Review of "Thinking the Twentieth Century" by Tony Judt and Timothy Snyder

I was asked to read this book by the publisher (Penguin Books). I can't remember if I was supposed to read it for review (in which case, I am not required to give a positive review), or for consideration for use in a course. If it was the latter, the end of the matter (as the Teacher says) is that I would not recommend Thinking the Twentieth Century for use in a class covering modern and contemporary political thought. I would not even really recommend it for a course on the history of 20th century intellectual movements, nor for a course on biography/memoir. In fact, I would be hard-pressed to think of a class for which I would recommend this book--unless there exists a class on how to be a thoughtful, engaging, and articulate intellectual, in which case this book would be a perfect addition.

You see, for all my non-recommendations of this book, it is quite frankly an excellent read. For a work that deals largely with intellectual matters, it manages to be well-written and fast-paced without sacrificing depth. Moreover, the slightly odd format contributes to the flow of the narrative, rather than being the distraction I at first suspected it might be.

Summary and an Envious Aside

In broad strokes, this book is formatted as a "conversation" between Tony Judt and Timothy Snyder. Dr. Judt carries the bulk of the "conversation," with Snyder merely making brief addenda and and asking occasional questions (in italics) throughout. Each of the nine chapters begins with a brief biographical exposition, which then segues into a discussion of Judt's intellectual interests at that stage in his life. And since he has been interested in pretty much everything (including: Zionism, Socialism, Communism, Modern Liberalism, and a good number of other -isms), the book covers a truly staggering intellectual spectrum.

And if I may be allowed a brief reflection on Dr. Judt's biography: at the risk of speaking ill of the dead, I hereby publicly confess my envy of his career. A bird's eye view of his life in dialogue form would look something like this:

Cambridge University: "Young Mr. Judt, we'd like you to come study here when you're ready for college."
TJ: "Does that mean I can drop out of high school and travel the world?"
Cambridge University: "Certainly! And when you're done with your PhD we'll have a teaching position for you as well!"

UC Berkeley: "Young Professor Judt, would you like to come teach for us for a while?"
TJ: "No thank you, I don't want to live in California."
UCB: "Oh? What if we offer you more money?"
TJ: [Sigh] "fine." 

Put that on repeat and you've basically got Dr. Judt's professional career. And yes, I am well aware that this summary is rooted in envy on my part--and I'm even more aware that Dr. Judt was both staggeringly brilliant and living at a time when jobs in academia were plentiful. Nonetheless, I remain envious. Do with that confession what you will.


Overall, Thinking the Twentieth Century engages most of the major mainstream intellectual movements of the Twentieth Century, as well as a number of not-so-mainstream bodies of thought (mid-20th century Zionism, for example).

Strengths

As I've mentioned, this book is well-written, informative, and philosophically fascinating. Dr. Judt's life-long transformation from "idealist" into "critic" partially fills-in a number of blank spots in my own education (I certainly knew nothing about what was going on intellectually in Eastern Europe during the era of Commie dominance) and provides numerous opportunities for reflection.

It's really Dr. Judt's ability as a critic that makes this book worthwhile. Because he had been either a student of or personally involved in so many philosophical and political movements in the 20th century, his criticisms come from a position of knowledge and compassion. For example, he was a Zionist for long enough that his informed criticisms of modern Israeli policy have the feel of an older sibling gently chiding a younger from the perspective of life experience. Likewise, when he engages in economic criticism, it is as a Keynesian who has had years to see and reflect on the failings of Keynesian economics, and only desires to see these failings corrected.

Most of all, however, his criticism of the current state of historical scholarship is much needed in today's academic world. Dr. Judt notes that the rise to dominance of modern leftist scholarship has included the introduction of hyphenated history, "feminist-history," "African-American-history", and so forth. And while this has meant a Renaissance in our depth and breadth of historical consciousness, it has increasingly been at the expense of the actual material of history itself. That is, the teaching of history has been so concerned with establishing a "feminist/racial/gender/etc" worldview in the classroom that it has stopped bothering with the events themselves. Introductory textbooks teach the role of women in the American Civil War, the lot of slaves in the South and of the working class in the North, and so on, but don't bother teaching what actually happened in the War itself. Though this has been done with the (sort-of) laudable intent of de-moralizing our view of the past (as in, we shouldn't think of ourselves as the heroes of history but should remember even those who don't write the history books), the results has been wide-spread historical ignorance.

You cannot teach children American history by saying: it is widely believed that the Civil War was about the abolition of slavery, but ha!--I can assure you that it was really about something else altogether. For the poor little things in the front row are turning to one another and asking: 'Wait a minute, what's she talking about? What is the Civil War? When did it happen? Who Won?" These supposedly critical approaches, intended-let us be generous-to help children and students form their own judgments, are self-defeating. They sow confusion rather than insight, and confusion is the enemy of knowledge. Before anyone-whether child or graduate student- can engaged the past, they have to know what happened, in what order and with what outcome. Instead, we have we have raised two generations of citizens completely bereft of common references. As a result, they can contribute little to the governance of their society. The task of the historian, if you wish to think of it this way, is to supply the dimension of knowledge and narrative without which we cannot be a civic whole. If we have a civic responsibility as historians, this is it. (266)

The same applies to my own discipline in teaching politics: it is my job as a professor (certainly in the lower-level courses) primarily to teach about how government works. I can't expect my students to hold a worthwhile civic discussion on, say, the merits of the Electoral College, if they don't know what it is and how it functions. Dr. Judt gives a somewhat shocking example when he takes to task-of all things-the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC. (It's not the only public institution he criticizes, but it's probably the one we'd least expect to be criticized.) The way the Museum is set up, he argues, is intended to generate a mood or emotional state of mind in the visitor--not to provide information about the past. One comes out of the Holocaust Museum with the feeling that the Holocaust was a very bad thing, but without having actually learned anything about it. And, on reflection, I suspect that there's some truth to this claim. I myself have been through the Holocaust Museum, and while I can tell you that it is a very powerful experience, I don't know that I can name a single historical fact I picked up while there. We are, Dr. Judt suggests, forcing students to skip to the end--to have a reaction to history before having the history itself under their belts. The discipline needs to get back to the basics and restructure along more traditional pedagogical lines. These historical reflections alone make the book worthwhile and interesting.

The biggest strength of Thinking the Twentieth Century, however, is the model that Dr. Judt sets of how to be a useful public intellectual. (He may set a similar model in his other books- I haven't read them so I can't say.) The way he engages with source texts, reflects on what he has learned, and transforms that information into public knowledge should be a model to scholars everywhere. While, not being much of a modern liberal myself, I do not necessarily agree with some (or even most) of his philosophical premises and conclusions, nonetheless he provides a picture of what a scholar should be. He has a mastery of his field, a sharp analytic mind, and the ability to use that mastery and that mind for the public good. Given the number of noisy pseudo-intellectuals currently trying to shove their screeds down our collective throats, it is refreshing to know that until very recently there was at least one out there who could be trusted to be informed, thoughtful, and concerned for the common good--even if he and I have serious disagreements about what that common good is.
I think an example of the from the book will be a useful way to end the discussion of the strengths of Thinking the Twentieth Century. In this passage, Dr. Judt identifies what he believes to be one of the functions of an intellectual:

[In a conversation with David Brooks on the Charlie Rose Show] It was about what the U.N. could do to solve the Iraq crisis, rather than leaving it to America just to do its own thing. Brooks was arguing very smoothly that the U.N. was useless and couldn't be counted on to do anything forceful. he said: look at how useless it was in the Balkans. I went into some detail at that point about the resolution of the Kosovo crisis and, in particular, the role of international agencies there--in catastrophic situations, I argued, it was still possible for international agencies to do good things, precisely because they were international agencies. And I expected Brooks to come back with: what about this, this, and this. Instead, he just said: well, I don't really know anything about that. And changed the subject.

And I remember thinking: you've gone on television, made ex cathedra statements against the whole idea of international action to resolve political crises in dangerous places, making a case for America to do its own thing because no one else can; and then when you're pushed on it, you say: well, I don't actually now what I'm talking about. Here we had the public intellectual who now occupies not only prominent television space but also op-ed pages of the most influential newspapers in the English-speaking world: and he knows nothing. (312-313)

Don't get me wrong, I do think that the U.N. is largely useless, and I'm not so critical of David Brooks in general (since I'm pretty ignorant of who he is or what he does), but I also think that public intellectuals have the responsibility to know something before making declarations about how our foreign policy, or domestic policy, or personal lives, should be set.

