Truly Beautiful or Beautifully True?

Francis Schaeffer said that art must have Truth and Beauty. Touring the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis with my relatives today led me to wonder: is there truth and beauty in modern art? 

I used to believe that modern art was rubbish, no exceptions. The piece that began to change my mind was Frank, by Chuck Close, at the MIA. When I first saw it at the end of a long gallery, I thought for sure that this monstrous (108 in. by 84) black-and-white picture was a photograph. As I walked slowly through the gallery, the picture loomed above me. When I finally reached it, I was shocked to see that it was a regular painting on canvas. Looking closely, I could see the minute brushstrokes. The other pieces in the room were Andy Warhol and Roy Liechtenstein--empty pop art with no deeper meaning and certainly no truth or beauty. This piece was different. The hyper-realistic style was quintessentially modern, like the other artworks in the room. What was different? 

This painting had truth. This religiously accurate reproduction of an 8 by 6 photograph writ large was undeniably truthful. It did not embellish, beautify, or change the original photograph. Yet it was not a copy. While the photograph was an emotionless, perfect reproduction of a scene, the painting is flawed. I could find no flaws in the painting, but I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could. These flaws are the cracks on the Mona Lisa, the missing body parts of the great Greek and Roman statuary. Without them, the artwork would somehow be inhumane. One of the definitions of art is that it must be an object created by human endeavor. Another definition could be that it must be flawed. There is nothing like perfect art. Art created by imperfect humans has no perfection; its glory is in the fact that it reaches towards perfection. Frank is a unique painting; a unique project of human endeavor. It has no heavy handed symbolism; no references to something familiar, no pleas to be acknowledged, no obvious meaning. We measure the meaning of something against other objects or ideas. Frank should not be judged meaningful against another piece of modern art, or a Rembrandt. Instead, these things should be judged against Frank. It is a touchstone, it is a fulcrum, it is a lever. It has truth. Francis Schaeffer would be proud. 

Truth, however, is only one half of Schaeffer's bicameral definition. To be true art, Frank must be more than true. It must be beautiful. But beauty is subjective and truth is not, right?   Or is it? Beauty, in a way, is truth. In the postmodern world, truth is being made "open to variant interpretation" to use pop psychobabble. In other words, meaningless. The prospect of truth with no meaning is, on a deep level, incredibly frightening. The prospect of a sinful mankind living with this philosophy is far worse. This degradation of meaning has already began, and will continue. Beauty, however, has always been "subjective." I may think a piece of music or an artwork is beautiful, and anyone else may disagree. I think this is because there is no self-evident beauty as there is self-evident truth. Perhaps beauty exists on a deeper level, and humans contemplating the beauty value of something are only judging one part of a whole too great for them to comprehend It is undeniable that there is a "layering" of meaning in this universe. The human race is, after all, six and a half billion variations on a single theme; like Monet's water lilies or the a musical scale in a Bach fugue. Each of Monet's water lily paintings, each part of a fugue offers a slightly different interpretation of its theme. So it is with humans. We who are slightly different variations on God's eternal theme see things in slightly different ways from one another. So, confronted with something that is beautiful at its core, one of us might feel that it is ugly whereas someone else sees it as beautiful, but not for the reasons it is truly beautiful.

I see Frank as a beautiful work of art. And it is, in fact, a real work. I can only imagine how many long hours and painstaking attention to detail it took to produce this painting. You may disagree with me. As variants on a theme, this is our curse and blessing. Spiritually, this means that we are not called into mindless uniformity of faith. God is the ideal of beauty and truth, which humans cannot fully perceive. In creating us, the Artist made us unique and different in one another. We do not sacrifice that when we throw away the sinful nature and run to Christ. In fact, the sinful nature is conformity and alien to our uniqueness. We do not strive to surrender our identity to God. Instead, like every great work of art, we are destined to become one with the Artist. How can one define Monet's paintings without Monet? How can one define Man without God? It is the latter fallacy, which underpins the idea of denial of God, which has led to the slow, frightening abandonment of truth I mentioned earlier. I can hardly imagine anything more frightening. Perhaps the endpoint of this horrifying downward spiral will be the cue for the sounding of the last trumpet. "Come, Lord Jesus, come!" 

Until I saw Frank, I believed unconsciously that artists had forsaken true art right about the time of the death of Monet. I saw no beauty or truth even in the pre-modernist works of Picasso. Looking through the Walker, I believe that truth and beauty are rare in art. The scarceness of modern pieces in the Walker that I felt had both truth and beauty is not necessarily part of an abandonment of the qualities of true art, but rather a continuation of the status quo: there is art, and then there is beautiful and true Art. This has been going on, I believe, since at least the beginning of western civilization and will continue. Then again, I believe the rotting of truth has led to a much higher ratio of art that is not Art in the modern era. I have some horror stories about meaningless pieces in the Walker. One painting was an rectangle of canvas covered entirely in black paint. That was it. It took ten minutes. No beauty, no truth. Another piece was a mishmash of geometric shapes in green, blue, and yellow. The title? "A View of Cape Cod." Please, a 6-year-old could have done it. 

