The Universe Next Door by James W. Sire

 The Seven Worldview Questions

1. What is the nature of Ultimate Reality (or Truth)?​
2. What is the nature of material reality?
3. What is a human being?​
4. What happens to a person at death?
5. Why is it possible to know anything at all?​
6. How do we know what is right and wrong?​
7. What is the meaning of human history?​

I’ve been asking my students to use these questions when we analyze art for about as long as I’ve been teaching. I have no idea where I got this idea. I probably picked it up in one of the myriad resources I access all dealing with Classical Christian Education. Answering one or more of these questions seemed like a great way to look at a piece of great art.

And thus far, I’ve been happy with the results as my students are forced to look at a masterpiece and try to discern the artist’s message or other truths.

And yet, I now realize I was operating blind. After reading The Universe Next Door by James W. Sire, I can imagine a much fuller use of these central questions. Specifically, I am challenged to use these questions to analyze my own presuppositions. I am also challenged to use them to analyze my student’s assumptions. How often do we, as Christians, stray from orthodoxy because it “sounds about right”? Is it possible that what I, or my students, are claiming to be true is not, in fact, true?

The beauty of a Christian Theistic worldview is its insistence on absolute Truth. This worldview “teaches that not only is there a moral universe but there is an absolute standard by which all moral judgments are measured. God himself—his character of goodness (holiness and love)—is the standard” (p. 30). And yet, the pursuit of this absolute Truth can become difficult and at times, divisive. That’s where the Deistic Worldview enters. This view, so similar to Christian Theism, can tempt a believer with its simplicity and rationality. 

Our culture is awash in, what Sire calls, “Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.” This belief posits a good and loving God who wants His creation to be happy. He does not need to be involved daily, per se, but is available when a problem arises. He promises Heaven to all the “good” people. He’s not at all demanding. He is love. This is so close to the mark, that the Christian can easily find himself slipping into this form of deism. It infuses our culture and shows up throughout social media. It’s in the “feel-good” and “uplifting” memes meant to bring hope and happiness to all.

And it’s easy to “like.”

As a Christian and a Christian educator, I must be on guard for this slippery thinking. Yes, God is love. Yes, God is good. He is available to us when we are challenged. Heaven does await His children. But our God also demands perfection, and barring that, has made a way where there seemed to be no way through the death of His Son. 

This brings up the additional eighth Worldview question not addressed earlier, “What personal, life-orienting core commitments are consistent with this worldview?” Sire answers this question, echoing the Westminster Catechism, “Christian theists live to seek first the kingdom of God, that is, to glorify God and enjoy Him forever” (p. 32). Our purpose on earth is not our own personal happiness. So often I can find myself falling into this mode. “God wants me to be happy.” That is not my purpose. My purpose is to glorify God and praise him for the grace and mercy He showed through His sacrifice on the cross. My happiness is incidental. His purpose for me is to mold and shape me into the likeness of the Son. 

Our students can be caught in this trap as well. For them, life is about good grades to get into a good college to get a good job to make a good living to live in a good house with a good family and surrounded by good stuff. This is happiness. But that is not happiness. That’s the lie of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. And our students are buying it. 

My job is to recognize and combat this lie, both in myself and in my students. True happiness is in pursuing God and becoming like Him. This is often painful. This is, at times, sublime. But it is, and should always be, the goal.

Although it is helpful to explore all the worldviews circulating in our world, for me, the value of this book is in its ability to shine a light on the areas where I find myself, and my students, most likely to err. 

 

 

The Christian Philosophy of Education Explained by Stephen C. Perks

Although I generally know and believe that a Classical, Christian, education is better than a Classical education bereft of theological backing, The Christian Philosophy of Education Explained by Stephen C. Perks sealed it for me.

 It goes back to how we can know anything at all. “For the Christian, therefore, the ultimate locus of rationality and intelligibility is the God of Scripture and thus man, if he is to know anything truly, must, as God’s creature, created in His image, ‘think God’s thoughts after Him,' to use the words of Cornelius Van Til.” (16) If no actual knowledge is possible apart from the recognition of God and His Word, then Classical education, by itself, cannot lead to actual knowledge. Only a Christ-centered education can do that.

 

Apart from the Christian aspect of education, education has no real or lasting purpose. “The aim of education is thus to promote maturation in the image of God, and it is the duty of Christian parents to care for the child, mould his character and discipline him in terms of God’s purpose for his life.” (italics in the original) (39) Our cultural, with its emphasis on rationality and empiricism, has made education an idol whose purpose is to mold and shape the child in its image. Christians must see the true purpose of education and act accordingly.

 

Since God has a plan for the child, he must be educated in such a way that prepares him to take his place as a “viceregent over the earth, governing all things under his authority according to God’s word, proclaiming the sovereign word of God in all things, and bringing all things into subjection to Christ.” (78) No education that fails to prepare a child for this God-given role should actually be regarded as “education.” With such an awe-inspiring duty, and such a magnificent responsibility to prepare for, can an education that sees its main goal as creating “college and career ready” young adults even be worthy of the name? Only an education focusing on equipping children for the role God plans for them is sufficient.

