Advent meditation 1 from On the Incarnation

     I thought I would take my Advent meditations this year from one of my favorite books -- On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius. This little book is a classic work that dates back to the time of the ancient church. But the introduction to this book, written by C.S. Lewis (though "new") is even more of a classic piece of literary apologetics, for it is here that Lewis famously encourages us to "read old books" and to see within them "God with us."
     On the Incarnation is indeed a very old book. It was written when St. Athanasius (c296-8 -- 373) was still a young man, probably before 319. At the age of 27 he not only attended but had an influential role at the First Council of Nicea (c325). In fact, as a mere assistant to the bishop of Alexandria, he was the one to suggest the use of the now-famous word homoousion (consubstantial) to describe the relationship of God the Son to God the Father. This keystone of Trinitarian theology is forever enshrined in the words of the Nicene creed: "We believe...in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father."
     Of course, St Athanasius greatly expands on this theme of God becoming man and yet remaining fully God in his book. It is an old book of deep, yet accessible theological literature, and Lewis tells us that it is especially important to read such old books; it is far more important, he says, to study them than to study the works of modern theologians such as Niebuhr, Berdyaev or even (how can this be?!) himself! In retrospect, which viewpoint we now enjoy, the works of C.S.Lewis have become "old" -- perhaps because his soul was made old and pure and his writing given extraordinary clarity through his faithful study of not only the Word but the ancient church Fathers as well. All of us who attain to write about the "queen of sciences" should strive for nothing less than this comfortable familiarity with the classics of Christian thought.
     Lewis gives us two reasons for reading old theology books: 1.) they teach us the principles of "mere Christianity," and 2.) they refresh our vision of a fundamental Christian worldview. Modern books, he feels, deal far too often with modern controversies or trends and less with the discussion of Christianity itself. Exclusive study of them causes misinterpretations and disagreements to arise. He writes, "The only safety is to have a standard of plain, central Christianity...Such a standard can be acquired only from the old books." On the Incarnation enlightens our souls with instruction on fundamentals of the faith such as creation, the trinity, salvation and Christology. We also see more clearly how Christianity fits in with our vision of the world; how it makes sense of the happenings and philosophies that swirl around us.
      For Lewis, reading the old books caused him to consider the shape of Christianity long before he discovered the reality of faith. He read the poet Herbert, the allegorist, Bunyan, theologians St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, the epic poet Dante and the not-so-old father of fantasy, George Macdonald. (I mention these because I have read and loved these, too.) He says that as he read, even though he tried to ignore it or explain it away as "English studies," the power of Christian thought and ideas kept breaking through to his searching soul. "[The books were] of course, varied; and yet -- after all -- so unmistakably the same; recognisable, not to be evaded, the odour which is death to us until we allow it to become life..."
     I am reminded of how the Apostle Paul used literature in a similar way when addressing the pagan sceptics on Mars Hill. He said, "even as some of you own poets have said" in order to communicate the idea that our life comes from God and the living God surrounds us. The Apostle Peter told the first Gentile believers that "all the prophets testify about Him;" in those old, old books they would learn the story of the hope for all the world. But Paul, who would go on to write so much of the New Testament, said of his own sermons and letters: "I did not come with brilliance of speech or wisdom. For I didn't think it was a good idea to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." And so this fundamental idea -- the centrality of Christ -- which permeates Scripture and runs through the old (and new) classics of Christian literature, draws us deeper into the heart and mind of Christ.
     Lewis also contends that the old books are devotional as well as didactical. By working hard at extracting an author's meaning and vision, we come to learn truths that delight our hearts. He vividly describes this experience as "...working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand." I, myself, scribble away in the margins of the old books, but with an accompanying cup of tea instead of a pipe! I fear my children do not know what to make of the notes I scribble in the books we trade back and forth, but perhaps one day they grow to appreciate my momentary flashes of insight. I will say, "Never fear, C.S. Lewis used to scribble in his books, too, only he became a great writer!"
     But back to St. Athanasius. In the Christendom of his day, the Arian Controversy held center stage. The bishop he had assisted at the Council of Nicea, Alexander of Alexandria, had crossed swords with the presbyter Arias, also of Alexandria, who theorized that the Son was not the same as the Father; that he was made, not begotten, and therefore not God in the flesh. From the time of the Council on, through his long term as bishop of Alexandria (during which he endured five periods of exile), to the end of his rather long life, Athanasius would oppose, fight against and counteract this false doctrine. But Arianism was insidious and wide-spread in this long-ago world -- supported by clergy and royalty, its tentacles spread north into Europe, south into Africa, east into Byzantium. In 359, St Jerome lamented "...the whole world groaned in astonishment to find itself Arian."
     And so, Athanasius was destined to live out his epitaph -- "Athanasius contra mundum"-- Athanasius against the world. At the center of his fight was a burning desire to keep the faith, to embrace a Christianity that is genuine and old, as old as the prophets, evangelists and apostles, old, yet ever new. His fight was not so much with unbelievers, Lewis reminds us, as it was with those who having once believed fell away into "sub-Christian modes of thought." Jesus referred to this mentality as the seed that falls on thorny ground. It sprouts but is subdued by the "worries of this age," Arianism among them.
     Those who persist in this type of thought, inventing "'sensible' synthetic religions" are still with us. They belittle Christ and reconstruct the truth. They interpret the Scriptures to their own satisfaction and vainly look for good in the darkness of their human hearts, all the while claiming to follow true spirituality. Today, as followers of Christ, we stand in Athanasius' footprints, against the world. On the first page of On the Incarnation, St.Athanasius addresses these types as "these wiseacres," a clue to his "wit and talent" which he maintained so faithfully during his lifelong struggle against apostasy. By reading his little old book during this season of Advent, may we also take a stand against the world and with and for Emmanuel, God with us, the babe of Bethlehem.