Weaknesses

Really, there are only two major weaknesses in the book (other than what I've already mentioned about the book not being useful for a course. Which isn't so much a "weakness" of the book itself as it is one less way the publisher should promote it).

The first is that, as interesting and wide-ranging as Dr. Judt's reflections are, most of the works he engages are only going to be known either to academics who work within those fields or to specific people groups. For example, he has a large section on Polish literature and thought, which--as he himself points out--is really only known to the Poles themselves and to the handful of scholars who study it. And while he keeps the discussion within Thinking the Twentieth Century interesting and relevant even to those of us who are likely never to encounter Polish philosophy (or other obscure topics that he engages), by and large that means that we can do little more than observe this conversation between Judt and Snyder, without having much in the way of our own thoughts and additions. Which is no doubt helpful in reining in my own pride and desire to express my opinions on everything, but I suspect will still damage the long-term usefulness of this book. (This is not to say that all of the book is focused on obscure fields of study, just that enough of it is to be an occasional distraction.)

The second weakness is that for all the scope and breadth of his book, Dr. Judt never really wanders beyond his own philosophical backyard. Since that backyard is modern liberalism, it's a big one and there's no particular need (academically) for him to have done so, but I would still have been interested to have heard his reflections on, say, Burkean conservatism, or Federalism, or any of the other (admittedly smaller) counterpoints to the dominant liberalism of academia and the modern world. Obviously this isn't technically a "weakness" as much as it is me wishing that he had written more (which I suppose counts as praise more than anything) and on subjects that I am interested in myself. So in addition to envy, I guess we can add "self-centeredness" to my list of public sins...

With that said, I really do want to know what he thought about the more thoughtful aspects of the right wing, of Christianity, and of traditionalism. (He touches briefly on Hayek and libertarian economics, but only briefly.) He is a good enough writer and a thoughtful enough scholar that I am certain his reflections could only have advanced such conversations...

Overall, this is an excellent book, which I highly recommend to those interested in intellectual life in the 20th century.

Review of "Alizel's Song" by Bill Pottle

Nominally, Alizel's Song is the story of the creation of the universe, Satan's fall, the war in heaven, and man's original sin. Really, the book is more of a "forum to try to hammer out a reconciliation between science and religion while exploring difficult theological issues" than it is a traditional straight-laced narrative. So far as the narrative goes, this is the story of Alizel, one of heaven's angels, who observes the major events of creation and rebellion and offers his comments and reflections along the way. He observes the 15-billion-year-long creation, sees Lucifer rebel against God, asks theological questions about how all of these things can possibly exist in harmony (e.g., how can a good God sit by while angels kill other angels?), and generally wonders about the new "realm of matter" which God has created separate from heaven (though not separate from Spiritual life- Pottle does not fall into the trap of Gnosticism).

Lucifer falls from heaven- Dore

First, I have to say that Pottle is to be commended for his obvious delight in both science and the Bible. He clearly understands some of the central issues in the science/religion debate, and attempts to engage the best of both worlds without sacrificing the convictions of either. (Which is something that I've said in the past we need thoughtful Christians to be doing.) Of course, I don't know enough about science to know whether or not he's being faithful to whatever the latest research/theory is, but I can at least say I didn't see any major red flags on the theological end of things.

Which is not to say that I'd necessarily recommend the book either. Mostly because as interesting as some of the ideas are, as a work of fiction it bounces back and forth between being resoundingly bland and ridiculously terrible. (If it had been consistently ridiculously terrible, I suspect I would have enjoyed it a good deal more--both I and the domestic harpy have a deep and abiding love for awfulness in fiction.) To give you an example of the occasional terribleness, this is Lucifer describing how he has found a means of providing his own "fuel" rather than relying on God (angels get their strength through a direct stream of energy from God- a fallen angel cuts this off and turns elsewhere for strength):

Azazel ignored the comment about God, intrigued in spite of himself. "New energy? What energy could possibly sustain us?
"I have found it myself. No doubt God wanted it hidden from us so that we could not unleash its awesome power."
"What is this energy?"
"The power comes from focusing intently on wrongs committed against all of us. I call the new energy Heaven's alternative transforming energy." (62)

As in, HATE. Demons are fueled by hate. If there had been more of this in the book, I would not have been able to put it down. (In case you're wondering, demons live in "Heaven's Equivalent Location", or HEL.) As it was, despite these occasional shimmerings of spectacular awfulness, the plot and writing were for the most part just kind of... meh. And the theological discussion, while interesting enough in its own right, wasn't really good enough to carry along the otherwise milquetoast plot.

And a side note on the theology in the book: I should point out that nearly all of it is speculative. Again, it's not bad theology, it's just for the most part guessing about things not revealed in Scripture. Questions about how angels fell, how Adam fell (as opposed to the consequences of Adam's fall), how much angels know about salvation and Divine sovereignty, and by what means God created the earth are simply not answered in the Bible.

All of this to say that Alizel's Song has someone interesting theological propositions, and might be useful to people who want a little bit of a rough introduction to the questions listed above. As a novel, well, if you want a literary treatment of heavenly goings-on and the fall of man, pick up Paradise Lost (no, really--once you get the cadence down it's pretty awesome, and C.S. Lewis agrees!). And really, if you want to get into the meatier theology, you should pick up Calvin, Augustine, or John Collins on Genesis before coming to a more speculative book like this anyway.

This book was provided for free by the publisher on the condition that I review it. I was not required to give it a positive review. 

Book Review: "The Lais of Marie de France"

"Lais are", as the back of this Penguin Classics edition tells us, "short stories in verse based on Breton tales, depicting a moment of crisis in love relation always intense and refined, and often far more complicated than our received view of courtly love might lead us to suppose." And while I'm not entirely sure what "our received view of courtly love" should be, I admit that I was fascinated by the depth and intricacy of these short tales.

The Lais are short stories lifted from the Bretons and told to the English by the (probably) French author Marie de France. Her purpose in writing these is given in the Prologue and at the beginning of the first story:

Anyone who has received from God the gift of knowledge and true eloquence has a duty not to remain silent: rather should one be happy to reveal such talents. When a truly beneficial thing is heard by many people, it then enjoys its first blossom, but if it is widely praised its flowers are in full bloom. (Prologue)

Whoever has good material for a story is grieved if the tale is not well told. Hear, my lords, the words of Marie, who, when she has the opportunity, does not squander her talents. (I. Guigemar)

In other words, the point of these tales is the exercise of the author's talent--an exercise best done in public. The success or failure may be judged by the praise of the audience. Since we're still reading her works a thousand years later, I think it's safe to say that Marie's goals have been met.

All twelve of these short stories are fascinating (as is the Editor's Introduction). I was especially surprised that there seem to be three main characters in each one: the knight, the lady, and Love. Or at least, "love" is present, if not actually a character. In fact, I found the treatment of love to be the most interesting part of this work. Rather than personifying love, or even idealizing, the Lais does two things: it treats the effects of love with a gritty reality; and it objectifies love.

While there are certainly supernatural components present in these stories (knights turning into birds, for example), there is precious little idealism about the impact love has on the world. Love is portrayed with a gritty reality that bears little resembles to the modern chick flick. Love brings happiness, pleasure, and even transcendent joy, to be sure. But it also leads to sorrow, grief, despair, and even the destruction of the innocent and guilty alike. Love has real-world effects that lead to the utterly destruction of everything and everyone involved, and yet are still clearly understood to be worth the time and effort of pursuit. The rewards  of love do not always outweigh dangers, but they do so often enough that love is clearly something of enough value to merit lifelong dedication.

Probably the biggest disconnect between the view of love in the Lais and our modern view is the objectification of love. I don't mean the idolization of love, as if it were being elevated to an inappropriate position (though that may be the case elsewhere in Medieval literature). Nor do I mean the personification of love (though that does happen here and there). I mean actually treating love as if it were a physical object. This is from the story of Guigemar:

Guigemar was very much in love and either had to receive relief of be forced to live a life of misery... "My lady," he said, "I am dying because of you; my heart is giving me great pain. If you are not willing to cure me, then it must all end in my death. I am asking for your love. Fair one, do not refuse me."... The lady recognized the truth of his words and granted him her love without delay. He kissed her and henceforth was at peace. (49-50)

This is not simply referring to sex (though sometimes love involves that also). Love is being willed and granted as if it were a trophy. It is taken back and given to someone else in exactly the same way. Which is exactly not the way we think of it. We don't think of someone as being worthy of love- we think of love as an emotional state that just happens. The heart wants what it wants and there's nothing you or I or a team of psychologists can do about it. The idea that love is something for which we have a moral responsibility to use well, and which we can (should?) give out to those who are worthy is an interesting one, and certainly one worthy of further reflection.

