Brief Reviews of Books Received

So, I just discovered this essentially complete post written during Christmas break 2012-13 and entirely forgotten within hours of its writing. It is now radically out of date as any kind of recent ‘book update’, but it does document a few titles I received gratis and for which I therefore owe thanks. 

Well, as has become obvious, I am quite incapable of blogging while keeping up with school duties. I had a good run last summer, after I finished revising and editing my now-published C.S. Lewis paper and before school preparation began, but after that the best I could manage was this brief post about my ordination to the diaconate. So, I promised a Facebook friend that I would try to complete at least one post over the Christmas break, and I am now attempting to keep that promise. 

If memory serves me, in the last several months I have received four books of which I need to make mention. First, a kind fellow at Jordanville sent a copy of the new edition (2012) of Fr Lazarus’s translation of The Arena, by St Ignatius (Brianchaninov). [1] I have compared it rather carefully with my old copy of the third printing (1991) of the first edition (which I shall call 1.3), [2] and while the translation is the same and the foreword by (then Archimandrite) Kallistos (Ware) has been retained, [3] the differences are interesting. Most obviously, where 1.3 has a very textured, brown-paper-bag-looking cover with a very simple monochrome image of the Roman colosseum, and is subtitled, ‘An Offering to Contemporary Monasticism’, the 2nd ed. features a slick and glossy full-colour cover with sunbeams peaking through a tower of a church and the subtitle, ‘Guidelines for Spiritual & Monastic Life’. The contrast between the old homespun Jordanville publications and the new computerised look is readily apparent in the printing as well. Whereas the printing in 1.3 is uneven, with the occasional poorly struck letter and with a persistently high lower-case ‘o’, the 2nd ed. is a model of computerised evenness. The result of course is that Jordanville publications look much more professional, but have sadly lost their peculiar charm. C’est la vie! 

There are of course a number of less superficial differences. The brief summary of St Ignatius’s life on the back cover of 1.3 has been replaced by a description of the book’s contents and a longer bio appended to the text. The footnotes of 1.3 have become endnotes, and there are occasionally new ones. The glossary at the back has been slightly expanded (‘Ekos’, ‘Hesychasm’, and ‘Hesychast’ are the new entries). Although I cannot at the moment identify the translation used in the Scriptural quotations of 1.3, the 2nd ed. appears to use the NKJV for NT and most OT, the OSB for Deutero-canonical books, and David James’s Psalter for Prayer for the Psalms. Perhaps most exciting, however, is the addition of Subject and Scripture Indexes! In my own opinion, these alone make it worthwhile to acquire the new edition. 

Next, as an ordination gift my kind friend, Met. Savas of Pittsburgh, sent a copy of the oddly named, The Philokalia: A Classic Text of Orthodox Spirituality, edited by Brock Bingaman and Bradley Nassif (and also featuring a foreword by Met. Kallistos, I’ve just realised!). [4] No, this is not another translation of the Philokalia, as the title might misleadingly suggest, but a collection of fine scholarly papers on one of my favourite subjects. Highlights include: ‘St Nikodimos & the Philokalia’ by Met. Kallistos, ‘The Making of the Philokalia: A Tale of Monks & Manuscripts’ by Fr John McGuckin, ‘The Influence of the Philokalia in the Orthodox World’ by Fr Andrew Louth, ‘The Luminous Word: Scripture in the Philokalia’ by Douglas Burton-Christie, ‘The Theological World of the Philokalia’ by Rowan Williams, and ‘Hope for the Passible Self: The Use & Transformation of the Human Passions in the Fathers of the Philokalia’ by Paul M. Blowers. It seems that all that is missing is my own paper on ‘The Teaching on the Senses of the Fathers of the Philokalia’! Still, even without that important study, this promises to be an important resource.

That said, I do have one complaint: the introduction. It seems to me that this would have been the place for some overview of the scholarly literature, scarce though it admittedly is, on the Philokalia as a whole, and the attention to the individual authors as it has developed over the last century or so. Instead, while there is a brief paragraph on the attempt of the editors to fill a lacuna in this regard – a lacuna they apparently only discovered a few years ago during Bingaman’s preparation for comprehensive doctoral exams – we have, essentially, a paragraph reassuring readers that the Philokalia is really an ‘ecumenical’ spiritual resource; we have two paragraphs apparently reassuring Protestants that the Philokalia does not teach some sort of ‘works righteousness’; and we have a long section arguing that while the Philokalia if misinterpreted by Orthodox could inspire a kind of Orthodox fundamentalism, it’s still a good thing for the modern reader in ‘a world of massive technological, social, economic, and intellectual forces that are in conflict, and interaction, with each other’ to joyfully rediscover it and uncover the forgotten ‘spiritual treasures of the Christian East’. [5] In other words, it almost sounds as though it is more dangerous for Orthodox Christians to read the Philokalia than for yahoos to read it who have no experience of the whole liturgical, exegetical, ascetical, and spiritual context presupposed by every author from St Anthony to Ss Kallistos and Ignatius. I set aside my irritation only because so many of the contributors really are so terribly top-notch. 

