The following is an interview of a man whose work (namely what little I have read of his work concerning the church, culture, and theological ramifications thereof) I have come to respect for its insight and candor. The interview is conducted by a pastor that I hold in high esteem as well, through his right division of the word of truth by the grace and power of the Holy Spirit.
Here is the reasoning behind my decision to post this interview:
As artists, writers, speakers, theologians, critics... nay, as HUMANS, we live in the wake of and ride upon the proverbial backs of other individuals, who have gone before us, whether we like it or not. In fact, the notion of and search for the "true" existentialist is, in my mind, quite simply a joke, since even the existentialist relies upon the written works of the likes of Sartre, de Beauvoir, and Kierkegaard, and if they do not, they rely upon other individuals that have had a more personal impact upon their outlook. But the fact is that we find ourselves subject to the thoughts and ideas of our predecessors. We cannot escape our reliance upon heritage and those who have shaped our heritage. We sift through their ideals, their imagery, their practicalities, their nuances, and their convictions and find shards and blemishes alike. The shards, we realize, are those tools by which these individuals have taken what is broken, namely human reasoning concerning the divine and the essentially human, to cut hues and patterns into the symmetry of logic or a rejection of logic in order to make sense of reality. The blemishes are patterns we find which do not accord with reality. Through these patterns, we are endowed with the art of philosophy, and it is by this very broad term that we understand both practical and theoretical matters, which are found in the world that we live in, and which are a part of the human experience. The matter, then, is whether or not we realize our association with such "schools of thought," as it were. We follow such logic and weighing of influences with a matter of choice, either conscious or subconscious, concerning our allegiances to certain mindsets, and we count the cost in identifying with such ideals and subsequently build upon these foundations.
These individuals do not have to be big name philosophers or theologians. They can be relatives in our heritage, psychologists and talk-show hosts on TV, or the latest fiction novelist. The common western man with no interest in delving into philosophical or theological roots builds upon the foundations of his family upbringing, or the rejection of such principle; his peers, as well as his enemies for antithesis; his culture, which is force-fed to him through media, politics, economy, and the like; and his own conception of what ought to be god in his own mind. But what he does not realize is that his philosophical mindset is shaped by the filtered application of thinkers such as Hegel, Nietzsche, and Kant; his economic mindset is shaped by Adam Smith and his proteges; and his theological foundation is the classic liberal humanism, which is expounded from the pulpit of the world.
The Christian has a difficult time, then, as he is faced with being a work or (for our consumer mindset) a product of the Spirit as well as the temptation to be a product of the culture. Obviously, there are certain facts we cannot deny: that the Christian man thinks in terms, and grapples with ideas, of this culture. But as theologians, we supersede philosophers in this way. We must think in terms outside of culture as well, acknowledging a God that supersedes culture, and yet is somehow guiding and ordaining culture as he sees fit.
I have discussed some of these ideas in a previous post, and I have also written a painfully brief discourse on this idea of Christ's message within culture for a theology class I took this past semester.
I will discuss more later, for rather than to save this post without publishing and lengthen it at a later date, I should very much like to get the above interview on here post haste, as part of a statement as to which side I take in all of this debate. The postmodern man, as well as my former philosophy teachers, and even a few of those I know, love, and respect very dearly (maybe even you few who read my blog), shall perhaps disrespect me for taking such a side, or even for taking a specific side at all. To those who would prefer that I not take a side, I say this: the only "side" I claim to purport is that which adheres to scripture, that which adheres to the doctrine found in those scriptures, and that which founds itself in the Spirit of truth, through Christ Jesus, his death and resurrection, and the promise of salvation which he has ensured through such sacrifice. So, for those of you who claim to hold to that, I am still on your side. Call it enlightenment (for you open theists and humanists), call it an act of my free will (for you Arminians, whom I do love), or call it as I call it: providence, God's sovereignty, etc. In any case, I have been introduced to the biblical and cultural teachings of the likes of these men, and if you would like to know where I am coming from to spare yourself from yet another wearisome post (as if this was not already becoming one), listen to these men talk very briefly about culture and the state of certain theological debates, and perhaps explore more.
Also note certain websites that grace the top of my browser in my bookmark list: www.reformed.org, www.monergism.com, www.challies.com, www.thegospelcoalition.com, www.theresurgence.com. The last of these is the website from which I acquired this interview.
These are the things that I have been studying lately, and along with developing a kind of aesthetic foundation from which to draw an artistic means of communicating the truth that I see, I have been in prayer about how these thoughts and ideas translate into practical application into my personal life. Perhaps, I will bring in some poetry later, perhaps some prose. Hopefully, if I can find the time and endurance to complete them, a few plays. For now, though, I am studying. I am learning. I am the work of art that God is shaping. Bear with me please, and I shall with you. "Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean that I'm lost," and Tolkien said it beautifully: "Not all who wander are lost." But let us wander, shall we, within the parameters of those things we know to be true: Christ's death, resurrection, and promise of salvation to all who believe in Him.
A thought: Should they have been given wills of their own, rain drops could choose where and when they would like to fall to nourish the earth and seas below.