These are not the only components of love in the Lais, but I think they are by far the most interesting. Also interesting are the knights and ladies and the troubles they get into, but you'll have to read it for yourself to find out what's going on there.

Overall, this was a delightful little collection of stories. It is short, clear, and fun to read, and so I recommend this to everyone. Even if you're not a fan of Medieval literature, the Lais are short and interesting enough that you'll find it to be a fast read.

Book Review: "When Donkeys Talk" by Tyler Blanski

Tyler Blanski doesn't think much of the modern way of looking at the world. That is, he doesn't like the Enlightenment rationalist way of seeing nature as nothing more than a collection of moving atoms bouncing off of each other (in scientific terms) and people as nothing more than isolated individuals doing basically the same thing. He thinks we need to have a radical transformation in our worldview that brings back the enchantment and magic of existence, that views people and society as connected organisms rather than biological machines, and that has a theology that allows a donkey to talk. (Not all the time, of course, but in that special category of event known as a "miracle.") This is the older and better worldview held by Christians in the early church and Middle Ages (Blanski himself studied the Middle Ages at Oxford).

The Good

There's much that is good in the book. It is well written, fast paced, and interesting. While it's a bit full of personal vignettes for my taste ("we were out camping looking at the stars and I thought..." sorts of things as springboards to the discussion), Blanski used them well and kept the book moving forward at a decent clip.
Moreover, the author is clearly well-read, thoughtful, and creative. His artful blend of theology, history, and cultural criticism is always interesting and occasionally even a delight to read.

In terms of the book's substance, Blanski does an excellent job of reminding us of several things that we as Christians in the technological age are particularly prone to forget. Among others, these include:

• That we are saved into a community. This community (the church) is not a community of isolated individuals willing to endure each other for an hour a week, it is a living organism onto which we are grafted. This organism is defined by the covenant and is as much a reality as the physical universe.
• That conversation is a critical part of Christian (even of human) life. This is not so much explicitly stated as it is implicit in the way Blanski goes about writing his book. Most of his theological reflections begin with the relation of a conversation of dialogue he has had with his friends. In the past I have criticized other authors for exclusively relying on conversation as a means of discovering truth rather than approaching Scripture. However, Blanski goes about this in the right way. He clearly knows his Bible already and has several good relationships with those who do as well. Even his conversations with non-Christians are good models of how and what we may learn from those who do not share the faith. 
• That we should wonder at the mystery and grandeur of creation and of the Creator it reveals. It is all too easy for us to forget to be amazed that anything exists at all, so say nothing of how that existence is full of Beauty. We should have a continuously growing sense of delight in life. Our modernist tendencies to think of the world as a giant machine and of ourselves as independent and autonomous agents within it squelch this sense of delight and wonder, and offer as substitutes only the unsatisfying parodies of pop culture and momentary cheap thrills. One of the ways we (especially as Christians) can find, nurture, and develop this wonder is through a proper understanding of liturgy and sacramentalism. In the sacraments of baptism and communion, we see a picture of human life as it should be and salvation as it is offered to us in Christ. And through those pictures we discover that, in a sense, all of life is itself sacramental and liturgical. 

None of these arguments are particularly new-- Blanski's criticisms of modernity are basically contemporary criticisms of modernity wrapped up in the language informed by Medieval Christianity. Which means that there is something of substance here worth the attention of a thoughtful Christian trying to think carefully about how to live in the modern world.

The Less Good

Despite these strengths (and they are strengths), I think I'd still hesitate to endorse this book or recommend it as any kind of go-to text for a Christian. The three things listed above are important, but Blanski raises them to such levels (perhaps in an over-correction of modern ills) that they run the danger of becoming unhelpful, and even borderline inappropriate- though not, perhaps, openly heretical. What seems to have happened is that Blanski has elevated his love for creation and existence to the point where the reality of sin and, consequently, the nature and necessity of atonement are lost.

If we think of salvation as involving a balance between the God's completed present work and God's future recreation of the world, Blanski has too much of the "already" and not enough "not yet." Don't get me wrong, I very much prefer this kind of imbalance to the fundamentalist approach that would swing the other direction and disdain the current world with a kind of spiteful anticipation of the world to come. But that said,  the focus here is entirely too much on the Creation and Incarnation, and not nearly enough on the Crucifixion and Resurrection as well. Modern Christians do need to be reminded to delight in existence; but we equally need to be reminded of the deep reality of sin, the necessity for the forgiveness that comes through the cross, and the promise of resurrection into a new creation.

This over-emphasis leads to the sorts of other over-emphases one would expect. For example, Blanski has entirely too high a view of liturgy and sacrament. In declaring the whole world to be "sacramental" and all of life to be "liturgical", the result is that he pushes the actual sacraments and liturgy to inappropriately high levels. In his chapter on baptism, for example, one gets the impression that Blanski believes in baptismal regeneration (as in, dipping someone in water is what saves them, rather than faith in the Gospel). It may be that Blanski is just pushing the symbolic language a bit too hard and that he does not actually embrace that particular Romanist heresy, but the language remains unclear and at times suggestive that he might.

I've already mentioned the biggest problem, but it bears repetition. In a sense, despite the title and continual references through the book, Blanski ignores one of the major lessons of Balaam. It's not just amazing that a donkey could speak (though that is certainly true), it's likewise amazing that a man who had heard a donkey speak and who was himself a prophet was still more in love with the created order than he was with God. Merely having a sense of wonder and delight in creation did not help Balaam. He still assisted the wicked king in enticing Israel to sin, and earned himself eternal condemnation in the pages of Scripture. We should delight in creation and wonder at God and His universe, but we should also understand how deep sin runs, how desperately we need atonement, and how much we have to look forward to in the re-creation of the world. This whole view of the Gospel is the only way to correct our modernist tendencies, recover our lost sense of wonder, develop good theology through conversation, and grow in the community of the church. When Donkeys Talk offers a partial-but-skewed correction to our problems, and in doing so ends up being much less useful than it could have been.



In sum, I'd say this is certainly not the worst book you could pick up, but it's not the best either. I'm not completely convinced that it's weaknesses outweigh its strengths- though I am convinced that you'd be better served to read older Christian critiques of modernity (those by Jonathan Edwards, Abraham Kuyper, or J. Gresham Machen, for example). And I suspect that so far as I am saying that you should be reading older books than his, Mr. Blanski would agree.

This book was provided for free by the publisher on the condition that I review it. I was not required to write a positive review.

Book Review: "The Works of John Flavel: Volume 4" by John Flavel

John Flavel is one of those Christian writers I wish more people would read- not least because he is a Puritan writer with a sense of humor. (Can that point really be over-stressed?) Thanks to the hard work of the good folks at the Banner of Truth Trust, some of his books are available in cheap editions, but the true gem in the Flavel ring is as yet only available in any kind of readable edition in The Works of John Flavel: Volume 5. This of course is Husbandry Spiritualized, in which Flavel walks through various aspects of agriculture and uses farming as a springboard to devotional meditation.

So if you've never read any Flavel, I recommend starting with one of the Banner of Truth stand-alone editions, or with Volume 5. If you've been exposed to Flavel and want more, then and only then should you pick up the volume currently under consideration: The Works of John Flavel: Volume 4.

