Mist here or here or here.

Here's the Preface I wrote for the book a few years back at this time of year:

As I sit in my quiet basement study writing this preface the world outside is buzzing with commotion. It is Christmas time. With less than a week of shopping left before the big day, there is a great whirl of activity everywhere. Everyone is franticly making preparations. Businesses are throwing parties. Families will be gathering for annual feasts. Dazzling decorations have been strewn over buildings, homes, and even doghouses. Bright lights, evergreen boughs, multi-colored bulbous ornaments, glittering silver strands of garland, and more garnish windows and doorways all up and down the street. It would seem, from all outward appearances, that everything is right in the world, that peace and joy reign supreme.

But, as everyone knows, colorful Christmas decorations often mask dark depression for many people. Even though the feast of Christmas ought to be a time when even those who have much to be troubled about experience a ray of divine joy and happiness around the table with relatives and friends, oftentimes the season itself exacerbates people's problems. How can this be?

The Christmas holiday season has been increasingly cut loose from its foundation in the Bible and Christian tradition. Modern Christmas seasons provide us with little more than sentimental, syrupy niceness. Nice thoughts about a mistily glowing baby Jesus. All we are left with is the commoditization of vague religious sentimentalism. There is no spiritual power in this. What's worse, because of this the Christian faith seems to many in our culture to be little more than an attempt to stir up comforting religious feelings to mask one's real troubles in the world. But this is so far removed from the Bible and genuine Christian tradition that it has to be considered another religion, one that plays make believe with the dirty realities of this life.

WWI

Wayne has a great list of recommendations for books on World War I. When I read his post I was humbled. I haven't read any of those books! Not one.

I've read so many works on World War II but I've completely neglected the first WW. I've got some catch-up reading to do. Luckily I have a little time. I think I'll start with Tuchman's The Guns of August. That's because I have a thing for well-told war narratives. I especially like eye-witness accounts or stories built up from interviews with combatants.

Hey, don't forget to vote (see yesterday's picture post).

Random

Another Biblical Horizons conference is history. It was a great week. A nice balance of topics for lectures. Good singing and worship. A large crowd of attendees, too. I gave four lectures on Colossians, mostly concentrating on the epochal change that took place in world history and the ordering of human life as a result of "the circumcision of Christ" (=his death on the cross). As usual, the interaction between lecturers helped me gather some loose ends together. I'll try to post something on this a little later this or next week.

The week before I left for the BH conference I began to read William P. Young's The Shack. The first thing to say about this novel is that it's not great literature. It's not even good literature. Actually, it's not very well written at all. I found it tedious to read. The story itself starts out okay. There's enough there to keep you reading. But then the protagonist gets to the shack. At that point the whole thing becomes worse than ridiculous. I have to be honest. I couldn't read any more after the revelation of the Trinity as a big black woman (the Father), a Jewish man (the Son), and a petite young Asian woman (the Spirit). At one point the main character asks, "Which on one of you is God?" They all answer at once, "I am." Give me a break. The whole thing is just plain goofy after that. Not to sound too elitist, but if this is the kind of "theological novel" that millions of American Christians love, then Christian culture in this country is in serious trouble. Well, of course, we already knew that, didn't we? If you want more information on this latest American Christian smoltzy novel, check out the World Magazine review. Read The Shack if you want. But you may end up screaming and throwing the book at the wall about a third of the way through.

I tried cuil.com, the latest challenge to Google. Not bad. A bit slow for me. But whoever wants to dethrone Google is gonna have to do a whole lot better than this.

I finally got around to listening to this podcast on Radical Orthodoxy. I've read a lot of the RO books and articles, and I appreciate a lot of what they are saying, especially their critique of modernity (after AD 1300!). This CBC Radio podcast is helpful. David Cayley interviews Catherine Pickstock and John Milbank, so we get summaries of RO in their own words. There are, of course, serious problems with the positive theology of Milbank and the RO theologians. This podcast doesn't really deal with those problems. This is just a nice, succinct summary of the RO project.