The logical thought pattern could go as follows: "Better to go where I can be of most use." But only the deserts would receive the rain, in this way.
Rather, they might think: "Better fall where I am most comfortable." Only the quietest and most untouched glacial lakes should receive replenishing.
Or they could choose: "I shall only fall where there are those who are most worthy of my benefit and life-giving provision."
Matthew 5:45b He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.
It is fitting that our Lord sends rain to those places where He sees fit, since it is he that sustains creation as He sees fit.
A confession: If I seem angry, put off, or frustrated in any of my previous posts, I apologize. Sincerely, I do. Luther was said to have been a very angry man as well. Justified zeal in defense of truth is called for, I believe, but I do not wish to lash out in anger. Tonight, I was once again convicted of my tendency toward rash criticism, which stems ultimately from pride and not from rightful regression to a biblical defense of truth. I confess, and I repent. I am yet a work in progress as well.
Mere man am I, and I must not forget it. None of us should.
Mere men are we, Sovereign God is He. He will judge and bless that which he pleases, and before Him I stand, not even the least of these. Least of all, that I should judge with pride, my thesis.
God go with each of you.
Dead, once. Alive as He Pleases. Dead, All of us. Alive once more. Ded - al - us Dedalus
~ Ξ. Δαίδαλος
P.S. In the words of Eric D.: ^^^^ "See what I did there?"
What, shall we persist in these children's games? Are we forever boys? May it ne'er be so. The perpetual youth is a fantasy, given its prominence through stories like Peter Pan: a story which I am inclined to admire because of its creativity and ingenuity, but which I must weigh carefully in light of its pursuits. Finding Neverland cannot be a legitimate pursuit here in this life. It seems obvious to note this, but the implication is quite profound when I consider my tendency toward nostalgia. Not only do I genuinely enjoy things of archaic value and classical aura, but at times I genuinely long for the days gone by. What do we say here? "Oh Alex, certainly your appreciation for the cultures and times of olde must be justified in light of our culture's obvious turn towards iniquity," says the intellectual sympathizer. This comforts me, because I am assured that there are those of similar brainwave, as it were, that affirm my naivety and cynicism toward a decadent age, but shall I remain content in this? By no means. In Ecclesiastes, it is plainly given, "Do not say, 'Why were the old days better than these?' For it is not wise to ask such questions." And wisdom's preferable sweetness is highlighted immediately thereafter.
What then are we playing at? Are we not here in this culture for such a time as this? In God's sovereignty, surely he could have placed me in another setting, a different culture, a separate background, yet I am here. I tout God's providence and I wish my own rescue from this cultural nightmare known as the postmodern age, all in the same breath. With reason so convoluted, and modern reason failing to provide sufficient reason in in all of its empirical glory, I turn to the idealist and cynic within, in full hopes that I might escape. Art, history, literature, and even theology fuel these ideals of escape. But this is not to be our goal. To request of the Lord a form of escape from these times and these circumstances is to deny His providence and purpose and your ability and responsibility to speak into the culture at hand. Certainly we distance ourselves from the culture's influence enough that we might train our children and establish the family in a proper and biblical manner, but to seek a lifestyle merely as a Christian escapist neglects a responsibility to respond to culture properly and engage its current understanding. We can do this through art, history, language, and personal investment, but above all, we trust God to use us in the culture.
All that being said, I still tussle with these thoughts.
Here's one for you: is there merit to a man's good name? The good Christian says that a man's name and reputation are subsidiary to his true identity. I understand the good intentions here: we dislike being discouraged by the sins of the past, and it is true that, regarding salvation, we are secured in Christ's sovereign grace (Please, let's not start. You know what I mean). But let us talk practically here and perhaps we shall see that there is much merit to preserving a good name.
In Ruth, chapter 3, the truly honorable man is glimpsed in a remarkable turn of events. We receive a picture of a very brave young women seeking her kinsmen redeemer. Treading lightly in the wake of the night air, Ruth found herself at the foot of a man she had grown to respect. Now she stood to risk her own reputation before him through her presence that night. Let it be understood, that what she was doing was NOT in and of itself uncalled for or even inappropriate. It was her right, and in some senses duty, by Jewish law, to be redeemed in marriage to her closest male relative. No, It was clearly her good name that was at stake here. And it was for her sake, in order to guard against any whisperings within his own house and elsewhere in the community, that Boaz said to her, "Don't let it be known that a woman came to the threshing floor." He cared for her good name in a way that has been unduly neglected in our cultue. This has bled over in many ways to our mentalities in the church, where whisperings and rumors are flaunted about in the name of "exposing sin" and "shedding the light of truth" upon a situation. Let it not be forgotten, confession and conviction must be fought for in the church, and discipline held to the utmost standard of Biblical truth. But let us guard the good name of our brothers, not as a means of phony self-image, but for the purpose of trust and accountability within the church.
