Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Making History (Slice)



"If you are familiar with the writing of the new atheists, you will notice that they often portray history as if there is an ancient and on-going war raging between science and religion. Why is it that such simplistic ways of viewing the past can become so prevalent? (1)

One theory is advanced by Christian Smith in his book Moral Believing Animals. He argues that one of the central, fundamental motivations for human action is the locating of life within a larger external moral order, which in turn dictates a person’s sense of identity and the way in which they act. He claims that, whether or not they realize it, 'all human persons, no matter how well educated, how scientific, how knowledgeable, are, at bottom, believers.' (2)...

In order to make sense of life, he suggests that all individuals perceive the world according to an all-embracing narrative, in which factual information about different events and people is woven into a storyline that makes an overall point. The Scientific Enlightenment Narrative, for example, is one that has been popularized by the new atheists:

“For most of human history, people have lived in the darkness of ignorance and tradition, driven by fear, believing in superstitions. Priest and Lords preyed on such ignorance, and life was wearisome and short. Ever so gradually, however, and often at great cost, inventive men have endeavored better to understand the natural world around them. Centuries of such enquiry eventually led to a marvelous Scientific Revolution that radically transformed our methods of understanding nature. What we know now as a result is based on objective observation, empirical fact, and rational analysis. With each passing decade, science reveals increasingly more about the earth, our bodies, our minds. We have come to possess the power to transform nature and ourselves. We can fortify health, relieve suffering, and prolong life. Science is close to understanding the secret of life and maybe eternal life itself. Of course, forces of ignorance, fear, irrationality and blind faith still threaten the progress of science. But they must be resisted at all costs. For unfettered science is our only hope for true Enlightenment and happiness.”(5)

Although this narrative may seem to be the very opposite of a religious worldview, Smith makes the interesting observation that “what is striking about these major Western narrative traditions is how closely their plots parallel and sometimes mimic the Christian narrative.”(6)

They all include a period of darkness followed by redemption, as well as a promise for the future and the identification of potential threats to the desired utopia. He explains that: “So deep did Christianity’s wagon wheels wear into the ground of Western culture and consciousness that nearly every secular wagon that has followed—no matter how determined to travel a different road—has found it nearly impossible not to ride in the same tracks of the faith of old. Such is the power of the moral order in deeply forming culture and story.”(7)

This is a fascinating observation, because it suggests that the Christian way of perceiving the world still informs the worldview of many of those who think they have jettisoned all the remnants of it. He argues that this pervasiveness is not surprising though, as “the human condition and the character of religion quite naturally fit, cohere, complement and reinforce each other,” because they link the narratives with the historical and personal significances at both the individual and collective level.

The fact that the message is so compelling will come as no surprise to Christians, but, above all, Smith’s work illustrates the problem faced by those who insist that they live by science, logic, and empirical evidence, rather than relying on any belief. It also highlights that there is a considerable blind spot in the thinking of many people today, when it comes to appreciating the role religion has played not only in shaping their own ideas, but also in underpinning core aspects of western society. It may be fashionable to dismiss this foundation, but the final word should perhaps be left to the influential German thinker, Jürgen Habermas, who explains that the Judeo-Christian legacy is neither insignificant, nor should it be forgotten:

'For the normative self-understanding of modernity, Christianity has functioned as more than just a precursor or catalyst. Universalistic egalitarianism, from which sprang the ideals of freedom and a collective life in solidarity, the autonomous conduct of life and emancipation, the individual morality of conscience, human rights and democracy, is the direct legacy of the Judaic ethic of justice and the Christian ethic of love. This legacy, substantially unchanged, has been the object of a continual critical reappropriation and reinterpretation. Up to this very day there is no alternative to it. And in light of the current challenges of a post-national constellation, we must draw sustenance now, as in the past, from this substance. Everything else is idle postmodern talk.'” (8)


--Simon Wenham

(1) Article adapted from Simon Wenham’s, “Making History: The ‘War’ Between Science and Religion,” Pulse, Issue 8 (Summer 2011), pp. 2-4.
(2) C. Smith, Moral Believing Animals (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 54.
(5) Ibid., 69.
(6) Ibid., 72.
(7) Idem.
(8) Ibid., 153.