 

Seeing as we are called to govern the world under Christ, it must be the case that we see the world in the way God sees it. “It is vitally important that in every subject and at every level this learning process should presuppose the God-created and God-interpreted nature of reality, and that it should be pursued in terms of godly principles of thought and action throughout.” (89) A secular education, even a secular Classical education simply cannot demand the world be seen through the eyes of God by the student. Even the best Classical schools, modeled on, but not governed by Christian principles, cannot present the world as “God-created.” They cannot promote the “God-interpreted nature of reality.” They may try to, at first. But over time, without a recurrence to the Word of God and His thoughts, a Classical school, will, by necessity eventually abandon its commitment to first principles. Without regeneration, secular education has no leg to stand on. 

 

All of us, believer and non-believer alike, will serve someone. Our choice is not between servitude and freedom but whom we will serve. It is the Son alone who sets free. Choosing a secular education, devoid of Christian principles and epistemology, sets a student up for slavery to himself and the world. “Man is to rule over nature and serve God thereby. His true freedom consists in the fulfilling of his God-created purpose in life, and this is only possible as he submits to God in obedience.” (107) This truth simply cannot be communicated in a secular educational environment.

 

Perks ends the book with a powerful summation:

 

It is the Christian’s duty to educate his children in the Christian faith for dominion, for the shouldering of man's creation mandate to bring the whole earth into subjection to himself as God's steward and vicegerent on earth, and thus into subjection to God and His word. This necessitates a Christian culture and the building of Christian civilization, and this in turn necessitates a Christian, covenantal, dominion oriented philosophy and practice of education. (116)

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

As I endeavor to read great books, I turned next to Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Generally I love this kind of book. I'm a big Jane Austen fan. But I also read Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and didn't love it. So I proceeded with low expectations. Fortunately, I really enjoyed the book.

First of all, Jane Eyre, unlike her Austen-like fellow characters, is poor. She's an orphan, taken in by wealthier relatives who mistreat here. She is not looking for a man. The book is so much more about her and her character growth than marriage, although that, of course, is included. 

She begins as a wholly unlikable, yet pitiable creature. Jane is loud and opinionated and headstrong. But she also has a strong moral center on right and wrong. She is sent to a boarding school and forgotten. She must forge her own way in the world. However, by this point, she has been molded and shaped in her character and, while not necessarily having achieved perfection, knows that as the goal. 

She finds employment with the Rochester clan as a governess for Mr. Rochester's ward. This is where the book turns Austen-esque as Jane and Mr. Rochester, twenty years her senior, declare their undying love and intention to marry. Jane is saved by a rich, but unattractive, man who plucks her from obscurity, intending to lavish her with his fortune and make a fine lady of her. As with most Victorian romantic novels, the love is told to the reader and described in voluminous terms, but the reader is never shown the love. Why Mr. Rochester loves Jane is unclear. She's different from the other women who are apparently vacuous and money-grubbing. She is an interesting conversationalist. Even he calls her plain looking, however. She's subservient and clearly his inferior. They have no chemistry or event that bonds them together. It just is that they are mad for each other. 

Of course there is a twist and "happily ever after" is abandoned. But 1/3 of the book remains. Jane continues in a very different adventure with a family when she literally collapses on their doorstep. But the story circles around and all ends well.

One thing the book had going for it was a real sense of a life that seemed wholly unfair, yet through it all the thread of God's sovereignty runs. Jane, and consequently those around her, learn to trust in God's plan and call for righteousness, especially when it's hard. Jane spends the book learning the lesson and implementing it. Those around her, including Mr. Rochester, must discover its truth in their own way. The redemption of injustice and trial turn God into the hero of the story. While the moral is clear, Trust God and Do Right, I don't believe it was heavy-handed or overdone. It feels real. It feels hard. But in the end, it feels right.

Charitable Writing by Richard Hughes Gibson and James Edward Beitler III

My Seminar team is making an intentional effort in the upcoming school year to inculcate "Intellectual Virtues" in our students. A helpful companion book was suggested by one of the teachers, Charitable Writing by Richard Hughes Gibson and James Edward Beitler III. I found this book invaluable to our mission.

The authors begin by lamenting that writing is taught the same in public and Christian schools. They realized the error in this and this book is their attempt to correct that. The dual command to love God and love others should infuse everything a Christian does, including writing. Yet the current model of writing is hardly a model of love, but rather that of war. Arguments are made and the opposition is refuted. Someone wins and someone loses. While recognizing the importance of making an argument, the authors desire to infuse the search for truth through writing with love. 

Realizing that writing is truly a communal activity, Gibson and Beitler divide the writing process into three components: Humble Listening, Loving Argument, and Keeping Time Hopefully. I marked up particularly helpful advice that I intend to put into practice in my Rhetoric class. 