Likewise, let us remember our sinful depravity and boast only in that perfection which has raised us and sanctified us not of our own choosing or to merit our own purposes, but by His own great pleasure. Thus, we keep in accord with the conviction that we are to humble ourselves and confess to one another our sins. But may we take care the lengths to which we make our sin known, that we might not boast even in our own testimonies or flaunt the past faults of others at the expense of our good name or the good name of a brother.
Again though, it is not for the sake of our name that we seek to guard the good names of one another. The power of the gospel and our proclamation of uncompromised truth alone shall forever taint the name of Christians to the ears of the lost, but let us not add to this by flaunting our superiority over reputation and right standing, if for no other reason then for conscience' sake.
It is out of such conscience and conviction for the good of a brother's name that I confess my own failure to adhere to my own profession. My good name has been soiled and I have been forthright in admitting, unaware that while I appease my own need to feel wanted and understood (and the needs of others to feel trustworthy), I have exposed wounds which have been guarded and claimed by the Holy Spirit in me, only to find them opened and salted once more beneath the great white light called community. As healing and perceiving as this dynamic seems at the time, this light opens up a lot of thoughts that lead me into an introspection and withdrawn mentality, where lurk many of the old demons, which I claim to have victory over by the Spirit in me. Even still these demons seek a grasp, though they have lost the battle already.
Here I draw the line between my theology and my sinful humanity. My belief that Satan and his demons have lost already does not impede my tendency to allow them the smallest foothold to form in my fallen mind. It is a balance beam that I have not the training to walk alone. I fall, and Christ by His good grace has netted my fall for my ultimate benefit. Shall I then rob Him of His glory in my own mind by claiming that it is unjust for Him to put me through such refining fire. It isn't that he has watched me fall for lack of control only to bounce me back up for my second chance to be more faithful. It is by His grace that I do not fall beyond saving, it is His grace which preserves me through the fall, and it is His grace which brings me once again into right relationship with Him that I might once again pursue obedience and faithfulness. This is the salvation that I trust. It is one that renews daily my calling by His grace, and not of my own merit. It is a gift of God and not by works, lest anyone should boast. And for that, I'm thankful.
All that is to say, in keeping with boasting only in Christ, let us not wear our testimonies on our sleeves so that our individual stories may not diminished of the work of Christ who is author and pefecter of the faith which defines our stories, fully aware that it is not about our story, but it is about atonement and how our Lord's story is so centered around that reality. It is to this atonement that we our called as men and women of His own choosing, and through this calling that we are given purposes within the church and within culture.
What then is my calling? What is our calling as men? As men of God, redeemed for His purpose, by His good pleasure, we are called to be leaders within our homes and churches, and to preach the gospel. Many movements have arisen to reclaim the masculine mentality and even others seek to train men biblically as a man. But we cannot learn to be men of the Church or leaders of the Body until we learn to lead and guide her (the Church) as servants to Christ and to the Church. A servant of this stature must train Biblical men to be teachers of the word and of sound biblical doctrine, raise up a reformed understanding of the family and the necessary leadership and service that such an institution demands of men, and in turn instill a proper conviction in younger men of their duty to adhere to such discipline.
One word is recalled here, I am sure, and for some it is a nasty word: "Tradition." The postmodern man scorns this word in his own mind and seeks enlightenment just as Romans 1 predicted. Can the idea behind such a word be reclaimed and redefined outside of the negative connotations implied? Brothers and Sisters, not only can it, but it is in desperate need of such reform. My reasoning here, is that the postmodern thought cannot get its mind around the fact that we need to look to the Bible in all of its trans-cultural nonconformity. Yes we become all things to all people, as Paul rightfully asserts, but the gospel does not. It does not bend to the whims of cultural thought and passing fads in philosophy. Even the reformers' thought process would have been affected by the culture to some degree, but the gospel does not shape shift and the reformers, in their limited ways, understood this and proclaimed it.
Tradition, then, can be understood in a couple of ways; and furthermore, the concepts here can have strong implications a man's decision on how and where to raise his family. Much of this difference has to do with different understandings of scriptural messages
I will address three general applications of traditional mindsets that can be assigned through observation of culture and scripture. Tradition can be played out through rigidity, upon which is heaped all of the ideals and sins of our fathers. The Church is seeing a lot of men, even today, rise up in this mindset and tradition. The culture is evil and so are the people in it, and thus I must separate myself from the culture, as well as from the people in it. The arguments within this whole emerging church are too dangerous, and I don't want my family to be raised amid such confusion. I wash my hands of this world ridden filth, and I plan to live a life apart from the this culture from now on. This mentality develops the kind of sub-cultural elitism found in such sects of Christianity (and here I use sects in the proper sense of the word, in that it is a step beyond mere denominational difference) as the Amish and many of their Mennonite offspring. But this approach is also found in various congregations of fundamental, "evangelical" circles as well, which I find to be utterly perplexing.