This volume contains the following works:

• England's Duty Under the Present Gospel Liberty (1689) [Referred to as "England's Duty"]: This is a series of eleven sermons on Revelation 3:20. At least, that's what it claims to be- in fact it's a series of reflections -worthwhile enough in themselves- only loosely tied back into the Biblical text at hand. So if you're looking to really know Revelation 3:20 by reading 300 pages on it, this is not for you. But if you go into this looking for good Puritan reflection on conversion and the Christian life, this selection is excellent. 
• An Appendix to England's Duty: This is an additional sermon on Romans 1:18, and holy cow, if you want to be convicted of your sin in the face of God's mercy, this is the sermon for you. And if you don't want to be so convicted, then this is really the sermon for you. Flavel walks through what it means to be shown God's mercy, then asks how we can claim to be God's people when we receive his mercy and not only are not really grateful for it, but go ahead and sin anyway. Which of course we all do. Flavel then calls us to praise God for His mercy and live a life reflecting our gratitude in obedience.
• Mount Pisgah: A Sermon Preached at the Public Thanksgiving, February 14, 1688-9, For England's Deliverance from Popery, Etc [Including an Epistle Dedicatory: This sermon reflects on, well, what it says it does- England's deliverance from Rome. Specifically, it uses Moses' desire to go into the promised land (and not being allowed to do so) as a God's mercy and how we should be greatful for it. 
• Divine Conduct, or The Mystery of Providence: A Treatise Upon Psalm 57:2: Available in a stand-alone edition from Banner of Truth, this is probably the reason most people would pick up this particular volume of Flavel's works. And with good cause- in this treatise Flavel explores God's providence from several different perspectives, as well as examining what our response to God's providence should be. 
• A Narrative of Some Late and Wonderful Sea Deliverances: This is the weakest link in the collection- it's just a reprinting of how a few individuals were saved at sea. Perhaps this meant more to Flavel's congregation in the small seaside town where he pastored, but much of it was lost on a land-lubber like myself. 
• Antipharmacum Saluberrimum: A serious and Seasonable Caveat to All the Saints in this hour of Temptation: In addition to having the most awesome title of any book ever (in case you're wondering, it means something to the effect of "Health against the Poison" or "Healthiness against Sorcery"), this book is a wonderful reminder of the dangers of idolatry and backsliding to which all Christians are prone. Flavel provides a number of warning signs, as well as advice as to how this "poison" may be resisted.
• Tidings from ROME: or, ENGLAND'S Alarm: I assume (though we're not told) that this work was written either under the rule of Charles II or James II, when it looked like England was going to slip back to Roman Catholicism. This short work is a series of reflections and instructions on the responsibilities of Christians in such circumstances. How do we as Christians react when it seems that the dominant political culture is against us? Clearly, Flavel's advice has much to say to the modern world... Interestingly, Flavel comes out strongly against any kind of coercion by the state against religious minorities- even if it is the Puritan majority coercing a Catholic (or Quaker, or Baptist, or whatever) minority, since 1) it is simply contrary to the Gospel; and 2) it's a bad precedent to set. 

Overall, an excellent volume and worth reading if you're a Puritan devotee. If you're not a Puritan devotee, then I would recommending picking up something else of Flavel's instead- this is not the place to start. 

A few gems from the book:

When Christ comes into the soul of a sinner, he brings a pardon with him, a full, free, and a final pardon of all the sins that ever that soul committed. This is a feast of itself, good cheer indeed.... [The] thing that makes this mercy delicious and ravishingly sweet to the soul, are the properties of it, which are four: 1) God writes upon thy pardon FREE: it is a mercy which costs thee nothing; 2) God writes upon thy pardon FULL: as well as free, the pardon extends to all the sins that ever thou committedst. The sins of thy nature and practice; the sins of thy youth and age; great sins and lesser sins are all comprehended within thy pardon. Thou art acquitted not from one, but from all! 3) God writes upon thy pardon FINAL: without revocation, the pardoned soul and its pardoned sins can never more meet unto condemnation; 4) God writes upon thy pardon SURE: it is a standing mercy never to be recalled, vacated, or annulled. Now the labouring conscience that rolled and tossed upon the waves of a thousand fears may drop anchor, and ride the quiet in the pacific sea of a pardoned state... This is heavenly manna, the sweetness of it swallows up all expressions, all conceptions; no words, no thoughts can comprehend the riches of this mercy. (214-216)

The gospel hath two great designs and intentions. One is to open the heart of God to men, and to shew them the everlasting counsels of grace and peace which were hid in God from ages and generations past: that all men may now see what God hath been designing and contriving for their happiness in Christ before the world was... The next intention and aim of the gospel is, to set open the hearts of man to receive Jesus Christ, without which all the glorious discoveries of the eternal counsels and gracious contrivances of God for and about us, would signify nothing to our real advantage. (194)

We are fallen into the dregs of time; sensuality runs every-where into atheism... The largesses of Providence have so blinded, and perfectly stupified the minds of some, that they neither own [i.e. "believe"] a Providence, nor a God... (337)

As God hath stretched out the expansum, or firmament of heaven, over the natural world, so hath he stretched out his word over the rational world; and as in that he hath placed the stars and luminaries to enlighten the earth, and to be for signs and seasons... so hath he placed a constellation of scriptures in this also, by which they that are skilful [sic] in the word of righteousness may discern very much the designs and issues of these rolling and amazing providence that are over our heads. (515)

Oh if Jesus be in the midst of you, no matter how many enemies combine against you: if he speak peace to you, no matter who prepares war against you: it is worth the venturing far to meet with Jesus Christ and enjoy fellowship with him..." 

Book Review: "Platonism" by Paul Elmer More

Paul Elmer More is an obscure early 20th century writer who, among other things, has written a trilogy of books on Plato and his followers. A few years ago, I read More's Hellenistic Philosophies (the third book in the trilogy) in preparation for a class I was teaching on Alexander the Great. Frankly, it was excellent. Clear, concise, comprehensive, and a good deal cheaper than the standard work on the subject by Long- even if only because it is only available as a cheap reprint. As a result, I've picked up the first two books in More's trilogy on Plato, Platonism and The Religion of Plato (to be read/reviewed later). So far, the first and the last have been excellent, and I suspect The Religion of Plato will measure up as well.

In Platonism, More sets out to discuss the basics of Plato's writings, while touching briefly on some of the major difficulties of their interpretation. The chapter divisions themselves are worthy of note, and provide the basic issues More engages:

1. The Three Socratic Theses
2. The Socratic Quest
3. The Platonic Quest
4. The Socratic Paradox: the Dualism of Plato
5. Psychology
6. The Doctrine of Ideas
7. Science and Cosmogony
8. Metaphysics
9. Conclusion

(In an appendix, More gives a short summary of each dialogue, and outlines a proposed reading plan. This outline is pretty useful, so I've pasted it below.)

In the course of these chapters, More provides an extended discussion of several major and minor dialogues, including: Protagoras, Gorgias, The Republic, The Laws, The Statesman (Politicus), Thaetetus, Crito, Timaeus, Parmenides, Cratylus, and The Sophist. He also compares and contrasts Plato to both other philosophers (Mill, Rousseau, Kant, and Edwards all make appearances) and to later "Platonists" (Plotinus was the one I'd heard of, along with a bunch of 19th century names I didn't know). 

More begins his discussion by outlining the "three Socratic theses," namely:

• Intellectual skepticism: this does not mean "absolute suspension of judgment." Such absolutes are impossible- reason must have some role in life, and connections have to exist between us and the world (4-5). Otherwise, we are animals and doing nothing more than appealing to the "brute nature" in all of us (4-6). "Skepticism" in this sense is examining experience all the way to its conclusion. That is, Plato is challenging both reason and the senses through the function of the will. This is the groundwork of philosophy and morality alike, since it involves looking through the senses and trying to find the world behind all of physical reality. This, in turn, is directly tied to the second theses:
• Spiritual affirmation and assurance: Doubt of our own reason and senses leads to the conclusion that there is a higher and more certain spiritual reality underlying existence. Socrates' trial is proof of this, as More notes:
  
  "Socrates was not contradicting himself [when he] avowed that his only wisdom was to know his own ignorance, yet declared himself ready to face death with this downright affirmation: 'to do wrong and to disobey our superior, whether human or divine, this I do know to be an evil and shameful thing.' He had an invincible assurance of this spiritual fact for the very reason that his scepticism went deep enough to include those current judgments and those immediate values of sensation which to the Pyrrho [i.e. the "pure" skeptic] were the only certain guides through the perplexities of life." (7)
  
  Skepticism and spiritual affirmation are the negative and positive aspects of the "same intuitive truth." (8)
• The identity of virtue and knowledge: this is the (in?)famous conclusion of Socrates that knowledge=virtue. Consequently, people only sin through ignorance. (We must, More argues, leave some room here for paradox, and remember that Socrates stands on the line between mysticism and rationalism, and so ends up being neither a mystic nor a rationalist- which in turns leaves a big mess for his students to sort out.) The problem in Socrates' day is that people had bought into the Sophists' arguments that "man is the measure of all things," which means that ethics was being both shaped by opinion rather than reality and simultaneously cut off from any kind of teleology. Socrates sought to restore true virtue by tying it directly to the true reality that lies in back of all fleeting human opinion, and in doing so provided transcendent goals for ethics. 