Thirdly, I had been feeling guilty about a continued failure to acquire a copy of a newly published book by my delightful British Cypriot friend, Fr Vassilios Papavassiliou: Journey to the Kingdom: An Insider’s Look at the Liturgy & Beliefs of the Eastern Orthodox Church. [6] But without warning, I discovered in the mail one day a package from Paraclete Press containing an unsolicited review copy of the book. Included was a hand-written note which read: 

Aaron, I have read your blog & think you would be interested in our new release ‘Journey to the Kingdom’ by Fr Papavassiliou. 

If you do mention the book would you be willing to e-mail me a link. 

Blessings, 

Sr Madeleine 

Spared the trouble of placing an order against my always harried bank account, I began looking into the book. At its basis a simple yet very profound commentary on the Divine Liturgy, I have been quite impressed so far with what I have read of Fr Vassilios’s book. There is an accessible eloquence to the prose that, I daresay, actually reminds me occasionally of C.S. Lewis. The style, coupled with frequent reference to the Scriptures and the many photographs illustrating the various parts of the Liturgy, make this an ideal introduction to the Liturgy for (particularly Protestant) converts and inquirers. For some Orthodox, there may seem to be rather little reference to the Holy Fathers, though references to them are in fact scattered throughout the text. But I can personally testify that Fr Vassilios knows the Fathers quite well, and the book is certainly patristic in spirit. 

My one little quibble is that I believe Fr Vassilios has overstated the problem of what he calls ‘obstacles to coming to Holy Communion’, by which he means the requirement of Confession, the Prayers of Preparation, and the practice, common among Greeks, of requiring a day or more of fasting before receiving Communion. [7] Although I was always willing to practice the last according to the ‘When in Rome’ principle, and it makes sense as a measure for those who do not regularly attend church or keep the fasts, I can see how it can be a bit excessive as a requirement for faithful who are regular attendants and communicants and who make every effort to keep the canonical fasts. Ditto for the requirement of Confession and, I suppose, the Prayers of Preparation. But where these are established customs, taught by pastors who have at least some degree of pastoral wisdom and condescension, I think it can be unhealthy to rail against them before a lay audience. I know of at least one convert who left a perfectly healthy parish led by a wise priest, simply because he had read Fr Alexander Schmemann saying that clergy shouldn’t insist on Confession before every Communion, and who ended by later leaving the Faith altogether and becoming a ‘Buddhist’. Anyway, as I have said, I do not exactly disagree with Fr Vassilios here, but would at the same time urge the faithful to accept with humility (within reason of course) the ‘rules’ that their pastors and spiritual fathers impose. Otherwise, it seems to me that we are not really Orthodox but Protestants. 

Finally, my kind friend, Stacy Shipman, sent me a book she is helping to promote called Place Your Hope in the Lord: The Poetic Spiritual Life of Father Lazar. [8] I had never heard of Fr Lazar (Adžić) before, but it seems he was the abbot of the Ostrog Monastery in Montenegro (having previously been formed in monasticism at Hilandar on the Holy Mountain, as well as by St Justin (Popovich) at Ćelje) and has been revered in Serbia as a holy elder. Despite an unattractive title font (used for titles throughout the text as well), the volume is in appearance a bit like a St Herman Brotherhood publication and is quite pleasing to the eye. But the text itself is unique. While there are brief accounts of Fr Lazar’s life in Met. Amfilohije’s forward (pp. 17-21) and sermon at Fr Lazar’s funeral (pp. 23-7), as well as on pp. 33-8 of Abbess Jelena’s text, the bulk of the content is not made up of linear biographical narrative at all, but of brief anecdotes and sayings arranged in no discernible order. As Professor Lidija Tomić writes in her foreword (a review that was printed with the original Serbian text): 

The book about Father is not a typical hagiography and does not belong to the canon of hagiographical literature. It has a hagiographic aura because it deals with the life of a man of God, i.e., the biography of his worldly and priestly paths.... 

...

The variety of topics of the personal and spiritual existence of Father Lazar conditioned a synchronized structure of numerous anecdotes, occasions, and events, which, without chronological gradualness, actualized the author’s notion that, even without an overwhelming narrator’s attitude, with a choice of various fragments she managed to depict Father Lazar in his faith and his experience of Christ, i.e., in different situations and states of worldly and spiritual existence. 

... The book varies from the perspective of narration and confession, the spiritual and religious perspective of human deeds and unlawfulness, to the perspective of God’s mercy, faith, and love. The author chose fragmentary narrative composition to be able to show light from different angles to uncover the layers of Father Lazar’s personality. [9] 

The sayings and anecdotes do indeed appear to be rather marvellous, and while the excerpts above from Tomić’s foreward might suggest a disappointing translation such prosaic problems appear to be confined to the rendering of Tomić. From what a random selection of passages can reveal, the translation of Abbess Jelena’s own text seems to be perfectly good English. 