He's Talking Directly to Me (MM)

President Meyer (President of the Concordia Seminary in St. Louis) sent out these words today in his "Meyer Minutes:"

"The Eye of God" Nebula

"An effective public speaking technique is to lock your eyes on one individual. Instead of only scanning the crowd, back and forth, you pick someone and look only at that person while you speak, staying locked on that person until you sense that the listener realizes, “He’s talking directly to me.”

That, I think, is how the Spirit of God speaks to us. His word “is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword…it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:12-13). Best of all, when God locks in on you, His intent is to speak words of life. “My words are Spirit and life” (John 6:63).

The challenge in public speaking is to make sure that the listener keeps listening, even after your eyes have moved on to someone else. The challenge that can lead you to a richer devotional life is to realize that God’s loving eye never leaves you."

Want more Meyer Minutes??



Monday, February 4, 2013

The Greco-Roman Savior | Peter Scaer



I have been reading through the Gospels this quarter and I'm just about to begin reading Luke again. But, before I start, I found this neat article by Peter Scaer (a Ft. Wayne prof) that describes a few unique things to the Gospel of Luke:

While Matthew focuses on explaining the fulfillment of the prophecies in Christ and Mark is an action-packed cliff-notes version of Matthew, Luke shares the Good news focusing on the Gentiles. He is Savior and Lord to all.
"... To understand Jesus, you must know him as Yahweh, the Lord of Israel... Salvation's story thus requires a new Adam, a truly universal figure for a newly universal out-reach. Enter Luke's Gospel, at once more modern and more ancient, which introduces Christ as the new Adam (Luke 3:23-37) and the whole world as a fit dwelling place for the Lord and his followers...

Luke's lens has a wider angle [than Matthew's]: 'It came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be taxed' (Luke 2:1). For Luke, Bethlehem is on a Roman map. Jesus himself was born, lived, and died in the world of Caesar...

Matthew's Herod appears sinister, even satanic, in his intent to kill, while Luke's Caesar Augustus appears not as God's enemy, but as his puppet... Luke's Pilate may have indeed sentenced Jesus to death, but he did so reluctantly, three times declaring Jesus' innocence...

Rather than oppose Caesar, Luke relativizes him and uses him as a type of sermon illustration... It was commonplace for rulers to call themselves savior and to boast of their abilities as peacemakers and benefactors... Luke thus writes against the backdrop of an Augustus knows as savior, peacemaker, and benefactor. Tellingly, Luke alone among the synoptics calls Jesus 'Savior...'

If history matters, no history matters more than that of the incarnation. At the same time, the study of the classics must remain forward-looking. By entering into the world of Caesar, Jesus embraced the world as it was and saw the opportunities before him..."

If you're interested in the rest of the article (where Scaer describes Christians and Christ himself as early evangelical philosophers), you can snag your own copy of the whole journal for a couple bucks.



For more of the historicity of Advent:

Here's a great article by Gene Edward Veith!!

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Does organized religion have a place in our society?



Richard Dawkins, Andrew Copson, and Arif Ahmed debate against Rowan Williams, Tariq Ramadan, and Douglas Murray over whether or not organized religion has a place in modern (21st century) society (at Cambridge).

The house vote and the end of the debate agreed that the argument was stronger for organized religion as actually serving a purpose than serving none. "Dawkins lost" screeches the headlines of Christian Apologetcs news-lines.

I think it's rather disheartening that they would even focus a debate on whether or not all those people who have lost their lives in order to support the idea of being able to worship together (with their friends and family, wives and children) over the years were actually just in their thoughts. When people can gather together for the worst excuses imaginable such as getting drunk or filming adult movies without it being publicly or culturally disdained, what right do they have for attempting to take away a community service that teaches morals and reason for life in a community setting?

In a world that proclaims a gospel of free thinking... what sort of audacity is there that would attempt to rid the world of a group of like-minded-thinkers (a kin to the groups of atheists and anti-theists who also congregate)?


Saturday, February 2, 2013

Welcome to Zombieland.



The Zombocalypse!!!

In modern culture we have been bombarded time and again with zombie movies, zombie shows, zombie games, zombie survival guides, zombie spoofs, zombie this, and zombie that. It's great for all of those who love the craze, those who can't get enough undead. But, should it be a concern for the rest of us? I think that's a good question. And, depending on how you look at things the answer could be yes or no.

The core principle that we must (as always) discuss is What does this mean? Why have we, as a culture, become so engrossed with the undead? Why are all of these zombie things coming out? Is there a common element between both the creators and the watchers that draws them to this genre?