The rest of the book is a topical walk with More through the dialogues of Plato exploring these three theses. And contrasting Plato's conclusions and claims with those of other great philosophers. I confess I'm not enough of a Plato scholar to judge how accurate More's interpretation of Plato is. I am, however, enough of a reader to judge More's prose to be excellent and his arguments coherent. The last chapter includes a discussion of whether Plato's ideas have done more good or evil in the world that is especially interesting. 

Overall, this is an excellent book that really should be brought back into print at some point. I intend to crib much from it the next time I teach on Plato.

More's "Suggested order of reading"

According to that bastion of postmodern wisdom, the list of works assumed to be authentically Plato's has changed since More's day, nonetheless I suspect this is a useful order to follow through the dialogues. 

Below is the Amazon link to a good reprint; Platonism is also available as a free Google ebook, for those with the techno-wherewithall to access it.

Book Review: "The Life and Times of Cotton Mather" by Kenneth Silverman

Cotton Mather's life will shame you for a number of reasons.

Kenneth Silverman's biography is out of print, which is both fortunate and unfortunate at the same time. It is fortunate because Silverman writes his bio with all the best psychoanalytical tools at his disposal- which are exactly the kind of tools that rust and crumble as quickly as the next fad comes along. Given that this book was first published in 1984, you can probably well imagine how odd some of the analyses of Mather's psychology sound to someone living in the midst of today's fads. It is as if I were to write about how similar the New England Associations of Ministers are to Facebook. There might be truth to it, and it might even help people understand something true about New England Associations of Ministers, but 30 years from now when Facebook has gone the way of Myspace, that comparison will be jarring to those who remember Facebook and pointless to those who do not.

With that said, it is also unfortunate that this book is out of print, since Silverman is an excellent writer and (the aforementioned weaknesses aside) gives us a picture of Mather that is fascinating and compelling for a number of reasons.

First is the one Silverman saves for last (literally- it shows up on page 426 of 428): Cotton Mather was the first truly North American writer. That is, he was

the first person to write at length about the New World having never seen the Old. Much of his career illustrates, for the first time, the costs and gains to America's intellectual and artistic life of its divorce from Europe. These costs and gains have been one and the same-- a lack of standards or a freedom to create (depending on how it is viewed) which has often inspired works tainted by provincial crabbedness, eccentricity, and overreaching, but also often distinguished by their close kin, pungency, innovation, and grandeur. (426)

Mather wrote not as a transplanted European, but as someone in a new land and a new setting. In this sense, he should be read as a forerunner of all the American writers who would follow. Not that he was necessarily a great writer, just that he was really the first.

More than that, however, Mather is fascinating in that he embodies the world that was changing from one dominated by the Christian narrative to one dominated by the Enlightenment one. What's more, he represented both of those narratives in the same person. Unlike his immediate Christian followers, Mather did not see a problem with the new ideas as articulated by the likes of Newton, Boyle, and the continental enlightenment thinkers. (Of course, it helped that the Enlightenment itself was still in the hands of fairly devout Christians who had not seen the logical conclusions of their new ideas.)

This, I suspect, is what most readers will find most compelling in the book. After two hundred years of rhetoric, we tend to think of Mather as a bigoted, woman-hating witch-hunter who liked nothing more than to torture young women in the name of his angry God. It is surprising to learn that

1. Mather took a much more moderate stance on the Witch Trials than is commonly believed. While he didn't go as far as his father and actively oppose them, he did call for caution and hesitation rather than quick and summary judgment. 
2. Mather interpreted demonic possession not through the filter of superstition or fuzzy mysticism, but rather according to the best scientific thought of his day- thought that perhaps most closely parallels modern quantum relativity (according to Silverman, I have little knowledge of such things). That is, Mather believed that all of existence was united in some physical-but-flexible way on the subatomic level. And, well, I'm not sure that I understand it, so take this for what it's worth, but it seems that Mather believed that demonic intelligences could move along this plastic substance uniting observable matter and, under the right conditions and circumstances, affect it--including by taking control of individual's bodies.
   Whether I've managed to explain Mather correctly or not, what matters is that he wasn't making this up himself- he was extrapolating from Newton, Boyle, and the greatest minds of his day. 

The most famous example of this side of Mather's personality is his bold stand on inoculation. Basically the old-timey version of vaccination, the earliest forms of inoculation were dangerous if not done well (which they often weren't), and could still spread the disease even at the hands of an experienced surgeon. Yet Mather was convinced that inoculating the population was truly the best way to prevent future diseases. The rest of Boston was not. Despite Mather's strong arguments in favor of inoculation, the idea of intentionally giving someone a disease quite understandably did not sit will with the denizens of the town. Mather was publicly mocked, insulted as he walked down the street, and even had a grenade (which failed to ignite) thrown through his window with "inoculate this!" written on it.

Again, a generation later and the Enlightenment would be engaged in open warfare with religion. Yet Mather firmly believed that God created the world and Isaac Newton explained how it worked, with no inconsistency at all. In fact, the first systematic work of science in America was published by Mather under the title The Christian Philosopher, in which Newton is resoundingly praised and his system held up as the most Christian way of viewing the world. This from the man who gave us the much more well-known Wonders of the Invisible World (later reprinted as On Witchcraft).

Finally, the most important aspect of Mather's life is of course that he was a devout Christian and faithful pastor at a time when both of those things were increasingly relics of the past. He had been born when the Puritan preacher was the pillar of the community, if not its de facto leader. Through the course of his life, he not only saw the collapse of this social status, he saw increasing scorn for both religion in general and him personally. When this is considered alongside the facts that he outlived two of his three wives and thirteen of his fifteen children (not to mention the crippling debt he shouldered in order to help out a friend), the fact that he got so much done in the name of Christ should be a remarkable rebuke to all of us.

Just a small sampling of the things Mather did with his time (not counting being fluent in Greek and Latin by the age of six, Hebrew by twelve, and attending Harvard at thirteen):

• Teaching himself Spanish in a few weeks, and then doing the first North American Spanish translation of the Bible.
• Publishing 450 books- with somewhere between 150 and 200 left unpublished on his death. These books include the famous Magnalia Christi Americana (the first comprehensive history of the American colonies), the aforementioned books on science and witchcraft, and a number of other sermons and texts that provide a wealth of information about the time period. 
• Getting elected as a Fellow of the British Royal Society AND receiving an honorary Doctorate (I think from the University of Edinburgh, but don't hold me to that).
• Pastoring (and quite well, by most accounts) the largest church in America. 
• Helping to found Yale University.

Again, I am convicted of how poorly I use my own time. I mean, 450 books! I've read this biography twice now, and both times have been deeply convicted of how lazy and unmotivated I am, despite having spectacular technology in my hands (even this very moment) that should enable me to do more than anyone in the past, and yet somehow ends up being more of a hindrance than anything...

But I digress. All in all, this is a remarkable biography of a remarkable individual, and really is worth picking up should you come across an affordable used copy. 

I recant!

Ten years ago today, I was snowed in a hotel in Casper, Wyoming. I had been on my way back to college from spring break when the annual University of Wyoming Spring Break Blizzard hit, leaving me stranded. I had decided to spend my evening catching up on homework for an independent study I was doing with the UW Classics professor (note the singular- at the time there was only one) on Tacitus' Annals.

For those who don't know, "Annals" are sort-of history that gives a year-by-year record of what happened in the past. (So not quite the same thing as a "history", which isn't as tied to the calendar year and can be more wide-ranging.) I had just started Book XI (AD 47-48) with the TV on in the background when at 7:45 pm March 19, 2003 my regular broadcast was interrupted by a Fox News Special Report announcing that we were invading Iraq. I know this, because on page 231 of my copy of the Annals I left a note: "Reading here when Iraqi war started, 7:45 pm March 19, 2003, Super 8, Casper WY (snowed in)." Over the course of the evening, I read the first few books of the Annals while watching the invasion unfold via inbedded reporting on TV.

This in itself would not be worthy of record, if not for the content of Book XI (and the following books) of the Annals. As I was watching America getting involved in the Middle East, I was reading about Rome doing exactly the same thing nearly 2000 years earlier. The events are complicated (when are events in the Middle East not complicated?), and you can find a decent summary of the war here. The short version is that the Romans got involved, won (eventually) the military conflict, and then didn't really know what to do with their victory. They then proceeded to lose many of their gains to guerrilla warfare, and managed to fight their way back to a sort-of victory, which they then used to restore the status quo.