I find this approach to be the wrong application of Christian principles. Such a mindset takes Romans 1 and the idea of the wickedness of worldly things and misapplies it along with the idea in John 17:16 (And if you read verse 15 before it, Jesus prays that God would not remove us, His bride, from the world, but that we would be protected from the evil one). Tradition in this sense, has been used to justify men lording over women in scripturally unprecedented ways, and it has also been used to mask evil which we all know permeates even into the most remote and sheltered lifestyles. When we remove ourselves so much from the culture that we remove ourselves from people of perspectives outside of our own, as well as people of different beliefs, we claim to be acting for our families own interest by sheltering them from evil, but evil is a part of our very natures, and cannot be escaped.
Tradition can also be seen in the sense of proper "evangelical" political affiliation. In other words, because we are Christians and conservative, we vote straight down the ticket republican without even glancing at the moral or political stances of the candidate. Now, unlike some of my "more progressive" contemporaries, I am not arguing against Christian affiliation, or even Christian conservative belief. I myself am conservative in most, if not all, of my political beliefs. The problem is that there are many ideals held within the republican party, and by those within the republican party today especially, that do not represent the name of Christ in policy. But the point is missed when we assume that "Christ today" would back a certain party as the lesser of two evils. First of all, who are you, in your fallen mind, to take Christ out of the context of history into which God, in His good pleasure, placed His only Son. Second of all, Christ Himself said that His kingdom was not of this world, and if it were, his disciples would have literally fought for his release (John 18:36). Now, from here we can derive much concerning the Augustinian idea of the two cities, to which I tend to hold, but for now, let's consider the third application of this idea of tradition.
Tradition can also be seen as a return to right belief and right doctrine, or orthodoxy, and the implications that follow. This brings up my conundrum this past semester in Greece, one of the staple nations of the Orthodox Church. Orthodoxy there is seen as a bad influence upon the heart of the gospel, but in America, a return to orthodoxy, or a reformed tradition, is long overdue within the church, not for the sake of politics, nor even for the sake of the family in and of itself, but for the sake of the realization of the gospel, that it might reclaim its rightful place in the hearts and lives of our Lord's Bride, that we might rely upon him to rectify the leadership both within the family and within the nation. Apart from Him, we can do nothing. In Him, we are more than conquerors and we are free to raise our families, sheltered from certain evil influence of this world (which is necessary to a point), and we are free to engage culture with missional mindsets that speak to the culture we are in.
But I believe we lose our opportunity to join Christ in speaking into the culture when we reject a life within culture, AS WELL AS when we embrace a cultural relativity which compromises scripture in any shape or form. We hold to doctrine, and we affirm biblical inerrancy to its utmost, AND we approach the culture with an agenda (for if the gospel has no agenda, it is not the gospel), but not a political agenda.
Men, we are called to be leaders in the church, and as such we must take the initiative within our churches to bring right belief and proper doctrine into our churches once more. Ladies, this does include the books of Titus, 1 Timothy, and Ephesians, as well as Genesis, in which we are given the foundation of the creation order and the proper establishment of man as head of the family and as the leading servant of Christ within the church. But serving Christ in the church, means serving Christ first and foremost in the family, as the spiritual head and breadwinner of the household (1 Tim 2:12; 5:8). Husbands, then, have the responsibility to their wives as servants to uplift the home through his leadership, guidance and provision, and wives have the responsibility to their husbands as servants to uplift the home through supporting their husbands, tending to the home, and raising and nurturing children. The man's responsibility to Christ and the woman's responsibility to her husband are not to be thought of in terms of superior and inferior, but in terms of equality, for we will all be judged according to an equal standard ultimately regarding salvation before our Lord; however, the responsibilities that we fulfill are laid before us as callings which flow from our salvation and sanctification. Thus, our roles are not to be neglected, nor are they to be called into question simply because of cultural questioning which ultimately stems from this world.
In conclusion, for this post is far too long as it is, over this past semester, one of things that has been impressed on my heart, rather than to remind women of their submission to men within the church, is the need to call men to their places of spiritual and even cultural leadership within the church. Remember, in the time of the Judges, that our Lord used women to make men look like the fools that they are. This was not the fault of the women, but rather it was a failure on the part of the men in Israel to step up in leadership. Thus, I close with the proclamation that our Lord is sovereign, and He can use even those times in history when the men are weak and the women take leadership initiative. BUT THAT IS NOT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE.
Men, let us stand up in Christ, and accept the responsibility that our Lord has given to us through His good and perfect providence, knowing full well that our ultimate calling and command, before reaching the culture, is to love the Lord our God with our hearts, souls, minds, and strength. May His word and His law be our delight as we give Him, solely, the praise and honor for the great gift of salvation, in order that the gospel might be proclaimed to one another within the Body, as well as proclaimed to the world by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
What with excess work, and an ungodly level of preoccupation, the intentions of posting over this past week were lost somewhere between Supralapsarianism and tedious apologetical studies. While both are interesting subjects (One decidedly more so than the other), they provide weak incentives for truly enduring focus in the deep hours of the night. Furthermore, neither of them are conducive to the bloggers stream of conscience, for they both require very linear thought processes, and as I am sure you have noticed (as certainly my parents have), my processes here do not meet through connecting the dots, but perhaps more through a kind of "Where is Waldo" routine. I'm quite sure that I am not building much confidence in my record keeping and writing abilities through such a comparison, but I'm equally sure that there is more than a degree of truth to it. By all means, if you have any particular method by which I might better paint my portraitures, let me know. I come from no formal creative writing background, nor do I claim any gifting in these waters, but I am trying. My best effort is all I can give.
