The Birthmark
The scientist Alymer in Hawthorne’s “The Birthmark” attempts to sanctify his wife of her impurities through scientific procedures. While this endeavor of human science aims at attaining perfection during the present life, it ultimately comes at the cost of earthly life. In Alymer’s attempt to rid Georgiana’s face of a hideous birthmark, he ends up ultimately killing her. Georgiana’s blemish is so intrinsically tied to who she is as a physical human being that it cannot die unless she dies with it. Using the intellect to harness nature, humans can strive for their own sanctification, but ultimately they are too tied to their imperfections to live without them. As Alymer and Georgiana exemplify, man’s hatred of sin can lead him to destroy his companions by seeking to perfect them according to his own means. By taking the task of sanctification into his own hands, Alymer kills his wife.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Sin and Community in Hawthorne's Stories: Part 2
The Minister's Black Veil
In “The Minister’s Black Veil,” Hawthorne shows us a man who bears an outward sign of hidden sin. Hooper dons a veil that represents the man’s hypocritical concealment of his sin from others. Whereas the revelation of hidden sins is destructive for Goodman Brown, the intentional exposure of man’s hypocrisy serves as a didactic tool for Reverend Hooper. However, even this willful confession of sinfulness cuts him off from relationships. As he says to his fiancé Elizabeth, “This dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!” Elizabeth stays loyal to Mr. Hooper to the end of his life, but it is unclear as to whether they actually marry, and she never again sees his face. Although Hooper hopes for the removal of his veil in eternity, he offers no solution to the problem of hiddenness and isolation for the present life, and his participation in community is forever shrouded by the horrific veil upon his face. Men and women look upon him with dismay and children flee him with fright. While looking hopefully heavenward, Hooper neglects to seek sanctification in the present life. Instead, he continues to bear the sign of hypocrisy upon his face. It seems that Hooper, like Goodman Brown, offers no means of sanctification from sin during the present life, and hence loses his ability for unobstructed community with those around him.
In “The Minister’s Black Veil,” Hawthorne shows us a man who bears an outward sign of hidden sin. Hooper dons a veil that represents the man’s hypocritical concealment of his sin from others. Whereas the revelation of hidden sins is destructive for Goodman Brown, the intentional exposure of man’s hypocrisy serves as a didactic tool for Reverend Hooper. However, even this willful confession of sinfulness cuts him off from relationships. As he says to his fiancé Elizabeth, “This dismal shade must separate me from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!” Elizabeth stays loyal to Mr. Hooper to the end of his life, but it is unclear as to whether they actually marry, and she never again sees his face. Although Hooper hopes for the removal of his veil in eternity, he offers no solution to the problem of hiddenness and isolation for the present life, and his participation in community is forever shrouded by the horrific veil upon his face. Men and women look upon him with dismay and children flee him with fright. While looking hopefully heavenward, Hooper neglects to seek sanctification in the present life. Instead, he continues to bear the sign of hypocrisy upon his face. It seems that Hooper, like Goodman Brown, offers no means of sanctification from sin during the present life, and hence loses his ability for unobstructed community with those around him.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Sin and Community in Hawthorne's Stories: Part 1
In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short stories, there is a recurring theme of sin and hypocrisy obstructing human relationships. Again and again, sin destroys the characters’ images of one another and their ability to relate. It seems that Hawthorne’s characters lack an ability to deal properly with sin in community because they lack an adequate concept of sanctification.
In a brief series of posts, I will explore this concept in “Young Goodman Brown,” “The Minister’s Black Veil,” and “The Birthmark,” and then give my own reflections based on Scripture.
Young Goodman Brown
In “Young Goodman Brown”, Goodman Brown’s exposure to his community’s depravity causes him to retreat from the community, from his family, and ultimately from his Faith. Having based his Christianity on the perception of others’ righteousness, Goodman Brown’s trust is shattered when he realizes that the people he had looked up to are imperfect (this statement assumes some interpretation, which I’d be happy to defend if requested). During Brown’s chilling and mysterious experience in the woods, he realizes that “Evil is the nature of mankind,” and he quits hoping that virtue “were not all a dream.” All that Brown now sees in people is depravity, and he lives the rest of his life avoiding them “as if to avoid an anathema,” seeing no hope for their redemption. He is hopeless even to his death, and “they carved no hopeful verse upon his tomb-stone.” Goodman Brown’s problem is that he sees only sin and has no concept of sanctification – his realization of sinfulness is the end of his faith, rather than a motivation to seek purification. Because of his inability to see the process of sanctification that fallen man is in, Goodman Brown is unable to live with the imperfections of those around him, and he withdraws from community.
In a brief series of posts, I will explore this concept in “Young Goodman Brown,” “The Minister’s Black Veil,” and “The Birthmark,” and then give my own reflections based on Scripture.
