Bill’s Musings

The topic of the theology of beauty came up in a recent conversation. I never did explain my theological understanding of beauty and I am not going to here, at least not today. I realized that there was another question I needed to grapple with first.

Since God created creation and said “it is good,” do I not place myself as judge over God if I judge what is good and what is not? Who am I to presume to judge God?

Consider the narrative of the temptation in the garden Genesis.

But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen. 3:4-5, esv). 

God said not to eat of a particular tree, yet we read in the next verse, 

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate (Gen. 3:6, esv).

Did Eve judge what was good? Did Eve place herself in the position of judging God? God said no, but she judged the fruit to be good to eat.

If God is creator of all, then is He not the creator and definer of what is good and beautiful? Can we as created humans judge the beauty of the creative work of God? Is this not the same problem as in the garden?

So how do we recognize beauty? What is beauty? I’ll come back to this in a second post (maybe more). For now I will suggest that beauty can be understood, at least in part, in harmony with God’s intent for creation. More specifically, in submitting to God’s judgment of what is good.

For those of you who thought I had fallen off the end of the earth, I haven’t found the end of the earth yet. Uhmm…maybe the earth is round

Today was my last day in class. While there is still research to do, papers to write and other such requirements, the bulk of my Master of Divinity degree is completed. It’s bitter sweet. I love the intellectual wrangling of academics. What I will miss most is the opportunity to squeeze as much out of my profs as possible. I have had the opportunity to study under some remarkable people who have challenged me deeply and encouraged me. I owe them all a debt of gratitude that tuition doesn’t even begin to pay.

My last class was on the Psalms.  Dr. Eric Ortlund (see his blog – Scatterings) led us on a week long marathon of reading, considering and teaching on the Psalms. Perhaps in the near future I will comment on the Psalms further, but tonight my head hurts. For now suffice to say that I am increasingly convinced of the singularity of the Old and New Testaments. How impoverished our lives are when we read one with out the other. Yes it can be hard to make sense out of some passages. Certainly, some grate against our sensibilities. Yet when we consider the totality of redemption history, creation history really, there is a unified cry for shalom, peace and wholeness. Such is the Psalmist’s heart.

OK I haven’t actually been losing sleep over it, but I knew I needed to customize my blog template a little and re-build my art site to make it a little more sophisticated looking (at least I think so). Biggest problem is that it’s been a while since I worked with Dreamweaver. Not a big deal. It’s like riding a bike…isn’t it? Well this bike had wobbly wheels, but we are back in the saddle (what other bad cliches can I use?). If you looked at the actual source code you would think I was riding a tricycle. That’s OK. Four years of seminary, burning brain cells trying to understand centuries of theological debate, I don’t feel bad if my coding skills are a little rusty.  All this as an excuse for not having written anything in my blog recently. Soon I’ll be back with more mind bending thoughts…or was that bent mind thoughts…?

I continue to reflect on what it means to be a Christian, a disciple of Jesus Christ. Is it enough to believe? Are we not called to something far deeper than intellectual assent and righteous behavior? These are in themselves challenging, but I suggest that they are far short of what we are called to be.

Allow me to use a musical metaphor. There are many technically good musicians. They understand the theory, can quickly read music, they have a keen sense of pitch and relative harmonic relationships. They are technically competent with their instrument. In short, they can competently execute the task of playing music.

Then there are those who truly master their instrument. They have the ability to eek out every last nuance the instrument is capable of. They draw out of the instrument the subtly of the music on the page and the conductors direction.

Then there are those who master the music, artists. These are the ones who enter into the music. They become artistic participants with the composer, the orchestra and conductor. They do not play the music; they are the music. The music flows from their being—an extension of who they are.

It is not a linear progression from technician to artist. There are those who defy the “rules” and achieve levels of artistry with little or no “technical” training. For most, however, the road is one of symbiotic development of both the technical and the artistic.

The problem is that while we can learn the technical knowledge and through diligent practice master an instrument, artistry cannot be taught. Artistry emerges from within. It is a transformation, not an education. At best we can facilitate and encourage artistry. 

What does this have to do with being a disciple of Jesus Christ? Everything. To be created in the image of God is to be created for artistry. It is to enter into creation in participation with the Creator, loving what He loves, valuing what He values and embodying this with out reservation or contrary thought. It is truly being made in the image of God. Unfortunately, because of sin we find our selves striving to regain that which was lost, the artistry of being made in the image of God.

As the Church, we are reasonably adept at the technical side of discipleship. We learn how to read the music, play the notes and present some semblance of the composers work. What we are not as adept at is becoming artists, participating with Jesus Christ, loving what He loves, valuing what He values and embodying this such that it flows out of our being with out reservation or contrary thought.

I am concerned that we see the technical side of the faith as an end. When we are good at ______ (you fill in the blank) then we have arrived. I am increasingly convinced that this is a dangerous deception.