That being said, let me recap for you these past few weeks beginning with my ascent to the Ακρόπολι, or Acropolis as we Americans know it.
The day could not have been clearer, in the sense that if it was clearer I would have made the same comment, for I am no weather man. Regardless, clear was the day, ready was the camera, and willing were the eyes. A few chums and I accorded upon an expedition to scale the paths leading up the Acropolis. And so we began a climb akin to that of the ancients, who ventured to worship before Athena, enjoy an evening of theatre, or participate in a gathering at the Parthenon. Here, I am giving you a glimpse into my mind as I walked up the chiseled marble pathway to the peak. Many of you have seen the pictures, so you may be able to put the visual with the written account. The first impressionable sight was that of an ancient theatre. As I snapped photos with an unassuming air, uncannily resembling a tourist I'm sure, I swore I was able to see an actress, playing Antigone and chastising her estranged uncle, or an actor of renown throughout ancient Greece (The McKellen or Stewart of the day) "stabbing" his eyes out as Oedipus. Wondering at the marvelous aspects of history and heritage, my mind wandered not to a vanity for this human race, but to a respect for the guiding providence of our Lord in the conception of history. The process of history, when handled in a linear sense, causes one to think of such a time span with utmost respect for our Lord's work throughout History. When considered in light of "Waldo," one gains perhaps a poor understanding of the history of these earthly functions, but one is in turn afforded the concept of God's overarching reign and government above and beyond both order and chaos.
For instance, As I gazed upon the Parthenon, Athena's temple, and over the city of Athens in its entirety, I saw not marvelous structures, but marvelous portraits of stories past, and subsequently, the lens of my thought was drawn out from focus of these rocks and their stories into the focus of a grander story at work. I found then that the clarity provided by the clear day only dimmed in comparison with a clarity of heart and mind toward the purposes of our Lord. Are we clear? His purposes are accomplished in all of the earth, both in the minutia and in the infinitude. Can you fathom with me? If you can, have at it alone, for I surrender all notion or attempt at such an insurmountable task. What I am saying is this: it was not scaling the Acropolis that allowed me to climb to some "elevated system of thought," but rather it caused me to understand that those are heights I dare not scale. Acknowledging God's sovereignty in and through all things is not the same as trying to fathom such a thing.
We agree on these things, do we not. And yet we are a divided bride, aren't we. Is it enough to merely meet at the saving grace of the cross? Is it really? Yet it is at the cross that we meet and disagree. For ultimately (and those of you who know me know of what I speak), are we not harkening to the work of Christ on the cross in these matters. Or are we also harkening (or forgetting to harken) to history which encompasses the work of the cross as part of the woven fabric of time in this creation. If we forget that history is going somewhere, we forget that someone has been guiding it there from the begging. Where's Waldo? Where is reverence? Where is proper doctrine? Fie, I said the d-word. Enough of the soap box. On to more pressing matters, lest this mind run away with itself as it has been known to do.
Tying up the ropes on this one shall take some mustering of skill, for I know not where to begin. The main mast stands in assurance that, in our Lord's providence He led me to a ministry from the very beginning of this year. And now, all hands have been called to the deck of the Morning Star, a modest yacht run under the careful watch of one, Alexander Macris. And with that, it is time for a picture.
Shades of blue and discreet grey began to fluctuate and fade as we neared the moor bordering that peaceful bay at Porto Astro. The night began to take its reign in the vast expanse of the waters, and yet the mountains enclosing the bay remained darker than the night that surrounded them. Even the night has been known to cower from such darkness. Silhouettes entering new waters, we mounted a seaworthy dingy and plowed the surf through the blackness that had begun to engulf us further. With no moon to offer solace, it seemed that the mountains grew in presence and in influence, but it wasn't a daunting or threatening presence. The blackness offered shelter, perhaps in the same way that it offers shelter to the weaker beast from his pursuer. Under such a cloak, we drew near to a white shade that seemed to condense out of the blackness. It seemed that something ethereal was left behind on the shoreline as we climbed aboard the Morning Star. As we entered the amply lit cabin, my spirit began to leap about in excitement for the prospect of the future year working aboard this vessel. That night, as the bay waters gently rocked the schooner, we at around a table laced with stories of past voyages and voyages to come; stories about previous crew members and memories stoking the laughter helped blaze a spirit of hearth and home amid the vague external uncertainties. The cabin is modest, though not wanting in the slightest having been fitted with generous amenities for long-term voyages. Each of us slept in our own bunk with blankets a'plenty after a wonderful meal of pizza and salad. Alex briefly overviewed the ship's make and its systems in order to make the transition to manual labor in the morning as smooth as possible.