Young Goodman Brown
In “Young Goodman Brown”, Goodman Brown’s exposure to his community’s depravity causes him to retreat from the community, from his family, and ultimately from his Faith. Having based his Christianity on the perception of others’ righteousness, Goodman Brown’s trust is shattered when he realizes that the people he had looked up to are imperfect (this statement assumes some interpretation, which I’d be happy to defend if requested). During Brown’s chilling and mysterious experience in the woods, he realizes that “Evil is the nature of mankind,” and he quits hoping that virtue “were not all a dream.” All that Brown now sees in people is depravity, and he lives the rest of his life avoiding them “as if to avoid an anathema,” seeing no hope for their redemption. He is hopeless even to his death, and “they carved no hopeful verse upon his tomb-stone.” Goodman Brown’s problem is that he sees only sin and has no concept of sanctification – his realization of sinfulness is the end of his faith, rather than a motivation to seek purification. Because of his inability to see the process of sanctification that fallen man is in, Goodman Brown is unable to live with the imperfections of those around him, and he withdraws from community.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Mr. Darcy isn't Perfect
I've frequently heard guys lament that young women are too insistent upon holding them up to an unattainable "Mr. Darcy standard." I wonder, however, why Mr. Darcy should be considered such a formidable foe to the young men that must bear comparison with him: as I was thinking while editing a friend's Pride and Prejudice essay this week, Mr. Darcy isn't perfect. He's quite imperfect, in fact, as even the title of the book attests: who daydreams about a man characterized by things like prejudice and pride?
I think that his very imperfection, however, is ultimately a reason for Mr. Darcy's appeal, as well as Austen's insight as an author. Mr. Darcy is anything but charming at first - he is aloof and scornful, and his people skills are certainly lacking. As his first proposal manifests, his communication skills are a complete wreck. He is even susceptible to serious character flaws such as the propensity to hold grudges, as he himself confesses (his "good opinion once lost is lost forever."). But Darcy's strength lies in the fact that, as Lizzy realizes, "He improves upon closer acquaintance." As it turns out, Mr. Darcy is a good man beneath all of his seemingly-glaring flaws; it just takes a lot of work to realize the depth of his virtue. Austen has created Darcy as an authentic human character, with flaws and strengths all mixed in together. As in any real human relationship, it takes really getting to know Darcy for Lizzy to appreciate his true qualities. Genuinely getting to know someone is a difficult process, as favorable and unfavorable layers of a person's character are revealed, but it is necessary to true relationships, and as Pride and Prejudice depicts, it can be truly rewarding.
If a young man fears that he'll never live up to Mr. Darcy's apparently perfect example, he should consider that, were a girl to meet a real life Mr. Darcy, there would be occasions when she would think even him an utter failure according to the idealized "Mr. Darcy standard." When it comes to human character, perfection isn't requisite to goodness.
I think that his very imperfection, however, is ultimately a reason for Mr. Darcy's appeal, as well as Austen's insight as an author. Mr. Darcy is anything but charming at first - he is aloof and scornful, and his people skills are certainly lacking. As his first proposal manifests, his communication skills are a complete wreck. He is even susceptible to serious character flaws such as the propensity to hold grudges, as he himself confesses (his "good opinion once lost is lost forever."). But Darcy's strength lies in the fact that, as Lizzy realizes, "He improves upon closer acquaintance." As it turns out, Mr. Darcy is a good man beneath all of his seemingly-glaring flaws; it just takes a lot of work to realize the depth of his virtue. Austen has created Darcy as an authentic human character, with flaws and strengths all mixed in together. As in any real human relationship, it takes really getting to know Darcy for Lizzy to appreciate his true qualities. Genuinely getting to know someone is a difficult process, as favorable and unfavorable layers of a person's character are revealed, but it is necessary to true relationships, and as Pride and Prejudice depicts, it can be truly rewarding.
If a young man fears that he'll never live up to Mr. Darcy's apparently perfect example, he should consider that, were a girl to meet a real life Mr. Darcy, there would be occasions when she would think even him an utter failure according to the idealized "Mr. Darcy standard." When it comes to human character, perfection isn't requisite to goodness.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Mirror of Nature: Shakespeare's Theatrical Project in Hamlet
Often today, we learn Shakespeare as literature rather than theater. This has certainly been the case in my own education. We forget, however, that during Shakespeare's career, his contemporary, Ben Johnson, was censured for presuming to publish his 'playes' as 'workes' of literature. Shakespeare was a professional playwright, and his venue was the theater, not the press (although his plays were eventually published). A look at the theatrical world of Shakespeare's day enables us to appreciate his work on more levels that we can if we only read his plays as literature. Additionally, it opens our eyes to a better understanding of Shakespeare's artistic project on the whole.
Shakespeare is a very self-conscious playwright, as it turns out. His works are full metatheatrical and theatrically self-aware moments, and Hamlet is a prime example. Certain lines of the play can only be fully appreciated in light of their original theatrical context. The theater business of Elizabethan and Jacobean London consisted of theater companies which would perform frequently for regular audiences. Like the movie industry today, the public was typically more familiar with the actors than with particular plays. Plays were made popular by the actors who stared in them, such as Richard Burbage and Edward Alleyn, who popularized Hamlet and Tamberlain, respectively (Burbage and Alleyn were lead actors of the rival theater companies, Lord Chamberlain’s Men and Admiral’s Men, who held a duopoly in the London theater business).
In Hamlet, Shakespeare capitalizes on his audience’s familiarity with the cast to make a metatheatrical joke that is actually extremely relevant to the play’s plot. It is found in Act three, Scene two:
HAMLET: [TO POLONIUS] MY LORD, YOU PLAYED ONCE I’TH’ UNIVERSITY, YOU SAY?
POLONIUS: THAT I DID, MY LORD, AND WAS ACCOUNTED A GOOD ACTOR.
HAMLET: AND WHAT DID YOU ENACT?