Humble Listening: After you've successfully grasped the argument's content (what it says) through paraphrase, turn to a consideration of the arguments form (how it says) and function (what it does). Don't evaluate at this stage; instead, attempt to describe how the argument is constructed and what the argument's parts--its paragraphs, sentences, and word choices--accomplish. By paraphrasing your peers' ideas and describing the form and function of their arguments, you'll be better equipped to offer them evaluative feedback and suggestions for improvement when it is time to do so. Humble listening, we are suggesting, begins the process of offering feedback not with a summary judgment about the success or failure of this or that. It opens like Alice Duer Miller's "Splendid auditorium where every sound comes back fuller and richer." In humility, we can respond by simply offering back what we heard--describing what the writer said, how the writer went about saying it, and for what purposes. Giving your peers' writing back to them in this way will almost certainly be a revelatory experience for them, and for you. 

The authors propose a new metaphor for writing to replace the old one of war: a feast. 

Loving Argument: To recognize that writing not only can be but also should be a hospitable practice has profound implications for Christian writers. To write hospitably requires that we use words and genre conventions that our reader will recognize and understand. To write hospitably requires that we take the time to edit our writing so as to make it approachable. To write hospitably requires that we actually think about who our readers are in the first place. Above all, to write hospitably requires that we recognize writing as a gift. "And yet,; Gibson writes, "I know of few students who describe their academic papers as gifts. As "work' or products' or achievements' or 'projects'-but not as gifts." As Gibson perceives, our educations form us to understand our writing first and foremost in terms of our personal productivity or success. It's about us. That, of course, is not how a banquet functions. A banquet succeeds when the hosts and guests enjoy themselves together.

"Keeping Time Hopefully" is to say that writing needs to be a slow, savored process. A labor of love. The Gibson and Beitler compare it to the "Slow Food" movement which desires and intentionality and appreciation for the eating process. It is not procrastination, but deliberation. 

Keeping Time Hopefully: A second, related way to revitalize revision is by recognizing it as an opportunity to love our readers. Revision can be an act of charity. To recall several features of J. I. Packer's definition, charity involves giving of oneself and what one has, freely and without consideration of merit, to meet the actual needs of specific people and promote their greatness." Few of us understand revision in such terms. Instead of viewing it as a gift that promotes others' well-being, we see it as obligatory work we must do to strengthen our writing, earn the "A," get published, or win awards. We may have been taught to revise with the rhetorical needs of our readers in mind, but we typically strive to meet the needs of those who are in a position to promote us--professors, bosses, and other "higher-ups." The social position of our readers should matter to us because, if we're being honest, our desire is usually to make ourselves, not others, great.

This book is a fantastic wake-up call to me as a teacher to try to infuse love in all I do and especially to help my students to infuse love in what they do. 

Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle

Because it is such a classic, and probably an absolute must for classical educators, I decided to read the entire Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle. I had read portions of it, and had watched the Hillsdale videos on it as well as heard Spencer Klavan on it. But it seemed time to actually read it. Besides, I had to read something floating in the pool. 

It was as good as I'd hoped. 

Aristotle can be tough. His overarching goal is to categorize everything. As he does this, his writing can seem repetitive and actually somewhat obvious. But it is his drilling down on definitions--on saying what something is, and what something is not--that causes us to see what we thought we already knew in a new light. 

Nicomachean Ethics proceeds Politics because Aristotle thought his students needed to know what exactly is the good at which they are aiming before embarking on a political program. That said, he begins Ethics with this familiar line:

Every art and every inquiry, and likewise every action and choice, seems to aim at some good, and hence it has been beautifully said that the good is that at which all things aim.

He is saying that everything we do is in pursuit of something we would call "good." It is therefore incumbent upon us to define this term. This preoccupies the rest of the book. 

Of course we could also say that we aim at "happiness" and Aristotle will explore this next. He creates a term, "being-at-work" for when a thing is its best self. When it is doing what it is made to do. This is "good." A tree, which is being as tree-like as it can, is a good tree. Human "beings-at-work" aim to be happy. And we can only be happy by aiming at the highest goods. Therefore only a good human is truly happy. A good human is one who has mastered the virtues to the extent he has internalized them and they define him. 

Therefore Aristotle proceeds to define the virtues. He shows that the virtues rest as a mean between two vices. Courage is between recklessness and cowardice. This does not mean that a virtue is exactly between them, but it is somewhere in the middle. The circumstances and our own natural proclivities will determine where the exact mean is. This makes it a difficult target to hit. Aristotle advises to overshoot in the direction that is hardest for you. If you are naturally cautious, aim for reckless and vice versa. In this way, you will hit closer to the virtuous mean than if you gave into your own natural desire. We become virtuous as we continuously do the virtuous thing. This is why it's important to know what that is. 

This brings Aristotle to the virtuous way of thinking. Humans make choices. And they make choices based on deliberation. Deliberation only involves subjects in which the particular human has some agency. In order to be virtuous, each person must deliberate and choose the most beautiful choice with the most beautiful of intentions. Repeating this process then leads to a virtuous person. Often, we are seduced into thinking that we can push the line in the small things, but when it counts, we will act virtuously. This is the opposite of what Aristotle wants us to see. Each deliberation, and therefore each choice, defines and builds our character. The kind of character needed to make the tough choice simply cannot be called into existence without practice.