No piece stuck out at me like Frank did at the Institute, but I had to acknowledge that truth and beauty were present at the Walker, rather like a tantalizing zephyr of spring. Which, coincidentally, is just around the corner. Stuffy human artists have tried for thousands of years, but they haven't come up with anything yet as tantalizing, truthful, and beautiful as spring. They never will. That's why the Master Artist deserves our love and devotion; more than the salvation he has offered us, the beauty and truth he has blessed us with. 

Ἡ ἀλήθεια ἐλευθερώσει ὑμᾶς

The End, Perhaps, of an Idolatrous Denomination--Can Some Good Come of it?

Most of you know the ignoble tale of the crucible in which the Church of England was formed. It is not, nor ever was, built on Simon called Peter, but instead was wrenched from Pope's grip because of the machinations of a sex-crazed sybarite of a king, Henry the notorious Eighth, who, when the Pope refused to grant him an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, broke with the Catholic Church and formed his own Church of England, with himself at the head.

England, ever separate in all things from the continent, was already somewhat dissatisfied with Rome, and had been hankering for some sort of reform since the heroic John Wycliffe in the fourteenth century. Henry, however, fought hard during his lifetime against the tide of reformation, and it was only under the reign of his daughter, Elizabeth, that the Church of England truly became Protestant.

Truth be told, Anglicanism is an oddball. However, as the Kingdom of England became the British Empire, its church was spread throughout the English-speaking world. The church did not grow because of its own merit. At first, it rode the Reformation wave. Then, it followed the ascendant British Empire to vastness.

So, we have a church with little actual merit, in my opinion. Sure, it has held great Christians--C.S. Lewis and more recently Bishop N.T. Wright come to mind--but in these cases it seems that the denomination was a hindrance, not a help, in the search for God. These men were not great Christians because they were Anglican.

Perhaps because of the blatantly un-Christian founding of the Church of England, it was one of the first denominations to liberalize. For example, it is the largest and most reputable denomination to ordain gay clergymen, even Bishops. The numbers of its attendance have slackened precipitously in the last century, and with the election of Archbishop Rowan Williams, and the legitimizing of a practice forbidden in the Bible into the very clergy, it has become increasingly irrelevant.

While the church on its home turf is liberal and, frankly, dying, in Britain's former colonial possessions--namely Africa and the United States--it remains strong. The liberals in England and to some extent in America, are clashing with the conservatives, and prospects for a mutually amicable resolution at the upcoming once-a-decade Lambeth Conference are dire.

In short, it looks like the Anglican Communion is going to split.

This is not the first time in recent years we have seen a denomination split. The Presbyterian Church split into several fragments after that church made the same rash decisions concerning homosexuality that the Anglican Church has. I have friends who go to a thriving, young, Orthodox Presbyterian Church, and one increasingly disenchanted member of the mainline Presbyterian Church in Baldwin, which has, it should be mentioned, a female "student pastor" at the moment.

But back to the Anglicans.

One figure stands in the center of this maelstrom: Archbishop Peter Akinola, Chief Primate of the 44-million member African Anglican church. His forty-four million sheep make up a hefty majority of the seventy-seven million Anglican Communion. He is a bastion of Christian conservatism, and as TIME Magazine has said in a profile of him entitled "At the Center of a Schism", a figurehead of the south-and-east-ward march of Christianity. While we bemoan the loss of Christian institutions here in the West, there are more devout Christians in Africa and China than there were in the entire world in any time period before the twentieth century.

Akinola, at least, has already given up on a united Anglican church. In a 94-page theological statement, he declared: (See the full article here.)

"There is no longer any hope, therefore, for a unified Communion ... Now we confront a moment of decision ... We want unity, but not at the cost of relegating Christ to the position of another wise teacher, who can be obeyed or disobeyed. We earnestly desire the healing of our beloved Communion, but not at the cost of rewriting the Bible to accommodate the latest cultural trend. We have arrived at a crossroads; it is, for us, the moment of truth."

I will let David Van Biema (Am I wrong in thinking that sounds like a Dutch Calvinist? Growing up with Van Roekels and TeGrootenhuises and Veenstras and Mensinks and Ouwingas and Zonnebelts and Zevenbergens and Te Slaas--not to mention the copious Van Somerens, I'm very sensitive to these things), from the above article, tell you about the nature of Akinola's seemingly divisive stance on homosexuality in the church:

"Some observers argue that, like many conservatives in the church, Akinola is motivated less by a desire for schism (or even any distaste for homosexuality per se) than by a sorrowful conviction that Robinson's [the openly gay American Bishop in the Anglican Communion; the first of his kind] ordination in the U.S., along with support in other provinces for gay unions, is the last straw in a series of offenses indicating a massive Western disregard for the authority of the Bible. They say he is not so much trying to blow up the communion as force it, by negotiation and a certain degree of brinkmanship, to rein itself in."