POLONIUS: I DID ENACT JULIUS CAESAR. I WAS KILLED I’TH’ CAPITOL. BRUTUS KILLED ME.
While this comment might seem irrelevant to the modern reader, Shakespeare’s audience would have recognized that John Hemmings, who acted the part of Polonius, had also acted the part of Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, which would have been performed not long before Hamlet (G.R. Hibbard suggests that the two plays were in the company’s repertory at the same time: 1599-1601). Additionally, Richard Burbage, who played Hamlet, had also played the Brutus who killed Caesar, played by Hemmings. In a subtle way, Polonius/Hemmings is foretelling his own death at the hands of Hamlet/Brutus/Burbage. Through theatrically self-conscious references such as these, Shakespeare is reminding his audience that they are sitting in a theater, watching actors. This awareness gets right to the heart of Shakespeare’s project in Hamlet (one of the projects, at least; Hamlet addresses multiple big topics).
In Hamlet, Shakespeare is exploring the nature of acting and theater, and how theater functions as a form of art, representation, expression, and communication. It features a play within a play, and a whole speech instructing players how to act. The whole play is rife with the language of action, performance, speech, authenticity, disguise and perception. In his own actions, Hamlet puts on a deceptive performance of madness, and on stage, he presents a revealing representation of his uncle's sin. Hamlet exhorts his players to act authentically on stage:
SUIT THE ACTION TO THE WORD, THE WORD TO THE ACTION, WITH THIS SPECIAL OBSERVANCE, THAT YOU NOT O'ERSTEP NOT THE MODESTY OF NATURE. FOR ANYTHING SO OVERDONE IS FROM THE PURPOSE OF PLAYING, WHOSE END, BOTH AT THE FIRST AND NOW, WAS AND IS TO HOLD AS T'WERE, A MIRROR UP TO NATURE...
The power of this mirror to nature is manifest in the king’s (Claudius’) response to the play that catches his conscience by representing his guilt before his eyes, just as Hamlet had planned.
Later in the play, there is a discussion of action apart from the stage, when two grave-diggers wonder what incurs guilt in human action. "An act hath three branches," the grave-digger says, "it is to act, to do, and to perform." Each of these branches has a different level of authenticity, and hence a different degree of guilt. Shakespeare is getting his audience to question what is authentic action and what is performance, both on stage and off.
At a time when theater held a peculiar position in society, being on the one hand patronized by monarchs, and on the other, censured as a source of riot and indecency, Shakespeare is forcing theater-goers to consider the nature of theatricality and the way that theater communicates as an art form. This consideration of artistic form fits in with the broader thematic content of Hamlet, which wrestles with questions of speech, presentation, human action and guilt, and man’s ability to access and understand reality.
Sources of Historical Information:
Foaks, R.A. “Shakespeare’s Elizabethan Stages.” In Shakespeare: An Illustrated Stage History, Edited by Jonathan Bate and Russell Jackson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.
Gurr, Andrew. The Shakespeare Company: 1594-1642. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
Hibbard’s Introduction to Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Edited by G.R. Hibbard. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987.
Leggatt, Alexander. “The Companies and Actors.” In The Revels History of Drama in English. Edited by Cliford Leeck and T. W. Craik. Volume III: 1576-1613. London: Methuen and Co. Ltd., 1975.
Thomson, Peter. Shakespeare’s Professional Career. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.
Shakespeare is a very self-conscious playwright, as it turns out. His works are full metatheatrical and theatrically self-aware moments, and Hamlet is a prime example. Certain lines of the play can only be fully appreciated in light of their original theatrical context. The theater business of Elizabethan and Jacobean London consisted of theater companies which would perform frequently for regular audiences. Like the movie industry today, the public was typically more familiar with the actors than with particular plays. Plays were made popular by the actors who stared in them, such as Richard Burbage and Edward Alleyn, who popularized Hamlet and Tamberlain, respectively (Burbage and Alleyn were lead actors of the rival theater companies, Lord Chamberlain’s Men and Admiral’s Men, who held a duopoly in the London theater business).
In Hamlet, Shakespeare capitalizes on his audience’s familiarity with the cast to make a metatheatrical joke that is actually extremely relevant to the play’s plot. It is found in Act three, Scene two:
HAMLET: [TO POLONIUS] MY LORD, YOU PLAYED ONCE I’TH’ UNIVERSITY, YOU SAY?
POLONIUS: THAT I DID, MY LORD, AND WAS ACCOUNTED A GOOD ACTOR.
HAMLET: AND WHAT DID YOU ENACT?
POLONIUS: I DID ENACT JULIUS CAESAR. I WAS KILLED I’TH’ CAPITOL. BRUTUS KILLED ME.
While this comment might seem irrelevant to the modern reader, Shakespeare’s audience would have recognized that John Hemmings, who acted the part of Polonius, had also acted the part of Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, which would have been performed not long before Hamlet (G.R. Hibbard suggests that the two plays were in the company’s repertory at the same time: 1599-1601). Additionally, Richard Burbage, who played Hamlet, had also played the Brutus who killed Caesar, played by Hemmings. In a subtle way, Polonius/Hemmings is foretelling his own death at the hands of Hamlet/Brutus/Burbage. Through theatrically self-conscious references such as these, Shakespeare is reminding his audience that they are sitting in a theater, watching actors. This awareness gets right to the heart of Shakespeare’s project in Hamlet (one of the projects, at least; Hamlet addresses multiple big topics).
