Captain Thin

I picked up Peter Hitchens’ book The Rage Against God a couple days back and read it in one sitting. Hitchens is the brother of famed atheist Christopher Hitchens, and while his book is not meant to be a point by point counter to his brother’s God is Not Great, it is nonetheless meant as a general rebuttal to popular atheism. Still, as he is clear, he is “neither a theologian nor even a Bible scholar,” and so his arguments are fundamentally autobiographical and/or journalistic in nature.

Which is probably why I didn’t enjoy the book as much as I thought I might (and on this, I apparently differ from media on both the left and the right who have generally given very positive reviews). The book is divided into three parts: 1, “A Personal Journey Through Atheism”; 2, “Addressing the Three Failed Arguments of Atheism”, and 3, “The League of the Militant Godless”. The first section, which takes up more than half the book, is an autobiographical account of how he had become a militant atheist (even burning his Bible on the school ground at the age of 15) to eventually re-embrace Christianity; an interesting testimony on, as the book’s North American subtitle puts it, “how atheism led me to faith”. The second addresses three arguments of atheism: 1, that conflicts which are purportedly religious are always actually about religion; 2, that coherent morality can exist without reference to God; and 3, that atheist states are not atheist.

The third subject is where Peter Hitchens shines, and it is on this subject that his readers will find him most insightful. Drawing on his own experiences in the USSR and well-researched knowledge of its early history, he demonstrates that the Soviet system was fundamentally atheist at its core (not “religious” as Christopher Hitchens repeatedly attempts to suggest). In doing so, he demonstrates that the actions taken by the “League of the Militant Godless” (an organization in the Soviet Union devoted to wiping out religion) were directly in line with the Soviet Union’s purpose. In the process, he demonstrates that some of today’s extremist atheists (such as Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkings) are advocating positions worryingly like those enacted in the USSR (for example, the argument that parents should not be allowed to teach their children anything about religion until they are 18). The consequences of enacting such laws would lead inevitably, Peter Hitchens suggests, to the destruction of human rights and the increase of suffering (which demonstrably happened in the USSR – a true atheist state).

The book is a generally good read, but if you’re looking for standard apologetics it may not be the book for you. But for what it is, it is a welcome, intelligent addition to the pro-religion/anti-religion debate so popular in the present era.

This evening (or rather, this morning) I finished reading the excellent novel Godric. It seemed well to record my reactions now while they are fresh than to wait until tomorrow when they are likely to have diminished somewhat. Godric is the 1980 work of Frederick Buechner, an ordained Presbyterian minister and award-winning author. Godric itself was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. Perhaps my sentiments on the book are best expressed in saying I consider it a great injustice it did not win.

Wrapped in an unusual but beautiful prose, the novel is a fictionalization of the life of Godric of Finchdale, who died in 1170 A.D. Thereafter he would come to be known as St. Godric, and it is with this treatment of himself as a holy man by others that the protagonist find his main concern. Well over one hundred years in age and nearing death, Godric finds himself joined by Brother Reginald who desires to record an account of his life. But the story he wishes to write is at great odds with that which Godric himself wishes to impart.

In the novel, Godric recounts his life, considering both the present and the past. “I’ve told my life from both its ends at once,” he explains near the end. The first half of his hundred years is his youth, it might be said. This is the story of a man who is not seeking God but is nevertheless being sought by him. The second half, his agedness, is the story of a man who, though still a sinner, is nonetheless one redeemed by God, and who tries to live his life accordingly. And these two aspects of his life are surely not the end of Godric’s story. “The third’s the Godric yet to be,” he confesses, “the Godric God will raise again to life and either burn in Hell as he deserves or caulk and patch until he’s fit to sail to Heaven at last.” Though a hermit for the latter fifty years of his life, he understands that salvation is not dependent on his works. “When I deserved it least, God gave me most,” he admits in humility. One can almost hear Paul’s words to Romans in this passage: “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8)

In reading this book, one cannot help but contemplate again the concept of the monastic or hermitic life. It is certainly an unpopular idea among Protestants today. And yet I must wonder whether this is necessarily a fair judgement. To be sure, the monastic life is not a “better” or more “holy” life. The Confessions speak as much, and with them I do agree. But perhaps it is worth noting it is not a worse life. As in the desert lived John the Baptist, so too there may remain today those who would do well in a monastery or convent. While it is not a higher calling, perhaps it nevertheless remains a calling for some.

The Augsburg Confession (27) condemns the piling on of rules and vows in such institutions, to be sure. But it seems to have no problem with the idea of a “free association”, as monasteries were in Augustine’s time (meaning one could leave at will). It appears to me that the early reformers’ criticisms of monasteries and convents were primarily of the abuses of the institutions and not necessarily of the idea of the institutions themselves. It is worth noting, I think, to remember that the early reformers allowed a number of monasteries to continue to operate after becoming Protestant. In fact, two such German monasteries (Amelungsborn Abbey and Loccum Abbey) continue in uninterupted use to this very day.