No matter how solid we are in our theology, our teaching, yes even our caring ministry, it is merely the foundation that enables true discipleship. The tasks of ministry should never be understood as what it means to be a Christian. Yes, a Christian does these things even as a violinist must expertly handle the bow, but bowing alone does not make music. In the hands of an artist the bow is merely a creative tool used to participate with the composer in creating music.

This is not to denigrate in any way the necessity of a quality bow any more than the technical competency needed to handle it well. It is to transcend above the tasks of music to enter into being that which the music flows from.

I do appreciate your comments regarding my blog posts. 

For those who might wonder why I moderate comments, the reason is really quite simple. There are unscrupulous people out there who have neat little programs that track blogs and submit annoying automated comments. These so called comments are nothing other than gorilla advertising for questionable web sites. Some are legitimate businesses that have resorted to low life advertising tactics while most are offering things I don’t want to be associated with. I wish they would go away. Until they do, I will moderate comments so that your legitimatem meaningful comments will not be swallowed up by meaningless comments designed to increase traffic to sites you probably wouldn’t want to be associated with either.

Thank you for understanding.

That we live in a changing world is hardly breaking news. There is, however, one element of change that has been persistently infiltrating the human experience with its murky fingers, mass production.  There was a time when if you wanted a new table you would either build it yourself or purchase it from a craftsman (craftsperson if you prefer). Today you can still buy from a craftsman, but most people will buy mass produced items, perhaps from a big box store that specializes in “boxed” furniture.

In the past, the craftsman’s table was easy to pick out by simple observation of the quality of work. He or she was master of their craft. Today, factories turn out a steady stream of high quality products with a consistency unheard of a few centuries back. Yes, there are exceptions to “high quality,” but let’s face it, there are a lot of good products coming off assembly lines. In an odd twist, today we often can only tell a craftsman’s work by some minor inconsistency or imperfection. Of course, dedicated craftsmen still ply their trade, but many turn to one of a kind pieces, works of art if you will.

Speaking of art, portraits were once the domain of dedicated artists labouring with brushes and pigments. Now you can go to the “portrait studio” in your local “we sell every thing” department store where they will snap a predictable photo and if you like, print the common photo on canvas. Painters too have gone print crazy in attempts to maximize profits (although there is a backlash against this in the art world). Then there is factory “art”; those mass produced home deco prints you find in bargain stores. From a pure visual aesthetic perspective, the mass produced table, portrait or print are pleasant enough. Sometimes they are very pleasant.

So why do people still seek out “craftsman” furniture, sit for long hours to have a portrait painted, or pay the high price for other original works of art?

I am not sure of the answer, but let me toss out a few thoughts. First, there are those who either for investment or ego delight in owning the craftsman’s or artist’s work. Perhaps this is some sort of latent aristocratic impulse. Whatever the case, these are the people who often keep food on the table of craftsmen and artists. Whatever their motivation, they are willing to pay the price that craftsmen and artists rely on to survive.

I do believe, however, that there is a deeper, more “human” reason. We all benefit from mass production (understand that I am not speaking here against mass production although it is a worthy topic to consider). The question here is, “what is missing” in a “boxed” table, a digital print portrait or factory art? The answer I believe is what we so often lack in our hectic and isolated lives—a human touch.

I have a pen. It is one of many, but there is something different about this one. My cousin handcrafted this pen from olive wood. Sure, there are a few “factory” pieces that make up the pen, but he turned and polished the wood. We don’t see each other very often—not often enough. Yet, when I pick up that pen, I think of my cousin. He cared enough to spend the time and effort to make something special. It wasn’t a job. It was a work of love. There is a little part of the craftsman in that pen. There is a human touch.

Perhaps that is what makes a craftsman or artist’s work so valuable. Knowing that he or she has spent hours in a labour of love, making the table or painting the portrait, a sense of connection with the one who created the work. There is a human touch that makes the table or portrait much more valuable, at least to those who will slow down and let it speak to them.

______

PS – Perhaps that is why we have some of the environmental problems today. On the one hand, the paintings of the old masters are valued because of who painted them. On the other hand, the boxed table is disposable. Likewise, if the Creator isn’t valued, His creation is treated as disposable. We need to slow down and let the Creator speak to us through His creation.

I recently read a blog post by Eric Ortlund titled The Problem of Good. It poses a curious and important question. I recommend checking it out.

Today is one of those iconic caricature days of a Saskatchewan winter. The temperature is any thing but warm. The snow is falling and a brisk wind is whipping the snow around in a mesmerizing dance. The snow drifts are carved into ever changing shapes, like a living sculpture. It is beautiful.

Perhaps you need to have grown up in winter to see the beauty through the numbing cold. Perhaps it helps when you drive a four wheel drive that effortlessly cuts through the powdery drifts. Perhaps it helps to know that spring is not too far away. That time of year when snow gives way to prairie storms, the crack of lightening, the thunder and the threat of tornadoes…winter isn’t that bad.