In Hamlet, Shakespeare is exploring the nature of acting and theater, and how theater functions as a form of art, representation, expression, and communication. It features a play within a play, and a whole speech instructing players how to act. The whole play is rife with the language of action, performance, speech, authenticity, disguise and perception. In his own actions, Hamlet puts on a deceptive performance of madness, and on stage, he presents a revealing representation of his uncle's sin. Hamlet exhorts his players to act authentically on stage:
SUIT THE ACTION TO THE WORD, THE WORD TO THE ACTION, WITH THIS SPECIAL OBSERVANCE, THAT YOU NOT O'ERSTEP NOT THE MODESTY OF NATURE. FOR ANYTHING SO OVERDONE IS FROM THE PURPOSE OF PLAYING, WHOSE END, BOTH AT THE FIRST AND NOW, WAS AND IS TO HOLD AS T'WERE, A MIRROR UP TO NATURE...
The power of this mirror to nature is manifest in the king’s (Claudius’) response to the play that catches his conscience by representing his guilt before his eyes, just as Hamlet had planned.
Later in the play, there is a discussion of action apart from the stage, when two grave-diggers wonder what incurs guilt in human action. "An act hath three branches," the grave-digger says, "it is to act, to do, and to perform." Each of these branches has a different level of authenticity, and hence a different degree of guilt. Shakespeare is getting his audience to question what is authentic action and what is performance, both on stage and off.
At a time when theater held a peculiar position in society, being on the one hand patronized by monarchs, and on the other, censured as a source of riot and indecency, Shakespeare is forcing theater-goers to consider the nature of theatricality and the way that theater communicates as an art form. This consideration of artistic form fits in with the broader thematic content of Hamlet, which wrestles with questions of speech, presentation, human action and guilt, and man’s ability to access and understand reality.
Sources of Historical Information:
Foaks, R.A. “Shakespeare’s Elizabethan Stages.” In Shakespeare: An Illustrated Stage History, Edited by Jonathan Bate and Russell Jackson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.
Gurr, Andrew. The Shakespeare Company: 1594-1642. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
Hibbard’s Introduction to Shakespeare, William. Hamlet. Edited by G.R. Hibbard. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987.
Leggatt, Alexander. “The Companies and Actors.” In The Revels History of Drama in English. Edited by Cliford Leeck and T. W. Craik. Volume III: 1576-1613. London: Methuen and Co. Ltd., 1975.
Thomson, Peter. Shakespeare’s Professional Career. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Home Stretch
As I was cramming like mad for my final essay on the educational philosophies of Rousseau and Aristotle, I stumbled across a quote most appropriate to my last week in Oxford:
"Learning is not a matter of amusement.
It is attended by effort and pain."
-Aristotle, Politics, VIII.4.4
Undoubtedly there will be effort and pain as I work over the next three days to research for and write my last 4,000 word essay of the term. (to save my academic reputation, I have to say that I did begin researching a number of weeks ago, but there is still a ton yet to do...)
The effort and pain is paying off, however, as I reflect on how much I've learned and grown over this term. I have had an amazing experience in Oxford, and as much as I look forward to having this last essay behind me, I am going to miss this beautiful old city of spires. For now, I am just trying to soak up every last minute of reading in the Bodelian, walking through my favorite park, and sharing wonderful fellowship with my housemates (which today, came in the form of a snowball fight!).
"Learning is not a matter of amusement.
It is attended by effort and pain."
-Aristotle, Politics, VIII.4.4
Undoubtedly there will be effort and pain as I work over the next three days to research for and write my last 4,000 word essay of the term. (to save my academic reputation, I have to say that I did begin researching a number of weeks ago, but there is still a ton yet to do...)
The effort and pain is paying off, however, as I reflect on how much I've learned and grown over this term. I have had an amazing experience in Oxford, and as much as I look forward to having this last essay behind me, I am going to miss this beautiful old city of spires. For now, I am just trying to soak up every last minute of reading in the Bodelian, walking through my favorite park, and sharing wonderful fellowship with my housemates (which today, came in the form of a snowball fight!).
History and Literature: Past and Present
This term I attended a historiography lecture series titled, "History and Literature." Conveniently, my tutorials in Shakespeare and Historiography perfectly converge under this category. This post is a reflection on the interplay of these two disciplines.
I just returned from a very delightful tutorial on Shakespeare's Henry IV and Henry V. My tutor and I discussed what Shakespeare is like as a historian, and as it turns out, he no historian at all. Not by typical historiographical standards, at any rate. He is not necessarily interested in the accuracy of chronology or facts: although drawing from the Chronicles of Holinshed (one of the best sources on English history available in Shakespeare’s day), many of Shakespeare's details don't line up with Holinshed's historical data. Hotspur Percy and Prince Henry were actually thirty years apart, for instance, not the peers that Shakespeare presents them as. Shakespeare makes them peers, however, to make a more poignant comparison between the two characters.
It may be contended that Shakespeare wasn't really all that interested in conveying the past. What he found fascinating and important, however, were the themes of kingship, war, the nature of the state, and human character and responsibility. He looked to history to understand metahistorical ideas - principles that are true and pertinent across the span of all time, not only an isolated historical era. He granted himself a good deal of literary license in adjusting the historical details to convey his metahistorical ideas as poignantly as possible.
