the children!

It would be easy to take something from my presentation and add it to the blog, but I don’t really want to do that. I decided to talk about something that Dr. Mitchell brought up when he was talking about the children.
Coral is almost too smart for her age, but she doesn’t seem to flaunt it with the whisky priest. With him, she is more interested in taking care of him. I think, because her father was away so often, she had to take care of her mother because her mother wouldn’t take care of herself. With the whisky priest, she seems to have felt a wanting to take care of him; maybe not in a loving kind of way, but more of a puppy kind of way because he couldn’t take care of himself. At that point, he was too afraid to leave the area because he was convinced that he was going to be captured and killed. Perhaps, though, when he drew the crosses in the barn, the reason that he drew them was a way to show Coral to not give up on her faith. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before I gave my presentation, but oh, well. I thought of it now.
Captain Fellows knows that his daughter is smarter than he is, and that doesn’t seem to bother him too much. When he comes back to his home for the first time in the book, he says that she has an answer for everything, “but sometimes the answers she had prepared seemed to him of a wildness.” I think he’s kind of scared of her because she has a worldliness that a thirteen year-old girl shouldn’t have. She’s lived in the same place—a banana plantation—and yet she knows more about how the world works than her father does. I have to think that would scare him.
With Brigitta (who is hilarious to me), she does remind me of Pearl in The Scarlet Letter. I think that Pearl knows that her life has come out of a “sacrilegious” union between Hester and Arthur. When she meets him in the forest, she never lets him get really close without winding herself out of his arms. That reminds me so much of the whisky priest and Brigitta’s meeting at the trash heap. Both Pearl and Brigitta know that they are not treated like the other children because of who their fathers are, but I don’t know that they always act like they are less of a human because their parents were not supposed to have had relations.

God Loves Bad People Like a Whiskey Priest

I am always dumbfounded by how self-righteous we all appear sometimes.

Christians in our day seem to have the attitude of having everything together and have the tendency to look down on those who do not. We are often kinder to the outside world than we are amongst our own brethren, but still we seem to have a superiority complex. This is especially true amongst the moral sects of Christianity that emphasize good conduct over loving compassion. It is sad to see that many of us have denied the Apostle Paul's own admission that we are indeed "the chief of sinners."

When reading Graham Greene's The Power and the Glory, I was struck at how decrepit and yet completely lovable Greene made the man known only as "the whiskey priest." Throughout the work the priest remains firmly aware of his transgressions, the are like spectres that chase him through the Mexican wilderness. A huge deal to the priest is the mortal sin he committed when he fornicated with a woman named Maria and had a daughter named Brigitta. This girl is the icon of his sin and the keepsake of his love. We are given every deplorable reason to hate this priest and everything that he has stood for (indeed the lieutenant does hate him and everything he stands for), and yet the more I read the more I could see myself in this priest.

Man is dogged by the nagging of his sin until he finds grace and forgiveness in Christ, who is the doorway of redemption. The priest despises himself throughout because he has a drastically human impression of himself: depraved and evi; boiling over with hypocrisy. Other people remind him of this from mestizo who tells him he has not trust to the Lutheran man who knows all about "those priests." The conflict of morality is apparent to everyone and we all see the priest make one loving, selfless choice after another (even though the vice of brandy brands him throughout) and we all know in our hearts that for all of his vices this man really is filled with some sort of love greater than himself.

His transformation comes as the mestizo leads him to the dying Yankee (an obvious trap) and all of sudden he is unafraid and not delaying. There is an air of matrydom to what the priest is doing. During this journey he comes to grips and finally accepts who he is, though I still think he wonders if God will accept who he is. No longer clinging to ritual (he will never be given confession) he must cling to God, even though his faith is poor and shaken.

Looking at all the "good people" we see in the novel we cannot help but see where Greene was going with his critique of self-righteousness and a compassionless Christianity. We see characters like the pius woman in the communal cell who was obviously seek judgment from the ole priest but found only a denouncement of herself. You also cannot help but see the "good catholic mestizo" as someone who professes great religion and yet is willing to sell the last working priest to the police for pesos. He is supposedly very clingy and affectionate, and almost pitiful snake-like character. Anyone who reads this novel can see past this facade of religious charity to the nasty evil vice inside.

