Theolatte
Nothing goes better with a steaming latte than an engaging discussion about theology and philosophy. Sit down with your favorite caffeinated beverage and peruse the thoughts of a pseudo-intellectual.
Author Archive
Christianity Satisfies (part two)
September 1st, 2010
The following is a continuation from the previous post. This the final section of G.K. Chesterton’s book, Orthodoxy.
Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation.
The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something.
Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something.
I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation.
There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.
Christianity Satisfies
August 31st, 2010
Have you ever read something so profound that you felt like you had to share it with everyone?
That’s the sense I get after reading any given page out of just about any book written by G.K. Chesterton. The following is an excerpt from the end of the book Orthodoxy:
The mass of men have been forced to be gay about the little things, but sad about the big ones. Nevertheless (I offer my last dogma defiantly) it is not native to man to be so. Man is more himself, man is more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing in him, and grief the superficial.
Melancholy should be an innocent interlude, a tender and fugitive frame of mind; praise should be the permanent pulsation of the soul. Pessimism is at best an emotional half-holiday; joy is the uproarious labour by which all things live. Yet, according to the apparent estate of man as seen by the pagan or the agnostic, this primary need of human nature can never be fulfilled.
Joy ought to be expansive; but for the agnostic it must be contracted, it must cling to one corner of the world. Grief ought to be a concentration; but for the agnostic its desolation is spread through an unthinkable eternity. This is what I call being born upside down. The sceptic may truly be said to be topsy-turvy; for his feet are dancing upwards in idle ecstasies, while his brain is in the abyss.
To the modern man the heavens are actually below the earth. The explanation is simple; he is standing on his head; which is a very weak pedestal to stand on. But when he has found his feet again he knows it.
Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man’s ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this; that by its creed joy becomes something gigantic and sadness something special and small.
The vault above us is not deaf because the universe is an idiot; the silence is not the heartless silence of an endless and aimless world. Rather the silence around us is a small and pitiful stillness like the prompt stillness in a sick-room. We are perhaps permitted tragedy as a sort of merciful comedy: because the frantic energy of divine things would knock us down like a drunken farce.
We can take our own tears more lightly than we could take the tremendous levities of the angels. So we sit perhaps in a starry chamber of silence, while the laughter of the heavens is too loud for us to hear.
(…the final words from Chesterton’s Orthodoxy to be posted tomorrow)
Evil & the Hypostatic Union
August 26th, 2010
The following fictional conversation takes place between two senior demons (Temptor and Mischief) in Jerusalem proper circa 26 A.D.
Temptor: We need to talk.
Mischief: You sound concerned.
Temptor: What do you make of the hullabaloo caused by the Nazarene?
Mischief: As our Master instructed, we have kept a close watch on him since the Noel.
Temptor: Yes, I know. Very little about his life as a carpenter’s apprentice has been worthy of reporting.
Mishief: Then why are you alarmed?
Temptor: Something seems to be stirring. A cold chill runs down my spine every time I’m near him.
Mischief: Wait. It looks like he’s heading down to the Jordan river.
Temptor: He’s probably looking for his cousin John the Baptizer.
Mischief: Isn’t John the one Master was enraged about?
Temptor: Yes. He’s calling men to repent and be baptized.
Mischief: What a dreadful sight.
Temptor: Yes, dreadful indeed. The most horrid part is that he refuses to cooperate with the religious guild.
Mischief: Why does he want to be baptized? Interesting.
Temptor: I suppose the Nazarene is a disciple of John’s now.
————————————–
The demons are immediately surrounded by a darkness not visible to human’s eyes. They shudder with fear as a blinding light shines about a dove descending from Heaven.
A powerful voice, taking them by surprise, throws them to the ground.
————————————–
Mischief: What in Hell was that?
Temptor: It was nothing of the sort. I know that voice. It’s the voice of the Enemy.
Mischief: I think I have gone blind.
Temptor: You should know by now to cover your eyes whenever the Enemy is near.
Mischief: I heard his voice. Why is the Enemy well pleased?
Temptor: I’m not sure, but I have the feeling we are in serious trouble.
Mischief: Why? What is happening?
Temptor: I’m afraid a series of events has been set in motion. I fear there is no way to reverse the damage that has been done.
Mischief: But he is just a man. What can he do to us?
Temptor: I know men. He is more than a man. I recognize the Spirit of the Enemy at work.
Mischief: We’ve seen the Spirit move before. We’ve been privy to the work of Prophets and Priests.
Mischief: Why is he any different?
Mischief: Do you not remember Moses and the burning bush?
Mischief: Do you not recall King Belshazzar and the hand writing on the wall?
Temptor: This is profoundly different. It is as though the Enemy has taken flesh.
Mischief: Taken flesh? You cannot be serious. You have surely gone mad.
Temptor: Hide yourself. This is no time to be seen. The Master is on his way. If anyone can stop this, surely it is he.
————————————–
The Enemy leads the Nazarene into the wilderness.
The conversation resumes after several days.
————————————–
Mischief: Can you see what’s happening? I’m still blinded by the light of the dove.
Temptor: Yes, I can see, but as through a glass dimly. I will tell you all that I observe.