When it comes to justice, Aristotle describes it as giving what is due. It is the most public of virtues and the one that requires all the others. Unlike courage, which can be done when called upon and doesn't need the other virtues, justice requires a virtuous way of thinking in order to understand what is actually due. Each situation is unique and requires serious deliberation and beautiful choices. Justice is the virtue of all other virtues. And once a man understands justice, he can make practical application and exercise practical judgment. 

Aristotle seems to go off topic when he dives into friendship. He categorizes friendships as those of utility--a relationship with an accountant--and those of pleasure--people who share a hobby--and those of virtue. This last form is rare. It is the friendship in which each person makes the other a better person. It's hard, but possible, among unequals. This is a friendship for the simple sake of the friendship. We are tempted to say that our friendships are of this sort. Yet Aristotle, as he is wont to do, reminds us that if we are complaining about a friendship, it is because it is not serving us. Therefore it is a friendship of utility. Ouch. I can see how most friendship fit into the first two categories. This makes sense. A virtuous friendship can only exist among virtuous people. Aristotle has spent the book so far showing how difficult that is. If there are two virtuous people, and they find each other, this must be rare.

Returning to his ideas of the "good," Aristotle calls us to be good humans. The end of the book makes clear that all this discussion of ethics is nothing more than a prelude to governing. He knows the men he is teaching will become law-makers and as such must know how to make good laws. He ends the book with, "So having made a beginning, let us discuss it." 

I love that this whole book was a prelude to the discussion of how best to govern a society. We rarely think about politics or politicians and say, "Well if you want to discuss that, we need to spend 10 or 20 hours discussing the good, virtue, wisdom, justice, and practical knowledge first."

Too bad. 

A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken

A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken is one of the treasure trove of books left to us by Regan when she went to Vietnam. Not only is it a book she read, but she annotated it! When reading it, along with her notes, it feels almost as if we are reading the book together! 

For some reason, I thought the book was written by Dorothy Sayers and it was connected to C.S. Lewis in some way. I was obviously wrong about the first part but right about the second. The beauty of the Lewis connection is that Sheldon was friends with Lewis and includes multiple correspondences throughout the book. One need not wonder how Lewis would respond to the trial and travails of the couple, we get his responses in real time. 

The book details the love story of the "pagan" Sheldon and Jean, usually called Van and Davy. Their love began with great intensity and they quickly dedicated their lives to the building of a "Shining Barrier" which would protect and maintain their "inloveness." When conflict arose, they would make an "Appeal to Love." This appeal asked what course would best protect and maintain that love. 

I will admit that initially this dedications to "inloveness" left me feeling like a failure in my own marriage. We have no "Shining Barrier." We make no "Appeal to Love" on a regular basis. Neither to we do regular check-ups on our love as did Van and Davy. We just live. Although I did have a vague sense that maybe this dedication was problematic, especially when they pledges suicide should one die before the other. Additionally they decided not to have children so that nothing would come between them. At that point, it became clear that while love and dedication to it is admirable, it can become its own form of idolatry.

Apparently God agreed. We find out early on that Davy died ten years into the marriage. Exactly how is not specified and so with each circumstance that could possibly result in her death we are left to wonder, "Is this it?" Yet she doesn't die until the end and we are definitely prepared. At one point, although physically healthy, she senses an impending death. She begs God for one more year, which He grants, to the day. She trades her life for Van's salvation. 

Initially not only skeptical of Christianity but openly hostile to its "folly," Van and Davy are perfectly happy worshipping beauty, especially as embodied in their love. They eventually find their way to Oxford, and it is here they develop friendships with serious and respectable Christians. Both had earlier felt a strange sense that they should give Christianity a serious look and this seems the opportunity. After diving in, starting with Lewis' Mere Christianity, both eventually accept it as true. Davy first. Van, however, struggles with making the leap of faith. Finally, he realizes he has come to far to go back. In his letters with Lewis, he realizes that before, knowing nothing about Christianity or its claims, he could dismiss it as myths and fairy tales for the ignorant. Now he know better. He knows Christ offers the answers he is looking for. He feels himself on a precipice. The gulf behind, that is to go back, is too large. He knows too much. The gulf ahead, that is to believe Jesus is God, is comparatively smaller. He prays, "I believe. Help my unbelief." And makes the leap. 

Yet Davy, who embraced Christ with her whole being as her Lord and Savior, quickly outpaces him on the spiritual journey. He finds himself uncomfortable with her newfound Love. God has breached the Shining Barrier. All Appeals to Love must include Him, first and foremost. Appeals to Love no longer means their love, it means their love for God. He watches, as an outsider, her increasing devotion. For a time, a friend who is much like Davy used to be, committed to beauty and poetry and nature, becomes a temptation. Loathe to admit it, he feels himself falling in love with her because she represents a return to the way things used to be.

Then Davy gets sick. All thoughts of the "other" are abandoned as he pledges his life for hers. He dedicates himself to bearing her burden and doing all he can to save her. God takes her anyway.