Through all of this, it seems that the Romans didn't really want to be overly involved in the region (especially given that there were perfectly good, long-standing governments already in place), but they felt some level of obligation to do so. Besides, their honor and international reputation were at stake, and if they left then certainly dictators hostile to Rome would come to power and Rome would lose its economic and political influence in the region. Something which, to be fair, happened on a regular enough basis that the Romans may have been justified in their concerns.

What complicated the situation was that the war in the Middle East was in progress at virtually the same time that Roman virtue and order was collapsing at home. For example, the Roman general Corbulo, easily the most competent military mind of the day, had been sent to sort out affairs, only to find on his return that he had done his job so well the Emperor (Nero) was jealous of his reputation and had ordered him murdered. Even in victory, Roman decay meant that nothing of note was accomplished and the situation in the Middle East remained unchanged. (The general who took Corbulo's place learned the lesson and used his army to make himself Emperor, rather than undergo the same fate.)

All of this to say that in the years since, my views on the Iraq war have changed. Not so much because of Tacitus (I've never gone back and re-read the Annals, though I plan to do so someday), but because my way of thinking has changed -or "evolved", as our beloved President would say- to match something akin to Tacitus' gloomy musings on the state of Imperial Rome.

As it was, the morality of their fathers, which had by degrees been forgotten, was utterly subverted by the introduction of a lax tone. (XIV.20)

But I run the risk of turning this into a musing on the state of America, rather than keeping focused on America's involvement in Iraq.

We were told -and at the time I agreed- that the Iraq war was just because if we are to truly defeat terrorism, we need to turn our enemies into our friends. And the way to do that is to spread freedom, democracy, and economic liberty the world over. The fact that our hand has been "forced" (by September 11 and Saddam Hussein, though not at the same time) is perhaps unfortunate, but opportunity knocked and someone had to answer. We had an obligation to remove Hussein from power, establish a democratic state, and begin the spread of freedom in the Middle East. The recent "Arab Spring" would seem to have cemented this doctrine* as correct and wise in the long-term.

While I have not gone completely the other direction -I won't say that the Iraq war is unjust- I will say that I have come to hold such arguments as at best naive, and at worst sinister. A close reading of de Tocqueville my senior year of undergrad, and even closer readings of Burke, Rousseau, and a host of other authors in grad school, has left me convinced that the sort of nation and culture that we ourselves enjoy and which we with good-natured hope may wish to see others enjoy as well cannot be imposed as an act of power from the outside in or the top down, but rather has to grow over the years (even centuries) from inside out and the bottom up. Americans enjoy freedoms and rights that did not spring from nothing, but rather take time to develop and grow. To insist that others instantly jump to where we are at is as unrealistic as it would be to ask Americans to adopt a culture that is radically different in the same way- even at gunpoint I suspect we will not be living by the ancient Spartan military educational system any time soon!**

So, where am I today? Well, again, I won't go as far as to say that the war was actively wrong. There may have been good policy reasons to have done what we did. Nor will I say that those involved at the top were ill-intentioned in their goals or attitudes. I will, however, say that I was wrong and that I should have paid more attention to the book I was reading than to the news I was watching. A more nuanced and balanced view should prevail, not the noisy shouting of either side. Which is of course generally a good rule anyway.

I'll let Tacitus have the last word, since he's wiser than I am:

"Possibly there is in all things a kind of cycle, and there may be moral revolutions just as there are changes of seasons... May we still keep up with our ancestors a rivalry in all that is honorable!" (III.55)

*I hesitate to label it the "Bush Doctrine", since Clinton and the former Bush pursued similar goals, albeit on smaller scales.

**Please note that my criticisms are focused on American arrogance and attitudes in making policy, not on the people of Iraq or the American military apparatus. I lack the knowledge and skills necessary to make those sorts of criticisms (if such criticisms even need be made).

Book Review: "Praise of Folly" by Desiderius Erasmus

It's always dangerous to review a work of satire- too much analysis can kill the humor, and there's nothing funny about a dead clown.

So rather than trying to approach this book as humor, I think it is useful to understand this short work by Erasmus from the perspective of joy. The Praise of Folly simply drips with delight in creation. We see that even in the title, this is a work of 'praise.' Erasmus gives us a light-hearted spoof of those who have no sense of humor and continually take themselves, their professions, and the world entirely too seriously. We all know someone like that- and if you don't, the odds are that es homo.

Erasmus really spares no one- scientists, artists, businessmen, soldiers, merchants, etc all feel the weight of his pen. Anyone and everyone who has ever said "but what I do is of the utmost importance, and never to be treated lightly" gets a jab in the ribs from the narrator, the goddess Folly. Consider her words to one group near and dear to my own heart, the college professors:

Thanks to my [Folly's] efforts, they [the professors] consider themselves the happiest of men, particularly when they can terrify their flock of trembling schoolboys with glowering expressions and thunderous voices... Meanwhile all this beastliness seems to them the height of elegance, the stuffy classroom smells of wildflowers, and their own miserable drudgery seems a royal kingdom, such as they wouldn't exchange for the supreme sway of Phalaris or Dionysus. But what raises them to the heights of ecstasy is if they discover some new point of interpretation. What they teach their students is utter gibberish, but they think their own critical discernment is far beyond that of the greatest grammarians... And, though I don't know by what flim-flam they do it, they are able to persuade the mothers and fathers of their pupils that they themselves are just as great as they make out. Another special delight they take is to dig out of some moldy old manuscript some exotic fact, like the name of Anchises' mother, or some completely obsolete word such as 'cuhyrde,' 'eperotesis,' or 'cuttlebung;' sometimes one of them comes up with a fragment of old rock carved with a few broken letters. And then, oh Lord, what elation, what cries of triumph, what tributes of praise, as if Africa had been conquered or Babylon put to sack. (51-52)

 Anyone who has ever suffered through an academic conference should instantly see the truth of this statement. Not that academia doesn't have its place (Erasmus himself would be the first to admit that it does), but to fail to see how quickly it can get silly is to simply prove Folly's point.

But Folly's main targets are the philosophers and theologians (remember, at this point there was basically no difference between the two). The problem with such people, Folly tells us, is that first, because they are exploring worthwhile questions, they begin to take themselves too seriously; then they get caught up in the fine points and details of those questions; and finally they end up taking the fine points and details as seriously as they took the original worthwhile questions they were working on. This process has cost them the joy that should go along with -or, heck, even result from- serious philosophical and theological inquiry. By subjecting them to the mockery of Folly, Erasmus is less-than-gently trying to remind them that wonder and delight have their proper place in the world of philosophy and theology.

And, well, take up and read for yourself- it's very much worth your time.

I should point out that I've been reading from the Norton Critical Edition of Erasmus' works, and there are a number of other pieces included that are also worthwhile. I have yet to have a bad experience with a Norton Critical Edition, and the selections included in this volume did not disappoint. Other readings included a selection of his letters (apparently the kind of writing he was most comfortable with), a selection of his dialogues, his treatise on pacifism (akin to Praise of Folly, but from the perspective of "Peace"), and his two versions of a Forward to the Latin New Testament. Of these, the Forward and the Dialogues "Julius Excluded from Heaven", "The Religious Feast", and "The Abbot and the Learned Lady" are especially good.

Review of "On Taste" and "On the Sublime and the Beautiful" by Edmund Burke

Burke's two essays (intended to be read together, with "On Taste" working as an introduction to On the Sublime and the Beautiful") are just kind of "meh." That is, they're only so-so as a work of philosophy, but! If I remember my German Idealism class correctly, this collection by Burke has been influential out of proportion to its actual philosophical value. It made its way across to Germany, where it was read and had a major influence upon Kant, and so affected the rest of the German Idealists as well. Hegel, Nietzsche, and the others all to some extent absorb and repeat Burke's ideas. From the Idealists, these ideas in turn influenced the American Transcendentalists. At the end of the day, despite being inferior to the more famous Reflections on the Revolution in France, On the Sublime and the Beautiful may very well have more indirect influence around the world.

First, in "On Taste" Burke argues that there is a human characteristic which is affected by art. For lack of a better term, he labels this characteristic "taste." Taste involves three human traits, the sense, the imagination, and judgment. The senses are the means by which we directly encounter art-- we see it, hear it, touch it, etc. (Well, not really "etc"- there are only two more.) Once art has passed through our senses, it encounters our imagination. This may be, according to Burke, our most important faculty. It is the place where we filter and assemble these data provided by our senses into ideas. When we combine these ideas with passion or action and impose them back on the world, we are exercising the faculty of judgment. These last two are shaped by culture, tradition, and reason, and can be exercised well or badly, depending on how our characters have been shaped. People with poor taste will exercise their imagination and judgment poorly, embrace the ugly, and ultimately make the world a worse place (an idea Burke would later take up in his Reflections). People with refined taste will exercise their imagination and judgment well, embrace the beautiful, and advance civilization.