So, really one cannot help but be amazed at the faith of the "bad" whiskey priest and his own view of his sinfulness and yet we also see in his actions the love of God; whether he was cognisant of it or not. The greatest saints believe themselves to be the most wretched sinners because indeed they know it is true but not for the blood of Jesus Christ.

Father Brown Follow Up

http://chesterton.org/discover/lectures/27wisdomfrbrown.html

This is a short essay that discusses the Father Brown book that the mystery that I read came from: The Wisdom of Father Brown. I personally read The Absence of Mr. Glass and found it hilarious as well as a bastion of support for those who still believe in good ole common sense. If you would like to read the story follow the link bellow:

http://chesterton.thefreelibrary.com/The-Wisdom-Of-Father-Brown/1-1

The Absurdity of Contradiction: Paradox

I love a good paradox.

There is just something about a seemingly double-minded but yet still somehow spiritually cohesive truth that gets my blood boiling.

God is sovereign and yet men are free.

God has chosen you before the foundations and yet he desires all men to be saved.

We are saved by grace through faith and yet by your works you will be justified and by your works you will be condemned.

Many people I know who must have everything logically flow and make complete rational sense hate, despise, abhor paradoxes; I love them because God really is in his nature strangely paradoxical. Chesterton seems to be able to capture paradox quite succinctly in The Man Who Was Thursday; I would dare say that he is one the most delightful Christian novelists I have read in awhile (and I am not a fan of CS Lewis) simply because of the absurdity. The anarchist are the policemen? Sunday goes from blowing up diplomats to hosting a masquerade ball?

While we are on the subject of Sunday, he is perhaps the greatest example of twisting paradox. Now, if you are not careful you could see what is being said as fatalistic dualism (God is both good and evil; right and wrong don't really exist), which would be completely missing the point. What is being talked about is the nature of God and how complex and paradoxical he often appears. Now I do not believe we are supposed to draw any direct correlations between God and blowing up government officials, but the idea is that God is often seen in paradoxical terms. Sunday is disturbing from behind like a monster but yet from the front he is almost too charming and kind; he is seemingly dense (since his entire inner circle or policemen) and yet he is also amazingly penetrating because he can see through individuals. He is enormous and yet he can leap tall buildings in a single bound; not really but you get the idea.

In similar fashion God is said to involved in both the good and the evil; don't try to figure out how that works. What is important is that Sunday has terrified them the entire novel but yet at the end he literally offers them restoration and the true peace of God. He again unites the council but now the "anarchy" is a different kind of anarchy. I think that is what ends up happening throughout the book. The anarchy goes from being about blowing up buildings and disrupting world affairs to accepting the peace of God and yet still disrupting world affairs with the implications. God is doing things for the good a true anarchist in a world that has chosen to governed by madness and materialism. Yet, God's motives are for good and he is working to restore the order from the chaos; a rebellion that has more consequence than any type of socialist revolution.

God is a king and an anarchist? Yeah, kind of trippy isn't it?

The whole novel is laced with such contradiction or maybe we should say seeming contradiction, because a paradox is not a real contradiction. Paradox will one day be explained; we will understand how God laughs and cries at the same time. We will get how God is out for our good and yet seemingly always allowing things in to trip us up. The point is we don't know what way is up! We can't tell when we are looking God in the face. Those men at the table hated Sunday and so do we! We come to the table with our own thoughts about God and our neat ordered universe and so find ourselves coming to the point of hatred when God is simply beyond our comprehension and our reasoning. The whole time Sunday was simply calling them to a deeper relationship and a more fuller trust in who we was; he was inviting them to embrace the paradox and even to the very end they (as do we) distrust and question Sunday.

The irony is that the only black/white character in the novel was Gregory, the archetype of Satan.

Go figure.

The Humor of the Universe

I confess that in the past, when I would think of the Christian writers of the early 20th century, I supposed that their works would be dry, stale, and....well, boring. Books of theology are not usually the ones I want to pull of the shelf for an enjoyable read. But now I have encountered G.K. Chesterton, and found that he is one of the most hilarious, yet profound writers I have ever read. He presents theology, but not in it's typical form. He defends GOD by attacking the modern day thoughts that oppose His truth, but Chesterton does not simply lay out an argument. He tells a story. It's a story not of predictable, laid out facts, but one of mystery and humor.

