Several notes to self

A few items loosely tied together by a similar theme that passed through my mind today:

We had a guest speaker at church, and one of the Scripture readings from the evening service struck me as jarringly beautiful.

For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched and to a blazing fire, and to darkness and gloom and whirlwind, and to the blast of a trumpet and the sound of words which sound was such that those who heard begged that no further word be spoken to them. For they could not bear the command, “If even a beast touches the mountain, it will be stoned.” And so terrible was the sight, that Moses said, “I am full of fear and trembling.” But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to myriads of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks better than the blood of Abel.

Hebrews 12.18-24

Hebrews is my favorite book of the Bible, partly because of how artistically-rich it is (the typology, metaphors and illustrations, and heavy use of Old Testament texts make it very familiar to the stuff I study every day in English), but most importantly because it does such a sophisticated job of showing us how all of history acts as a pointer to the glory of God. It's so layered: The theology we confess and the good works we practice are all signposts to the work God has done in the past and promises to do in the future. I love the above passage because it provides a glimpse of God's awe-inspiring, yet also terrifying, holiness in harmony with His unprecedented mercy, made possible in Christ. The Old Testament narratives both pale in comparison to the story of redemption, yet gain incredible significance from it.

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I'm reading a Puritan booklet appropriately titled Stop Loving the World. Purposefully picked it up because I have been very aware of temptation surrounding me lately. It's easy to want to blend into the people around you, or put undo hope in the flattering feedback you receive on work. I've never been so aware of how easily subtle shifts in thought can undermine an entire worldview. (I've also been surprised by how effective consistent prayer is for restoring the Christian state of mind: despite being one of the most mentally-challenging semesters I've experienced, it's probably been my most peaceful one yet....there's definitely a direct relationship.) Anyway, William Greenhill lists four reasons it is foolish to invest yourself in worldly concerns, and I think I need this reminder right now:

1. "It will direct you to things that are merely probable, and make you leave things that are certain." (16)
2. "Supposing we do get the world with our endeavors, we cannot keep it without fear of losing it." (17)
3. "Supposing we do get the things of the world and are able to keep them, they will not satisfy our souls." (17)
4. "Loving the world directs us toward the worst things. All the things of the world are perishing, but the things of God are durable." (19)

It's a bit of a throwback to Boethius and his similar caution against setting your hope in things that will inevitably let you down (i.e. everything not God). Just like Hebrews, we are confronted with what is here now, and what is better, later.

Grad school Stockholm syndrome

too good to keep on fb

I seem to be unable to shake the habit of writing here when I have imminent term paper deadlines. Going to keep justifying the practice as a "warm-up writing exercise." That sounds good. Anyways, in the past few months, I've had all kinds of profound thoughts on such topics as feminist literary theory, privilege, and the horror movie election that just took place. Most likely, they are offensive to both sides of their respective debates, which I find highly entertaining but nevertheless will only discuss in such backwater locations as this blog. That moderate lifestyle though. Going to save those for later and just do a quick school update for now.

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The particular paper I'm avoiding at the moment (as much as I love it) is on Chaucer's Knight's Tale and what appears to be its semi-allegorical narrative of love and salvation. Basically, I was desperate for a topic, so I fell back on my old standby, of rereading the story and hoping for some thread of an idea to jump out at me. Bingo, I wasn't disappointed. There's this interesting moment where Chaucer hints that the conflict between the two knights ultimately comes down to love: they both love the same woman, but for different reasons. It reminded me of a popular idea in Medieval theology, originating in St. Augustine, where all of morality comes down to love: it's a good thing in itself, but it becomes bad when you either love the wrong object, or fail to recognize how a good object ultimately points you back to God. This is huge in Dante's Divine Comedy, especially in Purgatorio, which is about loving earthly things more than God. So my paper will talk about how these ideas show up in Chaucer, and how he seems to advocate a view of salvation as a phenomenon that reorients your love back to God Himself.

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In other research-related news, I had an exciting epiphany late the other night regarding potential PhDs. I've long been contemplating taking the plunge (and I'm still very undecided), but I think I've moved a step forward in finding a potential subject. Both of my college senior thesis projects explored facets of early Baptist literature. In spring, I discovered Benjamin Keach, aka the "it guy" of early Baptist culture. I hadn't been able to do much research on him since, but in procrastinating my current project this past week, I delved a little deeper into some of his collected works. I was shocked to find out he was a bit of a prolific poet.

Being a non-conformist Puritan, Keach would have taken a strongly conservative stance on theological and cultural issues. However, he produced a treasure trove of poetry, especially of the epic genre. This is slightly huge, because the epic was considered the highest form of art in pre-modern culture; in other words, it was the most cosmopolitan, sophisticated, elite type of poetry. With its conventions of florid language, prominent Greek mythology, and humanist themes, it would seem to be the ultimate form of the "worldliness" the Puritans vehemently rejected. But here Keach, one of the leading Baptist theologians, is using it to talk about his faith. Fascinating. He also produced a lot of lyric poetry (much of which was hymn material) that connects him to another of my 17th Century heroes, George Herbert.

A lot of the church scholarship on the early Baptists focuses on their doctrinal treatises, which is understandable, given the fact that today's form of our denomination is still new (50 years or so); we're still in the process of rediscovering the theology of our forefathers. At the same time, I think that it would be a mistake to overlook Keach's penchant for literary experiments; being a representative figure of his contemporary Baptists, his interest in literary theology has a lot to say about early Baptist culture in general.

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That got really long, but writing always helps me sort out my thoughts. Sometimes I think I'm in too deep now - as if, having discovered this gap in scholarship, I have a moral responsibility to address it. I've had professors describe it as a type of calling: you can run from it as much as you want, but it always manages to find you. Maybe I'm not that far yet. But maybe I am.

And now this post has come full circle.