Now, the Preacher might say that these sort of things are evil, the spawn of Satan himself. He might go on a rant on how we should never be afraid, not even of death, or the undead... that is because his beloved Jesus has beaten death... a resurrection will be a good thing... He might think that the fear of these things might be a sin in itself because it shows a lack of trust in God. Whether or not he is correct, I think there's a lot more to say about the sociological and philosophical trends behind this issue.


Entertainment. That's what it is, isn't it?

Greed lies at the heart of many things. Of course, we have those who are just riding the tide. There are money-bags and kingpins scoring big off of the mesmerization that zombiedom can bring. There are always people in it just for the money, looking to get rich. And, whether or not you agree with their coat-tale-riding philosophy, it is one way to make a living.

Still, that doesn't answer the question. What we're searching for here is why people are able to make money off of these things. The Capitalist Democracy has voted (through their monetary funds) and they have decided that zombies are a good investment of their time and money. There is a demand for the kingpins' supply.

This demand goes even deeper than we may realize. The modern culture isn't the first culture to be interested with things undead. Ever since the dawn of time, man has been fascinated with the ideas of life and death... the things they have in common and the things they do not. In the early years of western culture (Dark Ages and prior), death was a daily thing. People were confronted with it and saw it all the time. It wasn't just something that they heard about on TV. And, that wasn't because they didn't have TV. It was because it wasn't really "news-worthy." Imagine, if only there was a way to beat this ever-prominent tragedy.

Enter, the undead. Tales began being spun about those who came back. There were stories being told of witches and witch-doctors, spirits who haunted the graveyards, skeletons rising from their tombs and undead monsters that lurked in the night. To beat death was one thing. But, to come back was another.

Early man wasn't stupid. In their daily witnessing of the dead they saw the maggots and worms, the rats and the scavengers, the rotting and the stench of the decomposed bodies. They knew what death looked like. And, they knew that to come back to that body would be hell.

It would be a wondrous miracle for man to beat the evident evil called death, to live forever free of its reign. They would no longer need to fear the end of their lives. The fear for their family continuing on without their support, the fear of the pain and agony that death must be, and the fear that they do not know what happens next would all completely vanish.

But, to come back to those wretched and putrid bodies, to reenter the carcass of what they once were, to rejoin the living not alive but undead, would be a fate worse than the death that they had primarily feared.


The Fear Factor...

There was no way out. They knew that man had to die. And, they knew that coming back to their bodies would be even worse. They didn't know how they could do away with death once and for all. They didn't know if there would ever be away to defeat this universal and extremely personal present evil. They didn't know why man had to go through this dastardly deed let alone understand how exactly it worked.

We fear what we do not know. Or, at least, we used to...

There's something fascinating about fear. I don't know why. Maybe it's the sudden breath-taking shock that immediately awakens your mind into alertness. Maybe it's that adrenaline kick that bursts through your system making you ready to fight or flight if you had to. Maybe it's the unusual feeling of helplessness that gets your giddies going. But, whatever the case, fear plays a factor.

There's a whole genre dedicated to spreading horror. There are movies, shows, and games about everything from Frankenstein and Dracula to Slither and Big Daddies. There are giant worms who feast off of human beings and female reproductive organs that swallow men whole. A young man feeds the world to carnivorous plants and there are lunatical derby drivers who willingly slay one another for a price. Do you still think the world's alright?? Anyway, these are beside the point. Pouring out of the deepest darkest innards of this realm of horror the undead gush out into a genre of their own.

People may be seeing these movies and shows and playing these video and board games because they are truly afraid of the monsters that are depicted. Perhaps, they do get their giddies out of slaying the undead beast that had first wanted to slay them. Perhaps, they consider it morally and justly sound to kill something that was just about to eat their brain. Maybe it makes them feel good. It could make them feel like they're in control of their fear. And, I'm just as sure that there are those odd cases who are consciously willing to desensitize themselves from their own fear.

But, not everyone is afraid of these things. Even if at one time the child inside the zombie-film fan had been deathly afraid of the monster on the screen, it is more-often the case that there is no longer any real fear there at all. I, for one, know that I'm not afraid. So, what is this draw, this demand?