Chesterton believed that GOD was in fact funny. He did not see the unanswered questions of the universe as things that separate us from GOD, but as things that should draw us to Him. He looked at GOD's creation as being full of "surprises" left for us to discover, not as a great Ruler separated so far above His creation, who would see His incomprehensible ways and fear. Chesterton looked at the unexplainable and laughed.

Glimpses of this belief are found in The Man Who Was Thursday. In one instance, the policeman is speaking about how ironicly brilliant is the fact that the five men who would oppose Sunday were the five men whom Sunday allowed on the Council. Sunday used them to confound each other, knowing how they would act. This reminds me of the question of why GOD allows evil men to rule, men who oppose Him. Chesterton says through the policeman, "Don't you know Sunday? Don't you know that his jokes are always so big and simple that one has never thought of them? Can you think of anything more like Sunday than this, that he should pull all of his powerful enemies on the Supreme Council, and then take care that it was not supreme?" (72) I can almost hear Chesterton chuckling as his plot unfolded by his pen. One cannot understand the "whys" of GOD, but one can accept them as ridiculously amazing. We can accept Him in joyful ignorance, or deny Him in angry supposing.
In Chapter 14, Chesterton again uses Sunday to show the happiness found in GOD's mysteries, in His surprises, in His ways. Bull says, "...I can't help liking old Sunday. No, it's not an admiration of force, or any silly thing like that. There is a kind of gaiety in the thing, as if he were bursting with some good news. Haven't you sometimes felt it on a spring day? You know Nature plays tricks, but somehow that day proves that they are good-natured tricks. I never read the Bible myself, but that part they laugh at is literal truth, 'Why leap ye, ye high hills?' The hills do leap - at least they try to...Why do I like Sunday?...how can I tell you?...because he's such a Bounder." (100). When GOD is seen through eyes like these, the response is a desire to come closer, to know Him better, to live in grattitude, and to laugh along with Him. Trying to explain all He is and all He does in reason is like trying to explain why something is so funny you laugh until you cry to the person who has just entered the room and missed the joke. It doesn't make sense when you try to say it again. You just "had to be there."
I believe Chesterton had one of the loudest laughs of all.

Chesterton in Real Life

I don't know why, but I have been unable to post a video that I found. It is a short video of C.K. Chesterton speaking at a college. I'll keep trying to make it work, but if you want to see it, go to youtube and search "G.K. Chesterton speaking at Worcester College." It should come right up. I found it intriguing not only because a short glimpse of his humor can be seen, but also his actual size. He was a giant in his intellectual presence, but his stature alone was powerful enough to dominate his surroundings. The ownership of both of these, however, demanded that his voice be heard...but neither were very necessary. His booming voice would be difficult or miss. Thankfully, he always had something to say that was worth hearing.

Discourse on Promises

As I pondered and searched for an opportunity to add to our wonderful discussion, I was distracted by the outside world. A thief had robbed my thoughts from me. Not given to despair, I conducted an extravagant search in which I could have in no way been thwarted by my enemy. My search ended in triumph beneath my bed when I found Chesterton’s novel The Man Who Was Thursday.

I began thumbing through the book and was at once reminded of an oddity within the pages thereof. It is incredibly obvious that each of the men upon the Supreme Council of Anarchist had at some point in their lives taken a vow never to disclose that they were policemen. It is this vow which I had intended to discuss, and now upon the rediscovery of my senses, that desire remains the same.

Almost before his adventure ever begins, Syme is forced to secrecy by our friend, the good anarchist Gregory. As is indicated later in the novel, our Mr. Syme was not the only character to take such a vow. It would appear that all of the Days had made such a promise; a promise which would force them to never tell the police about the Council.

