Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Confessions by Saint Augustine

In my quest to read books more than 100 years old, and also as part of Hillsdale's Great Books 101 course, I came to read Confessions by Saint Augustine.

It was, as they say, "thick." 

Augustine is writing a book to God, detailing his struggles to accept His Lordship. He tells of his early life, and some of what happened to him, but it is not really a well-laid out biography. It's a prayer. It's a conversation with God. We can almost hear God answering back or at least nodding as he reads the treatise.

The title has a double connotation. Augustine is confessing his sins. He is confessing his wayward heart that struggled against what he ultimately knew to be right. He is confessing his faulty ideas and beliefs. But it is also a confession of praise. He is giving God what God is due - his praise and adoration. 

He opens with, "You are great, Lord, and highly to be praised. (Ps. 47:2)" (p. 3) In fact the entire book is almost one scriptural quotation after another. It is clear that Augustine has studied and KNOWS the Word of God. 

He follows that the most well-known of statements, "Nevertheless, to praise you is the desire of man, a little piece of your creation. you stir man to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in your." (p. 3)

He admits early on that it wasn't always so easy for him to praise God. God felt distant. Yet Augustine states, "So too let him rejoice and delight in finding you who are beyond discovery rather than fail to find you by supposing you to be discoverable." (p. 8) The failure, he sees, in in the not seeking. 

As an intellectual, Augustine admits that he used his mental abilities to question God and his tenets. He strayed far from the faith his mother, Monica, raised him in. Now he sees his error and confesses his sins. He now recognizes the supremacy of God. But that is now. Augustine has to take us (and God) back through the journey that led him here. 

He begins, "I intend to remind myself of my past foulnesses and carnal corruptions, not because I love them but so that I many love you, my God. It is from love of your love that I make the act of recollection." (p. 24) Augustine's purpose is not to revel in his sin, but to demonstrate the glory of God in rescuing such a sinner as he.

His father was not a believer, but raised him with a good education. Augustine abandoned his mother's cries that he serve God and followed the path of worldliness offered by his father. It is at this point he relates the famous "pear story." He and some friends stole some pears from a neighbor's tree and threw them to the pigs. This seemingly innocent prank has weighed heavily upon Augustine and he analyzes it to see what actually happened. 

Upon reflection, he says, "So the soul fornicates (Ps. 72:27) when it is turned away from you and seeks outside you the pure and clear intentions which are not to be found except by returning to you. In their perverted way all humanity imitates you. Yet they put themselves at a distance from you and exalt themselves against you. But even by thus imitating you they acknowledge that you are the creator of all nature and so concede that there is no place where one can entirely escape from you." (p. 32) He discovers in this theft an act of pure rebellion against a God he refuses to serve. His childish folly indicated the depth of his sinful heart. "Was it possible to take pleasure in what was illicit for no reason other than that it was not allowed?" (p. 32) For Augustine, all sin is humanity shaking their fist and saying, "You are not the God of me." In that way, we "imitate" Him and seek to become Him. 

As a student at Carthage, Augustine became swept up in an intellectual group called the Manichees who fancied themselves deep philosophers.They asked questions about God that Augustine couldn't answer. They repeated ancient heresies concerning the make up of God as a physical being and whether He created evil or not. They deceived and confused Augustine and caused him to doubt what his mother had taught him. Meanwhile she prayed. She poured her heart out to God, begging Him for the soul of her son. God graciously kept Augustine in the dark until he could wrestle his way out of it, while comforting his mom with signs of a future conversion. 

Augustine loved his life of the mind and good friends. He delighted in their conversations, knowing they were taking him further away from the truth. But eventually, a friend dies. This brutal blast of reality has him realizing that there must be something more stable. He comes to acknowledge that "O Lord our God, under the covering of our wings (Exod. 19:4) we set our hope. Protect us and bear us up. It is you who will carry us; you will bear us up from our infancy until old age (Isa. 46:4) When you are our firm support, then it is firm indeed. But when your support rests on our own strength, it is infirmity." (p. 71)

Augustine recounts his time in Carthage, then Rome, then Milan He finds himself increasingly questioning the Manichee philosophy and finding himself drawn to Catholicism. The bishop Ambrose, whom Augustine began to listen to out of curiosity, seemed to easily answer the questions the Manichees found so vexing and unanswerable. Augustine realized that the Catholic faith had already wrestled with these questions and had answers. Intellectually, Augustine feels the pull, but cannot yet convert with his heart. While his mother is confident that he will, he continues to resist that pull. He states, "I had not yet come to groan in prayer that you might come to my aid. My  mind was intent on inquiry and restless for debate." (p. 92) He was anxious to confront the Manichees with his new found answers. But he had not yet come to a place of surrender.

Augustine spends a couple of chapters telling God of the intellectual struggles he faced. He goes through his reasoning premise by premise. He finally manages to come to a place where he feels his questions answered, especially about the nature of evil.

Knowing he must convert, but continuing to resist, Augustine confesses despair at how easily those less intellectual than he and his friends come to faith. This stumbling block in addition to the knowledge that he must give up his illicit love life, almost causes him to turn back. Finally, in desperation, he grabs a Bible. "I seized it, opened it and in silence read the first passage on which my eyes lit: 'Not in riots and drunken parties, not in eroticism and indecencies, not in strife and rivalry, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh in its lusts.' (Rom. 13:13-14)" (p. 153) He was delighted and astonished to find a "random" verse that spoke so directly to his struggles. It was time to "make no provision for the flesh" and follow Christ. 

After his conversion, Augustine gives up his job as a teacher of rhetoric. He returns to his delighted mother. When she dies shortly afterwards, he mourns her, but is grateful that she saw the day he converted to her faith. 

This is followed by a few other "books" on Augustine's thoughts concerning various philosophical truths. In Book X he reflects upon "memory." He believes that we "remember" ephemeral things. We long for more. This, he believes, is proof of God's existence. Or else where do these "memories" come from? He believes our desire to be happy comes from God. He seems to be arguing that the fact that we know there is more to life is proof that there is in fact, more to life. He also comes to believe that he can actually put all sin in his life to death in order to pursue the good he "remembers" and longs for.

Book XI has Augustine going very deep into the concept of time and eternity. His arguments twist and turn and take a lot of brainpower to keep up with. One concept, though, that I found especially intriguing was the fact that God exists in the eternal "now." I sort of already knew this, but it helps explain why God never changes. If God changed, it would indicate the passage of time. But time does not pass for Him. It's also why one thousand years can be like a day and vice versa. If all moments are "now" then it's all just the present for God. He really stretched my brain when he discusses the fact that there can be no "before" God created time. "Before" indicates an existence of time, which by definition did not exist then. I cannot even really speak of "then." That also indicates a time frame. Mind. Blown. 

He goes even deeper still in Book XII, discussing what exactly Moses meant when he called the world "formless and void" at the start of creation. He offers multiple interpretations and then speculates that all or none of them are correct. Don't read this part in bed, like I did. It definitely deserves a second or third reading to make sense of it.

Finally, in Book XIII, he meditates deeply on who God is. This part also requires a few re-readings. He dives into the nature of God and man and the Trinity. He wonders about parts of Genesis and cautions against hyperliteralism. He knows man is made for God, but that without man, God is complete in Himself. He sums up his ultimate confession of the supremacy of God.

The beauty of Confessions is that Augustine wrestles with questions man has wrestled with for eons. As he works through it all, he ends up right where his mother and other "simpletons" knew he would - praising God. While Augustine is no fool, it becomes clear that God "uses the foolish things of this world to shame the wise." Augustine takes thirteen books to conclude that man's chief purpose is to glorify God. 