This leads into the main event, A Philosophical Inquiry into the origin of our ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful with several other additions. (Why so long a title? This book was published in the days before dust jackets, which meant that you had to cram all the info you could onto the cover.) In this work, Burke holds that the two inspirations for art that work on our tastes (see above) are the "sublime" and the "beautiful."
The "sublime" is that which inspires fear, dread, pain, awe, and other such emotions. It is the thing that we think might be hiding in a dark corner, or the sense of smallness we get when we walk into a cathedral, or the thought of the pain that comes from being injured. Burke didn't use the example, but this is the kind of effect that a good horror movie should have on us. We should feel small, limited, and occasionally even frightened.

On the other hand, "beauty" is that which inspires in us love and devotion. Not the destructive, Romeo and Juliet kind of love, but the love of a husband for his wife, a farmer for his fields, or a citizen for his city, and so on. Beauty is that which generates the small love and devotion that drive day-to-day life and make possible human relationships on a small scale. This leads Burke to some conclusions that maybe haven't stood the test of time quite as well- including the ideas that gradual transitions are always more beautiful than sharp changes; soft colors are more beautiful than harsh ones, and so forth. In other words, he uses the things he loved as illustrations. Which isn't necessarily wrong per se, it just means that some of the particulars of his philosophy may not have aged as well as his general claims.

Yet, despite these perhaps less-than useful details, I think Burke may be onto something worthy of more attention (which presumably he gets from the aforementioned German philosophers, many of whom I have not read). It is important to note that Burke does not assume that the sublime and the beautiful are different things. In fact, they may very well be the two necessary components of great art. The greatest creative works are those which both fill us with a sense of awe and wonder in something bigger than ourselves and inspire us to a love for and delight in the mundane. (Thus, Lord of the Rings may very well be the embodiment of the Burkean aesthetic.) I don't have the aesthetic wherewithal to worth through all of the implications of this idea, but I certainly think it's an interesting one to kick around...

Over all, this work is... adequate. There certainly are interesting ideas to be found, but the final result is something a bit underwhelming. So if you're looking for a place to begin with Burke, I wouldn't recommend this text-- fortunately, the Reflections (linked above) is much better and much more worthy of your time and attention.

Flavel on Pardon

"When Christ comes into the soul of a sinner, he brings a pardon with him, a full, free, and a final pardon of all the sins that ever that soul committed. This is a feast of itself, good cheer indeed.... [The] thing that makes this mercy delicious and ravishingly sweet to the soul, are the properties of it, which are four:

1. God writes upon thy pardon FREE: it is a mercy which costs thee nothing.
2. God writes upon thy pardon FULL: as well as free, the pardon extends to all the sins that ever thou committedst. The sins of thy nature and practice; the sins of thy youth and age; great sins and lesser sins are all comprehended within thy pardon. Thou art acquitted not from one, but from all!
3. God writes upon thy pardon FINAL: without revocation, the pardoned soul and its pardoned sins can never more meet unto condemnation.
4. God writes upon thy pardon SURE: It is a standing mercy never to be recalled, vacated, or annulled. 

Now the labouring conscience that rolled and tossed upon the waves of a thousand fears may drop anchor, and ride the quiet in the pacific sea of a pardoned state... This is heavenly manna, the sweetness of it swallows up all expressions, all conceptions; no words, no thoughts can comprehend the riches of this mercy."

-Works of Flavel, Vol. 4, 214-216

Short Story: "The Machine Stops" by E.M. Forster

A wonderful story by E.M. Forster (this was his only sci-fi work) about a world dominated by the machine, where all human interaction has died and people only communicate in a virtual environment. Keep in mind, this book was written in 1909:

Imagine, if you can, a small room, hexagonal in shape, like the cell of a bee. It is lighted neither by window nor by lamp, yet it is filled with a soft radiance. There are no apertures for ventilation, yet the air is fresh. There are no musical instruments, and yet, at the moment that my meditation opens, this room is throbbing with melodious sounds. An armchair is in the centre, by its side a reading-desk-that is all the furniture. And in the armchair there sits a swaddled lump of flesh-a woman, about five feet high, with a face as white as a fungus. It is to her that the little room belongs.

An electric bell rang. The woman touched a switch and the music was silent. "I suppose I must see who it is", she thought, and set her chair in motion. The chair, like the music, was worked by machinery and it rolled her to the other side of the room where the bell still rang importunately.

 "Who is it?" she called. Her voice was irritable, for she had been interrupted often since the music began. She knew several thousand people, in certain directions human intercourse had advanced enormously. But when she listened into the receiver, her white face wrinkled into smiles, and she said: "Very well. Let us talk, I will isolate myself. I do not expect anything important will happen for the next five minutes-for I can give you fully five minutes, Kuno. Then I must deliver my lecture on “Music during the Australian Period”."

She touched the isolation knob, so that no one else could speak to her. Then she touched the lighting apparatus, and the little room was plunged into darkness. "Be quick!" She called, her irritation returning. "Be quick, Kuno; here I am in the dark wasting my time." But it was fully fifteen seconds before the round plate that she held in her hands began to glow. A faint blue light shot across it, darkening to purple, and presently she could see the image of her son, who lived on the other side of the earth, and he could see her.

"Kuno, how slow you are." He smiled gravely. "I really believe you enjoy dawdling."
 "I have called you before, mother, but you were always busy or isolated. I have something particular to say."
"What is it, dearest boy? Be quick. Why could you not send it by pneumatic post?"
 "Because I prefer saying such a thing. I want----"
 "Well?"
 "I want you to come and see me."
 Vashti watched his face in the blue plate. "But I can see you!" she exclaimed. "What more do you want?"
 "I want to see you not through the Machine," said Kuno. "I want to speak to you not through the wearisome Machine."
 "Oh, hush!" said his mother, vaguely shocked. "You mustn"t say anything against the Machine." 
"Why not?"
 "One mustn"t."
 "You talk as if a god had made the Machine," cried the other. "I believe that you pray to it when you are unhappy. Men made it, do not forget that. Great men, but men. The Machine is much, but it is not everything. I see something like you in this plate, but I do not see you. I hear something like you through this telephone, but I do not hear you. That is why I want you to come. Pay me a visit, so that we can meet face to face, and talk about the hopes that are in my mind."
 She replied that she could scarcely spare the time for a visit.
 "The air-ship barely takes two days to fly between me and you."
"I dislike air-ships."
 "Why?"
 "I dislike seeing the horrible brown earth, and the sea, and the stars when it is dark. I get no ideas in an air- ship."
 "I do not get them anywhere else."
 "What kind of ideas can the air give you?"
 He paused for an instant. "Do you not know four big stars that form an oblong, and three stars close together in the middle of the oblong, and hanging from these stars, three other stars?"
 "No, I do not. I dislike the stars. But did they give you an idea? How interesting; tell me."
 "I had an idea that they were like a man." "I do not understand." "The four big stars are the man"s shoulders and his knees. The three stars in the middle are like the belts that men wore once, and the three stars hanging are like a sword."
 "A sword?;"
 "Men carried swords about with them, to kill animals and other men."
 "It does not strike me as a very good idea, but it is certainly original. When did it come to you first?"
 "In the air-ship-----" He broke off, and she fancied that he looked sad. She could not be sure, for the Machine did not transmit nuances of expression. It only gave a general idea of people - an idea that was good enough for all practical purposes, Vashti thought. The imponderable bloom, declared by a discredited philosophy to be the actual essence of intercourse, was rightly ignored by the Machine, just as the imponderable bloom of the grape was ignored by the manufacturers of artificial fruit. Something "good enough" had long since been accepted by our race.
 "The truth is," he continued, "that I want to see these stars again. They are curious stars. I want to see them not from the air-ship, but from the surface of the earth, as our ancestors did, thousands of years ago. I want to visit the surface of the earth." She was shocked again. "Mother, you must come, if only to explain to me what is the harm of visiting the surface of the earth."
 "No harm," she replied, controlling herself. "But no advantage. The surface of the earth is only dust and mud, no advantage. The surface of the earth is only dust and mud, no life remains on it, and you would need a respirator, or the cold of the outer air would kill you. One dies immediately in the outer air."
 "I know; of course I shall take all precautions."
 "And besides----"
 "Well?"
 She considered, and chose her words with care. Her son had a queer temper, and she wished to dissuade him from the expedition. "It is contrary to the spirit of the age," she asserted.
 "Do you mean by that, contrary to the Machine?"
 "In a sense, but----" His image is the blue plate faded.
 "Kuno!" He had isolated himself.
 For a moment Vashti felt lonely. Then she generated the light, and the sight of her room, flooded with radiance and studded with electric buttons, revived her. There were buttons and switches everywhere - buttons to call for food for music, for clothing. There was the hot-bath button, by pressure of which a basin of (imitation) marble rose out of the floor, filled to the brim with a warm deodorized liquid. There was the cold-bath button. There was the button that produced literature. and there were of course the buttons by which she communicated with her friends. The room, though it contained nothing, was in touch with all that she cared for in the world.
 Vashanti"s next move was to turn off the isolation switch, and all the accumulations of the last three minutes burst upon her. The room was filled with the noise of bells, and speaking-tubes. What was the new food like? Could she recommend it? Has she had any ideas lately? Might one tell her one"s own ideas? Would she make an engagement to visit the public nurseries at an early date? - say this day month. To most of these questions she replied with irritation - a growing quality in that accelerated age. She said that the new food was horrible. That she could not visit the public nurseries through press of engagements. That she had no ideas of her own but had just been told one-that four stars and three in the middle were like a man: she doubted there was much in it.
Then she switched off her correspondents, for it was time to deliver her lecture on Australian music. The clumsy system of public gatherings had been long since abandoned; neither Vashti nor her audience stirred from their rooms. Seated in her armchair she spoke, while they in their armchairs heard her, fairly well, and saw her, fairly well. She opened with a humorous account of music in the pre Mongolian epoch, and went on to describe the great outburst of song that followed the Chinese conquest. Remote and primæval as were the methods of I-San-So and the Brisbane school, she yet felt (she said) that study of them might repay the musicians of today: they had freshness; they had, above all, ideas. Her lecture, which lasted ten minutes, was well received, and at its conclusion she and many of her audience listened to a lecture on the sea; there were ideas to be got from the sea; the speaker had donned a respirator and visited it lately. Then she fed, talked to many friends, had a bath, talked again, and summoned her bed.