This Looks Like My Kind of Book

Space Vulture

There are some SciFI books that make you think about moral or philosophical issues, some that delight you with descriptions of alien races and worlds, some that make your head spin with technical descriptions of future technologies. But there are some that are just plan fun. Lots of fun for everyone. Space Vulture is that SciFi book. It's all about boys, ray guns, smelly aliens, heroes that are too good, and a villain that is a cosmic bad boy.

This is not a book about big ideas or complex philosophical conundrums. In fact, it's rather childish. But I must confess, it had me ginning on more pages than most novels I read. Is the plot contrived? Yeah, of course. But the characters are likable, if not believable. This is SciFi pulp fiction. It's not meant to be taken seriously. It's meant to be enjoyed. And it's absolutely safe for children. I don't often get to say that about books I like. Without giving away too much, you should be prepared for some interesting Christian themes. This is great pulp space opera. The big adventure. For some reason, it reminded me of the old Johnny Quest cartoons.

Os Guinness on Frank Schaeffer's Crazy for God

Fathers and Sons
On Francis Schaeffer, Frank Schaeffer, and Crazy for God.
by Os Guinness

If asked what is the deepest relationship imaginable, many people would say it is between lovers, or between husbands and wives. The case can be made, however, that from a Christian perspective, no relationship is more mysterious and more wonderful, yet sometimes more troubling, than that of fathers and sons. The depth and wonder begin with all we know of the relationship of God the Father and God the Son, while the troubled aspects stem from the Fall. Consider Absalom's rebellion against King David in the Old Testament, Edmund Gosse's exposure of his father Philip, the Oedipal drive in the writings of Sigmund Freud—and now Frank Schaeffer's Crazy for God, a memoir that is his personal apologia at the expense of his famous father, Francis Schaeffer, who was the founder and leader of the worldwide network of L'Abri communities.

Frank Schaeffer unquestionably adored his father, just as his father passionately adored him. Having lived in their home for more than three years, I have countless memories of this, including the sight of the two of them wrestling on the floor of the living room of their chalet, and ending with a fierce hug. Yet no critic or enemy of Francis Schaeffer has done more damage to his life's work than his son Frank—a result that one might not be able to infer from many reviews of the memoir, including that which appeared in the previous issue of Books & Culture.

The problem is not so much that Frank exposes and trumpets his parents' flaws and frailties, or that he skewers them with his characteristic mockery. It is more than that. For all his softening, the portrait he paints amounts to a death-dealing charge of hypocrisy and insincerity at the very heart of their life and work. In Frank's own words, his parents were "crazy for God." Their call to the ministry "actually drove them crazy," so that "religion was actually the source of their tragedy." His dad was under "the crushing belief that God had 'called' him to save the world." Because of this, his parents were "happiest when farthest away from their missionary work." Back at their calling, they were "professional proselytizers," their teaching was "indoctrination," and it was unclear whether people came to faith or were "brainwashed" and "under the spell" of his parents. Frank's own arguments in their support, he now says, were a kind of "circus trick."

Commenting on the time when Francis Schaeffer went through his watershed crisis of doubt in 1951, which he claimed was pivotal to his faith and work, Frank says it was never resolved with any integrity: "Somehow he convinced himself to still believe." His father's "stunted" theological convictions "he held on to more as emotional baggage … than for any intellectual reason." Really? "Left to himself, Dad never talked about theology or God … . God and the Bible were work." And he was different when away from L'Abri altogether: "Dad never said grace over meals. It was as if Dad and I had a secret agreement that away from L'Abri, we were secular people."

And so it goes. With such a son, who needs enemies?

Read the whole review at CT

The Sociopath Next Door

From The Darkest Evening of the Year by Dean Koontz:

After a while, Amy looked up and saw Brian standing awkwardly forty feet away, with Nickie on a leash. Clearly, he wasn't sure that giving her time to herself was the right thing, but of course it was.

Michael Cogland [however] had been always self-assured and smooth and confident in any context. But what had seemed to be a natural grace had been in fact the sociopathic gloss of a man who had never been inhibited by so much as a scintilla of humility.