Whatever the outcome of this trial of the world's third-largest fragment of the catholic (small "c") church, it brings to the mind questions about the friction in the church as a whole. It breaks my heart that I am not able to honestly partake of Catholic Mass, because of their Doctrine of Transubstantiation, their Holiness of the Pope, and their Mariolatry. I cannot bring myself to endorse these things--not to mention that, according to the Doctrine of Transubstantiation, all Catholics who partake of Communion are cannibals--thank the Lord they're wrong. Perhaps I am being too stubborn.

That, however, is the problem. Every denomination believes they are right, and in matters of faith far more than matters in politics, compromise is impossible.

But does not Galatians say that "dissensions, factions" are fruits of the sinful nature? A weighty subject to take on. Far too weighty for this humble blog. All we can do is pray for wisdom.

"Ἡ ἀλήθεια ἐλευθερώσει ὑμᾶς."

"The truth will set you free."

Archbishop Akinola called this crisis a "moment of truth" for the Anglican Church. Perhaps this truth will lead to a better church; perhaps it will even set us free.

My Chreia Progymnasmata

I thought I'd post this because I'm particularly proud of it. Those of you who have to do the assignment, NO COPYING! ;)

Omnibus Primary, Session IV Writing: Progymnasmata Chreia

Writing a book about the holiness of God would be a test for any man's talents. However, R.C. Sproul manages the task admirably. With stark honesty, wit, and self-deprecating humor, Sproul gives the vast subject of God's holiness his characteristic blend of reverence and lightheartedness. Of course, humans in our sin and limitations can't comprehend the vastness of God's holiness, but kudos to Sproul for making us see that, if nothing else. All in all, he is a perfect candidate to write such a book. His reverence and his theory that God's holiness explains some of the infamous passages in the Bible that unbelievers have raised time and time again as evidence that God is not love: Uzzah, Ananias and Saphira particularly stand out. To the shaky believer, these are awkward, primitive things to be explained away. To the unbeliever, they are weapons against the Christian faith. To Sproul, however, they are instances of God's holiness. In fact, on pg. 110, “[God] killed Uzzah. He did the same thing to Ananias and Saphira in the New Testament. These were righteous acts of God's judgment.”

On the face of it, this seems like a glib, attention-grabbing sentence. It's an old literary ploy: make an outrageous claim and then proceed to back it up, either well or poorly. However, in this case it is not sensationalistic journalism, but a true, deep-rooted belief. What Sproul is saying is really getting at is this: “Sure, there were some incidents in the Old and indeed in the New Testaments which make our cushy Western sensibilities cringe: how could a loving God do these things? However, these were not instances where God's love took the back seat, and irrational vengeance took over, but legitimate and righteous acts of holy judgment.” That's a much longer way to state what is in fact a simple idea. God's judgment and his love are not antithetical. However, since God is a just God, he cannot simply ignore sin with love. Sins must be atoned for. Sins must be repented for. This, in fact, is why Christ died: to ransom us from our sins, and from what they entailed: God's wrathful judgment.

R.C. Sproul is one of the giants of modern, Reformed theology. He has been compared to a latter-day, Reformed, Lewis—whose works Sproul quotes often. His language does not quite reach Lewis' soaring heights of logic or prose, but it does an excellent job of convincing the reader of his subject. Sproul's books are full of reverent talk of God. To Sproul, God is not the entirely benevolent, soft-edged, but quite decaffeinated God of modern mainstream Christianity, but an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, and judging God, to whom we are fully accountable. His judgment is not a function of His love, to be sure, or at least any more than they are two of His defining qualities. Too often we ignore God's judgment, in fear of being labeled “radical” or worse, “fire-and-brimstone,” remarkably stigmatized terms in this age. Sproul, however, does not ignore God's judgment, and this passage of his book dwells firmly upon it. Sproul realizes, as many modern Christians do not, that an accurate picture of God is impossible without His judgment; like a two-sided triangle. So, it is from this perspective—and the motive of bringing God's judgment back once again into the cultural currency—that Sproul writes.