One particular paragraph really caught my eye. It is so timeless, expressing the eternal truth about mankind's struggle to submit to God. "But why is it that 'truth engenders hatred'? Why does your man who preaches what is true become to them an enemy (Gal. 4:16) when they love the happy life which is simply joy grounded on truth? The answer must be this: their love for truth takes the form that they love something else and want this object of their love to be the truth; and because they do not wish to be deceived, they do not wish to be persuaded that they are mistaken. And so they hate the truth for the sake of the object which they love instead of the truth. They love truth for the light it sheds, but hate it when it shows them up as being wrong (John 3;20; 5:35)" (p. 199-200) This is perfect encapsulation of our rejection of God. We cannot give up our idols. We cannot be told we are wrong.

Augustine makes a powerful case for surrender. He finds true happiness, joy, and answers to his deepest questions when he turns his life over to Truth.


Wednesday, November 30, 2016

The Book of Job

After the David Story, Hilldale "Great Books 101" course moves onto the ancient story of Job. Some say it is the earliest book in the Bible chronologically. Since it covered just about the whole book, I did not read the excerpt provided from Hillsdale. I had just read Job earlier this year, so I listened to the lecture, but I did not re-read the book.

The lecture was fascinating. Dr. Sundahl made the point that Job was beset by the "conventional wisdom" of his friends and the society's understanding of God as a God of retributive justice. That is the good are rewarded and the bad punished. But God is doing something else behind the scenes and He wants Job to catch a glimpse of it.

The story opens in a courtroom of sorts with the Devil going before God and asking to be allowed to strike at Job. Although Job is not aware of this, he does feel a sense that his situation is undeserved. He finally gets to the conclusion that he needs an advocate, someone to plead his case before a holy God, before Whom, he cannot be allowed to stand. In Job, we see a celebration of someone who speaks out against the common perception of God and demands that He live up to what His sense of grace and mercy require.

Finally, God reveals Himself to be bigger and more inscrutable than even Job imagined. Job does not get his answers. He does not get his arbiter, yet. That is to come. But he gets to see God. He knows God is just and will ultimately provide for the unfairness Job has experienced. Unbeknownst to Job, God, "in the fullness of time" will send His Son, Jesus. In Him, all of Job's questions will be answered. He will not only advocate for Job, but he will pay the price for all of Job's sins. He will bring about ultimate Justice, as well as Mercy and Grace.

The book ends enigmatically, leaving Job face down before God and with no answers. This is because it is not the end of the story. The best is yet to come.


Discussion Questions from the course:


1 According to Dr. Sundahl, what is the job of the Book of Job? 

The job of the book of Job is to upend conventional wisdom. The book of Job must be Christianized to make any sense. Without the knowledge that Christ will come and redeem mankind, the book seems random and unexplainable. God seems capricious and malevolent. He is playing with a man's life for no apparent reason. But what if, God is actually revealing to Job the need for a Savior? Dr. Sundahl points out that Job comes to the conclusion that he has no arbiter, no way to argue his case and no one to argue it for him. God has given the Jewish people a prelude to what is to come. He has shown that their conventional idea of a God who simply rewards the good and punishes the bad is flawed and misses true picture of who God is. God knows that, contrary to Job's assertion, none of us are blameless. Life is full of injustice because Satan roams to and fro. All of humanity is in need of a Redeemer, so Job is given insight into this need to enlighten the people of Israel.  
2 How is the Book of Job connected with the wisdom of the New Testament? 

Wisdom is defined by the ancients as understanding the nature of cause and effect. In the book of Job, conventional wisdom is that bad behavior leads to bad results and vice versa for good behavior. But God sees a bigger picture. "No one is righteous, no not one." Therefore our sin has caused us to need a Savior. The effect is the coming of Christ. The New Testament reveals that true wisdom is that which comes from God above. His ways and and His thoughts are wise. We are blind men stumbling in the dark compared to His wisdom. This is greater wisdom and more true than what Job's friends have been spouting. Without Christ in the picture, we are doomed to a false belief about the nature of sin and God's justice. Jesus Christ becomes the Wisdom of God personified.
3 What does the metaphor of the tree have to do with hope?

Job talks about a tree that can be cut down, yet return. Conventional wisdom says man dies and is no more or goes o the place of Sheol. But the New Testament introduces the concept of Resurrection. This is what Job is tapping into with his tree metaphor. He’s thinking that man should be able to rise again like a tree after being cut down. 
4 What can the Book of Job teach us about wisdom today?

Today we see Job as a man given a glimpse of God’s ultimate plan and Truth as he struggles to understand what is happening. I think this can teach us that true wisdom can be found in the struggle. As we wrestle with questions of ultimate justice, God can help us to catch a glimpse of what He is up to.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry


I started reading Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry based on the recommendation of someone I respect, but only know through Facebook. She is the mother of a friend of my daughter's. She has opened a classical Christian private school. In short, I want to be her when I grow up. So when she says she is reading a good book, it goes on my list.

I had no idea what to expect. With a name like, "Jayber Crow," it could be anything. I didn't know if it was fiction or non-fiction, biography or philosophy, historical or modern. It turns out to be the sweet fictional "life story of Jayber Crow, barber, of the Port William Membership, as written by himself." 

We learn he is old and near the end of his life at the beginning of the book. It is unclear who he is telling his story to or why. He is never famous, he never accomplishes anything that would cover him in glory. He lives an ordinary bachelor life as a barber in a tiny town. However, he is thoughtful and reflective. Being a barber gives him access to all the townspeople and their secrets. He watches and remarks, but never really gets involved. He is a consummate outsider all his days, yet he is in the middle of life in the small town like no one else.

I'm not sure if the book or its author is supposed to embody Christian values. Jayber considers going into the ministry for a time, but has to give it up due to serious doubts. Yet the book does not mock faith, and Jayber's life's journey seems to be finding answers to the doubts he expresses early in life. In fact, a respected theologian tells him that it may take his whole life, and possibly longer, to find the answers Jayber is looking for. 

However, the real heart of this slow, meandering story is Jayber's love for Mattie Chatham. He is a little older than her and he arrives in the town as the young barber, watching 14-year-old Mattie walk home from school. She eventually marries the town's basketball star, who, in Jayber's opinion, is wholly undeserving of her. After seeing her husband, Troy, out with another woman, Jayber makes a solemn, yet unsanctified, vow to Mattie, alone and in his own mind. He will be the faithful husband she deserves. For the rest of his life, while never telling her of his undying love, he sets out to prove that someone like Mattie can have a man who will sacrifice all for her, who will love her until the day she dies. 

This odd, but achingly beautiful, love story begins to parallel Christ's love for us. This message is so subtle, it can be missed, but I believe it to be the theme of the book. By the end of the book, Jayber is at peace, he has developed a secret, yet very chaste and innocent, relationship with Mattie when they meet accidentally and randomly from time to time at a secret spot on her property. When her husband sells the land she so cherished to developers as she lies dying the hospital, Jayber mourns with her in her hospital room. It is the closest they come to acknowledging any feelings for each other. 

I believe there is beauty hidden in this book. It is a slow tale, told in small vignettes. I think if I re-read it, I would see even further into the author's purposes in writing it. I believe his argument is that "while we were yet sinners, God loved us..." Jayber experiences and displays the most unselfish kind of love imaginable. He is faithful to a "wife" who barely acknowledges of his existence. He loves with no hope or expectation of it ever being returned. Along the way, Jayber describes the beautiful nature surrounding him. I'm sure there is meaning in this. He tells of the townspeople with all their faults and foibles. Yet despite the hurt and harm some of them cause, he can never bring himself to hate. Even Mattie's brash, selfish, and arrogant husband earns Jayber's sympathy. 

I suppose Berry is saying that we are all fallen and flawed, but we are all loved. That love is undeserved and beyond comprehension or even full knowledge. The townspeople never knew the depth of Jayber's feelings or insights into their lives. He was outside. Of but not in. Yet he knew them more intimately than they knew themselves or each other. 

