Half Past Noon

An Augustinian is going to recognize that living in this world is a dirty business. An Augustinian is also going to invite the world to be better.

If we agree on that, how should we apply it?

Calvin on the appearance of truth among the profane:

Therefore, in reading profane authors, the admirable light of truth displayed in them should remind us, that the human mind, however much fallen and perverted from its original integrity, is still adorned and invested with admirable gifts from its Creator. If we reflect that the Spirit of God is the only fountain of truth, we will be careful, as we would avoid offering insult to him, not to reject or condemn truth wherever it appears. In despising the gifts, we insult the Giver (Institutes, 2.2.15).

Question for discussion:

Let’s all close our eyes and imagine a certain post-theonomist, VanTillian definition of the antithesis. Got it? Can you picture the black and white edges, the smooth categorical texture, the easy duality of ascribing a grand unity of instinct and action? (Readers of Dutch Reformed theology may notice that this philosophical concoction is an unfair exaggeration of Dooyeweerd and perhaps Van Til; but can we admit that we ourselves have all at some point used such a caricature of the antithesis?)

Okay. Now where does love of neighbor fit in? Where is our theology of creation? Where is our (Calvinistic) humanism? How do we not end up with a conversionistic piety which consumes us with doubt about whether our actions are pure enough?

I’m reading George Marsden’s biography of Jonathan Edwards (a really fun read, btw) and I think there’s a very strange connection between late Puritan piety (of the navel-gazing, half-way-covenant variety) and modern day exaggerations of the antithesis. Both are preoccupied with the possibility that an impure heart (perhaps undetected) might spoil seemingly “good” actions. Edwards’ father styled himself as a expert in discerning true conversion from false conversion. False conversion would result in seeming piety, only to sour and later reveal that nothing of true worth ever came out of the original “awakening.” Of course, for Jonathan and others, this led to a paralyzing doubt: what if their conversion was empty and all the good works were devoid of value?

All this to say, I’m not convinced that the antithesis, as sometimes used, is a helpful way of living the Christian life. Is there an ultimate dividing of sheep from goats? Of course. But goats make milk, too.

Davey and I have been going back and forth on “antithesis”—hammering out what it means, trying to figure out if we agree or disagree (since we’re both prone to generalizing), and working towards a workable definition. Except that I hate definitions, so I keep protesting and asking for a story instead.

And now I have one.

It’s not by me, nor is it explicitly about antithesis. But I think it sheds some light on the topic and is worth the read. It’s titled “Dimensions,” and it’s in Alice Munro’s latest short story collection, Too Much Happiness. You can read the story here, on Google books.

If you’re interested in the topic, take a gander and see what you think. Does it shed any light? Or am I committing gross isogesis? You be the judge.

More on antithesis later. Stay tuned.

Charles Darwin to receive apology from the Church of England for being “over-defensive” and “over-emotional” in rejecting his ideas. Good grief!