Keeping Up

Lot's going on, not much time to blog.

Saw I am Legend last night with my son and middle daughter. Really well done. This wasn't a kid sci-fi movie. You know, like Independence Day. The row of jr. high kids in the front of the theater were restless the entire movie. Highly recommended.

I need to update my "What I am Reading or Listening to" box on the right side of my blog. I finished Gene Wolfe's new novel Pirate Freedom. Everything Wolfe writes is worth reading. This one wasn't as dense as many others, but it was quite satisfying nonetheless. The moment I finished I began to read it again. That's the mark of a good book.

Sledge's With the Old Breed ought to be read by every post-WWII American man. It's a marine grunt's battlefield account of the battles of Peleliu and Okinawa. There's nothing like it. I can't believe I hadn't read it until now.

Currently, I'm listening to Steve Martin read his own Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life. I enjoy Steve Martin's book. The Pleasure of My Company was a gem. I'm also listening to Dean Koontz's latest novel, The Darkest Evening of the Year. So far, so good.

John C. Wright is Right

About the preachy atheism of Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. The first book was promising, but it went down hill, actually to hell after that. The diabolical trajectory was clear in the first book The Golden Compass but embedded in a somewhat interesting story line. After that it just became a very bad story.

Nothing I have ever read, not by Heinlein and not by Ayn Rand has been more blatant in dropping the story-telling, and devoting its pages to preaching a message. The writer was drunk on sermonizing. If this plotline was a motorist, it would have been arrested for driving while intoxicated, if it had not perished in the horrible drunk accident where it went headlong over the cliff of the author's preachy message, tumbled down the rocky hillside, crashed, and burned.

So what?

So J. K. Rowling thinks Dumbledore is gay. As it's being reported, she "outed him" Friday night at Carnegie Hall in New York.

But what difference does this make? None whatsoever. First, because Dumbledore's homosexuality remained in the author's mind and never shows up in the text itself. You can go back and read the novels and look for signs, but you'll find nothing even close to explicit. It's not part of the story line.

Second, as a friend of mine has noted, why not also out Neville Longbottom? Or Snape? Or MadEye Moody? Or Dobby? Or anyone else for that matter who doesn't have a girlfriend or a wife in the novels? Whatever thoughts Rowling may have had in her mind about a character, what the reader must pay attention to is the text of the story. Rowling may reveal one day that all the magical powers possessed by the witches and wizards of her novels' world were actually gifts given to certain humans by extraterrestrials when they visited to help the Egyptians build the pyramids. But this never shows up in the texts of her novels, so it is irrelevant. It makes no difference whatsoever in the actual story line.

Authorial intent is overrated. The text has it's own life.

Books & Movies

A few days ago I began to read, actually listen to Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild, the story of Chistopher McCandless's two-year "walk about" that ended in his death in 1992. I started it because a friend recommended it. I had no idea that they were making it into a movie. Last night as we were driving back from Taco Bell I saw the title on one of the local movie theater's placard.

I don't know. Nosing around the movie's web site makes me suspicious. It looks like they've taken some liberties with the story. And Sean Penn wrote the screenplay and directed the movie. Aach.

Interestingly, just after I finished The Kite Runner a few weeks ago I saw that it too was about to be released as a movie. I'm not sure I connected with The Kite Runner. It required me to suspend disbelief at too many key junctures. After a while, I just finished it because I don't like to start a book and then set it aside unless it's really bad. The Kite Runner is not really bad. It's not really even bad. Just not my kind of novel. I haven't looked, but I suspect it was one of Oprah's picks. It's that kind of book. Maybe the movie will be better.

Contemporary Novelists

I don't know about you, but whenever I'm visiting a Borders or Barnes & Noble I typically scan the shelves for my favorite living contemporary novelists and writers to see if they've published anything new.

Here's my list (in the order in which they come to me):

Umberto Eco
James P. Blaylock
Gene Wolfe
Tim Powers
William Gibson
Cormac McCarthy
Vernor Vinge
Ray Bradbury
John C. Wright
John Crowley
Tom Wolfe

Of course, I have other favorite authors that I don't expect new books from and therefore I don't scan the book shelves for them. They're dead.