In the deep contemplation Van goes through after her death, accompanied as always by Lewis' input, he eventually comes to the conclusion that her death was a "severe mercy." He realizes that had Davy survived one of three things would have happened: 1. He would have joined her in the total commitment she demonstrated. But probably not. 2. He would have tried to subtly nudged her away from her devotion and would probably have succeeded. 3. He would have allowed his (unacknowledged until this point) jealousy of God to overwhelm him, and he would have hated her or God or both. Number three seemed the likeliest option. He realized that God, in His mercy, allowed Davy to die, thereby preserving their love in Heaven, so that their love on earth would not die. This realization takes years and a lot of struggle, but in the end he is grateful for that mercy most severe. 

Along the way we experience, along with Van, the beauty God is lavishing on them. After Lewis points out that at the end of our lives, we can see that our life was always a glimpse of Heaven or a glimpse of Hell, Van looks for, and finds, those glimpses of Heaven. He begins the book with his first encounter with beauty. Speaking initially in third person, he says,

And of course beauty: the beauty that was for him the link between the ships and the woods and the poems. He remembered as though it were but a few days ago that winter night, himself too young even to know the meaning of beauty, when he had looked up at a delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars: suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing for and adoring had welled up in him, almost choking him. He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in the pain and glory. It was long afterwards that he realised that it had been his first aesthetic experience, That nameless something that had stopped his heart was Beauty. Even now, for him, "bare branches against the stars" was a synonym for beauty.

He later comes to realize this desire for beauty and timelessness is nothing more than the desire for eternity. God was calling.

Another fascinating part of the book is the theological discussions happening along the way. At one point, Davy and Van are able to describe the Trinity in a way that's quite revealing. Van begins by likening God the Father to God the Incarnate Son as an author to writing himself as a character into his novel. So while the author remains distinct from himself in the novel, nevertheless they are the same person. In the same way, any characters written into the novel also embody parts of the author. Davy compares this to the Holy Spirit. Just as the spirit of the author pervades the book, so does the Holy Spirit pervade God's people. This was a particularly powerful way to demonstrate a concept that is, quite frankly, beyond our reach. 

Overall, I loved the book. His insights are bought at the highest price. I love that C. S. Lewis is looking over Van's shoulder through the whole adventure. Beauty, eternity, love. 

 

Bags by Chris Sasser

 My headmaster, Mr. Hinton, likes to send home "summer reading" which encourages us teachers to get in the minds of our students and see how we can best love them. This summer one of the books he sent home is Bags by Chris Sasser. The "bags" refers to the "baggage" we all carry as a result of childhood disappointments. Sasser is speaking primarily to parents, encouraging them in ways NOT to give their children things to pack in those bags. 

The book is a good reminder that children are always trying to make sense of the world, and in doing so, they often interpret events in ways detrimental to their development. Whether it's not making the team or trying on different identities, young people can often believe lies about themselves and their capabilities.

Sasser lists some specific "bags" that children fill: the relational bag, the performance bag, the identity bag, the comparison bathe authority bag, the rejection bag, the guilt and shame bag, the disappointment bag. All are interrelated and can be getting filled at the same time. Rejection by peers fills the rejection bag and the relational bag. As parents, and teachers, out job, then, is to help our kids reframe these events and "lighten the load."

While Sasser's book is a good reminder, it struck an off-chord note with me. While I'm sure that parents (and teachers) can help young people to not pack or to unpack those bags, I think it's only at the margins. Kids are notorious for hearing and believing things that shock adults. (Regan once believed her dad would be so old as to be in a wheelchair by 35!) Most of the time the adults have no idea how the child is processing a particular event. Sasser doesn't really acknowledge this. He seems to assume that the events will be obvious and our response just needs to be trained to redirect and speak truth. 

While his advice is helpful when the circumstances are obvious, I think a missing part of the book is teaching kids resiliency. We need to teach kids how to redirect and reframe those negative thoughts before they get packed in the bags. The most helpful part, therefore, was his insistence that we constantly speak truth into the child's life. We constantly affirm that they are loved and valued and a child of God. We tell them of our pride in their specific characteristics and actions. We offer shield for the flaming arrows that life will throw at them. 

I appreciate the way he pointed out the fiery darts, but I think more emphasis on building the armor would be helpful. 

Wonder by R.J. Palacio

I had actually read Wonder by R.J. Palacio years ago right before the movie came out in 2017. But our headmaster, Mr. Hinton, asked us to read it over the summer. I think he wants us to get into the head of students who might feel like outcasts.

The book is as good as I remembered it. It tells the story of August, who was born with severe facial birth defects, starting school for the first time in 5th grade. His older sister, Via, is starting high school at the same time. Although the story focuses on Augie, both have their challenges to overcome. 

Initially, Augie is treated in exactly the way his parents feared. He is shunned and seen as a carrier of "the plague." Students are cruel and yet in the midst of that, one sweet girl, Summer, reaches out to him. Through his sheer courage and determination, August ends up winning over the school. The bad guy is vanquished and all ends well. In Shakespearean terms, it's a comedy, not a tragedy.