The license we allow to Shakespeare would never be granted to a historian, who is bound to a rigid standard of accuracy. We need historians to be accurate if we are to value truth in our understanding of the past. However, we also have need of those who are able to interpret the past, distill out the metahistorical principles, and present them to us in a palpable and compelling way. It may be, as in the case of Shakespeare, that the narrative best demonstrating those principles must sometimes compromise the accuracy of historical detail. Such compromise is not acceptable for the historian, but that is why we have literature. We need both Shakespeare and Gibbon, Homer and Thucydides, to help us understand the reality of how the world works. Historians can give us facts, and even interpretations of them, but it is up to the author or the playwright to present a didactic and winsome historical tale.
Of course I must give the caveat that the historian is not always cold and dry - he, too, can "literaturize" his work. And sometimes a writer of literature may stray so far from historical accuracy that the content of his work may be considered all his own invention. This is where the distinction between the two disciplines – between fact and creative imagination – begin to blur, and it is particularly important in these instances to look carefully at history and literature side-by-side to discern the truest and most edifying meaning we can.
I just returned from a very delightful tutorial on Shakespeare's Henry IV and Henry V. My tutor and I discussed what Shakespeare is like as a historian, and as it turns out, he no historian at all. Not by typical historiographical standards, at any rate. He is not necessarily interested in the accuracy of chronology or facts: although drawing from the Chronicles of Holinshed (one of the best sources on English history available in Shakespeare’s day), many of Shakespeare's details don't line up with Holinshed's historical data. Hotspur Percy and Prince Henry were actually thirty years apart, for instance, not the peers that Shakespeare presents them as. Shakespeare makes them peers, however, to make a more poignant comparison between the two characters.
It may be contended that Shakespeare wasn't really all that interested in conveying the past. What he found fascinating and important, however, were the themes of kingship, war, the nature of the state, and human character and responsibility. He looked to history to understand metahistorical ideas - principles that are true and pertinent across the span of all time, not only an isolated historical era. He granted himself a good deal of literary license in adjusting the historical details to convey his metahistorical ideas as poignantly as possible.
The license we allow to Shakespeare would never be granted to a historian, who is bound to a rigid standard of accuracy. We need historians to be accurate if we are to value truth in our understanding of the past. However, we also have need of those who are able to interpret the past, distill out the metahistorical principles, and present them to us in a palpable and compelling way. It may be, as in the case of Shakespeare, that the narrative best demonstrating those principles must sometimes compromise the accuracy of historical detail. Such compromise is not acceptable for the historian, but that is why we have literature. We need both Shakespeare and Gibbon, Homer and Thucydides, to help us understand the reality of how the world works. Historians can give us facts, and even interpretations of them, but it is up to the author or the playwright to present a didactic and winsome historical tale.
Of course I must give the caveat that the historian is not always cold and dry - he, too, can "literaturize" his work. And sometimes a writer of literature may stray so far from historical accuracy that the content of his work may be considered all his own invention. This is where the distinction between the two disciplines – between fact and creative imagination – begin to blur, and it is particularly important in these instances to look carefully at history and literature side-by-side to discern the truest and most edifying meaning we can.
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Goodness of Good Friday
"Oh death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?"
I Corinthians 15:55
O death, where is your sting?"
I Corinthians 15:55
A few days after Easter last year, I received the terrible news that a good friend of mine from high school had died in a car accident in Panama. She had died on Good Friday. I realized that despite my earthly grief over the loss of Liz, the heavenly reality is ultimately beautiful: because Christ died on Good Friday in order to rise again on Easter and bring us salvation, Liz's death on Good Friday also results in an Easter of resurrection to eternal life in heaven. Christ died and rose so that our death may also lead to a resurrection.
After Easter each year, the extended family goes home, we put away the decorations, and too often the meaning of the day slips to the back of our minds along with the bygone festivities. The wonderful reality, however, is that as we live in the days after Easter, the spiritual significance of Easter is still with us - indeed, it is with us for all eternity. Christ did not die for us simply to be celebrated and then forgotten, but so that we might be made alive together with him by his grace (Ephesians 2:5). Because of what Christ did on the cross, our Easter celebration never ends. His Good Friday enables us to live in eternal resurrection to true life in Him, both on earth and in heaven. Liz's death on Good Friday, tragic though it was for those of us on earth, was in actuality the inauguration of her perpetual Easter in heaven.
After Easter each year, the extended family goes home, we put away the decorations, and too often the meaning of the day slips to the back of our minds along with the bygone festivities. The wonderful reality, however, is that as we live in the days after Easter, the spiritual significance of Easter is still with us - indeed, it is with us for all eternity. Christ did not die for us simply to be celebrated and then forgotten, but so that we might be made alive together with him by his grace (Ephesians 2:5). Because of what Christ did on the cross, our Easter celebration never ends. His Good Friday enables us to live in eternal resurrection to true life in Him, both on earth and in heaven. Liz's death on Good Friday, tragic though it was for those of us on earth, was in actuality the inauguration of her perpetual Easter in heaven.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Fifth Week Already!
Hello Family and Friends!
I apologize for my tardiness in writing an update on my life here in Oxford. It is hard to believe that I am already at the end of the fifth week of Oxford's eight-week term. I now have seven essays behind me and five more to go before the five-week post-term classes, for which I will write three long essays. I am thoroughly enjoying being in Oxford, both as a beautiful place and as an age-old center of learning.