We awoke early, without sufficient rest in terms of length, but an excess in terms of hardiness. Our captain and leader began the day around the breakfast table by opening the scriptures. It was under this premise and this blessing that we emerged from the cabin to find that the darkness had relinquished its reign and seceded in the renewal of morning light. The shrub-laced mountains rose with us to extol the morning's beauty and their great heights rose ultimately to praise our Lord for ordaining such beauty. I shall attempt to do the poetry justice here. Along the vast mountainsides, houses shone as specks amid a far greater fortress. The waters below welcomed morning's light most gratefully, glowing with their bluish green hues that the sky above might gaze upon them with equally blue amiability. The days work, though tedious, was most fulfilling. We sanded and applied putty to all three hatches quite thoroughly. Relishing the manual labor, I was careful to take in the scenery at intervalic points throughout the day. At each point, praises for my Lord's provision and sustenance welled up anew in my spirit. I confess that I probably neglected to give full focus to my work, for the backdrop was so awe-inspiring. Later that evening, after a good days work, I settles on the stern to write a few thoughts in my journal. An excerpt reads as follows: "The water here embodies an immaculate blue, which reveals a vast mystery in its character. The crags and cliffs seem to keep this secret as well, as if by some solemn pact or oath. Perhaps it is history that they guard, perhaps it is fear." I would argue that it is both. It is out of reverence for our Lord, that His creation keeps close at hand the histories and lessons of the past, while growing each day in fear of their Sovereign Lord. Where is the well-spring of the fear of the Lord? Show it to me, that I might prostrate myself before His mighty name.
Why do I attempt, through rationality, to explain away such things as this. As I have referenced before, there is that tension between the freer, more expressive man juxtaposed with the rigid and established mindset. It is not a battle between doctrine and art, nor is it a battle between a "Christian" life and the artist's life, it is the balance and holistic unity found in Christ through His Spirit's work to bring tension to the brokenness, that we might gradually be completed through His sanctification. We tread the the tension light a'foot, blazed in our course from the beginning of all time, yet learning anew to tune ourselves to chord with our Lord's mind and heart.
On a final note of fiction, I have had a number of people inquire after the meaning behind the alias J. Dedalus, which I have so recently adopted. A few understand the birth and relativity of the alias in my own identity as an artist, but for clarity's sake, I shall briefly describe. Δαεδάλος (Daedalus) is a character of the Greek mythos, whose works of art were said to have been so well-contrived that they could come to life. Despite my own selfish aspiration toward such an ability in writing and such, the part of his story that I find the most intriguing is the portion with his son, Icarus. Daedalus constructs two sets of wings for himself and his son in order that they might escape from their captivity on the isle of Crete. Daedalus warns his son not to fly to high over the water, lest the sun melt the wax which unites the feathers of his wings. Of course, Icarus does not heed his father's warning, and he perishes because of his ignorance. The idea here is balance and moderation. Author James Joyce, in his artistic culture, made reference to this mythical character by naming a semi-autobiographical character, Stephen Dedalus (referencing the biblical martyr, Stephen, in his first name) in his work, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Artists and writers of Joyce's day would have recognized this reference as Joyce's self-association with what were known as Classical artists, as opposed to Romantic artists (Associated under Icarus). The point is that, today, both in art and in the church, and particularly with regards to artists in the church, there is a tendency to latch onto ideals of the free spirit and the free will of man. Only we must remember that our minds and spirits are foes as well as friends: both shall be the waning wax which disassembles our agreement on right doctrine and proper artistic integrity. These thoughts and ideas are fleeting just as the issues I address are fleeting. But the rectification of our minds in relation to Christ's purpose on this planet is important, and not to be treated tritely. This is why, to those who latch onto such ideals of late as the Emergent Church, the prosperity gospel, and philosophical theology, it is my prayer that we would come down from such pursuits of the mind and submit ourselves once again to right doctrine which remains true to Biblical teaching.
In no way, through this alias, am I attempting to purport James Joyce's position regarding the church, for many will remember that the man was sexually promiscuous, an avid drunkard, and he ultimately rejected Christianity and the church altogether. I am simply recognizing the idea and identifying that idea as one of truth, not founded of its own accord, but through Scripture.
It is with these words that I shall part for now.
2 Corinthians 10:5 We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.
Take them all captive that our Lord might be glorified all of our days.
Let all other burstings held within this mind be laid aside for one brief moment as I apologize sincerely for my infidelity towards these writings. It is my understanding that a few have developed an enmity of sorts concerning the substantial span of time since my previous post. I am sincerely sorry. I have little to no excuse of real merit. Though you may not think as such when I describe to you the plethora of happenings since I arrived here in the heart of Greece. The past few weeks seem to have held a span of fluttering and pondering for my mind and heart. reconciling my own preconceptions with the actual proceedings does not seem to do the concept adequate justice. But according to the task of this method, my duty is to attempt to provide some type of juxtaposition of mind and event in the following sketch.