Wonder shows, what may be exaggerated for effect, the cruelty everyday humans are capable of. But in August, it also shows the courage we are capable of as well. He is not impervious to the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" but he is able to pick himself back up and face the foe time and again. But more than that, I think the point is to be Summer. To reach out to the outcast and the hurting and be the person offering strength and friendship. The outcast and the hurting, however, are not always as obvious as Augie. Via's hurting too, but because she's the "normal" one, no one sees it. This book is a call to be kind. You never know the struggles someone is going through. 

Bring tissues.

 

The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt

Reading Sarah Schutte's article "A Love Letter to Shakespeare" inspired me to read The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt. The book follows seventh-grade Holling Hoodhood in 1968. As neither a Jew nor a Catholic, he has to stay in class with Mrs. Baker when the others go to their religious classes. After initially giving him chores, Mrs. Baker decides they will read Shakespeare.

Convinced Mrs. Baker hates him, Holling describes a year which includes the deaths of MLK and Bobby Kennedy as well as the upheavals caused at the height of the Vietnam War. As he falls in love with Shakespeare and works to understand "what it means to be human," Holling weaves an enchanting tale involving near-death experiences, a girlfriend, grief, miracles, and Shakespearian curses.

This young adult novel is an easy and engaging read. Definitely worth the time. 

Bad Religion by Ross Douthat

I received Bad Religion by Ross Douthat as a gift. It was on the list of books I keep that someone, somewhere recommended. I have no idea where I got this recommendation, but I'm so glad I did. It's an excellent book on the history of American Christianity. Its real value is in putting the current moment into perspective.

As American Christians, it's very easy to believe that how we "do" Christianity here is not only how it's always been done, but how it should be done. Yet neither is true.

Douthat begins in the so-called "golden years" of American Christianity in the mid-twentieth century. This was a time of growing acceptance of orthodox Christianity in all realms of society–spiritual, economic, and political. Yet even at this time, cracks existed. 

"True golden ages do not exist. Martin Luther King was a Christian hero, but he was also a reckless adulterer whose academic work was partially ghostwritten. The neo-orthodox theologians did a brilliant job of making the Christian intellectual framework intelligible to a secular audience, but they also frequently seemed to purposefully dance around some of the most important–and necessarily controversial–issues of Christian faith. (Martin Gardner's 1971 novel-of-ideas, The Flight of Peter Fromm, The Flight of Peter Fromm, features a young seminarian driven mad by Reinhold Niebuhr's evasiveness on supernatural questions...) (p. 51)

But by the late 1960s a remarkable thing occurred. Churches stopped growing. Americans continued to grow religiously, but not in the orthodox tradition. "Heretics carried the day completely." (p. 64) A New Age spirituality gripped the nation. Somehow Christianity lost its reputation for transcendence and became out of fashion. 

How would the Church respond? Would it seek to accommodate and synchronize with the spirit of the times or would it double-down on the basic tenets of the faith? Both. 

"The first approach would seek to forge a new Christianity more consonant with the spirit of the age, one better adapted to the trends that were undercutting orthodoxy. The latter would follow William F. Buckley's maxim and stand athwart religious history yelling "Stop!" The first approach would attempt to sustain Christianity's midcentury reconciliation with Western liberalism by adapting itself to the changing cultural circumstances. The second would break decisively with the revolutionary mood in American society and identify Christianity with cultural conservatism." (p. 81)

It's easy to imagine where this ended up. The liberal faction did a great job of embracing and modeling the love of Christ. It just set aside the judgment for sin embodied in Christ. In the process of all love and acceptance and no need for devotion or self-sacrifice, the Church made itself irrelevant. Who needs church when one could just accept everyone for what they were and sleep in on Sundays? On the other end was a resistance movement dedicated to fighting the excesses of the liberal establishment. The mainline churches lost members in droves while more conservative off-shoots and "para-church" organizations rapidly gained ground. Unfortunately with no oversight or hierarchal structure to hold them accountable, these groups easily strayed from orthodoxy as well. The evangelical movement became conflated with conservative politics. Young people, who did not want to identify with the Republican Party, yet desiring to retain a form of faith, departed into a more cafeteria-style religion, clinging to the attractive parts and discarding the uncomfortable.  

For some, the discovery of "lost gospels" provided a new and interesting take on Jesus. Many could claim access to secret or hidden knowledge. The Divinci Code perfectly embodied the desire to forge a new brand of Christianity that could withstand the disdain many felt for the strictures of orthodoxy and its call for repentance. Mainline churches were irrelevant. Evangelical churches were too judgmental. The "lost gospels" provided an opportunity to forge your own Jesus. This appealed to the high-brow and intellectuals among believers.

But for the other half of America, something else was needed to tap into a different deeply felt need. Enter "Pray and Grow Rich." Joel Osteen and his Best Life Now perfectly filled a need for those feeling left behind in a culture increasingly exposed to "the risks and shocks of commerce and competition" (p. 202). As an added benefit, it could appeal to the rich by justifying their gain–God was blessing them for their righteous living. This transactional religion could also boast of melding perfectly with the American Dream. Work hard, "invest" in the cause, sit back and wait for the returns. 