It took a few weeks to get used to shortened days and lengthened shadows in the midday sun. The angle of the sun here in Britain makes it feel like the entire afternoon is a prolonged twilight, although now that spring is approaching, the sunshine is lasting longer. My primary (ie: only) mode of transportation is by foot, and I've loved walking around Oxford all the time. The old college buildings are so lovely that it never gets boring to walk the same paths over and over. For most of the lectures I am required to attend, I cut through the park a few blocks away from home, which is also beautiful.
I am still enjoying the academics, and finding Oxford to be more of an academic retreat than the bootcamp I had anticipated. That's not to insinuate that I'm not working hard, of course, but that having a quieter schedule than I do at home, I have more time available just to enjoy learning rather than rushing through it in the small windows of time between other commitments. The work I'm doing is much like what I do in Torrey - read books, think about them, and go to class (or in this case, tutorial) prepared to discuss them. What's difference here is that the requirement of an essay for each tutorial forces me to put the amount of effort into pre-class work that I should be doing at home anyway. I am really grateful for this opportunity to hone skills that will continue to benefit me in my academic work at home.
I apologize for my tardiness in writing an update on my life here in Oxford. It is hard to believe that I am already at the end of the fifth week of Oxford's eight-week term. I now have seven essays behind me and five more to go before the five-week post-term classes, for which I will write three long essays. I am thoroughly enjoying being in Oxford, both as a beautiful place and as an age-old center of learning.
It took a few weeks to get used to shortened days and lengthened shadows in the midday sun. The angle of the sun here in Britain makes it feel like the entire afternoon is a prolonged twilight, although now that spring is approaching, the sunshine is lasting longer. My primary (ie: only) mode of transportation is by foot, and I've loved walking around Oxford all the time. The old college buildings are so lovely that it never gets boring to walk the same paths over and over. For most of the lectures I am required to attend, I cut through the park a few blocks away from home, which is also beautiful.
I am still enjoying the academics, and finding Oxford to be more of an academic retreat than the bootcamp I had anticipated. That's not to insinuate that I'm not working hard, of course, but that having a quieter schedule than I do at home, I have more time available just to enjoy learning rather than rushing through it in the small windows of time between other commitments. The work I'm doing is much like what I do in Torrey - read books, think about them, and go to class (or in this case, tutorial) prepared to discuss them. What's difference here is that the requirement of an essay for each tutorial forces me to put the amount of effort into pre-class work that I should be doing at home anyway. I am really grateful for this opportunity to hone skills that will continue to benefit me in my academic work at home.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Incarnate Words
“And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
~ Theseus, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, V.I.14-17
Shakespeare’s plays are overflowing with clever language and questions about language. The plays are significantly self-referential as they not only present profound ideas about human experience, but also critique the very mode of the that presentation – that of language and performance. From Cordelia’s “I cannot heave my heart into my mouth,” to Claudius’ “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go,” it is evident that word and reality are not always the same thing. While we can “represent the sentiment of our mind by speech,” as Melanchthon puts it, we can also misrepresent our thoughts, feelings, and intentions. Words can either reveal reality or conceal it. It requires discernment to recognize when words are distorting reality, and when they are displaying it as it truly is. This question crops up at the core of Shakespearean drama.
Words are a mysteriously meaningful and distinctly human way of expressing realities both concrete and abstract. Great poets are those with the greatest grasp on reality and the keenest use of words, and as Theseus’ words quoted above communicate, the poet incarnates abstract ideas by putting them into words that we can tangibly comprehend. Dorothy Sayers also expresses this in her Mind of the Maker, in which she discusses the creativity of the writer, who puts an idea into words. Sayers makes an analogy to the Trinity, saying that the Idea (likened to the Father) of the author is revealed through the Word, which is incarnated in the writer’s work (The Holy Spirit is represented by the compelling power of the writing.). The incarnate word “brings about an expression in temporal form of the eternal and immutable Idea,” she says.
Language is a vessel of man’s understanding of intangible, immaterial things. As such, it stands between man’s god-like quality of the intellect and his animal-like quality of a material body, which includes the tongue that speaks and the ears that hear. No wonder Hamlet, a melancholy scholar who is obsessed with words and slow to act, understands man to be “in apprehension…like a god,” while at the same time being a “quintessence of dust.” As words can aid us in the apprehension of the immaterial, we must use them with caution and accuracy, striving to represent our ideas truthfully. We had best heed the words of Hamlet, that “We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.”
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Great Expectations, Great Places
A friend who studied at Oxford last Spring told me that it would be best to approach my experience here without any particular expectations. I confess I wasn't quite sure how to do that, since it seemed that I couldn't avoid having expectations on some subliminal level. So, rather than try to avoid all expectations, I decided to channel them into the one which I could rely on: that I expect to invest my most excellent efforts and abilities in learning as much as I can through my experiences and opportunities here - whatever those turn out to be like. If this expectation is unmet, there is none but myself to blame.
During orientation week told us all sorts of things to expect. Perhaps their most emphasized point was that, unlike typical Great Books programs in America, the Oxford way of working is that of the professional academic: Use tons of secondary sources in your essays! They highly value the academic community, and view undergraduate students as junior members of it. Therefore, we must dialog with other scholars in our writing, and understand the context of our own ideas within the broader academic discussion.