Temptor: Our Master is offering him food.
Mischief: Surely he will take the Master’s food. This has to work. He hasn’t eaten in 40 days.
Temptor: He’s refusing. He said something about his Father’s food.
Mischief: We’ve watched him without slumber. No one has brought him food!
Temptor: He says his food is the words that come from his Father’s mouth.
Mischief: Rum thing. I’m not sure I follow the logic.
Temptor: Now, that’s more like it!
Mischief: What? What? Do tell!
Temptor: The Master is telling him to throw himself down from the Temple.
Mischief: (With a sound of relief) Finally, all seems to be returning to normal. I do hope he jumps.
Mischief: (With a sly grin) Although, I must admit that this seems to be a rather obvious strategy. I doubt he will fall for it.
Temptor: I don’t believe my eyes. Now the Master is offering him authority and power.
Mischief: Has our Master gone mad? He wants all of the glory he can get. Why would he offer it to another?
Temptor: Even I don’t understand this exchange. Something mysterious is at play.
Mischief: Mysterious indeed.
————————————–
The conversation resumes a couple of years later in the vicinity of Caesarea Philippi.
————————————–
Temptor: Mischief, old pal, good to see you again. What have you been up to?
Mischief: I guess my name pretty much answers your question. (Both laughing)
Temptor: Let’s see what the Nazarene is busy doing today.
Mischief: The Master is growing in his concern about this One.
Temptor: Yes, but but our covert mission to turn the hearts of the people away from him seems to be gaining ground.
Mischief: (Laughing) We nearly have everyone convinced that he is only a good MAN. Only a prophet.
Temptor: Temper your hubris, Mischief. Our work is far from done, though the Master is pleased with our progress.
Mishief: Why such caution? Nothing can prevail against us!
Temptor: Look. There’s that impulsive fisherman. He shows real promise. I think he may be of future use.
Mischief: Indeed. If we could only get him to cast in his lot with Judas.
Temptor: Yes. I do hope he is willing to choose the right side when his time comes.
Mischief: (With disgust) Yes, that Nazarene will one day pay for his treason.
Temptor: Shhh… They’re starting to talk. Let’s listen in.
Mischief: This should be good. (Snickering)
Temptor: Why would he ask his disciples who they believe that he is? What an odd line of inquiry. Our Master is much more direct with us.
Mischief: It looks like Peter is going to be the first to answer. You never know what will come out of his mouth!
Temptor: Yes. Very good. Peter is affirming our strategy.
Mischief: How so?
Temptor: He says others believe the Nazarene to be a prophet.We’ve dealt with prophets before. We can handle prophets.
Mischief: Now you have my interest. We’ve taken care of our share of prophets in the past. This is going to be fun.
Temptor: Shhhh….
Mischief: What now?
Temptor: Ugh. This Nazarene is relentless. Still he insists for a more specific answer. “Who do YOU say I am?”
Mischief: Can he not leave well enough alone?
Temptor: Hopefully we can trust Peter to come through for us one more time.
————————————–
The sound of a heavy iron gate locking shut silences the demons. A crackling noise reverberates throughout the darkness that has once again fallen upon them.
————————————–
Mischief: What in Hell?
Temptor: Again, it is nothing of that sort. (Exasperated) Peter confessed that the Nazarene is the chosen One of God, the Messiah.
Mischief: I am fearful. Why am I fearful?
Temptor: I knew something was different.
Mischief: You mean that the Enemy has taken flesh?
Temptor: Yes. This changes everything.
Mischief: Everything?
Temptor: Yes, everything.
Mischief: (Trembling) I fear that this is the beginning of the end.
Temptor: (Sadly) No, Mischief, I fear this is only the end of the beginning.
…to be continued
Christianity & the Unfriendly God
August 25th, 2010
The following excerpt comes from C.S. Lewis’ book Miracles (chapter 11: Christianity and ‘religion’):
“We who defend Christianity find ourselves constantly opposed not by the irreligion of our hearers but by their real religion.
Speak about beauty, truth and goodness, or about a God who is simply the indwelling principle of these three, speak about a great spiritual force pervading all things, a common mind of which we are all parts, a pool of generalized spirituality to which we can all flow, and you will command friendly interest.
But the temperature drops as soon as you mention a God who has purposes and performs particular actions, who does one thing and not another, a concrete, choosing, commanding, prohibiting God with a determinate character.
People become embarrassed or angry. Such a conception seems to them primitive and crude and even irreverent.”
Jehovah Our Righteousness
August 19th, 2010
Jehovah Our Righteousness
By William Cowper
My God, how perfect are thy ways!
But mine polluted are;
Sin twines itself about my praise,
And slides into my prayer.
When I would speak what thou hast done
To save me from my sin,
I cannot make thy mercies known,
But self-applause creeps in.
Divine desire, that holy flame
Thy grace creates in me;
Alas! impatience is its name,
When it returns to thee.
This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts,
How does it overflow,
While self upon the surface floats,
Still bubbling from below!
Let others in the gaudy dress
Of fancied merit shine;
The Lord shall be my righteousness,
The Lord for ever mine.