If this is a Christian work, it is perfect in its subtlety and nuance. 

     Section that I love!
     But love, sooner or later, forces us out of time. It does not accept that limit. Of all that we feel and do, all the virtues and all the sins, love alone crowds us at last over the edge of the world. For love is always more than a little strange here. It is not explainable or even justifiable. It is itself the justifier. We do not make it. If it did not happen to us, we could not imagine it. It includes the world and time as a pregnant woman includes her child whose wrongs she will suffer and forgive. It is in the world but is not altogether of it. It is of eternity. It takes us there when it most holds us here.

     Maybe love fails here, I thought, because it cannot be fulfilled here. And then I saw something that a normal life with a normal marriage might never have allowed me to see. I saw that Mattie was not merely desirable, but desirable beyond the power of time to show. Even if she had been my wife, even if I had been in the usual way her husband, she would have remained beyond me. I could not have desired her enough. She was a living soul and could be loved forever. Like every living creature, she carried in her the presence of eternity. That was why, as she grew older, I saw in her always the child she had been, and why, looking at her when she was a child, I felt the influence of the woman she would be. That is why, in marrying one another, we mortals say “till death.” We must take love to the limit of time, because time cannot limit it. A life cannot limit it. Maybe to have it in your heart all your life in this world, even while it fails here, is to succeed. Maybe that is enough.

     And so there were times when I knew (I knew beyond any proof) that the faith that carried me through the waterless wastes was not wasted.

     I began to pray again. I took it up again exactly where I had left off twenty years before, in doubt and hesitation, bewildered and unknow ing what to say. “Thy will be done,” I said, and seemed to feel my own bones tremble in the grave.

     Not a single one of my doubts and troubles about the Scripture had ever left me. They had, in fact, got worse. The more my affections and sympathies had got involved in Port William, the more uneasy I became with certain passages, not just in the letters of St. Paul, that clarifying and exasperating man, but even in the Gospels. When I would read, “Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left," my heart would be with the ones who were left. And when I read of the division of the sheep from the goats, I couldn't consent to give up on the goats, though, like most people, I had my list of goats, who seemed hopeless enough to me, and I didn't know what to do about them.

     What would I do with a son who killed his father merely to inherit his money, and only a little quicker than he would have inherited it anyhow? What would I do with that woman-she lived up in the big bottom at the mouth of Willow Run long ago-who beat a black girl to death for stealing a spoon and then found the spoon? What would I do with some body who reduced the world in order to live in it, somebody who reduced life by living it? What would I do with a man who wished for the death of his rival? I didn't know. I could see that Hell existed and was daily among us. And yet I didn't want to give up even on the ones in Hell. For the best of reasons, as you might say.

     "You don't want to go to Hell, honey,” said Miss Gladdie Finn.

     “I don't,” I said. “But I don't reckon it has enough room for everybody who's eligible.”

     "Well, I don't know,” she said. “A soul is mighty small."

     But now I could see something else too—something, I suppose, that old Dr. Ardmire knew I did not see, and knew I would not easily see. My mistake was not in asking the questions that so plagued my mind back there at Pigeonville, for how could I have helped it? I can't help it yet; the questions are with me yet. My mistake was ignoring the verses that say God loves the world.

     But now (by a kind of generosity, it seemed) the world had so beaten me about the head, and so favored me with good and beautiful things, that I was able to see. "God loves Port William as it is," I thought. “Why else should He want it to be better than it is?"

     All my life I had heard preachers quoting John 3:16: "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” They would preach on the second part of the verse, to show the easiness of being saved ("Only believe"). Where I hung now was the first part. If God loved the world even before the event at Bethlehem, that meant He loved it as it was, with all its faults. That would be Hell itself, in part. He would be like a father with a wayward child, whom He can't help and can't forget. But it would be even worse than that, for He would also know the wayward child and the course of its waywardness and its suffering. That His love contains all the world does not show that the world does not matter, or that He and we do not suffer it unto death; it shows that the world is Hell only in part. But His love can contain it only by compassion and mercy, which, if not Hell entirely, would be at least a crucifixion.

     From my college courses and my reading I knew the various names that came at the end of a line of questions or were placed as periods to bafflement: the First Cause, the First Mover, the Life Force, the Universal Mind, the First Principle, the Unmoved Mover, even Providence. I too had used those names in arguing with others, and with myself, trying to explain the world to myself. And now I saw that those names explained nothing. They were of no more use than Evolution or Natural Selection or Nature or The Big Bang of these later days. All such names do is catch us within the length and breadth of our own thoughts and our own bewilderment. Though I knew the temptation of simple reason, to know nothing that can't be proved, still I supposed that those were not the right names.

     I imagined that the right name might be Father, and I imagined all that that name would imply: the love, the compassion, the taking offense, the disappointment, the anger, the bearing of wounds, the weeping of tears, the forgiveness, the suffering unto death. If love could force my own thoughts over the edge of the world and out of time, then could I not see how even divine omnipotence might by the force of its own love be swayed down into the world? Could I not see how it might, because it could know its creatures only by compassion, put on mortal flesh, become a man, and walk among us, assume our nature and our fate, suffer our faults and our death?

     Yes. And I could imagine a Father who is yet like a mother hen spreading her wings before the storm or in the dusk before the dark night for the little ones of Port William to come in under, some of whom do, and some do not. I could imagine Port William riding its humble wave through time under the sky, its little flames of wakefulness lighting are going out, its lives passing through birth, pleasure, suffering, and death I could imagine God looking down upon it, its lives living by His spirit. breathing by His breath, knowing by His light, but each life living also (inescapably) by its own will - His own body given to be broken.

     Once I had imagined those things, there was no longer with me any question of what is called “belief.” It was not a “conversion” in the usual sense, as though I had been altogether out and now was altogether in. It was more as though I had been in a house and a storm had blown off the roof; I was more in the light than I had thought. And also, at night, of course, more in the dark. I had changed, and the sign of it was only that my own death now seemed to me by far the least important thing in my life.

     What answer can human intelligence make to God's love for the world? What answer, for that matter, can it make to our own love for the world? If a person loved the world—really loved it and forgave its wrongs and so might have his own wrongs forgiven-what would be next?

     And so how was a human to pray? I didn't know, and yet I prayed. I prayed the terrible prayer: “Thy will be done.” Having so prayed, I prayed for strength. That seemed reasonable and right enough. As did praying for forgiveness and the grace to forgive. I prayed unreasonably, foolishly, hopelessly, that everybody in Port William might be blessed and happy the ones I loved and the ones I did not. I prayed my gratitude.

     The results, perhaps, were no more than expectable. I found, as I had always found, that I had strength, but never quite as much as I needed - or, anyhow, wanted. I felt that I might be partly forgiven, as I was partly forgiving; Port William continued to be partly blessed and happy, as before, and partly not; I was as grateful as I said I was. And so perhaps my prayers were partly answered; some perhaps were answered entirely.

     Perhaps all the good that ever has come here has come because people prayed it into the world. How would a person know? How could divine intervention happen, if it happens, without looking like a coincidence or luck? Does the world continue by chance (since it can hardly do so by justice) or by the forgiveness and mercy that some people have continued to pray for?

     But why ask? It was not just a matter of cause and effect. Prayers were not tools or money. Sometimes in my mind I would be sitting again in Dr. Ardmire's office, as if I had returned to 1935 out of my later life to give him my report. I finally knew, I told him, why Christ's prayer in the garden could not be granted. He had been seeded and birthed into human flesh. He was one of us. Once He had become mortal, He could not become immortal except by dying. That He prayed that prayer at all showed how human He was. That He knew it could not be granted showed His divinity; that He prayed it anyhow showed His mortality, His mortal love of life that His death made immortal. And I could see Dr. Ardmire looking straight at me with that distant, amused light in his eyes, and I could hear him say, "Well. And now what?"