Once, we were afraid of what we did not know. But, it seems that now there is more apathy than fear. Something we don't understand becomes something we don't really care about. We wouldn't have had any power over something like that anyway... Maybe by becoming apathetic we can pretend to be ignorant. Because we don't care, we don't allow ourselves to see the gravity of the whole situation. We can no longer understand why we should see something as a threat because we had never really given it a second thought in the first place. Anyway...

I found out a long time ago that most horror films suck. If I cannot logically follow the premise, if the movie doesn't explain away the common-sensicalities, then I get bored out of my skull. The only really horrific movies that I can get into are the ones with demons or people who have gone mad. Those seem to be the two most logically sound ideas. Monsters are pretty entertaining, but there are usually common flaws in the way that they are built or maintain themselves that explain them away. Now-a-days vampires kill the original meaning of Dracula. I do like Frankenstein and werewolves, but I seem to be the only one. Plagues and/or viruses seem more far-fetched than I'd want to believe. Perhaps that's my apathy showing up again. But, Zombies are something else.

Although, I am not afraid, I am drawn to the newer zombie films. Why is that?




As I said, Zombies are a whole other genre. What they have lacked in plausibility, they have begun to make up for in story-telling and comedy. But, even more-so, they have done something completely different. They have something specifically geared to this modern generation. It's one of the things that I wouldn't have expected. But, it's perhaps the only thing that makes a story worth telling.

Relatability.

The other horrific monster films obviously have a taint of relatability. But, none of them speak as well to the current world as the undead do.




Why? Because, we have become the monster. This is nothing new.

For ages upon ages, we have known that man is a moral monster. You didn't know that? Just think. (Whether or not you do actually believe absolutes exists:) If you had to prove that there is such a thing as "Good" you could use anything from sunrises and sunsets to love and personal inspiration. That is to say, good stretches all the way from the simplest of nature to the deepest parts of man. Now, try to prove that "Evil" exists. It's not too hard, really. But, I bet that you didn't think of nature. You most-likely thought of mankind.

I do not mean to say that there is no evil in nature. Darwin himself said, "I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created parasitic wasps with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of Caterpillars." Still, this type of evil... seems natural. The world just works that way. It doesn't really seem too Bad... let alone Evil. There's something about nature that seems to suggest that it's fine just the way it is. There's something different about humanity. I venture to say that in your attempt to show that Evil exists, you used some sort of human example. You might have thought of the Holocaust or the Connecticut shootings. You might have thought about the love of your life who just-so-happened to rip your heart out and then date your best friend or you might have thought of a hunter killing the last known animal of a certain species. In whatever you chose, it made humanity out to be the bad guy.

In some obscure vein of the public media, we have stumbled upon a reflecting pool. With all of these zombie movies and their horrific predecessor monster films, we are able to see a new light on humanity itself. We are able to remove the veil from the mirror for glimpse of who we really are.

And, who we are scares us.

We see our apathy for what it truly is. It isn't just a chill sort of nonchalance, it isn't just part of who we are to seem cool, in fact, it isn't an act at all. We realize something.

We're dead inside.

We know why zombies crave flesh, blood, and braaains. We're starved for live. We crave anything that makes us feel... anything that can bring us back to life. From sex, drugs, violence... to even horror films... WE WANT TO FEEL.

There's something within sentient and conscious life that makes us think, "We should be better." "We don't have to live like this." "We don't have to be heartless." But, there's also something within our life that hinders us from searching for a cure.



It isn't just a singular personal problem. The whole world is infested. Do you know what America's biggest fear is? It isn't terrorism or disease. It isn't rabid dogs or the dark. Death is number two. America's biggest fear is public speaking. Do you know why? There are zombies out there.

You know what I mean. When someone gets up to speak in public, they know the crowd is judging them. They know that their reputation's at stake. No matter what the speaker says, there will be criticism. And, there's always more bad criticism than good. It isn't only the speaker who feels dead inside. It isn't only a personal problem. They know their audience is dead too.

What keeps them undead is the fact that they still move around. Although, they no longer feel. They no longer care. Their hearts are cold. They remain animate. They yearn for life. But, they come up short. And, while that poor zombie's up there on the podium speaking to all the others, the only life they feel is from tearing her down.