“What does this mean!?” I screamed aloud. “How could this happen?” I began to wonder whether this had been a mishap on Chesterton’s part (unlikely) or if it had been divinely orchestrated by Sunday. I came to the conclusion that in all reality the cause of this oath matters not at all. Ultimately, all that matters is that it happened. Now, what to do with it?
Saturday was the only character in the novel who went to the police. Does this mean that he didn’t make the same promise as everyone else? We shall never know. All that we can now contemplate was the purpose of the promise. I believe that we must assume that this promise was put in place in order to keep the police upon the High Council from discovering one another and turning upon Sunday. The supreme secrecy of the inspectors caused them to be alone and frightened; however, no matter how frightened they may be, the inspectors keep their word. At one point in his adventure Syme discloses that he is under even more compulsion to keep his promise because he made it to an anarchist, an undesirable person.

This indicates to the reader that promises must be kept under pain of death. A vow may put a person into a dire situation, but that vow must never be broken. If Syme had stooped low and broken his vow, he may have begun a spiraling descent into true anarchy. He would have abolished all the restraining authority that his morality had.

Now, just as the heroes reached the ending of their story as they reached the end of the pier, so I reach the end of my discourse as I come to the end of the page (87).

book

In case anyone is interested, A.W. Tozer's Knowledge of the Holy is a great book that can help you find an understanding of the nature of God and how He works. Of course, we could never fully know and understand God, but Tozer helps put things into perspective.

Man's View of God

Struggling to deal with Chesterton’s The Man Who was Thursday, I am trying to believe and understand how Sunday is supposed to be a Christ figure in this novel. I more or less feel Sunday is representative of man’s view of God in different circumstances in life. When being pressured by horrible situations, death, hardships, and trials, sometimes it can be hard to determine whether it is Satan’s acts in a person’s life or the permissive will of God. However, during time of prosperity, it is much easier to see the provision and provident hand of God at work. In chapter eleven, the men agree that during this struggle, and of course before they find out who Sunday is, their hope rests in “the man in the dark room…the thing I never saw.” Their hope is in the idea of what is right and good according to the law written on their hearts. So at the time it is easy for them to say this suffering is of Satan and not of God who is good.


However, by the end of the book, Syme recounts his suffering and finds himself questioning Sunday; “have you ever suffered?” The question appears to be presentable in two ways. First of all, was Sunday truly the one who caused suffering and then offered hope? The second being, if Sunday did truly offer hope, how did he offer any hope if he had never suffered? Then Sunday reminds us of the sacrifice of Christ. To me it seems that this is a way of trying to digest complicated questions about the nature of God, human nature, good and evil, and why any of it has to be. Why did God allow evil and where does evil come from? Like I said, it is usually in the crisis of life that people find themselves searching for these answers because they cannot understand whether God is causing or allowing bad things to happen, but also they cannot determine if the circumstance is of God or of Satan. This is the place that I find myself at the end of the book; is it of Sunday (representative of the Christ figure), or was it of Satan?

picture

There is a picture on flickr.com that is of the days of creation. They don't look like they are in order to me, but I thought it might be kind of how the council's outfits looked.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/gerardmontigny/1108446852

Double Life

The idea of the double life is interesting to me in The Man Who Was Thursday. Every one of the “anarchists” –barring Gregory, of course—was actually a policeman. Although, I am not completely sure what Sunday was, I do think he was a good guy. They all needed to play a part to infiltrate the underground force, but what does that say about them? Yes, they were hired to stop the bad guys from winning a “war,” but there is always the question about someone who decides to play an undercover policeman: are they really in it to bring down the bad guys, or do they want to be a bad guy themselves? That may be a stupid question since they were all philosophers (supposedly), so they should know that being a bad guy wouldn’t have gotten them anywhere, but that is always fascinating to me. I don’t really think that any of the men wanted to be a true anarchist, but maybe they have me fooled. I do wonder, though, how long they were in the Supreme Council of Anarchy before Syme joined them and everything came undone.
I do remember that Sunday is the man who hired them all, so he must have known that they were not true anarchists, but Sunday is another man with a double life. His double-ness goes beyond his profession because his body doesn’t make sense. He’s so massive, but he’s agile at the same time. If I had seen him, I’d be like Syme and be scared of the major difference between his size and his speed. I can’t say that I completely buy that he’s a Christ figure, but he does seem to be made of something that does not belong to this world. Syme said that Sunday looked at him “as if he were made of glass” (41). To me, this means that he could see straight through him, so Sunday must have known what each man was in his heart, but to not give a single hint that he was not the man that he said he was proves that Sunday is the ultimate master of the double life.