     I had learned a good deal since 1935, I supposed. But did that mean that I could explain much of anything? It did not. Did it mean that my way in the world was now lighted to the very end? It did not.

     I prayed like a man walking in a forest at night, feeling his way with his hands, at each step fearing to fall into pure bottomlessness forever.

     Prayer is like lying awake at night, afraid, with your head under the cover, hearing only the beating of your own heart. It is like a bird that has blundered down the flue and is caught indoors and flutters at the windowpanes. It is like standing a long time on a cold day, knocking at a shut door.
But sometimes a prayer comes that you have not thought to pray, yet suddenly there it is and you pray it. Sometimes you just trustfully and easily pass into the other world of sleep. Sometimes the bird finds that what looks like an opening is an opening, and it flies away. Sometimes the shut door opens and you go through it into the same world you were in before, in which you belong as you did not before.

     If God loves the world, might that not be proved in my own love for it? I prayed to know in my heart His love for the world, and this was my most prideful, foolish, and dangerous prayer. It was my step into the abyss. As soon as I prayed it, I knew that I would die. I knew the old wrong and the death that lay in the world. Just as a good man would not coerce the love of his wife, God does not coerce the love of His human creatures, not for Himself or for the world or for one another. To allow that love to exist fully and freely, He must allow it not to exist at all. His love is suffering. It is our freedom and His sorrow. To love the world as much even as I could love it would be suffering also, for I would fail. And yet all the good I know is in this, that a man might so love this world that it would break his heart.


     Another section that I love!:
     Christ did not descend from the cross except into the grave. And why not otherwise? Wouldn't it have put fine comical expressions on the faces of the scribes and the chief priests and the soldiers if at that moment He had come down in power and glory? Why didn't He do it? Why hasn't He done it at any one of a thousand good times between then and now?
     I knew the answer. I knew it a long time before I could admit it, for all the suffering of the world is in it. He didn't, He hasn't, because from the moment He did, He would be the absolute tyrant of the world and we would be His slaves. Even those who hated Him and hated one another and hated their own souls would have to believe in Him then. From that moment the possibility that we might be bound to Him and He to us and us to one another by love forever would be ended.
     And so, I thought, He must forebear to reveal His power and glory by presenting Himself as Himself, and must be present only in the ordinary miracle of the existence of His creatures. Those who wish to see Him must see Him in the poor, the hungry, the hurt, the wordless creatures, the groaning and travailing beautiful world.
     I would sometimes be horrified in every moment I was alone. I could see no escape. We are too tightly tangled together to be able to separate ourselves from one another either by good or by evil. We all are involved in all and any good, and in all and any evil. For any sin, we all suffer. That is why our suffering is endless. It is why God grieves and Christ's wounds still are bleeding.
     But the mercy of the world is time. Time does not stop for love, but it does not stop for death and grief, either. After death and grief that it seems) ought to have stopped the world, the world goes on. More things happen. And some of the things that happen are good. My life was changing now. It had to change. I am not going to say that it changed for the better. There was good in it as it was. But also there was good in it as it was going to be. 


The Triumph of William McKinley by Karl Rove

I heard about this book when Dennis Prager interviewed Karl Rove about it on his radio show. Rove is not my favorite person, and I long ago swore off books written by conservative celebrities, but I do love history. Plus, my American History teacher in high school was William McKinley's direct descendant. So I felt a connection. The Triumph of William McKinley also came highly recommended by people I respect all over the front and back covers. How could I not love it?

Unfortunately, I didn't finish the book.

I'm sure it is fascinating to political insiders and those who love the horse race aspect of it. But it was too "inside baseball" for me. Too many names, too many nuanced policy positions, too many players to keep up with.

McKinley seems like a great guy. He seems to be a political genius. I just wish we got to know him more and less about the minutia of the process.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Toxic Charity

After having read When Helping Hurts, I noticed that a book called Toxic Charity by Robert D. Lupton, was also mentioned frequently alongside the other. So I put it on my list. Of the two, I think When Helping Hurts is the one I would read if I had to choose one, but they go hand in glove. In addition, I would recommend Poverty.Inc, a documentary to round out the course. 

While acknowledging a good heart behind charity efforts, the book starts off with a counterintuitive statement, “The compassion industry is almost universally accepted as a virtuous and constructive enterprise… Yet those closest to the ground — on the receiving end of this outpouring of generosity — quietly admit that it may be hurting more than helping?” (p. 2-3) The obvious reason for this is the dependency it creates. “When we do for those in need what they have the capacity to do for themselves, we disempower them.” (p. 3) Boom. There it is, right there. Mic drop.

So when does well-meaning relief become toxic? Luton gives the example of Hurricane Katrina which struck New Orleans. Six years later, relief was still being offered. He says, “When relief does not transition to development in a timely way, compassion becomes toxic.” (p. 7)

So in order to prevent Toxic Charity, he gives the compassionate crowd an oath he wants them take:
  • Never do tor the poor what they have (or could have ) the capacity to do for themselves.
  • Limit one-way giving to emergency situations.
  • Strive to empower the poor through employment, lending, and investing, using grants sparingly to reinforce achievements.
  • Subordinate self-interests to trends of those being served.
  • Listen closely to those you seek to help, especially to what is not being said — unspoken feelings may contain essential clues to effective service.
  • Above, all, do no harm. (p. 8)

He tells a story of a typical compassionate endeavor. A struggling seminary in Cuba was hosting U.S. volunteers. Twenty youth and adults arrived to lay tile in a new dormitory addition. They had no experience and the shoddy work had to be ripped out and done by local contractors after they left. The kitchen staff worked overtime to provide good, American-style food. Faculty members had to arrange the myriad logistical concerns such as housing and transportation. The president of the seminary knew the $30,000 spent by the volunteers on the trip was a total waste and cost her precious resources. But to turn them down would have endangered the much smaller cash donations the volunteering church made regularly to her ministry. This heartbreaking story is repeated countless times all over the world. 

The author found himself guilty of toxic charity right at home. He had worked for years with a group delivering holiday food and presents. But he discovered the lack of men in the house was often a symptom of shame as they hid from the volunteers. An emotional price tag cost those he most wanted to help. 

Then he discovered a quote from Jacques Ellul, a French philosopher in his book, Money and Power:

It is important that giving be truly free. It must never degenerate into charity, in the pejorative sense. Almsgiving is Mammon’s perversion of giving. It affirms the superiority of the giver, who thus gains a point on the recipient, binds him, demands gratitude, humiliates him and reduces him to a lower state than he had before. (p. 34)

Wow. Charitable giving can degenerate into a perversion. A counterfeit of true charitable love. This is a huge charge being made. But I believe Lupton backs it up. 

His solution is to return to a mindset based on Micah 6: 8, “And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” We are to “act justly” and “love mercy.” Lupton elaborates, “Twinned together, these commands lead us to a holistic involvement. Divorced, they become deformed. Mercy without justice degenerates into dependency and entitlement, preserving the power of the giver over the recipient. Justice without mercy is cold and impersonal, more concerned about rights than relationships.” (p. 41) Therefore, we must make sure our charitable efforts do both. But how? He recommends doing your due diligence as any investor would. “And if you don’t have time to invest in foraging a trusting relationship, give your money to a ministry that does.” (p. 49)

Although he specifically works in domestic ministry, he discusses foreign aid as well. He describes the $1 trillion in charitable aid that has been given to Africa as “Dead Aid.” A Zambian economist, Dambisa Moyo, describes it like this, “Aid has been, and continues to be, an unmitigated political, economic, and humanitarian disaster for most parts of the developing world.” (p. 96)

Lupton discovered this was not the answer many charitable organizations were looking for. He told audiences, “When we respond to a chronic need as though it were a crisis, we can predict toxic results: dependency, deception, disempowerment….  Exasperated, I asked, ‘Why do we persist in giving away food when we know it fosters dependency?’ ‘Because it’s easier! the attractive lady blurted out.’” (p. 56) He goes on to sadly conclude, “A hunger-free zone may be possible, but developing the dependency-free zone is the real challenge.” (p. 101)

He lost friends and supporters when he began to ask people whom he partnered with to take the hard route. Unfortunately they wanted easy and they wanted something that would make them feel instantly good about themselves and the work they do. 