This isn't the only infestation. Have you gone outside? Have you walked the streets? Been to the grocery store? The mall? Public places are always the worst and most-dangerous in the Zombieland. Do you know why? That's where the people were. Daily, we bear witness to the undead. It isn't like the dead that those in the early years saw (above). It's different. It's worse. Although the people out there sure act as if they are alive. They are dead inside. I know it. You know it. They no longer care for the living. They don't give you a smile. They don't wave or say, "Hi." They don't open the door or acknowledge your existence. You'd be lucky if they're talking on the phone. Then, at least, you'd be able to hear their voice... to see that they can come alive when they're talking to someone they already know.

Perhaps the draw to these movies is that they make us feel alive. They show to us that we aren't as dead as the undead on the screen. But, that just hides the fact that we are still dead inside. And, ironically, it shares the fact of how the world really is.

We need something to bring life to our being... to warm our bodies. We look for it in food, love, and entertainment. But, we still often fall short. Many have given up, they proclaim that, "There is no cure!!" Some have become happy with living in ignorance and apathy. Still, many others have been drawn to different stimulus. They seek answers in science, philosophy, or religion.

So far, it seems, the only place that claims a cure is in the Judeo-Christian faith.

The Everlasting Man | The Demons

"Beauty and terror are very real things... to touch them at all, even in doubt or fancy, is to stir the deep things of the soul (p.70)...


I have dwelt at some little length on this imaginative sort of paganism, which has crowded the world with temples and is everywhere the parent of popular festivity. For the central history of civilisation, as I see it, consists of two further stages before the final stage of Christendom. The first was the struggle between this paganism and something less worthy than itself, and the second the process by which it grew in itself less worthy.

In this very varied and often very vague polytheism there was a weakness of original sin. Pagan gods were depicted as tossing men like dice; and indeed they are loaded dice. About sex especially men are born unbalanced; we might almost say men are born mad. They scarcely reach sanity till they reach sanctity. This disproportion dragged down the winged fancies; and filled the end of paganism with a mere filth and litter of spawning gods.

But the first point to realise is that this sort of paganism had an early collision with another sort of paganism; and that the issue of that essentially spiritual struggle really determined the history of the world. In order to understand it we must pass to a review of the other kind of paganism. It can be considered much more briefly; indeed there is a very real sense in which the less that is said about it the better. If we have called the first sort of mythology the day-dream, we might very well call the second sort of mythology the nightmare (p.75).

Superstition recurs in all ages, and especially in rationalistic ages. I remember defending the religious tradition against a whole luncheon table of distinguished agnostics; and before the end of our conversation every one of them had procured from his pocket, or exhibited on his watch-chain, some charm or talisman from which he admitted that he was never separated. I was the only person present who had neglected to provide himself with a fetish.

Superstition recurs in a rationalist age because it rests on something which, if not identical with rationalism, is not unconnected with scepticism. It is at least very closely connected with agnosticism. It rests on something that is really a very human and intelligible sentiment... But it is an agnostic sentiment, for it rests on two feelings: first that we do not really know the laws of the universe; and second that they may be very different to all we call reason.

Such men realise the real truth that enormous things do often turn upon tiny things. When a whisper comes, from tradition or what not, that one particular tiny thing is the key or clue, something deep and not altogether senseless in human nature tells them that it is not unlikely. This feeling exists in both the forms of paganism here under consideration [See the first form here.]. But when we come to the second form of it, we find it transformed and filled with another and more terrible spirit.

In dealing with the lighter thing called mythology, I have said little about the most disputable aspect of it; the extent to which such invocation of the spirits of the sea or the elements can indeed call spirits from the vasty deep; or rather... whether the spirits come when they are called. I believe that I am right in thinking that this problem, practical as it sounds, did not play a dominant part in the poetical business of mythology.

But when we come to the world of superstition, in a more subtle sense, there is a shade of difference; a deepening and a darkening shade. Doubtless most popular superstition is as frivolous as any popular mythology. Men do not believe as a dogma that God would throw a thunderbolt at them for walking under a ladder; more often they amuse themselves with the not very laborious exercise of walking round it. There is no more in it than what I have already adumbrated; a sort of airy agnosticism [not-knowing-ness] about the possibilities of so strange a world...

There is another sort of superstition that does definitely look for results; what might be called a realistic superstition. And with that the question of whether spirits do answer or do appear becomes much more serious... Whether it be because the Fall has really brought men nearer to less desirable neighbours in the spiritual world, or whether it is merely that the mood of men eager or greedy finds it easier to imagine evil, I believe that the black magic of witchcraft has been much more practical and much less poetical than the white magic of mythology (p.76)...