Read the whole thing here: http://archive.ncsa.illinois.edu/prajlich/forster.html

Book Review: "God is more than Enough" by Tony Evans

This is my first Tony Evans book. That is, it's the first one I've read. I've got his How Should Christians Vote? hanging out on the Kindle waiting on me to have time to give it the attention it may or may not deserve. Other than that, from my perspective he's basically been a name in the "religious" section at the bookstore, and I'm not even sure I could tell you which part of the religious section.

With all of that said, I was pleasantly surprised by this little book. Not that it's spectacular exegesis or anything like that, it's just a perfectly serviceable meditation on Psalm 23. (I say this in the context of having just finished reading several commentaries on Psalm 23 in preparation for covering it in Bible study.)

A few points on the book:

First, the author did an excellent job of highlighting the Gospel aspects of the Psalm. It's all too easy to read a Psalm like this and keep it vaguely touchy-feely, without remembering that Jesus is the good Shepherd, and that the way he cares for us most is through his sacrifice in our place on the cross. For that reason alone, I'm happy to recommend this book.

Second, the author stresses that God is sovereign--is our shepherd--in every aspect of life. Again, the temptation is either to over- or under-spiritualize this text. That is, one can either read this as God just being sovereign over your soul and not caring what you do day-to-day, or you can read this as God caring only for your physical well-being, and not caring about the state of your soul and your relationship with him. Evans stresses that God is our Shepherd in every aspect of human existence and in all circumstances. God is sovereign over our spiritual and physical lives in every situation in our lives.

My main quibble with the book is occasionally his choice of language. For example, in the chapter on God meeting our physical needs, he wanders near (but never really comes to) the idea that God will always make sure we are well-fed and employed. Again, he doesn't actively say this -he even explicitly says that God will be with us in suffering rather than taking our suffering away- but his language and use of examples leave the door open just enough that the reader ought to use a bit of caution.

That quibble aside, I am happy to recommend this book as something useful on Psalm 23 (though not so much as Henry or Calvin's commentaries, linked above).

This book was provided free by the publisher on the condition that I review it. I was not required to write a positive review.

Book Review: "Civilisation" by Kenneth Clark

Kenneth Clark may not know what civilization is, but he darn sure knows it when he sees it. Specifically, he knows it when he sees it in art and architecture.

A Confession:

This was a textbook I was assigned in high school. Specifically, by Ms. Scott for our Humanities class. I... may have read significantly less of it than I should have. (I did read everything assigned from our American Lit book, as well as all of Oedipus Rex and Beowulf, so it's not like I was a total slacker.) Apparently it is also a collection of the transcripts (mixed with images) from a 1960s BBC documentary, which I also have not seen.

Summary:

This book is an overview of Western Civilization from about 1000 through the early 1900s from the perspective of Kenneth Clark and focused especially on art and architecture (but especially on art). Clark begins with the declaration that civilization only made it through the Dark Ages by "the skin of our teeth." Which immediately shows his own inclination- were he a Medievalist he would bristle at the idea of a "Dark Ages." Yet, despite the shrill cries of that stripe of scholar (apologies to my Medievalist friends), there was something almost lost in that stretch between the collapse of Rome and the rise of the Holy Roman Empire. And while I do not necessarily agree with all of Clark's conclusions, I think at least a couple of them are worthy of note. Again, he doesn't specifically outline a definition of "civilization", yet I think we can identify a couple of its characteristics based on his writings:

• Civilization involves a sense of permanence--a connection not only with the past (any culture can have that, however primitive), but also with the future. For example, buildings in a civilization are constructed not just for the current generation and not just as an expression of the trends of the moment, but to last for future generations as well. (Hence Clark's focus on architecture.) There is a sense, not even necessarily an articulated one, that what is being captured in stone will exist beyond the present moment for the indefinite future. 
• Civilization involves an attitude of confidence. Certainly since the Renaissance this has meant a confidence in humanity and its abilities. (Earlier, of course, the certainty would have been certainty in God, or even in the church.) 

Obviously, these two points are related- one doesn't build for the future unless one is confident that the future is somewhat certain. If a bunch of naked barbarians could stream out of the forest at any minute and kill you and burn what you've built, there's not much point in doing the hard work of spending the time and effort to construct things out of stone. 

That said, the "confidence" aspect of civilization Clark applies mostly to art, especially the artists' confidence in engaging with the natural and supernatural world. From ~1000 to the early 20th century, the growth of civilization has meant the development of the human soul as it relates to others, nature, God, and itself. This relationship has meant an increasing confidence in the ability of man to understand and engage these aspects of the world. That has been the nature of Western Civilization, at least according to Kenneth Clark.*

Analysis:
This is certainly a well-written and interesting book, and would probably be worth picking up in the television form (should the price ever drop to something reasonable). I certainly don't know enough about either art or architecture to challenge any of his assertions in those areas. I do know that such a focus means an largely excluding Protestants (not completely, of course) and emphasizing Catholicism. Which is fine and probably even fair.
What I think is interesting and worthy of some reflection is the whole question of what this "civilization" thing is in the first place. This is one of the questions I often ask my students (without really knowing the answer myself): how is "civilization" different from "barbarism", and why does it matter? I've gotten a whole spectrum of answers, ranging from modern versions of the ancient Greek rule of reason vs. rule of emotion/appetite, to Christian vs. reprobate, to variations on Clark's preservation vs. destruction. As I said, I'm not entirely sure what the answer is, and as a Christian I don't know how much I should be focused on that anyway. If all people need the Gospel (and they do) whether civilized or barbarian, it's hard to get on the hobby horse about which is which.
With that said, I think there is some value to civilization- value beyond the greater material accomplishments that wealth and order allow. (Remember that Attila was pretty darn rich and certainly had an ordered camp.)  And I suppose Clark's suggestion that such value comes through artistic Beauty is as good an explanation as any.

Recommended for those interested in philosophy, art, history, and related subjects.

*And according to Victor Davis Hanson, who basically explores the same topic as it applies to warfare in the Ancient World in one of his older books called The Western Way of War. This book is also worth reading, though Hanson has unfortunately gone a bit crazy these past few years...