My first assessment of Greece, even just after our trip from the airport to the school campus, was that of the air. The breath grows heavy from the air here, but this is not in the same sense that explorers seem to purport having returned from mountaintop excursions. The air is thick here, but in a refreshing way. Its as if the lungs hope to discover something profound in such oxygen, but all that is found is a rich simplicity. The taste was one of exciting familiarity. Autumn evenings resemble our best summer evenings in America: the ones that beckon an ice-cold lemonade, perhaps pink in hue, bleeding perspiration for the contented spirit. At the same time, the nights here can be just nippy enough for a light blanket, ideal for those cheeky evening lights and heavenly bodies that call you to a late night on the rooftop. Oh yes, I suppose since you have no concept of the grounds here, you are perhaps utterly confounded at this point.
The campus is modest, with two primary buildings: that of the dormitories and that of the classrooms, administrative offices, and library. It's proximities, however, are ideal for the atmosphere of the school. There is a homely expression about the entire place. The library is filled with such books as could hold my interest for many years, I am sure. But the one aspect of the campus that most perplexed and amazed me upon arrival was most assuredly the rooftop of the dormitory building. It is reminiscent of the rooftops that are described in biblical passages. Not only is it entirely stable for consistent tread and weight, but it is also used to hang laundry, and some have begun workout routines on its excesses. I have already enjoyed nights of music and conversation atop our roof beneath the night's strange motion.
The school is located in the town of Pikermi which, in relation to Athens, is about the equivalent proportion of my home town in relation to the inner city of Chicago. I make this comparison in terms of time, rather than distance. With the public transportation system, the distance is blurred into the measurement of minutes and hours. I am also not entirely sure of the comparison between the kilometer and the mile. My ignorance shall haunt me unto the grave. Nevertheless, the location of the school is ideal, for in the west, the city of Rafina graces the coast of the Aegean sea facing the beautiful Greek isle of Andros, and in the east, Athens lies in all of its historical and aesthetic beauty. Pictures are few and far between. But take a look. My conundrum is the fact that on the one trip during which the mountains of Andros were clearly visible across the coast from Rafina, I neglected to bring my camera. This same obstacle presented itself on my first visit to Mars Hill, the location of Paul's message to the Athenians concerning their unknown god. But fear not, my friends. It costs one euro sixty to make a trip to Athens and back. That's a little over 2 dollars. There will be plenty of opportunities, I assure you. I have yet to visit the Acropolis, but in due time, that too will come to pass. I am also greatly anticipating a visit to the very hall in which many of the philosophers of the day conversed and debated.
But enough of these drab chronological details. I would like, if I may, to recap last weekend's events. I shall do so in a short narrative.
The day was spotless, gazing without obstruction down upon the contented peaks and valleys of the Greek coastline. Collectively, our student body, along with the faculty and staff members, embarked on an all-school retreat to the seaside harbor of Porto Rafti. No sooner had we arrived at our destination, when the proposition was made: "Let us look seaward to sandy shores and salt-sea surf." Thus, we took to the wake, awakening anew with the sight of islets off the speckled beach of ivory rock and iron-clad cliffs. I do have photos in abundance. But let me paint a picture, if I may. The rocky shoreline acquitted us all of our trespasses, and marble colored slabs, jutting defiantly into the reef, held the waves at bay and bade us explore their reaches. Nigh drew our adventurous blood, and so spoiled were we by the slabs and the sea, that donning the rocks 'mid the tumultuous flood, did these travelers find crevices of vast entity. Clearings and cliffs where the water was deep were our resting grounds. It was here that we sojourned for awhile, careening into the warm water below with welcomed reception. Waves that otherwise wrecked and weather were friendly to us as fellow travelers. A wave travels many hours without relenting, and without warning, exhausted anger may lash from its wits. God eased their tempers this fine afternoon, and we aliens were made to be home 'mid their tune. We resonated as one, we travelers, seeking only to gratefully grace the great wonders of this Grecian harbor.
The rest of the weekend included an array of activities, spanning the length of conversations 'neath an evening's rainfall, and many a story told in the utmost of confidence and clandestineness. There were those also told with honesty's air, and Lord only knows we were honesty's heir in this at least: that encouragement and building of spirit united us all in Spirit. We knew better each other, and perhaps we knew better ourselves, but none knew better the bond we would form that the self should diminish in light of each other. And what other light could unify so well, than the light of the sovereign Lord, which probes and reveals the inmost of things, that the outer might fail to surpass its own means.
The sojourn in Porto Rafti made a mark on my conscience. Seldom have camps and retreats served to provide lasting pictures of pure contentment in Christ alone. For it wasn't the beauty, and it wasn't the company, it was a peace that met my spirit on those rocks. Seldom also do I claim to place much stock in the experience, for my shares are to lie with Christ in all things. However, the time to read in solitude and pray amid the morning sunlight streaming through trellis and tree line made for a renewal of spirit. Many say that the aesthete is only about the spirit of things, and never the reason. But reason met spirit in these morning, for assurance in Christ that one is in the right place for such a time as this cannot come from heartfelt feeling alone, but from understanding the Grace that keeps you and renews you with its mercies each day. I don't know how to express my gratitude for those friends and comrades I have met here already. My incapacity for this springs from an excess, an overflow if you will. It wells up and all that comes out during the drawn out conversations and candid expressions may only be a smile or a word of acknowledgement. This only shows that I am learning to walk with plain feet and retreat from shadowy portions of mind which plague each of us. Bear with me, as I bear with you. We shall learn to fulfill the law of Christ.
