Quid est Eros et Artes

"It's not enough to rage against the lie...you've got to replace it with the truth."
-Bono, from U2

"Hmm...I don't think I've blogged about sex in a while. That's always a rather provocative subject to use as a background for philosophical ranting."
-Me.


The other day, I read a rather interesting quote from a discussion by J. K. Rowling about Harry Potter & Co.'s romantic entanglements. After she explained the fact that she wanted to make her characters realistic, she pointed to an episode from the Chronicles of Narnia that reflected one of the problems with much of children's literature. "There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that."

Rowling's reading of Susan having to choose between sex (lipstick) and religion is an incorrect view of the book as it was intended to be read, but such a reading does reflect Lewis' early reticence to include sex in his fiction. (Incidentally, that reticence was entirely gone by the time Lewis penned the conclusion of That Hideous Strength.)

The tendency among the church to condemn sex whole-heartedly is, of course, quite logical. Some Medieval theologians declared sex within marriage to be evil, though not a sin. And nowadays if you say "sex" among pretty much any group of Evangelical Christians, what springs to mind is "[-ual] immorality." There is, after all, a reason why Paul expressed that he thought it was better to remain celibate. But there is also a reason why Paul spent much more ink telling people that sex in marriage is not sinful and even (in one instance) encouraging married couples to have sex. Heck, a whole book of the Bible is borderline pornographic. (Most Christians who read The Song of Solomon without knowing it to be God's word wouldn't hesitate to drop the modifier "borderline.")

One modern author, Tad Williams, serves as a good example of at least one better way to talk about sex. He may not demonstrate an entirely correct understanding of sexual morality, but even so he often has a lot more good things to say about sex than those who Lewis, Chesterton, and Co. would characterize as "excessively puritanical." One character, for instance, chooses to sleep with an incredibly handsome noble while she is on the run; Williams' unflinching descriptions of the psychological effects, both throughout that relationship and in her later relationship with another (unrelated) character, drives home the importance of sexual morality more than any twenty books where uncomfortable issues are carefully kept out of sight. And all that without giving the impression that the term "sex" means "sexual immorality."

All this isn't to say that the world isn't currently obsessed both with pornography (in 'low art') and a resulting sort of sexual cynicism (in 'high art') that portrays sex in order to arouse the audience or urge them towards despair. (For the latter, see (or better yet - don't!) most any film by Stanley Kubrick.) But like any aspect of life, when Christians decide to abandon a battlefront, it seems a bit hypocritical for us to then mope about how bad it is.

The Lord's Prayer: Popular Evangelical Translation

First, a disclaimer. I am a Christian because of the 'Evangelical' church. That church is a part of the Church. It is an amazing mouthpiece of God, that taught me of humanity's sinfullness and God's love for humanity which lead to his self-sacrificial death on the cross in order to save all those who he could. Which is not only true, but pretty much the meaning of life. Yet the Scriptures call us to good doctrine, and doctrine really matters. Therefore, I present this food for thought:

The Evangelical's Prayer:
'Our father who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name. By us. Truly. Or at least may we feel warm and fuzzy to you. But most of the time we really mean it.
We are in your Kingdom,
May we not break your rules,
And may we bring others from Earth to Heaven.
And forgive us our guilts, which are many.
And deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever,
And especially as you will reveal it in this New Generation.
Amen.'

I think it may have actually been better back in the evil days of the Catholic Empire when (as I was taught) everyone repeated it by rote but no one ever thought about what it means.

Arguing About Religion (the Only Worthwhile Thing to Discuss Besides Sex and Politics)

'I'm not saying that what you believe is wrong. I'm just saying that it is not necessarily that other people can't find the same thing in other texts....'
'You know, the funny thing is that I have had this exact same discussion twice now in two weeks.'
- The guy sitting across the table from me at dinner tonight, talking to Hannah and the girl on his left. (I would've spoken up, but didn't have anything to say that the two of them didn't say.)

'No Muslim who converted to Christianity felt like he abandoned his God. Every Muslim I have known who converted to Christianity felt like, for the first time in his life, he was able to truly know the God he had always been trying to worship distantly before.'
- Frank Fosdahl, long term missionary to Indonesia.

'Therefore, the one whom you worship without knowing, Him I proclaim to you: God, who made the world and everything in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands. Nor is he worshiped with men's hands, as though He needed anything, since He gives to all life, breath, and all things. And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being, as also some of your own poets have said, 'For we are also His offspring.' Therefore, since we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Divine nature is like gold or silver or stone, something shaped by art and man's devising. Truly, these times of ignorance God overlooked, but now commands all men everywhere to repent, because He has appointed a day on which He will judge the world in righteousness by the Man whom He has ordained. He has given assurance of this to all by raising Him from the dead.'
- A guy named Paul

If there is anything that the scriptures make clear about preaching the gospel, it is that there is not one single way to preach the gospel. Sometimes it means joining an African noble and helping him to reason through passages of Torah. Sometimes it means shouting the truth to a bunch of angry-looking people with pointy-looking rocks. Most often it means living a quiet, blameless life quietly loving God and man. But sometimes it means arguing philosophy, and quoting the local 'prophets' rather than divine Scriptures.