And there it is. 

All too often, charitable activity can mask a desire to feel like “a really good person.” Building two-way relationships and doing the hard work of balancing mercy with justice, while closely following the prompting of the Holy Spirit, is too messy and takes too much time. Better to give away free food and regale others with your stories of helping out the less fortunate. Ouch!

He urges churches to focus on a geographic area and work to build relationships with the people in that community. Have a vision of what the area can look like and develop attainable goals and a road map to get there over an extended period of time. Years, not “service project days”. Move from Relief, to Rehabilitation, to Development. He then offers some practical advice for getting started.

One family, who had moved to an urban neighbor for the specific purpose of helping the people asked him where to begin. He told them to do nothing for 6 months. Just watch. Try to see what the real needs are. Identify assets the community already has. Meet with leaders who are already in place. Then start with small achievable goals. Build relationships and live life daily with the people. Be part of the community and not an outsider swooping in to save them. Even then, it’s not enough. This is exactly what he did. He moved into a neighborhood, raised his family there, established relationships, only to hear his neighbor and close friend remark one day, “I hate church vans.” He knew the reference was to a van that had just gone by full of outside kids ready to embark on a service project. Even though this neighbor had, himself been a recipient, he hated that way he felt being on the receiving end. This shocked Lupton. He realized he needed to think long and hard about what our charitable acts are actually accomplishing. 

Don’t we all. 

Saturday, November 5, 2016

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

I read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair because it is a classic and I feel a certain obligation to read it. I didn’t think I would like it. All I knew is that it was of the “muckraker” genre from the early 20th Century and it lambasted the meat-packing industry. Ironically, I discovered that going after the meat-packing industry as a muckraker was not Sinclair’s intention. Apparently, he intended to highlight the plight of the poor and immigrants in this country, but that got lost in his revelations about the work the central character does. I think the reason he didn’t fulfill his goal, was that his story seems unrealistic, even at the time. The story is such a haunting story of helplessness and despair, I think we can be forgiven for believing it is just a story and not the lived experience of the poor.

That being said, Sinclair opens in media res with a joyous scene taking place just after the wedding of two Lithuanian immigrants in a town just outside of Chicago. He wants us to feel the excitement and hope as the young couple embarks on a new journey together. This high forms a peak from which the lows can be measured, The ostensible leader of this ragtag group, Marija, is a strong, single woman who single-handedly takes it upon herself to make sure the group is well-taken care of. She barks orders and bends the will of those around her to do all she can to create a successful and joyous affair. Small, quiet and humble Ona has just married the gregarious Jurgis. He now sees himself as the man of the family and will do all he can to relieve Marija of the responsibility for the group, allowing her to have the life and family she dreams of. He’s strong, a hard worker, and a man of unfailing integrity and optimism. But the first chapter ends with a note of dire warning. The gifts from the guests are not enough to cover the expenses of the wedding and Ona may lose her job for having to take a day off work to get married. 

Soon, Jurgis gets a job in a slaughterhouse. He is excited for the opportunity to work and support his extended immigrant family as well as his new wife. Jurgis believes that as long as he is willing to work hard and sacrifice, bringing in an income will not be a problem. Sinclair lets us know right away that this will not be a dream job, but Jurgis is, for now, blind to the realities he will face. With their combined incomes, the family decides to move from an overpriced rented hovel, to a home they can purchase. Once again, Sinclair is heavy on the foreshadowing and the reader can easily infer this will not end well. 

Slowly, the immigrants begin to understand the realities of their jobs. The workers are taken advantage of. Injuries are not compensated and the worker usually loses his job after being hurt. They begin to sense they are trapped with no free will of their own to make their own way. The realities of homeownership also hit them hard. They discover that no one told them about interest on the loan they took out to pay for the house. Ona must return to work and the oldest child, Stanislovas must work as well. While Sinclair lets the struggling family have a moment of hope, the reader is not afforded that opportunity. We know this ends badly. 

If the conniving business owners and shady realtors aren’t enough, the weather conspires against our heroes. Jurgis’ father, Antony, dies a broken man, unable to find work, and unable to survive the cold. The run down home provides little shelter from the elements, and Jurgis begins to spend his hard earned money on alcohol to keep warm. 

Seeing how they are mistreated, for example only full hours worked are paid for, not partial hours, Jurgis and his family decide to form a union. He becomes an evangelical missionary for the cause, making a name for himself. Slowly the family comes to discover hardship after hardship in Packingtown. Disease is rampant. The food manufactures are only too happy to sell dangerous products to unsuspecting people. The politicians and the political bosses are thoroughly corrupt. There is nowhere to turn. No one can help. 

Eventually, Ona has a baby, but both she and the child are sickly. Marija loses her “good” job painting cans and is forced to take a job working in the meat industry. Again, more disgusting details are supplied of the way our food is produced. Jurgis falls at work and injures himself, costing his job as well. Another winter hits to further devastate the family. Jurgis falls into despair. He finally finds work in the worst possible place, the fertilizer factory. The stench seeps into his very being and forces him to become an outcast. The last one available to work, Elzbieta, goes to work in a sausage factory. Again, we don’t want to know how sausage is made. 

Jurgis continues to drink. Ona is pregnant again, and full of despair. We learn she has been sexually assaulted at work. Once Jurgis finds out and tries to kill the man, he is arrested and blacklisted. For a month, he agonizes in jail over the fate of his struggling family, who suffer terribly without him. He returns to find them homeless, relying on the kindness of neighbors. Ona goes into premature labor. Jurgis begs a midwife to help. The $25 fee is devastating, but he promises to pay. She and the child both die, and he turns even more to drink. 

Eventually Jurgis runs to Chicago to escape. A social worker lands him a job, but he learns that his first son, Antara, drowns in his absence. The children of Elzbieta are working in the streets and rarely return home. Feeling completely disconnected from what is left of the people he immigrated with, Jurgis takes off, living as a tramp, hitching rides on trains and doing odd jobs. He actually feels a bit of freedom and sees a different side of the country, but once again, winter looms. He returns to the city, finds work, but a broken arm has him out of the workforce again. He is desperate, out on the streets, begging. 

A criminal syndicate happens upon Jurgis and puts him to work. He enters the corrupt world of politics trying to gain spoils from the system. He had started off in America as a Republican, now he works for Democrats but both are equally corrupt. Eventually this lands him another job in a packinghouse. But when a strike breaks out, he continues to work as a “scab.” His union-supporting days are long gone. He sees the man who harassed his wife and beats him again. After getting out of jail, he looks up Marija. He finds her working in a whore house. Both are arrested when the police choose that particular time to do a raid. 

After being released, Jurgis finally finds his true calling. He stumbles into a meeting on Socialism. His eyes are opened. Finally the truth is revealed to him. A Socialist hotel owner offers him a job. Jurgis becomes an fired-up evangelist for Socialism. The story ends with big political gains for the Socialists in Chicago. 