I fancy the evil field has even been more fruitful than the good. To start with, some impulse, perhaps a sort of desperate impulse, drove men to the darker powers when dealing with practical problems. There was a sort of secret and perverse feeling that the darker powers would really do things; that they had no nonsense about them. And indeed that popular phase exactly expresses the point. The gods of mere
mythology had a great deal of nonsense about them. They had a great deal of good nonsense about them; in the happy and hilarious sense in which we talk of the nonsense of Jabberwocky or the Land where Jumblies live. But the man consulting a demon felt as many a man has felt in consulting a detective, especially a private detective; that it was dirty work but the work would really be done...

In the accounts given us of many rude or savage races we gather that the cult of demons often came after the cult of deities, and even after the cult of one single and supreme deity. It may be suspected that in almost all such places the higher deity is felt to be too far off for appeal in certain petty matters, and men invoke the spirits because they are in a more literal sense familiar spirits. But with the idea of employing the demons who get things done, a new idea appears more worthy of the demons. It may indeed be truly described as the idea of being worthy of the demons; of making oneself fit for their fastidious and exacting society.

Superstition of the lighter sort toys with the idea that some trifle, some small gesture such as throwing the salt, may touch the hidden spring that works the mysterious machinery of the world. And there is after all something in the idea of such an Open Sesame. But with the appeal to lower spirits comes the horrible notion that the gesture must not only be very small but very low; that it must be a monkey trick of an utterly ugly and unworthy sort. Sooner or later a man deliberately sets himself to do the most disgusting thing he can think of. It is felt that the extreme of evil will extort a sort of attention or answer from the evil powers under the surface of the world (p.77)...

All over the world the traces can be found of this striking and solid fact, so curiously overlooked by the moderns who speak of all such evil as primitive and early in evolution, that as a matter of fact some of the very highest civilisations of the world were the very places where the horns of Satan were exalted, not only to the stars but in the face of the sun.


A South American idol was made as ugly as possible, as a Greek image was made as beautiful as possible. They were seeking the secret of power, by working backwards against their own nature and the nature of things. There was always a sort of yearning to carve at last, in gold or granite or the dark red timber of the forests, a face at which the sky itself would break like a cracked mirror (p.78)...

This inverted imagination produces things of which it is better not to speak. Some of them indeed might almost be named without being known; for they are of that extreme evil which seems innocent to the innocent. They are too inhuman even to be indecent. But without dwelling much longer in these dark corners, it may be noted as not irrelevant here that certain anti-human antagonisms seem to recur in this tradition of black magic. There may be suspected as running through it everywhere, for instance, a mystical hatred of the idea of childhood. People would understand better the popular fury against the witches, if they remembered that the malice most commonly attributed to
them was preventing the birth of children (p.79)...


Friday, February 1, 2013

The Everlasting Man | Man and Mythologies

"The twilight of that dream in which the gods walk about like men (p.64)...


What are here called the Gods might almost alternatively be called the day-dreams. To compare them to dreams is not to deny that dreams can come true. To compare them to travellers' tales is not to deny that they may be true tales, or at least truthful tales. In truth they are the sort of tales the traveller tells to himself.

All this mythological business belongs to the poetical part of men. It seems strangely forgotten nowadays that a myth is a work of imagination and therefore a work of art. It needs a poet to make it. It needs a poet to criticise it. There are more poets than non-poets in the world, as is proved by the popular origin of such legends. But for some reason I have never heard explained, it is only the minority of unpoetical people who are allowed to write critical studies of these popular poems... Unless these things are appreciated artistically they are not appreciated at all... Mythology is a lost art, one of the few arts that really are lost; but it is an art [The signature of man (p.18).]...

Thus scientists seldom understand, as artists understand, that one branch of the beautiful is the ugly. They seldom allow for the legitimate liberty of the grotesque... It is the supreme proof of a man being
prosaic that he always insists on poetry being poetical (p.64-65)...

Moreover, even where the fables are inferior as art, they cannot be properly judged by science; still less properly judged as science. Some myths are very crude and queer like the early drawings of children; but the child is trying to draw. It is none the less an error to treat his drawing as if it were a diagram, or intended to be a diagram. The student cannot make a scientific statement about the savage, because the savage is not making a scientific statement about the world. He is saying something quite different...