information on St. Athanasius, and Arianism from Wikipedia
Scripture references (HCSB): Acts 17:28, 10:43, 1Cor.2:2, Matt. 13:22
C.S.Lewis' introduction is in the 1946 edition of The Incarnation of the Word of God, published by Macmillian

Christian poets: John Donne: Holy Sonnets 14

14

Batter my heart, three-personed God; for You

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, 'and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurped town, to 'another due, 

Labor to 'admit You, but O, to no end;

Reason, Your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly' I love you, 'and would be loved fain,

But I am betrothed unto your enemy.

Divorce me, 'untie or break that knot again;

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you' enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

     Donne begins this poem by making a strange appeal to God -- "Batter my heart". This is a far cry from our most common requests -- calm my heart, mend my heart, or keep my heart. To batter is to break down and destroy; to grind down to oblivion. It means that what the heart treasures most may very well be subjected to severe suffering and loss.

     I think that crafting a poem is very like creating a sculpture. One must carve with language to create not just a picture, but a thing. So, with this first word, "batter," Donne begins to chisel away at his thesis -- God must first work within our hearts to destroy the negative effects of sin before he can begin to work on rebuilding us into the likeness of his son. Philippians 2:13 reminds us that "it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure." God is performing a great remodeling project in our hearts, but first he must demolish the old and clear out the space before he can install the new and eternal.

     Donne appeals to Triune God ("three-personed God") to do this work within us. The verbs he chooses in the lines that follow illustrate the Trinity's individual efforts  as well as God's collective work. The Son knocks, the Spirit breathes, the Father shines. God begins to enact his plan to mend the fallen soul. His power then breaks sin's hold as Christ was broken for us, blows away our faults by the wind of the Spirit, and burns away the dross of our lives by the Father's refiner's fire -- all this to make us new. At last, the old is gone, the new has come. (2Cor. 5:17)

     Certainly our own resources are not equal to this task. Reason (correct thinking and the knowledge gained through learning) would seem to be able to affect change, but it cannot. It too is captive to sin and proves weak or unfaithful. Our best laid plans so often go wrong when we do not surrender to the wise and worthwhile plans of God to mold us into Christ likeness.

     Finally, Donne reminds us that the greatest desire of man's heart is to be loved by God: "Yet dearly' I love you and would be loved fain." But sin, whether we realize it or not, acts as a barrier to that love. In fact, we are engaged to it; our broken will has been unwittingly surrendered to a false lover. We must be divorced from sin so that we may be married to Christ. And in this love resides one of the great paradoxes of Christianity -- we are bound to Christ in love, which sets us free to love. We are only made pure by partaking of his true romance. The sculpture (but, in reality, the persons) God has formed us into comprise our new identity as his bride the church, which he has loved, renewed and redeemed "so that he might present the church to himself in splendor..." (Ephesians 5:27, ESV) In light of this glorious goal, may we (with Donne) humbly pray that we may be brought low. 

Christian Poets: John Donne, Holy Sonnets I

I

Thou hast made me,and shall thy work decay?

Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;

I run to death, and death meets me as fast, 

And all my pleasures are like yesterday.

I dare not move my dim eyes any way, 

Despair behind, and death before doth cast

Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste

By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.

Only thou art above, and when towards thee 

By thy leave I can look, I rise again; 

But our old subtle foe so tempteth me

The not one hour myself I can sustain.

Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art, 

And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

     John Donne (1572-1631) is known for his love poems; first, for his poems about his love for women, and second, for his poems about God's love for him. The poem above is from those collected after his death in the volume Divine Poems, and is the first of the 19 Holy Sonnets. These poems address the universal questions of life and death, creation and decay, significance and loss. Eternal life is contrasted against mortal brevity; human pain against the joy that never ends.

     Donne begins by asking a question about mortality: Does what God has made (particularly in the case of humanity) ever truly pass away? It seems as if anything God has formed with his hands should innately have an eternal quality about it, coming as it does from the Father of Lights. Mankind was given the breath of life on the day of his creation, and this breath will never cease to be. In Ecclesiastes, the Teacher reminds us that God has "set eternity in our hearts." Our souls will never die, but our physical bodies are quite another story. We are on a collision course with death.