Once again the pendulum swung. Reacting to the brash materialism and commercialism of the prosperity gospel, Americans decided to turn to self-discovery and a connection with the transcendent that had no rules or rituals. It had one god–the god within. This god dwells within your being and coincidentally agrees with you in every respect. Gone are the hierarchies, and the rules, and the calls to sacrifice yourself for the Kingdom of God. The god within only demands that you stay true to your authentic self. As Elizabeth Gilbert modeled for us in her best-seller Pray, Eat, Love, we must search for that voice within ourselves that speaks in the most authentic us-ness possible. The god is there, waiting to be discovered. If that involves leaving a spouse (as she did), so be it. "You do you" replaces "Do unto others..." Unfortunately "I as god" tends to lead to isolation and unhappiness. Who knew? (Jesus. Jesus knew.) Cue rise of the therapeutic culture.

As it will, reactions to this heretical form of Christianity took the religion in the opposite direction. Beginning with the Tea Party and continuing to MAGA country, Christians intertwined patriotism and an infallible narrative with the gospel itself. Jesus didn't mean for you to be rich, a la the prosperity gospel, Jesus meant for you to be a Republican and 'Merica. While America has beautiful, biblical values upon which it was founded, America, and American politicians, can never be the Savior. America is simultaneously experiencing a fear of the Apocalypse (if the the wrong people are elected), and a rabid embrace of a messianic figure who can save us from destruction. Both positions cause harm to Christianity and the country in general. 

While it is true that America has been a force for good and that it has always been an experiment that can fail, the true Hope lies in the gospel message of Christianity. Douthat states:

In our nation's better moments, Christianity has been intimately involved in American politics while standing somewhat apart from partisanship, summoning the country to reform without falling victim to the conceit that political reform is religion's only purpose. At their most robustand independent, our churches and religious leaders have reminded us that America is only almost chosen, and that paradise isn't possible on earth. In our finer hours, orthodoxy's universalism has been potent enough to temper nationalism in both its apocalyptic and messianic manifestations.

But we do not inhabit such an hour today.

In the end, Douthat doesn't really have a good answer for all this back-and-forth. Obviously he advocates a return to orthodoxy. He wants an embrace of the sacramental and beautiful. He calls the church to return to her mission of drawing the world to God through Christ and His death and resurrection. He mentions the Emergent Church movement as a possible source of renewal. Unfortunately since the book has been written, that segment of Christianity has proven liable to pastor-worship and heresy. 

Personally, I think the solution lies in small, gospel-centered, worship-driven churches. Churches that ask much and offer much in return. A church focused on Jesus and his call to be perfect while offering a radical form of grace and forgiveness. A church that loves all, embraces all, welcomes all, but seeks to pull all up out of the natural fallen state of humanity into a glorious life of ongoing sanctification. The Church must strip away all the accruements that hinder the simplicity of the gospel message: You are a sinner in need of a Savior. You cannot save yourself. Jesus loves you so much that He willingly and at great cost took on that role. Surrender to Him and His call to be perfect is your only option. Welcome to the family. You are loved. 

Anything that replaces or amends that message is heresy. It will not lead to Jesus. It will lead to Bad Religion. 

Excused Absence by Douglas Wilson

 Excused Absence by Douglas Wilson asks the question, "Should Christian kids leave public schools?" He answers it with a resounding, "Yes." As Martin Olasky points out in the Forward, "When God is excluded from the classroom, we are not merely remaining silent about God. We are teaching children that they may safely disregard Him" (11). It is this "disregard" of God that proves fatal to public education. Not only can public schools not acknowledge God, they are incapable of acknowledging the truth about human nature and even truth in general. For this reason, secular education will always fail. 

Wilson begins by making the case that all schools are religious schools. Being public simply means they are teaching a religion that is not Christian. But they are teaching a religion. Education itself is predicated on transmitting values and beliefs to the young. Public schools may not be teaching Christian values and beliefs, but they are teaching values and beliefs. 

Wilson then proceeds to go through the history of public schools to show exactly how we got here. Although America was initially peopled by those with a strong faith, it did not take long for Christianity itself, as practiced in the colonial period, to devolve into a universalist, humanistic theology. While the early schools were explicitly "Christian," they embodied a form of Christianity which "bore no fundamental difference" between it and secular humanism (23).

This implies the problem began, not with schools, but in the home. Wilson blames "countless acts of disobedience in the living room and around the dinner table" for the godlessness of schools (31). Failing to practice "covenantal headship," the people allowed the schools to become places in open rebellion against God. He goes on to state, "If government schools reject the revealed character of God in the Bible as the basis for the ethical instruction they provide to children, then the  only option open to them is to teach on the basis of the character of their new god, demos (the people)" (44). It is at this point that schools became incapable of teaching the good, the true, and the beautiful; without God, none of that is truly accessible. The people, in their failure to repent and practice godly parenting, are reaping what they sowed.

Wilson emphatically states, "Only a Christian education can provide a standard for fixed and absolute truth, and only a biblical course of instruction can set a standard for distinguishing right from wrong" (49).  But once again, Wilson makes clear this begins in the home. Parents must be marked by their own character and courage. True education begins with godly parents instilling their beliefs and values in their children. He quotes the Shema in Deuteronomy 6 as the model for parents (58). Children are to hear the word of the Lord when they sit, stand, walk, lie down, and rise up. The Word should be on the door posts as they go enter and exit. It should encompass the totality of a child's life. Without a Christian education, this is simply impossible.