The whole trouble comes from a man trying to look at these stories from the outside, as if they were scientific objects. He has only to look at them from the inside, and ask himself how he would begin a story. A story may start with anything and go anywhere. It may start with a bird without the bird being a totem; it may start with the sun without being a solar myth. It is said there are only ten plots in the world; and there will certainly be common and recurrent elements. Set ten thousand children talking at once, and telling tarradiddles about what they did in the wood, and it will not be hard to find parallels suggesting sun-worship or animal worship. Some of the stories may be pretty and some silly and some perhaps dirty; but they can only be judged as stories.

In the modern dialect, they can only be judged aesthetically. It is strange that aesthetics, or mere feeling, which is now allowed to usurp where it has no rights at all, to wreck reason with pragmatism and morals with anarchy, is apparently not allowed to give a purely aesthetic judgement on what is obviously a purely aesthetic question. We may be fanciful about everything except fairy-tales.

Now the first fact is that the most simple people have the most subtle ideas. Everybody ought to know that, for everybody has been a child. Ignorant as a child is, he knows more than he can say and feels not only atmospheres but fine shades. And in this matter there are several fine shades.


Nobody understands it who has not had what can only be called the ache of the artist to find some sense and some story in the beautiful things he sees; his hunger for secrets and his anger at any tower or tree escaping with its tale untold. He feels that nothing is perfect unless it is personal. Without that the blind unconscious beauty of the world stands in its garden like a headless statue. One need only be a very minor poet to have wrestled with the tower or the tree until it spoke like a titan or a dryad. It is often said that pagan mythology was a personification of the powers of nature. The phrase is true in a sense, but it is very unsatisfactory; because it implies that the forces are abstractions and the personification is artificial. Myths are not allegories. Natural powers are not in this case abstractions...

The test therefore is purely imaginative. But imaginative does not mean imaginary. It does not follow that it is all what the moderns call subjective, when they mean false. Every true artist does feel, consciously or unconsciously, that he is touching transcendental truths; that his images are shadows of things seen through the veil. In other words, the natural mystic does know that there is something there; something behind the clouds or within the trees; but he believes that the pursuit of beauty is the way to find it; that imagination is a sort of incantation that can call it up.

Now we do not comprehend this process in ourselves, far less in our most remote fellow-creatures And the danger of these things being classified is that they may seem to be comprehended (p.66-67)...

[These] day-dreams could be acted in broad daylight, with more liberty of artistic expression; but still perhaps with something of the light step of the somnambulist. ...They have the sort of sincerity that they always had; the sincerity of art as a symbol that expresses very real spiritualities under the surface of life. But they are only sincere in the same sense as art; not sincere in the same sense as morality (p.69)...


Behind all these things is the fact that beauty and terror are very real things and related to a real spiritual world; and to touch them at all, even in doubt or fancy, is to stir the deep things of the soul. We all understand that and the pagans understood it. The point is that paganism did not really stir the soul except with these doubts and fancies, with the consequence that we to-day can have little beyond doubts and fancies about paganism... All this vagueness and variation arise from the fact that the whole thing began in fancy and in dreaming; and that there are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds (p.70)...

In reality the rivers of mythology and philosophy run parallel and do not mingle till they meet in the sea of Christendom. Simple secularists still talk as if the Church had introduced a sort of schism between reason and religion. The truth is that the Church was actually the first thing that ever tried to combine reason and religion. There had never before been any such union of the priests and the philosophers. Mythology, then, sought god through the imagination; or sought truth by means of beauty, in the sense in which beauty includes much of the most grotesque ugliness. But the imagination has its own laws and therefore its own triumphs, which neither logicians nor men of science can understand...

We all feel what is meant by Prometheus stealing fire from heaven, until some prig of a pessimist or progressive person explains what it means... We all know the meaning of Jack and the Beanstalk, until we are told. In this sense it is true that it is the ignorant who accept myths, but only because it is the ignorant who appreciate poems. Imagination has its own laws and triumphs; and a tremendous power began to clothe its images, whether images in the mind or in the mud... But there was always a trouble in the triumph...