I think because the book ends on such a propagandist note, whatever Sinclair’s argument was fails. He is clearly trying to persuade the reader of the need for Socialism and the horrific plight of the poor. Yet the actual effect of the book was to convince readers to reform the meat-packing industry. Why the disconnect? I believe it was because although his story portends to be a typical story of the working poor, people cannot relate. It simply does not comport with our lived reality. Of the 7 or 8 people who immigrated, two are dead, the children are running loose on the streets, one works as a prostitute, and one has a disgusting job. Only the enlightened, Socialist Jurgis is a “success.” This heavy-handed morality tale simply doesn't ring true. 

Sinclair paints all business owners and politicians with a very broad brush. All are corrupt. All are completely devoid of any morals. Only the Socialist care at all about their fellow man. He completely disregards reality. I kept wondering, “Why would a business sell food that kills its customers? Isn’t that bad for the bottom line?” “Why would a business owner so mistreat his employees? How long can he continue to find workers if he maims and kills them?” None of the actions taken by the evil corporations and politicians ring true. 

While Sinclair certainly creates a family that earns our sympathy, we really can’t relate. Their tale is ultimately foreign to the experiences of millions of immigrants. America is not the kind of country Sinclair believes it to be. Immigrants have struggled here, but most tend to do very well over time. Most do not end up dead or involved in criminal activity.  Further, his prescriptions are not what is best for America. 

Sunday, October 9, 2016

The Man Who Would Not be Washington by Jonathan Horn

Horn begins his book on Robert E. Lee, The Man Who Would Not be Washington, with a strong assertion, “The connections between Washington and Lee are neither mystic nor manufactured. Lee was not the second coming of Washington, but he might have been had he chosen differently. As Washington was the man who would not be king, Lee was the man who would not be Washington. The story that emerges when viewed in this light is more complicated, more tragic, and more illuminating.” (p.6) Lee was perfectly positioned to be the heir of Washington. Yet he chose a different path. On the famous Mall in D.C., there is a straight line between the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol. Lee’s house in Arlington sits across the river, symbolically and literally removed from the path of liberty. He chose a different path. And that path shapes our nation to this day. 



The Lee and Washington families had intertwined for generations. Harry Lee, Robert’s father, was a revered revolutionary leader. But he eventually sunk into debt and ignominy. He had gotten involved in speculative land deals with Washington, but when the deals failed, Lee ended up deeply in debt to Washington. After various stints in jail, he lived out his days in a self-imposed exile in the Caribbean.

Harry suffered from a lack of self-control. “Harry succumbed to his worst impulses: speculating, swindling, and self-pitying.” (p. 29) His son would not make that mistake. “Robert learned to put others’ emotions before his own.” (p. 31) He developed a devotion to duty so lacking in his father. When he moved, with his struggling mother to Arlington from Alexandria, he got to know the Custis family. George Washington had adopted Martha Custis’ children. When her son proved unable to parent his children, George Washington adopted them as well. But his adopted son/grandson proved no match to Washington. So Washington left him the family heirlooms but Mount Vernon went to a cousin. However, George Washington Parke Custis had a daughter, Mary, who caught Robert’s eye. But Robert needed to make a living first. He applied to West Point. 

Lee had a naturally melancholy personality. His decision to subjugate his life to be the antithesis of his father drove him to a place of deep resignation. “Often Lee described himself as playing a role in a script beyond his control.” (p. 43) His religious awakening added to his sense of suffering in order to do the “right thing.” Eventually Robert and Mary married. Robert saw firsthand the deficiencies Washington had discovered in her father. It wasn’t long before Robert was basically running the estate from afar. He spoke to his father-in-law as one speaks to a child. Soon Mary had a son. Despite Robert’s preferences, the boy was named George Washington Custis Lee. Once again, Lee’s sense of duty would prevail over his desires. 

Lee fought in the Mexican-American War, earning for himself glory and a majestic stature. But when Mary’s father died and Robert inherited Arlington, he once again had to choose between duty and desire. He was a good and respected soldier, but the managing of Arlington called. In addition, he inherited Custis’ slaves. Some of them had roots going back to Washington. They were the descendants of the slaves Martha had brought into the marriage with her. Both Washington and Custis had wanted to free their slaves, but the logistics made it impossible. Now Custis had decided to set them free in his will with a complicated maneuver that threatened to bankrupt Lee. While personally opposed to slavery, he found himself fighting to keep his inherited slaves enslaved. Once again he found himself in a place where he felt forced to do what he didn’t want to do. 

When abolitionist John Brown stole George Washington’s sword from the great-nephew who had inherited it in order to attack Harper’s Ferry, Lee was once again sucked into the fray. Although he wanted to see slavery’s demise, “a soldier schooled to deny himself could not admire a fanatic egotistic enough to conflate he own wishes with God’s will.” Lee’s faith resigned him to accept things the way they were, assuming that was God’s way. He found it arrogant to question God’s timing saying, “While we see the course of the final abolition of human slavery is onward, & we give it the aid of our prayers & all justifiable means in our power, we must leave the progress as well as the result in his hands who sees the end; who chooses to work by slow influences…” Lee was no revolutionary like his son’s namesake.

As tensions between the North and South escalated, Lee did not seem particularly invested. But when the time came, Lee knew the “right” thing to do was to stick with his beloved state, right or wrong. This surprised his fellow officers because, having married into George Washington’s family the assumption was that he would follow Washington’s lead, valuing the union above all. While the South tried to claim the mantle of Washington, “[he] was one of us — a slaveholder and a planter. We have studied his history, and find nothing in it to justify submission to wrong…” (Calhoun p. 100), Lee knew Washington always intended a perpetual union. He would never have acceded to succession. It was clear to Lee that the Framers knew a union that could be dissolved at will by a member state was anarchy. He knew Virginia was wrong to leave the union, but he wanted no part of a union that had to be held together with the sword. And he would never draw his sword on his native state. Once again, his fatalism led him to do what he felt was his duty, defend his state. Although he opposed the decision, he felt events had made the decision for him. He would stand with Virginia. 

Immediately after making his stand, Lee abandoned Arlington. As it was so close to Washington D.C. he knew that it provided too tempting a target. When the first battle of the war took place at Manassas, Lee was there to lead the charge. Although he didn’t ever want to be in this position, once circumstances dictated his duty, he knew he must serve to the best of his ability. 

Soon after the war began, Lee was assigned Augustine Washington, the heir of Mount Vernon. Like Lee, he felt serving the South was his duty. How ironic that the first Lee had served Washington fighting for the United States. Now a Washington served Lee fighting for disunion. Unfortunately the hapless soldier died in a minor skirmish with the North. The forces of Washington had killed the heir of Washington while the man most positioned to take up Washington’s mantle led the charge. 

As the war raged, “Lee viewed the South’s problems as fatalistically as he viewed his own. God wanted to teach his countrymen the self-denial his mother had taught him. The times, he wrote, ‘look hard at present, & it is plain we have not suffered enough, labored enough, repented enough, to deserve success.’” (p. 148) He began to notice the complaints of his soldiers as they grumbled about the work required. Raised with slaves doing the hard labor, they felt it beneath them. Lee had no patience for this kind of prejudice. Yet as he defended Richmond, his fortunes began to turn. In fighting McClellan, the original home of George and Martha Washington, long dubbed the original White House, was accidentally burned to the ground by Union forces. This strategically and symbolically gave the South a boost as people reacted to these events. 

Lee decided his best chance was to go north and take the fight into Maryland. It was ironic that Lee had joined up with the Confederacy to defend his state and now took the offensive position. Yet he felt trapped by circumstances beyond his control. Ironically when he lost and had to cross back over the Potomac, Abraham Lincoln used that victory as an opportunity to free the Southern slaves with his Emancipation Proclamation. In another irony, Lee had just made the decision on his own to free his slaves after battling them for years over his father-in-law’s will. 