As I've anticipated working in this way, I've thought a lot about the benefit of scholarly community, and the fact that scholarship can only be advanced by the efforts of multiple people. It is simply impossible for one person to research or muse upon the whole vast array of topics within a given field of study. If I am researching the life of merchants in the colonial era, for instance, I don't have time to sift through endless records and bits of evidence in search of information relevant to my historical query. Hence, we have archaeologists, paleographers, archivists, and librarians. A philosopher or textual critic, bright as he or she may be, still must have his or her ideas challenged and strengthened through dialog with others.
On the other hand, there is great benefit to doing one's own work, particularly in the area of great literature, and in educational situations. There is no point in dialogging with other scholars if I cannot comprehend books well on my own and form good opinions about them. This would be like joining a choir before I knew how to sing on pitch. It is important that students learn to wrestle through hard texts and challenging questions on their own, and consequently develop skill sets that will benefit them throughout their lives.
All this is to say, that there is great importance to both primary and secondary source based learning, and both must be incorporated into our educational methods.
Yesterday morning, I went to my first meeting with my Shakespeare tutor at Regent's Park College. My tutor is a lot how I would expect an Oxford tutor to be like - not too tall, perhaps in his 50's or 60's, balding just a bit. He had volumes of Shakespeare on his shelf, piles of paper on his desk, and a cup of tea in his hand. I could tell he must be very busy, because he seemed to have a lot on his mind. Shortly into our meeting, he said, "We're going to do this tutorial the Oxford way, which would probably seem utterly sacreligious to your teachers at home, and that is, that we will not use secondary sources!" (the italics are to indicate that he said this very emphatically.) I was rather surprised, and greatly humored. This was certainly not what I'd expected to hear. He wants to receive an essay each week consisting purely of my ideas on Shakespeare. He will recommend some good literary critics, of course, but not until I've produced an entirely original essay.
I am quite content with this method of studying Shakespeare because I think it is a good way to study great texts. However, I am considering the idea of asking him if I can write a few extra essays in which I place my own argument in the context of other scholars' work. Asking for more assignments seems like a rather crazy idea, but while I am here in Oxford with one of the world's greatest libraries at my fingertips, I fully expect to use it.
During orientation week told us all sorts of things to expect. Perhaps their most emphasized point was that, unlike typical Great Books programs in America, the Oxford way of working is that of the professional academic: Use tons of secondary sources in your essays! They highly value the academic community, and view undergraduate students as junior members of it. Therefore, we must dialog with other scholars in our writing, and understand the context of our own ideas within the broader academic discussion.
As I've anticipated working in this way, I've thought a lot about the benefit of scholarly community, and the fact that scholarship can only be advanced by the efforts of multiple people. It is simply impossible for one person to research or muse upon the whole vast array of topics within a given field of study. If I am researching the life of merchants in the colonial era, for instance, I don't have time to sift through endless records and bits of evidence in search of information relevant to my historical query. Hence, we have archaeologists, paleographers, archivists, and librarians. A philosopher or textual critic, bright as he or she may be, still must have his or her ideas challenged and strengthened through dialog with others.
On the other hand, there is great benefit to doing one's own work, particularly in the area of great literature, and in educational situations. There is no point in dialogging with other scholars if I cannot comprehend books well on my own and form good opinions about them. This would be like joining a choir before I knew how to sing on pitch. It is important that students learn to wrestle through hard texts and challenging questions on their own, and consequently develop skill sets that will benefit them throughout their lives.
All this is to say, that there is great importance to both primary and secondary source based learning, and both must be incorporated into our educational methods.
Yesterday morning, I went to my first meeting with my Shakespeare tutor at Regent's Park College. My tutor is a lot how I would expect an Oxford tutor to be like - not too tall, perhaps in his 50's or 60's, balding just a bit. He had volumes of Shakespeare on his shelf, piles of paper on his desk, and a cup of tea in his hand. I could tell he must be very busy, because he seemed to have a lot on his mind. Shortly into our meeting, he said, "We're going to do this tutorial the Oxford way, which would probably seem utterly sacreligious to your teachers at home, and that is, that we will not use secondary sources!" (the italics are to indicate that he said this very emphatically.) I was rather surprised, and greatly humored. This was certainly not what I'd expected to hear. He wants to receive an essay each week consisting purely of my ideas on Shakespeare. He will recommend some good literary critics, of course, but not until I've produced an entirely original essay.
I am quite content with this method of studying Shakespeare because I think it is a good way to study great texts. However, I am considering the idea of asking him if I can write a few extra essays in which I place my own argument in the context of other scholars' work. Asking for more assignments seems like a rather crazy idea, but while I am here in Oxford with one of the world's greatest libraries at my fingertips, I fully expect to use it.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Orientation Week
This week we have an extensive orientation for our term here in Oxford. It's nice to have some laid-back time to settle in at Oxford, but it's also rather difficult having no work to do yet...odd as that sounds. I have the feeling that I am in the calm before the storm, and unable to do anything yet to prepare for the storm. Orientation has run from 9am to past 4pm each day this week, and seeing as it is orientation, it's a bit tedious, but on the whole, it isn't bad. There have been sessions on Oxford-style research and writing, what to do in the case of an emergency, what Oxford clubs we can get involved in, etc.