     But, even so, we have a bigger problem: because of sin, our souls have already died and we cannot, in or by our mortal life affect its repair. Only God, through the power of what St. Augustine called the "first resurrection" can give our souls the life they lost so long ago. As for the body, Paul writes, "What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable." Yet Donne finds, as we all do, that the impact of sin, though forgiven, still lingers, and is subject to Satan's subtle temptations. On our own, he laments, we cannot sustain a holy life for even one small hour.

     Yet here it is that God's great movement of grace, as strong as that cosmic force of magnetism, flows from him into the feebleness of our lives. His grace is strong enough to overthrow evil powers and influences. His grace causes us to cling to him because he has bound himself to us. But in the church today we have co-opted a faded view of this grace. The word is tossed about like a tennis ball, the universal answer to every problem, physical and spiritual. Grace is being worn at the edges and its true meaning and power are fading even in its over familiarity. 

     We must, therefore, heed Donne's lesson -- never make grace into something less than what it is, something spread in a general and whimsical way over the Christian landscape.We must fly on the wings of the Holy Spirit to the place where we may receive and understand the truth of grace for what it truly is -- the power and presence of God that covers all our sin. There, grace never lets us go; it binds us to the heart of God by a power that eradicates our sin and raises both body and soul from death's decay. 

Holy Sonnet I, in The Norton Anthology of Poetry

  

Literary apologetics

     I first discovered literary apologetics when I looked up the blog Hieropraxis, written by Dr. Holly Ordway of Huston Baptist University. She defines literary apologetics as "presenting the truths of the Christian faith through literature." She also defines the mission of the blog as providing an "intersection of literature and faith, and of reason and imagination." Literary apologetics is a way for us to explore, think about and evaluate the truths of Christianity though the study of literature. Along the way, we use our minds to discover insights into the Christian life and find connections to Christian doctrine. The characters are our guides to right thinking; the plot lines our constructs for learning.
     The literature itself does not need to be overtly Christian, but it should express truth or discuss it in some way. And it should stand on its own as well-written and meaningful. Unfortunately, a lot of what goes under the name of Christian literature today (novels in particular) does not earn high marks in either regard. Sometimes Christian terms are merely superimposed onto the narrative, making the truth a very shallow part of the whole. The main point of the story is just the plot itself which moves along with Christian labels attached to it. In other words, a great deal of Christian fiction is superficial, "feel good" kind of stuff. I, too, cringe when I see the Christian fiction shelf in the bookstore, or worse, in the CBD catalog.
     Literary apologetics is also not necessarily the study of writings about the Christian faith, although it certainly includes this component. In fact, my husband, Michael and I started our journey into literary apologetics (long before we ever heard the term) by teaching a series on C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity in our Sunday class. And even before that, Michael taught a series on Pilgrim's Progress, probably the first class ever taught at our church on a work of literature, not a Christian lifestyle book. People were quite intrigued by it. Bear in mind that literary apologetics does not concern the study of the multitude of popular titles (or their ubiquitous cousins, the video series) devoted to the discussion of the Christian life.While these have their place, and may prove somewhat helpful, literary apologetics seeks to involve serious, thoughtful and engaging books which lead us to explore the truths, even the mysteries, of the Christian faith. Here's a list of a few of the books we have discussed in class, and their significance as literary apologetic works.

•      Pilgrim's Progress: (Bunyan, 1678) This is the classic, definitive work on Christianity as a journey, and probably one of the first to deal with Christian worldview, as Pilgrim encounters situations along the way when he must choose to live out his faith. It is also a wonderful source of encouragement when dealing with the ups and downs of the Christian life.
•      Paradise Lost: (Milton, 1667) This book contains classic descriptions of the spiritual universe of angels and demons. Though clearly a work of Milton's incredible imagination, it helps us to see the power and significance of that world, to which we most often turn a blind eye. Milton's evaluation of original sin is truly masterful and gives us insight into its pervasive influence. An interesting sidelight in the book is the many references to the scientific thought of his day, teaching us to be well-rounded in our interests. 
•       Divine Comedy: (Dante,1321) This book is much more that the Inferno section, which is taught today basically as horror genre. (Although I must admit it is fun to rank the frustrating events of the day according to their corresponding circle of hell!) I especially enjoyed the Pugatorio section because I saw in it so many parallels to our earthy journey. I also discovered the wonderful music highlighted by Dante at the end of each section and downloaded several pieces on I-tunes!
•       Pensees: (Pascal, 1669) Pascal's brilliant and succinct insights into the timeless and universal condition of mankind are unequaled. His "all things considered" approach takes in reason and relationships, wretchedness and diversion, sin and salvation. Throughout, his devotion to Christ stands out as a shining beacon for his life and ours.

        Now that I have discovered it, I find that literary apologetics is a wonderful way for me to combine my librarian's love of literature with my Bible teacher's love of Christian apololgetics. In the future, I would like to do a series on Christian poets (eg. George Herbert and T.S. Eliot), some Hildegard von Bingen and The Robe by Douglass. The more books we study, the more we find that are worthy of attention. These books have become (as they should) not only our friends, but our teachers as well.