When Washington fought the Revolutionary War, he knew his best chance at victory was to preserve his army and wear down Britain’s will to fight such a distant war. Lee had no such option. He knew the longer the war dragged out, the better the odds of a Northern victory. Lee could see his forces being depleted, and as the Union broke through at Vicksburg, Lee urged his superiors to focus the fight in the East. But the war was beginning to take its toll on Lee. He suffered a devastating loss at Gettysburg and his health began to fail. The loss rattled him to his core. Was this God’s will? It wasn’t Lee’s will. He tried to resign his commission, taking responsibility for the failure. His fatalism began to be shaken as he saw some events were under his control. Yet his resignation was refused. To the South he had become what Harry Lee called Washington during the War of Independence, indispensable. 

Meanwhile, the United States government had passed a special tax on properties used for the insurrection. As Arlington was one of the first properties occupied by the Union forces, Lee had no ability to pay the tax. Even if he did, Congress required that he pay in person, nothing less than a surrender would result. He lost his beloved home, which was being used as a cemetery and hospital during the war. It would eventually be bought outright after a lawsuit by Lee’s family. As it became clear that the South was losing the war, Richmond’s most respected newspaper called for Lee to step up as a dictator. They compared him to Washington, calling Lee “the greatest of living captains.” (p. 218) Finally the war came to a close as Lee surrendered at Appomattox Courthouse. The author sums up with, “Lee had lost his family’s home. He had lost his wife’s inheritance… Despite all that Lee had done differently — despite all the discipline he had demonstrated from his childhood in Alexandria through his career ending at Appomattox — he had repeated his father’s fate. He was not a Washington. He was a Lee.” (p. 222) 

Lee was never really able to reconcile his support for the Union and Washington’s ideal with his support for the Confederacy. The closest he comes is saying, “True patriotism sometimes requires of men to act exactly contrary, at one period, to that which it does at another, and that the motive which impulse them — the desire to do right — is precisely the same.” He had struggled his whole life to “do the right thing” even while acknowledging it to be the wrong thing in the eyes of some. He struggled with the ambivalence his whole life. He never exactly said he regretted his decision, but he did say he felt he had no choice. The Founders had left the country unresolved on the issue of slavery, and his state had made the decision to succeed. He was just doing his duty in light of overwhelming circumstances out of his control. 

Hoping to boost their own fortunes, little Washington College in Virginia asked Lee to become their president. Such was his humility that rather than worry the small, dilapidated school was beneath him, he worried if he was worthy of it. Lee largely stayed out of politics and threw himself into revitalizing the college. Eventually the college was renamed Washington and Lee, perfectly encapsulating the intertwined lives of the two men. 

When it came time to begin construction of memorials on the Mall in D.C., Lee’s name was floated. The great-grandson of John Adams called him “brave, chivalrous, self-sacrificing, sincere, and patriotic,” saying if Lee was a traitor then Washington was one also. (p. 248) In what the author sees as perfect symbolism, the Lincoln Memorial stands where Lee’s would have. Lee inhabits the building across the Potomac at Arlington Cemetery. He stands on the wrong side. Had he followed his beliefs instead of his perceived duty, it could very well have been him staring at the Washington Memorial and the Capitol beyond, forever joined to his progenitor. Rather, he became, the man who would not be Washington. 

This author makes some fascinating assertions about history and humanity. He seems to believe that there is always a choice. Although Lee felt compelled by forces beyond his control, Horn definitely asserts that Lee always had a choice. He believes that humans are complicated and affected by myriad considerations, but at the end, we can choose our path. He presents Lee as a complicated, yet very real person. He is not the enemy, and he is not a hero. He is a man deeply conflicted, a natural leader, a gifted military strategist, yet unable to take control of his own destiny. He was offered the mantle of the greatest American. He willfully turned it down. I believe this author is using Lee’s life and choices to point out how often major events of history turn on a single individual. Nothing had to happen the way it did. Humans make their choices and history proceeds apace. 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

The David Story - 1 & 2 Samuel; 1 Kings

The next book in Hillsdale's "Great Books 101" course was The David Story, with commentary by Robert Alter. Because I had read 1 & 2 Samuel as well as 1 & 2 Kings recently, I decided not to read the whole thing this time. I even considered not reading the excerpt provided by Hillsdale. But I am so glad I did. Robert Alter's commentary is brilliant and he gave incredible insight into David that I had never considered before.

He provides a stunning contrast between David and Uriah the Hittite. Starting with "the Hittite" designation. Uriah is an Israeli name, so he was probably not a foreigner, but for some reason, he is referred to in those terms. Meanwhile, David IS a quintessential Israeli. Yet it is Uriah who goes out to war, it is Uriah who fights, it is Uriah who eschews the temporal pleasures of home and wife. David does none of those, even enjoying Uriah's wife for himself. In addition, Alter states that there are hints that Uriah knew David had slept with his wife by their second conversation. When David asks why Uriah had stayed the night in the palace gate rather than go home as he hoped, Uriah throw back, "The Ark and Israel and Judah are sitting in huts, and my master Joab and my master's servants are encamped in the open field, and shall I then come to my house to eat and to drink and to lie with my wife? By your life, by your very life,  I will not do this thing." (p. 252-253) The comparison of himself to David is pretty obvious when seen in this light.

By the time he has Uriah killed, everyone knows what David is doing. Although Uriah gave the messenger an extra piece of information, Uriah the Hittite is dead, to deliver should David express anger at the battlefield reversal, the messenger leads with that tidbit. Everyone knew that was the point.

The story continues with the battle against Absalom. David, the father, counteracts what David the King should be doing. He orders his army to treat his rebellious son kindly. Of course his army commander Joab knows this is not how one deals with an insurrectionist. He has the trapped Absalom killed and berates David for his mourning the news.

The last vignette we are given of David is when he is old and feeble. What a contrast to the warrior and vital man of before. It contrasts with the David that called Uriah's wife to his bed. Now a beautiful young woman sleeps with him and all she is good for is warmth.


Discussion questions from the course:

  1. Why is it important to understand the David story as not only a spiritual narrative, but also a literary masterpiece?
    When we analyze the piece as literature, we can see how word choices provide even greater insight into the story. We see how Bathsheba is contrasted with Abishag, the young girl brought into David's bed to warm him. We see how Nathan's story of the a lamb that ate with, drank with, and "laid in the lap of" a poor man contrasts with those very actions taken by David towards Bathsheba.
  2. What is the significance of the image of David as a shepherd?
    David as a shepherd shows that he is a man with a destiny to care for and look after a people, much like he cared for and defended his sheep. He has clearly been taught how to provide leadership and these skills are required of him as he leads Israel. So when he fails, he cannot claim ignorance. The shepherd in his knows it is his duty to protect his people, but he falters when gives into his emotions.

  3. Are the lessons of the David story still relevant today? Why or why not? Of course they are still relevant today. That's why the story is lasting. We too face our greatest temptations to avoid our duty when our emotions work counter to the call. 

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes

Our book club began on a whim with a call to read A Tale of Two Cities. After meeting to discuss that book, we decided to keep it up. The book we chose to read next was Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes. This book is considered the first modern novel. Clocking in at over 900 pages, slogging through it became a tall order. Since it was originally written in Spanish, some of it does not translate well. The translator of my edition, J. M. Cohen, freely admits that although he did his best, the humor does not always come through.

One drawback to this book is that we are missing the context. Apparently Cervantes is reacting to the saturation of his society with really bad books. These other novels tell the fantastical tales of knights and their adventures. The protagonists are over-the-top charicatures and magical contrivances abound. It is into this environment that Cervantes introduces his hero, Don Quixote.