Galatians 6:2
As I sign out of this post, I have just returned from a day of most historical proportions. More on the process, later. Never neglect the process. Its way of revealing character waxes each time a trial presents itself.
And so, I begin my account abroad. I warn you. There is not much to tell as of yet, for if I could summarize the activity thus far in the trip, the bent of my physical body is to overcome jet lag, while that of my mind and spirit is to cope with the pangs of such a phenomenon. Each day, my body brings a wildly unique experience to bear upon the day's circumstances, whether it be an acute sense of sleep deprivation, or a feigned stomach disorder from indigestion... or again, exhaustion. One might wonder: He has done this before quite a few times. Is he not use to, if not immune to, these symptoms through experience? The answer my friends, is that jet lag has a seemingly innocuous face in its beginning stages, and it retains a mild expression throughout its duration only to rear its ten-fold horned heads in a mighty siege of the senses, and ultimately your consciousness, when you expect it the least. My best recommendation whilst wrangled in its clutches: Do your very best not to sleep until the proper nighttime hours, but otherwise, don't fret losing two to three days at the beginning of your trip from sheer drowsiness.
Of course, the fact that my Uncle Adam and I went to see the Dark Knight last night, for what was my third viewing and his first, probably did not aid in my recovery at all. It was a late showing, the crowd had packed itself into the kleine kino for an English showing of the movie. This seems to be a trend here in Germany, and perhaps in mainland Europe as a whole. Most people with whom I have spoken, even the ones who struggle with their English, prefer to watch a movie in its original language. Apparently, when translated, the films lose a familiar touch, especially when the voices are noticeably different from the originals and the humor loses its punch with the direct translation. But the movie seemed to be well received all around.
But the memory here in Germany that will endure the longest throughout this entire trip abroad, I think, is the short journey I made today to the Dome, or Cathedral, here in Cologne. Now if you would please forgive the following sentiments of ethereal nostalgia, I will attempt to reconcile a somewhat descriptive narrative.
There is no point in trying to describe your first inclination as you approach the seemingly unfathomable building, with its grotesque yet bewitching twin spires surrounded by an entanglement of buttresses that weave their way around the entire structure. The building without proper walls rests its entire weight upon these noble pillars of stones which I cannot name and at intervalic angles that I cannot calculate. They rise without apparent end nor need for justification. Between these immaculate titans are housed the largest stain glass windows I have ever seen, and may ever see, in my life. Together, along with the faithful ebbing and flowing of buttresses, one is nearly overwhelmed by the sight. The exterior rises in a daunting manner and graces an increasingly modernized skyline with an immovable presence; however, I believe it is the interior which truly humbles and provides nourishment for a mind with a respect for history, as well as room to ponder the purpose of such a magnificent architectural feat.
You enter the massive doors and, if you can block out the noise from the tourists, the information stands riddled with pamphlets, and the flashing of the Kodaks and the Canons, you can make out the member of the clergy lighting the candles and arranging the elements in preparation for the evening mass. The building remains a church and many locals come to pray and take mass within the majestic confines of the cathedral. Relics and displays accompanying the different prayer and meditation stations were absolutely breathtaking. Murals depicting scenes from scripture and church history provided the ornamentation of crypts and burial sites of renowned leaders of the Diocese.
And amid all of this, I wondered at this marvelous creation of man. I wondered what would prompt its concept and construction. Often, I believe in my heart that I look down in contempt upon the ornate and rich material world of Catholicism, and in the proper context, it is right to say that a building, a relic, or an artifact ought to give way to what we know to be truth: God dwells no longer in tents and temples, but in the hearts of those he saves, and Christ's crucifixion is not to be worshipped but merely understood, along with his resurrection, to be the foundational crux of our faith. However, I want to propose that, perhaps with the proper mindset in place, the construction of such a beautiful work of architecture, when done in the name and to the glory of our Father in Heaven, is a wondrous notion. In the old testament, particularly in Exodus, we see our Lord give specific instructions for the construction of His temple, as well as his assignment of different individuals to the task of creative artistic design:
Exodus 31:1-6 Then the LORD said to Moses, "See, I have chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts- to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of craftsmanship. Moreover, I have appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, to help him. Also I have given skill to all the craftsmen to make everything I have commanded you:
This account references artists as well as the God given ability to work with ones hands. I respect the artistry of such creations as the Dome in Cologne. And though they are not be worshipped, I think that we can honor their history by visiting and marveling at their beauty, if not for their own history's sake, then for the sake of God's glory, as he used the periods and the movements within that history to accomplish his sovereign will.
The next time I write, I will be writing from what most consider to be the birthplace of western culture. Auf Deutsch es ist heisst: Griechenland. But in English we know it as: Greece.