What do you think? Is there room in Lutheranism (and Protestantism at large, for that matter) for such institutions? To what extent do modern day bible colleges among evangelicals (at least those that require students to live on campus) provide similar structures to such religious communities? Could a long-term contemporary Protestant order exist today in North America without being thought by the average Christian as a “holier” calling than their own?

Earlier this month, Henry Godnitz’ first book Under the Light of a Tender Moon: Tales of Wonderment was released by Kavalier Media Publishing. While I could certainly point to the influences of Chesterton, Lewis and Tolkien on the book, particularly in its theoretical understanding of fantasy, perhaps this collection of short stories might best be described as Christian fairy tale in the tradition of George MacDonald. From within this literary environment, Godnitz presents a group of tales that centre around paradox. Here you will find juxtaposed the ancient with the contemporary, despair with hope, and the real with the fantastic.

I had the privilege of working with the author during the preparation of the manuscript for publishing. During this time, I was asked to prepare a first draft of what would eventually become the back cover description of the text. The thoughts there expressed (slightly reworded according to the author’s own peculiar literary style) capture well my interpretation of the book:

In contemporary society, the spheres of the real and the fabulous rarely meet. But there exists a moment, that fleeting second between sleep and wakefulness, when these two worlds seem to blend and become one. Such is the realm of Under the Light of a Tender Moon.

Here, in tales of dragons and heroines, soldiers and jewellers, churches and castles, we are reminded that the “happily ever after” of both fairy tales and real life seldom comes without great travail and never without sacrifice. And yet, it cannot be denied that the sempiternal luminosity of the ending makes the pains of the quest infinitely worthwhile.

If you’re looking for positive Christian fantasy, I sincerely recommend you consider Under the Light of a Tender Moon. The book can be purchased from Kavalier Media Publishing’s website here.

Yesterday evening I began reading a book entitled Beyond the Quiet Time: Practical Evangelical Spirituality. For those who know me, it should come as no surprise that on the subject of faith, I tend to prefer matters of an intellectual nature – sometimes, unfortunately, to the degradation of my personal devotional life. In my mind, I know that devotion is a necessary part of faith; but my heart is too often hard when it comes to expressing that devotion itself. I so despise that practice common among too many modern Evangelicals – that is, “zeal without knowledge” (Prov. 19:2) – that I have taken great pains to prevent this error in my own life. But in my good intentions, I have found myself devaluing devotional practices and pushing them to the side.

While I recognize the shortcomings of my own position, I find that I am not impressed by the frequently shallow “devotional” modes of life advocated by large portions of the Church. And so I have sought in my own life to find a balance between mind and heart faith, often unsuccessfully. Enter the book I have above mentioned. In this work, the theologian Alister McGrath attempts to reintroduce a joint heart/head approach to devotion. But rather than explaining what he says, I find it simpler (and more accurate) to let him speak for himself:

“We can read the Bible as a guidebook to Jesus Christ, appreciating the way in which the many strands of the Old Testament find their fulfilment in him. Yet there is another way of reading the Bible, which supplements this. It is to read Scripture in order to deepen our relationship with Jesus Christ; and that means learning more about him (the objective side of things), and deepening our commitment and love for him (the subjective side of things). These two both need to be there. The head and the heart are both caught up in Christian faith” (17).

And again:

“Faith is related to both our minds and our experience; it concerns both Word and Spirit. Christians do not just believe; they believe certain things. Yet Christian faith is about far more than understanding ideas: it is about the transformation of our experience and the renewal of our lives. A fully developed Christian spirituality will thus deal with both these aspects” (21).

Building on this premise, McGrath rightly criticizes Evangelicalism for failing to provide the tools necessary for Christians to engage with Scripture in this deeply important way. The book in question seeks to reverse this problem by providing a structured format for devotion, recognizing the importance of both intellectual aspects [as we seek to gain maturity as we use “the mind to uncover the way in which Christian doctrines relate to and reinforce one another” (21)] while pursuing experiential aspects [as we seek to use “the imagination as to identify and appreciate the emotional aspects of the gospel, and their implications for Christian living” (22)]. The Scripture studies in the book provide (to name but a few of the elements therein) moments where the reader is invited to visualize themselves in various situations, moments for reflection upon the commentary of great Christian writers, and moments to express and exercise their responses to the devotions.

This book is an excellent devotional tool, and I commend it to any who may be seeking to reinvigorate their quiet times with God. The introductory essay is itself an excellent resource, to say nothing of the studies themselves.

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For more information on Alister McGrath, check out his official website here or read the Wikipedia entry. Alister McGrath, formerly Professor of Historical Theology at Oxford University, is currently Professor of Theology, Ministry and Education, and Head of Theology, Religion and Culture at King’s College London. He is the author of numerous books (both popular and academic) including The Dawkins Delusion, Christianity’s Dangerous Idea, and A Passion for Truth.