The prairies are a harsh yet beautiful land. People often speak of the open skies and the bountiful sunshine. The beauty is deeper than that. I love mountains and forests. I hope to move back to them one of these days. The beauty of the prairies is a different kind of beauty. The mountains speak of ageless grandeur. The prairies speak of constant change, like the snow drifts I see out my window.

In time the snow will melt, the fields will be seeded.  In the summer heat the crops will grow, harvest, winter, spring… The sky is always an ever changing canvas of sun and clouds, stars and moonlight. The landscape is always changing. The ever present wind shaping the snow, bringing in the storms and pushing them on. Yes, this is a beautiful land, even in winter. I hope to return to the mountains, forests, lakes and rivers of B.C., but I will miss the prairies when I do.

A number of years ago a friend of mine, Richard, a professional orchestral musician said that if you want to play professionally you have to play a lot of notes first. In a world subjected to the tyranny of “now”, from fast food to fast track projects, we resist the idea that excellence takes time and dedication.

With a very few exceptions, a musician must play a lot of notes, a painter a lot of brush strokes, a photographer a lot of shutter clicks, the writer a lot of words, the theologian a lot of thoughts if excellence is to be achieved. Many of these notes, strokes, clicks, words and thoughts will be less than impressive. Excellence comes at a price; we must be willing to be less than impressive first. The road to excellence is littered with wrong notes, discarded canvases, discarded photos, crumbled paper and thoughts that we can only shake our heads at.

The pursuit of  excellence demands having the freedom to walk the road that leads there. In my theological pursuits, as helpful and important as my professors at seminary are in pushing me to new heights, some of the most profound discussions have been with my friend Dell. As postmodernity would allow, when pressed I describe myself as a Reform informed Charismatic Anabaptist—I don’t really like labels. I was recently asked to explain this. My answer, I’ll tell you when I know, but I am a fan of Karl Barth…that can explain a lot. Dell, is pursuing service as an Anglican Priest, and has his own mix of influences.

When we get together, it is like a jazz jam session. A lot of theological notes are played. We have the freedom to toss out new ideas and rehash old ones. There is no judgment when we disagree, the disagreements are the fun part—it makes us think—we like to think. Some times we go to a coffee shop, our wives sitting at one table while we rehash the great theological debates of the centuries at another table.

The theological music we play may not be suitable for a pulpit and if written, some of it might not impress my theology professor Dr. Guretzki (but I’m sure he would be right in the middle of the debate given a chance). We just play notes, trying new thoughts, enjoying the journey. Sometimes something profound comes out of it (at least to my thinking). I recall once coming home with a paper napkin scribbled with notes related to a paper I had to write. Most of the time, we just leave with our brains tired and our souls a little richer. I can’t wait until the next time. So what about those Cappadocians Dell?

I painted this little scene one evening in a near by park. To state something entirely obvious. This is a painting, it is not the park. At best it is a representation of how I saw the park for a short time while the sun was dipping toward the horizon. Press your nose against the screen has hard as you like, you will not smell the grass. You will not feel the warmth of the day as it gives way to the cool evening breeze off the lake. You will not feel the pesky mosquitoes who think you are supper. You might imagine these things, but you cannot reach out and feel them. As an artist, I hope that I captured something of the experience I had that evening. In the end, it is only an attempt to capture a moment in creation that defies capturing.

So what does this have to do with theology? Everything. Our best scholarly attempts to understand God are in the end, an interpretation of what is revealed to us and how we experience that revelation. Even as the painting is not the park, so our theology is not God. That said, like a good artist, the theologian is driven to capture the uncapturable. Unlike the artist who may do a less than flattering job, the theologian will one day stand before the One who he has dared to presume to study. A canvas may get tossed into the fire with a shrug, a theologian…fortunately God’s grace and mercy are greater than my ignorance.

So can we really claim orthodoxy in theology? Can we ever claim to be right?

The answer is the same as the artist who mixes his paint, dips in the brush and places a stroke thoughtfully, but confidently on the canvas. Years of study, including the works of the great masters, color theory and observation has prepared him for that moment when the paint leaves the brush and illuminates the canvas. When the painting is hung on the wall and people pass by, when they say, ”yes, that is a tree, and that is grass, yes it is a park,” then and only then, submitted to the deliberation of time can we say, “yes, it is right.”

So to the theologian, humbly, but confidently making assertions born out of years of study, including the great theologians through out the history of the Church, grappling with contemporary thinking, sets word to paper. When the book is pulled from the library shelf and people read its words, when they say, “yes, that is the God who creates, that is the God who reconciles, this is the God I know,” then and only then, submitted to the deliberation of time can we dare to say, “yes, that is right.”  

 I must give credit to Dr. David Guretzki of Briercrest Seminary who taught us a simple yet profound truth, our doctrine of the Trinity is not the Trinity, it is merely a doctrine based on how God has revealed Himself. We must not confuse the two.