God is a loving God. But he is also a judging God. God is a compassionate God, but he is also a jealous God. Over the centuries, this seeming paradox between the facets of God has perplexed many a believer, and satisfied many an unbeliever. The questions that arise are pressing: how can a loving God judge? How can a judging God love? The list goes on. Sproul answers these questions in his statement, which is at once, as discussed earlier, glib and profound. Uzzah, Ananias, and Saphira all deserved to die, but no more than we do today. Every human being is guilty and sentenced to death. If we confess, Christ will intercede for us, and our guilt will be washed clean with His blood. If we do not, we face the same fate as those three Biblical reprobates. If this were not the case, than the Christian faith would be a mere shell: without a loving but judging God, the Christian faith is only two-dimensional. We can see this mere shell of faith in modern liberal Christianity.

Since the beginning of the Christian faith, there have always been people who have gone astray. Even as early as Acts, the apostles fought against prejudice between the Jewish and Gentile sects of the faith, and this sad story has repeated itself through the years. Augustine, for example, opposed Pelagian on original sin and the holiness of God. Luther opposed the Catholic church on, well, just about everything, which led both to the Protestant faith and the Catholic Reformation. In more modern times, C.S. Lewis set the story straight on such issues as love, or more specifically the “four loves,” as well as many other issues. Sproul, following in Jonathan Edwards' footsteps, is opposing the semi-Pelagianism in the Christian faith today: the doctrine that accepts most Christian tenets but not his holy judgment. I have termed these men Sanctus in Contradictio; Saints in Contradiction. Like superheroes, they fight against whatever evil faces Christianity during their time. It is in these hallowed halls that R.C. Sproul treads, with this particular statement and throughout the book.

It is altogether simple to find examples of God's judgment. They appear throughout the Bible and throughout human history. One particular example that demonstrates the truth of this saying is the sad, sordid tale of Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed Christ. It's safe, I think, to say that he is one of the most reviled humans in history, and not without good reason. When he hung himself in a field, it was righteous—meaning “in the right”—judgment. His actions, like those of Uzzah, Ananias, and Saphira, called for death. And death he received. When Uzzah touched the Ark, he was trying to keep a holy artifact from touching the ground. However, if he had been carrying the Ark properly, this never would have happened. Uzzah, if he were here today, would no doubt protest his self-righteous innocence. However, he has no one to blame but his sinful nature. He was unrepentant, and God struck him down. Ananias and Saphira, likewise, thought they would do something beneficial to God and His church: they decided to sell their house and entrust the money to the church. However, they kept some money back, even though they said they were giving the full sum. They were trying to appear holier than they were, and as Peter pointed out when he confronted them, the money was theirs to do with as the pleased after they sold the house, but they chose to lie about it. They, too, were killed. The same thing happened to Judas, to Saul, and to many, many others throughout the history of the world.

The judgment of God, and thus the truth of this saying, has been heralded and condemned by man a fallible human writer. However, it is the Biblical authors, whose writing was inspired by God, who provide the best evidence in favor of this statement. The author of Hebrews says, in 10:31, that “It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” I assume this verse is where Jonathan Edwards took the title for his famous sermon--”Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”--from. God's judgment, the author says, is “dreadful.” It was certainly dreadful for Uzzah, for Judas, for Ananias and Saphira, and our unrepentance will lead to the same dreadful fate.

Christians have, in various times, denied all three of God's chief qualities: his love, his justice, and his holiness. R.C. Sproul is making a passionate case that none of them can be denied without denying God, and in this instance he is discussing justice. The enthymeme underlining this essay is this: God is holy. God is loving. God is just. God is not just like a judge, or loving like a mother, because He is not fallible or incomplete, so these virtues are represented in Him in perfect, pure form. Human beings pervert His justice, betray His Love, and make a mockery of His judgment. For this, they all deserve to die. God exerted this justice in the cases mentioned by Sproul, and many others. However, His love for us drove him to offer us a way out. He let His Son, Jesus Christ, die on the cross for our sins and the sins of the world (1^st John 2:1.) When we repent of our sins, Christ's blood purifies us and wipes the slate clean; God's justice is satisfied, so is His love, and we begin the long journey to joining Him in holiness. R.C. Sproul sees this clearly, and that is why his quote is so illuminating and indeed, so wise.

God

There is a God. He is omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. He rules over the world as he created it: with his love and tender care. No human can understand Him fully, though many have tried. All that we can do is dedicate our lives to serving the Creator as He has called us to do. To do this we must put aside our human airs and errors. This is not easy. No one is sinless. And yet, it is not impossible. Through the grace of God, we can overcome the struggles of life and sin.

Today, I started reading C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters. It involves a series of letters from an elder demon to his nephew, who is engaged in the process of deceiving a human to sin. These letters are almost comedic in their straightforwardness and candor about the human condition. Through them, I have been given a glimpse of the absurdity of our position.

On this blog and in other places I have made comments that are hurtful. I am not showing Christian love to people. "This is my command: Love each other." This is the greatest commandment, and the hardest to follow.

Goodnight.