Cervantes writes his tale with an interesting self-awareness. He proclaims himself, not the author of the story, but simply more of an editor of a story he discovered. Using this device gives the adventure the patina of non-fiction. Cervantes is unsure of the hero's real name, but knows he is now called Don Quixote de la Mancha. The old man has become obsessed with the tales of knights errant and fancies himself a member of their community. To the distress of his housekeeper and neice, and his friends the priest and the barber, he sets off to defend the weak and helpless, all for the glory of his lady Dulcinea, whom he has never met, accompanied by a simple-minded villager, Sancho Panza, to whom he promises a governership. 

In his madness, he sees ordinary things transformed into castles and giants. Although Sancho is not similarly endowed with this ability, Quixote feels confident that his interpretation reflects reality. Together, they have many adventures battling "evil" and helping the helpless. None of these exploits actually end well, but in Don Quixote's mind, he is the bravest and most successful knight of the realm. By using this device, seeing both Don Quixote's mind and the reality, Cervantes is making it clear that it is all nonsense and worse. People are actually getting hurt, mostly Sancho, property is being damaged, and the outcomes leave much to be desired. 

Throughout the book, Don Quixote is urged to return home, return to sanity, and burn his abominable books. For a short time after a particularly bruising run-in with a band of merchants whom he mistakes for knights intent on battling him, he does just this. But the madness eventually overcomes him and he and the faithful Sancho return to the road. 

Once again, we find Don Quixote battling shepherds, sheep, innkeepers, and anyone else he chances to meet. Time and again he is disasterously defeated, but each time, he soldiers on, believing himself to be on a sacred mission. With the promise of a governership always before him, Sancho remains a part of the misconceived operation. After being tossed in a blanket in a particulary terrifying spectacle, Sancho makes a statement that seems to reveal why he stays, "... such misfortunes are difficult to prevent, and if they come there's nothing for it but to hunch your shoulders, hold your breath, close your eyes, and let yourself go where fate and the blanket send you." (p. 163)

This seems to be Don Quixote's guiding principle as well. "To go where fate and the blanket send you." Book 1 is full of story after story of misadventure, each full of cringe-inducing tales. It ends with Sancho Panza appealing to Quixote's friends, the priest and the barber, to trick the addled man into returning home. They eventually, through a complicated and contrived plot, kidnap him and return the bruised and defeated old man to his bed. 

The author ends the book with alledged references to his knight errant in ancient manuscripts. The way the author inserts himself into the story is fun trick to distance himself from his own story, offering a simple morality tale he "discovered" and delivers for our consideration.

Apparently Cervantes promised a second book after the success of the first. Yet during his eleven year hiatus, someone else took it upon himself to continue the story. Book 2 opens a month after the first ended with a recognition of the counterfeit book and Cervante's desire to set the record straight. Once again, such a self-aware book is a delight. He repeatedly refers to errors in the previous book as printer errors. In this he shows a bit of Don Quixote in himself - it is never his fault when things go sideways. In the intervening month, while Don Quixote recovered in bed, the first book has made him and his adventures famous. 

The second book takes advantage of this renown. Now Don Quixote is recognized when he, to the disappointment of those around him, returns to the road. A new character is introduced in the person of a scholar, what they call a bachelor. He is fascinated by Don Quixote's exploits, but sees the need to help the crazy, old man. A plan is hatched in which the bachelor will disguise himself as a famous knight. He will challenge Don Quixote in battle and with his inevitable defeat, Don Quixote will promise to return home and give up all efforts at chivalry. Unfortunately the plan goes awry when our hero defeats the "Knight of the Mirrors."

Don Quixote believes it is time to finally meet his Dulcinea. Sancho is supposed to have visited her earlier, so he is to lead his master to the object of love. But Sancho lied and has no idea who she is. When he points to a random, ugly peasant girl as the damsel, Don Quixote is convinced she's been bewitched by nefarious forces. For the rest of the book, he is obsessed with disenchanting her and returning her into the glorious visage of which he believes her to be. 

Returning to the road, Don Quixote chances upon some wealthy fans of his feats of derring, a local Duke and Duchess. They indulge his fantasies for their own entertainment. They create increasingly complex scenarios in which Don Quixote can prove his mettle. Unfortunately they know he's insane, and they toy with him as their personal entertainment. This leads to some cruelty as they devise painful and complicated ways for Don Quixote to relieve Dulcinea of her enchantment. 

To sweeten the incentive to proceed through their gauntlet, the Duke gives Sancho the long hoped-for governorship. But his lackeys work hard to make it a miserable commission for the simple-minded companion. Nonetheless, Panza's uncomplicated folk wisdom serves him well, and he does a surprisingly good job in his duties. Yet the toll it takes on him brings him no happiness, and he eventually renounces his position.

Following that debacle, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza leave the home of the Duke and Duchess for the road once again. Similar adventures as before befall them, ending with a duel with the famous "Knight of the White Moon." The bachelor has recovered from his previous defeat and has set up the same challenge. A defeat means Don Quixote must return home and renounce knight errantry. This time, Don Quixote is soundly conquered, and complies with his promise. 

Depressed, Don Quixote returns home, but not without a few more adventures along the way. He begins to dream of a simple shepherd's life. His friends indulge this hopeless delusion. 

Finally in the last chapter, Don Quixote recognizes the error of his ways. In a rare moment of clarity, he renounces the books and stories that led to his delusions. In preparing his will, he requires that his neice marry a man wholly unfamiliar with the detrimental tales. On the last page, he quietly succumbs to a life marred by misadventure and sadness knowing he wasted much of his time on earth. He dies in his bed.

Cervantes story is somewhere between a fable and a chronicle. On the one hand it is a fantastical tale, stretched beyond all credulity. On the other hand, he presents Don Quixote's story as a morality play, to exhort us not to fall into the same trap. So while he tries to a present a slightly fictionalized account of what COULD happen to one immersed in the silly novels of his day, it seems highly unlikely. 

I believe at the core, Don Quixote is searching for meaning. Like all mortals, we want to know we were placed on this earth for a purpose. Don Quixote's error is in assuming his purpose to be that of a knight errant. What is standing in his way is reality. He is not a knight errant. No one is. The stories of the day are make-believe. He never overcomes this obstacle because unfortunately, reality is a b-word. 

While I sympathize somewhat with Don Quixote, the reader is supposed to relate to the niece and friends of Don Quixote who love him and want him to return to sanity. It's unclear why they hold him so dear. He clearly doesn't care about their opinions. Because his actions lead to the abuse of his faithful squire, Sanchez Panza, it's hard to muster up the requisite sympathy for our knight. 

I believe Cervantes is making the argument that a life devoted to silliness is a life wasted. I think this is true. However, because Quixote doesn't learn his lesson until the very last pages of a 900-page book, I don't believe the message is adequately communicated. Instead the common takeaway is that of silly stories of a crazy man "tilting at windmills." Cervantes' novel becomes what he opposes — the silly, fantastical tale of a knight errant and his lady love. 

However, I think it is true that we all need purpose in life. I think it's also true that some waste their lives on meaninglessness. Sometimes the source is obvious, whether it's pleasure-seaking or fame. But sometimes it's less obvious. We can waste our lives on things that seem to have value but often are just at ephemeral and meaningless, and ultimately, worthless. I think of those who seek to do good and in reality hurt their own cause. Women who march in disjointed "women's marches" declaiming non-existent oppression waste valuable time and resources. Saving the planet gives many that sense of meaning they crave, but it's a fool's errand. Many of these kinds of focuses provide, not meaning and true purpose, but a false idol.

I believe our ultimate purpose is to glorify God in whatever position He has placed us. In my case, I am a wife and mother. My job is to work at those tasks to the best of my abilities. Supporting my husband and raising my children glorifies God as I follow His Word in carrying out my duties. I have no need for an alternate purpose, no need to save the planet or fight for ephemeral "justice." I put my trust in Him and ask my family to do the same.