The crux and crisis is that man found it natural to worship; even natural to worship unnatural things. The posture of the idol might be stiff and strange; but the gesture of the worshipper was generous and beautiful. He not only felt freer when he bent; he actually felt taller when he bowed. Henceforth anything that took away the gesture of worship would stunt and even maim him for ever. Henceforth being merely secular would be a servitude and an inhibition. If man cannot pray he is gagged; if he cannot kneel he is in irons. We therefore feel throughout the whole of paganism a curious double feeling of trust and distrust. When the man makes the gesture of salutation and of sacrifice, when he pours out the libation or lifts up the sword, he knows he is doing a worthy and a virile thing. He knows he is doing one of the things for which a man was made.

His imaginative experiment is therefore justified. But precisely because it began with imagination, there is to the end something of mockery in it (p.71-72)...

The Praying Boy may be said to express a need rather than to satisfy a need. It is by a normal and necessary action that his hands are lifted; but it is no less a parable that his hands are empty... [Instinct]  refers back to that vast and half-forgotten conception of universal fatherhood. which we have already seen everywhere fading from the morning sky. This is true; and yet it is not all the truth...

In a word, mythology is a search; it is something that combines a recurrent desire with a recurrent doubt, mixing a most hungry sincerity in the idea of seeking for a place with a most dark and deep and mysterious levity about all the places found. [Attempting to fill the God-shaped vacuum of the soul.] So far could the lonely imagination lead and we must turn later to the lonely reason. Nowhere along this road did the two ever travel together.

That is where all these things differed from religion or the reality in which these different dimensions met in a sort of solid. They differed from the reality not in what they looked like but in what they were. A picture may look like a landscape; it may look in every detail exactly like a landscape. The only detail
in which it differs is that it is not a landscape. The difference is only that which divides a portrait of Queen Elizabeth from Queen Elizabeth. Only in this mythical and mystical world the portrait could exist before the person; and the portrait was therefore more vague and doubtful. But anybody who has felt and fed on the atmosphere of these myths will know what I mean, when I say that in one sense they did not really profess to be realities.

The pagans had dreams about realities... The dreams do indeed tend to be very vivid dreams when they
touch on those tender or tragic things, which can really make a sleeper awaken with the sense that his heart has been broken in his sleep. They tend continually to hover over certain passionate themes of meeting and parting, of a life that ends in death or a death that is the beginning of life... There mingles with all such mourning the mystical and profound sense that death can be a deliverer and an appeasement; that such death gives us a divine blood for a renovating river and that all good is found in gathering the broken body of the god. We may truly call these foreshadowing; so long as we remember that foreshadowings are shadows. And the metaphor of a shadow happens to hit very exactly the truth that is very vital here. For a shadow is a shape; a thing which reproduces shape but not texture. These things were something like the real thing; and to say that they were like is to say that they were different. Saying something is like a dog is another way of saying it is not a dog; and it is in this sense of identity that a myth is not a man.

There was no idea that any one of them had changed the world; but rather that their recurrent death and life bore the sad and beautiful burden of the changelessness of the world. Not one of them was a revolution, save in the sense of the revolution of the sun and moon. Their whole meaning is missed if we do not see that they mean the shadows that we are and the shadows that we pursue. In certain sacrificial and communal aspects they naturally suggest what sort of a god might satisfy them; but they do not profess to be satisfied. Anyone who says they do is a bad judge of poetry.

Those who talk about Pagan Christs have less sympathy with Paganism than with Christianity. Those who call these cults 'religions,' and 'compare' them with the certitude and challenge of the Church have much less appreciation than we have of what made heathenism human, or of why classic literature is still something that hangs in the air like a song. It is no very human tenderness for the hungry to prove that hunger is the same as food. It is no very genial understanding of youth to argue that hope destroys the need for happiness. And it is utterly unreal to argue that these images in the mind, admired entirely
in the abstract, were even in the same world with a living man and a living polity that were worshipped because they were concrete. We might as well say that a boy playing at robbers is the same as a man in his first day in the trenches...

They are fundamentally different exactly where they are superficially similar; we might almost say they are not the same even when they are the same. They are only different because one is real and the other is not. I do not mean merely that I myself believe that one is true and the other is not. I mean that one was never meant to be true in the same sense as the other...

We know the meaning of all the myths. We know the last secret revealed to the perfect initiate. And it is not the voice of a priest or a prophet saying 'These things are.' It is the voice of a dreamer and an idealist crying, 'Why cannot these things be?' (p.73-75)..."