Does anyone else do the same thing in these bookstores?

Oh, and I just saw that William Gibson has a new novel Spook Country. I hope to get a copy today. Cool.

How to Read Augustine's The City of God

In order to get acquainted with the overall argument of Augustine’s City of God begin by reading the entire first book, then read these chapters in the order listed: 2.1—2.4, 3.1, 4.1—2, 5.1, 6.1, 9.1, 11.1, 12.1, 14.28, 15.1, 17.1, 19.1 (first paragraph), 19.17, 20.1, 21.1, 22.1, 22.30.

Reading these selected chapters will prove to be a better overview than reading any “Introduction” written by someone else; you’ll get a feel firsthand for Augustine’s style and concerns without the interference of the interpretations of a reviewer. Reading these selections instead of jumping right in and plodding through the entire book will give you a fine overview of the major themes of the various books without having to struggle through the complexities of Augustine’s argument.

After reading these, if you feel like you would like to read more, look over the lists below and choose a chapter. If you begin to read a book and find yourself in the middle of some discussion about which you know nothing (nor care), then move on.

Only be careful, some of Augustine’s more brilliant arguments, the kind that upon finishing call for “oohs” and “aahs,” often concern questions or objections from pagans that may not be directly applicable to our situation, but which, in the process of Augustine’s analysis, often yield some very important insights. For example, consider Augustine’s extended refutation of the objection from scoffers against eternal death to the effect that the material body could not possibly suffer pain eternally without being destroyed (Bk. 21.2-8). This argument is simply brilliant and affords lots of meat for meditation.

Overview of The City of God: Augustine’s Own Words

Part 1 (Bks 1-10): “From this world’s city there arise enemies against whom the City of God has to be defended, though many of these correct their godless errors and become useful citizens of that City” (1.1).

Books 1—5: “I write against those who maintain that the worship of the gods—I should rather say, of evil spirits [daemones]—leads to happiness in this life” (Letter to Firmus).

Books 5—10: “. . .we shall answer those, who, in spite of being disproved and refuted by unanswerable proofs, persist in the assertion that the gods are to be worshiped not with a view to any advantage in this life but with a view to the life after death” (1.36).

Part 2 (Bks 11-22): “My task is to discuss, to the best of my power, the rise, the development and the destined ends of the two cities, the earthly and the heavenly, the cities which we find, as I have said, interwoven, as it were, in this present transitory world, and mingled with one another” (11.1).

Books 11—14: The origin of the two cities.

Books 15—18: “Since I have said enough about the origins of these two societies [Bks 11-14] . . . it seems to me that I should undertake to describe their development from the time that the first pair began to produce offspring up to the time when mankind will cease to reproduce itself. For the development of these two societies which form my subject lasts throughout this whole stretch of time, or era, in which the dying yield place to the newly-born who succeed them” (15.2).

Books 19—22: “It is clear to me that my next task is to discuss the appointed ends of these two cities, the earthly and the heavenly” (19.1).

Crucifixion

I just finished Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev. A friend of mine has been encouraging me to read this for some time now. I'm not exactly sure why I procrastinated. I know now that I had the wrong impression of the book.

Potok's use of the cross raises all sorts of fascinating questions. It is, on the one hand, simply a symbol for the complex conflict between Asher Lev's anti-iconic Jewish tradition and his artistic passion to paint what he sees and feels. More than that, there was no aesthetic form in Asher Lev's Judaistic culture that could capture his Mother's passionate suffering. But this seems inexorably to point to something richer and more dangerous. Something Potok himself surely did not intend. It's very difficult for me, a Christian, not to read this story as an allegory of the incompleteness of Judaism. Of course, for me, the cross is the fulfillment of pre-Christian Israel's own cruciform existence as the first, corporate form of "the suffering servant" (Isa. 53). Jesus is the true Israel, the one who suffered in love for the world.

All texts transcend authorial intention. Perhaps this is one of those texts that has depths of meaning not only not intended by the author, but also not appreciated.