I believe that Christ is the only way to heaven, but I'm not sure that the phrase itself is the best argumentation strategy. And, after all, what would happen if I said 'you know, you just might be right. What are these other paths, and what do they lead to?'

It would be a much more difficult conversation, because then I would have to think about, and explain, exactly what a Christian is. What it means to accept grace, what it means to really be a sinner. Lots of those unknowable mysteries that have been revealed to us. And we could discuss where other paths (Buddhism, Islam, Hindu, etc.) might lead to the same place, and where there might actually be (surprise of all surprises!) fundamental doctrinal differences between religions, to the point where they lead different places.

Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I believe an argument (or at least an intelligent Oxford banquet-table type argument) is a fundamental sort of social contract where all members bring their particular knowledge to the table in order to exchange blows and seek truth. I believe completely that Christianity is uniquely true. He believes otherwise. I know a lot more about Christianity. He might know more about other religions. We have a common ground for discussion, and by talking we can share ideas. We are both pretty set and confirmed in our beliefs, yet the gospel, I feel, is pretty powerful stuff. Even when discussed logically, honestly, and in a quiet, intellectual manner.

I'm not saying that all preaching ought to be through argument -- far from it. But I guess the thing is that I feel that a lot of people are given training in 'apologetics', which are marginally useful, but not really taught to express their faith through argument. So there is this implicit belief that 'liar, lunatic, Lord' solves all the arguments, whereas from Lewis' point of view it was just a small argument used to attack a particularly common idiotic half-belief that Jesus was 'that cool and venerable religious leader and all-around good man.' Etc. And even when apologetics are good, a lot of times people aren't willing to argue with something they've heard a million times before, in the exact same words.

This entry is trailing off, so I'll just end it. Maybe later I'll edit in an ending.

Quid est fides (TM). Because 'What Is Faith' As an Article Title Should Always Be In Latin, Especially When The Article Is Written In Oxford

My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world; almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not in those days, see God for His creature, of whom I had made an idol.
-Charlotte Bronte, from Jane Eyre

These words, when I first read them, seemed rather startling. The entire novel had been rather closely concerned with theology, but such an admission of idolatry seemed rather out of place. It couldn't be, I felt, that Jane was truly, to use the modern Evangelical parlance (which I often think obscures more than reveals) 'putting her faith into Mr. Rochester rather than Christ?' A rather serious claim, even for a fictitious character. Yet the self-accusation seemed rather valid. Mr. Rochester was, after all, very clearly the focus of the narrative, and issues of theology had been largely dormant since the death of the young Universalist Helen Burns.

In a Novel of Manners, however, theological positions are not just stated, but illustrated. In this case, the issue comes to a head when Jane is given the choice between a dishonorable all-but-marriage to Mr. Rochester and a complete separation from Mr. Rochester (depriving Jane of any visible means of financial support). Her choice, then, was to creep away from the house.

What was I? In the midst of my pain of heart, and frantic effort of principle, I abhorred myself. I had no solace from self-approbation: none even from self-respect. I had injured--wounded--left my master. I was hateful in my own eyes. Still I could not turn, nor retrace one step. God must have led me on. As to my own will or conscience, impassioned grief had trampled one and stifled the other.

Now, it seems pretty basic to say that the psychology is pretty darn realistic. I can't really think of anything else to explain the emotional power of the episode, for one thing. Given that the situation is entirely plausible and a true reflection of life, I once again ask the question 'what is faith?'

In the intellectual focus that talks about 'placing your faith in Christ,' as a verbal sort of decision, I think that it would be natural to say that Jane Eyre's faith is a rocky, changing thing. First she loves God. Then she loves Rochester. Then she loves God again, but not really because she still wants to be with Rochester. And I suppose that would be absolutely correct, from a certain point of view. We are, after all, weak and changing humans. But somehow I feel that such a view is neither the most Biblical nor the most practical perspective.

Of course, to return to the polar opposite is pretty worthless. To say that Jane chooses the correct choice and thereby saves herself from an evil and miserable lifestyle is ridiculous on two counts. First of all, Jane doesn't even seem to make the decision herself, as she freely admits. For her, the only explanation is 'God must have lead me on.' Moreover, Jane's decision doesn't ever really buy her peace - no matter what she does, she remains haunted by a mental ghost of Rochester. If salvation is earned by works, even her truly heroic sacrifices seem not nearly enough to do any good.

The truth, I have come more and more to believe, is found much more along a third path, that blends the first two. 'You shall know a tree by its fruit' - Jane's faith was much more clearly defined through her ability to leave the man who allegedly 'stood between me and every thought of religion' in order to avoid violating God's law -- as she made clear to Rochester in the preceding discussion. Jane considered her own faith in God to be inferior to her faith in Rochester, and yet her actions revealed a faith in God rather than Rochester. Rochester may have seemed to eclipse God, yet the eclipsed faith is what Jane follows, almost against her will. 'God must have lead me on.'

What then is faith? Is it thought? Is it works? It seems to me that it may not be either, but an outreach of God. A Caedmon's Call song, speaking of the Evangelical image of 'faith,' says 'My faith is like shifting sand, changed by every wave. My faith is like shifting sand, so I stand on grace.' To seek salvation through works is futile, yet to focus on one's own faith is deadly. 'Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith.' And yet, when we can't see anything,even then 'if we are faithless, He remains faithful. He cannot deny Himself.'