The most interesting part of orientation is that we have begun the History of Britain video series by historian Simon Schama. As I've forgotten practically all the British history I ever learned, it's a lot of fun to learn the story of this great Isle. Thus far, we have come to the point of William of Normandy's conquest against King Harold in the eleventh century. It really is a fascinating history, and I'm excited to fill in areas which have hitherto been gaps in my knowledge.
This evening I had dinner at Eagle and Child, the old pub where the Inklings used to meet. This was my second time to the Eagle and Child, and it's a good little taste of the culture here. The interior is rather snug and dimly lit, and they serve classic English foods like Steak & Ale pie and Fish & Chips.
A miscellaneous bit of information about life in England is that tomato paste comes not in cans as it does in America, but in tubes much like our toothpaste tubes. It is called "tomato puree." For this reason, I couldn't find it on my first trip to the grocery store when I went to buy spaghetti makings. My spaghetti definitely turned out a little runny... Thankfully, our junior dean likes to cook, so he was able to give me some good advice for my next trip to the grocery store.
The most interesting part of orientation is that we have begun the History of Britain video series by historian Simon Schama. As I've forgotten practically all the British history I ever learned, it's a lot of fun to learn the story of this great Isle. Thus far, we have come to the point of William of Normandy's conquest against King Harold in the eleventh century. It really is a fascinating history, and I'm excited to fill in areas which have hitherto been gaps in my knowledge.
This evening I had dinner at Eagle and Child, the old pub where the Inklings used to meet. This was my second time to the Eagle and Child, and it's a good little taste of the culture here. The interior is rather snug and dimly lit, and they serve classic English foods like Steak & Ale pie and Fish & Chips.
A miscellaneous bit of information about life in England is that tomato paste comes not in cans as it does in America, but in tubes much like our toothpaste tubes. It is called "tomato puree." For this reason, I couldn't find it on my first trip to the grocery store when I went to buy spaghetti makings. My spaghetti definitely turned out a little runny... Thankfully, our junior dean likes to cook, so he was able to give me some good advice for my next trip to the grocery store.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Arriving in Oxford
I am finally here in Oxford, about to embark on what will undoubtedly be the biggest academic challenge of my life thus far. The more I think of all I will get to learn, the more excited I am to begin the term. But before I talk about the academics of Oxford, I'll give a brief update on my travels and arrival here.
Travels
On January 1st, I flew from California to London with my roommates Jen and Renee, and our roommate Julia joined us the day after our arrival. We had a day and a half to explore London, so we visited the city's parks, museums, and theater. We began our day on January 3rd by going to a morning communion service at St. Paul's Cathedral, which was just across the street from our hostel. We spent the rest of the morning making our way around the city by tube and foot. The gardens are not quite as lively as they will be in a few months, but still lovely. We concluded the day with a trip to the Queen's Theater to see Les Miserables live on stage, which is something I've wanted to do for a very long time. We were seated up on the very top balcony (we got tickets to suit our budgets), so we practically had bird's-eye view of the stage. It was a very wonderful production.
Arriving in Oxford
On the morning of the 4th, we left the hostel with all luggage in tow (containing 3.5 months worth of stuff), and hauled our bags to the tube station, off and on the various tube trains and stations - detours included - and a very long walk from the tube station to the bus stop. Finally, we got on the bus and headed for Oxford. Or next form of transportation was taxi, which we took to the house where we are living for the semester. We were met by the Junior Dean of the house (whose role is like that of a Resident Director or Resident Assistant), and promptly began moving in. Most of the girls from Biola live on the bottom floor of the house, so it is easy to get settled in to this new living place.
Academics at Oxford
Classes at Oxford are run differently than they are at most colleges in America. The main component of an Oxford term is the tutorial, in which students write as essay each week addressing a particular question within the scope of the tutorial, and then meet with a tutor to discuss and defend the arguments in their essay. The essays are required to give a thorough and critical answer to the question at hand, considering both historic and contemporary scholarship pertaining to question, but not merely summarizing what others have said about it. This process entails extensive research of primary and secondary sources, which students must analyze on several levels in order to incorporate into a well crafted argument. This pedagogical setup differs from schools in America in that students don't acquire information through lectures, but through their own research and thought. As the handbook puts it, "The tutorial is intended to be challenging, not formulaic, and your tutor is there to stimulate you to ask interesting questions, not to provide you with safe answers." Learning through research is facilitated by the expansive Bodleian Library, which houses more than 6 million pieces of writing, and grows by 3 miles of shelf space every year. I will be spending a good deal of time there this term...
As I anticipate this new course of study, I know that there are two different mindsets with which I could approach it, and I believe these mindsets are applicable to all new challenges we face. The first is that of fear and selfish ambition, and the second is that of faith and love. If I adopt the first approach, my self-centered fear of failure and desire for glory will drive me to become overwhelmed by the magnitude of my project, and I will despair of ever finding fulfillment in my striving after accomplishment. If I have learned anything in my lifetime, it is that I lose all joy in a task when my purpose in doing it is selfish. Having a focus of my own gain - whether it be accolades, accomplishments, or competence - obscures my vision of both myself and my task, making me unable to enjoy either. If greed is my motivation for action, I will never be satisfied, because greed continually grows. If, on the other hand, my mindset is one of faith and love, I will be able to pursue learning for the love of the material I am studying, and I will trust that God is using my efforts for His glory and to help me grow as He intends for me to. It is only in this case that I can delight in my work and apply myself to my studies with the humility and eagerness necessary to real learning.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