Christian parents must wake up. "The big lie is that education can be 'religion-neutral'" (67). Yet education is simply "the processor learning how to think God's thoughts after Him" (68). An education which fails to make it clear that our job is to discover what God has already declared "true," is an education based on a false idol. As a society, we are reaping the results of our rebellion. God uses our godless rulers to bring us to repentance. We miss out on blessings, we see a rise in "unnatural passions", we become victims to crime and bad laws, we embrace relativity and cannot experience the joys of men and women serving in their God-given roles. But hope is always at hand. Repent. 

Finally, Wilson addresses some common objections: many Christians were raised in government schools and they are fine, Christian schools are expensive, religion is part of the spiritual sphere of "home" and education falls under the physical realm, a child may be mature enough in his faith to handle it, the local Christian school does not have an adequate athletics program, other adult influences are not Christian, the children require special programs not offered at the Christian school, Chistian school is not "cool," and many of the teachers in the public school are Christians themselves. One by one Wilson demolishes these arguments. Time and again he brings it back to the Lordship of Christ. Either Jesus is Lord and we submit or He is not and we don't. 

Wilson ends with his prescription for Classical, Christian education. He believes this model fully incorporates the kind of education outlined in Scripture. He gives advice for the practicalities of this kind of school. He offers advice on pitfalls to avoid. Overall, Wilson makes a solid case for avoiding government schools and educating children according to the precept found in the Word and embodied in Classical, Christian education. 

The Pattern of God's Truth by Frank E Gaebelein

    The Pattern of God's Truth by Frank E Gaebelein is a timely reminder to Christian teachers and schools that all truth is God's truth. 

    The primary responsibility of a teacher is to lead her students towards the truth of God and into the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom. Yet all too often we fall victim to a worldly mentality that treats academic knowledge as distinct from the kind of truth that forms us spiritually. We have made the mistake of applying the label “Christian” to our schools and calling it good. Yet Gaebelein reminds us that all truth is God's truth, and therefore truth, by definition, must be integrated and point to God as its ultimate source. We, as Christians, have no trouble recognizing God as the fount of all knowledge and all truth, but often we teach our subject so removed from this idea that our students are little better off than had they received a secular education. The point of education is to direct our students towards God; knowledge is the path.

    The key to a thoroughly Christian education is a Christian teacher. As hard as it seems to believe, some Christian schools have found the task of hiring only Christian teachers a hurdle too high. Apparently some are willing to compromise for the sake of competence in the subject. Yet Gaebelein insists that teachers must not only be committed Christians, but knowledgeable of their subject and teachers of the Bible. They must have a thoroughly informed Christian worldview. These kinds of teachers will most naturally infuse revealed truth into reasoned truth as they integrate the truths found in Scripture with the truths found in the textbooks. And they will naturally point out errors in the texts when a conflict arises with Scripture. These teachers, fully immersed in a relationship with Christ, are the only teachers suitable to integrating all truth.

    The question then becomes how to practically integrate the material from various subjects with God’s revealed truth in Scripture. Gaebelein starts with the subject he believes most would find difficult to integrate - mathematics. He describes a teacher able to portray the beauty found in the patterns and laws of mathematics that reflect an orderly and rational God. For Gaebelein each subject reveals a portion of God’s character. The teacher who can reveal the beauty of numbers and their relation to each other can also reveal the beauty of a God who made math possible in the first place. Numbers, patterns, rational laws are all the products of a Mind that is rational and beautiful in its orderliness. Two plus two equals four because God created a world that reflects His commitment to order and rules; two plus two will always equal four, in every conceivable circumstance, throughout all time, because God is the same in all circumstances, throughout all of time. He is not random nor changeable. Math is because God is.

    Finally Gaebelein calls us to look beyond the walls of the classroom in our integration of truth. In extra-curricular activities, in discipline, in chapel services, in the marketing of the school, and in our personal search for scholarship, Christians must see everything as a way to lead others to the fear and admonition of the Lord. Often we think of extra-curricular activities as just that, extra. But Gaebelein makes it clear that all activities must point to the character of God and lead students into a relationship with him. Discipline must reflect the sacrificial love of Christ. Our chapel services must direct the students towards a loving and holy God. Marketing must accurately reflect the capabilities and vision of the school. Christian schools must be sold as discipling institutions, not places of career advancement. And Christians must avoid the temptation to avoid worldly scholarship pursuits. Some believe ours should be a simple faith and want to avoid high levels of academic achievement. But if all truth is God's truth, more knowledge can and should lead to a deeper love and understanding of God. 

    Christian education is a high and holy calling. It is not for the faint of heart. “But for those who are called, for those who have for youth a Christ-like love and sympathy, Christian education is a glorious work. It means dealing with the most important and precious material in the world -- growing human souls. Few professions bear so plainly the marks of the Lord Jesus, which are the marks of self-sacrifice.” (108)