[1] St Ignatius (Brianchaninov), The Arena: Guidelines for Spiritual & Monastic Life, tr. Archimandrite Lazarus (Moore) (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity, 2012). 

[2] St Ignatius (Brianchaninov), The Arena: An Offering to Contemporary Monasticism, tr. Archimandrite Lazarus (Moore) (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity, 1991). 

[3] It always warmed my heart to see the name of perhaps the foremost representative of ‘world Orthodoxy’ to converts on the title page of a ROCOR publication. Of course, Met. Kallistos has always spoken rather frankly of his close relationship with the Russian Church Abroad as a young convert, and don’t forget that His Eminence has actually recommended Fr Seraphim (Rose) as a ‘good discussion’ of St Ignatius’s teaching on ‘the traditional Orthodox teaching on the twenty “toll-houses”’ (see p. 142, n. 10, to the comment on p. xvi). 

[4] Brock Bingaman & Bradley Nassif, eds., The Philokalia: A Classic Text of Orthodox Spirituality (Oxford: Oxford U, 2012). 

[5] Ibid., p. 5. 

[6] Archimandrite Vassilios Papavassiliou, Journey to the Kingdom: An Insider’s Look at the Liturgy & Beliefs of the Eastern Orthodox Church (Brewster, MA: Paraclete, 2012). 

[7] These requirements seemed to have become a pet peeve of Fr Vassilios while we were studying together in Greece, where there were indeed many examples of excessively zealous clergy and faithful, who could often be quite off-putting in their attitudes and practices. 

[8] Abbess Jelena (Stanišić), Place Your Hope in the Lord: The Poetic Spiritual Life of Father Lazar, tr. Milena Taylor (Memphis, TN: Orthodox Christian Translation Society, 2012). 

[9] Ibid., pp. 13-4.

Promises to Keep

Many apologies, dear readers, for the lack of posts over the last few weeks. I’m afraid I was quite busy—first, getting ready for and beginning the school year, and second, with my sister’s wedding and my own ordination to the diaconate (as of Sunday, 3 September/21 August). 

The latter event, of course, has loomed heavily in my mind, both before and after. Over 13 years ago, as an over-eager, clergy-wannabe, newbie convert of two or three years, I read the following words of Metropolitan Hierotheos and trembled, ‘Since the task of the deacon is to purify others of passions, he should himself, prior to ordination, have reached a stage of purification so that he is himself a living exponent of the practical philosophy.’ [1] That effectively cured me of any sense of urgency about ordination. When the final push came, it was very nearly decided without my input. As I remember it, Metropolitan Hilarion, Bishop Peter, my spiritual father, Fr Anthony, and my wife, Brighid, rather conspired against me, as it were, and now here we are. But I alone am responsible now. Met. Hierotheos’s major premise, of course, comes from St Dionysius the Areopagite, Ecclesiastical Hierarchy 5.6, 508A-B, [2] and it is a text of which I remain acutely aware as I go about the duties ahead of me. I can only ask that all forgive me for my complete failure to live up to the standards of the Gospel, and my presumption in accepting this position. I am perfectly serious about that. 

In other and more interesting news, I’ve been meaning for some weeks now to fulfill a charge. Holy Trinity Publications in Jordanville kindly sent me a review copy of the new edition of The Arena by St Ignatius (Brianchaninov), [3] which I have been comparing with my copy of the third printing (1991) of the original edition—a veritable antique of a book. [4] Hopefully, I shall manage a post on this in the next couple of days, and at the same time, pay homage to a friend for whom I am exceedingly worried. 

Finally, as a sort of pre-ordination gift from God, I suppose, my friend Lee Webb, theological librarian at my alma mater, informed me last week that he had something for me at the OCU library. I swung by on Friday after school, and in a state of shock was handed a box full of all 16 volumes of the 1914 edition of Baring-Gould’s Lives of the Saints. Apparently, they were to be simply discarded by the library, and my new best friend Lee immediately thought of yours truly. This, added to the recent gift by a subdeacon of my parish of a second-hand copy of Fr Zakaria Machitadze’s Lives of the Georgian Saints, [5] has nearly convinced me that it is the will of Providence that I go back to blogging about Saints. We shall see... 

[1] Metropolitan Hierotheos (Vlachos) of Nafpaktos, Orthodox Psychotherapy: The science of the Fathers, tr. Esther Williams (Levadia, Greece: Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, 1994), p. 74. 

[2] Pages 237-8 of Luibheid’s translation. 

[3] St Ignatius (Brianchaninov), The Arena: Guidelines for Spiritual & Monastic Life, 2nd ed., tr. Archimandrite Lazarus (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity, 2012). 

[4] St Ignatius (Brianchaninov), The Arena: An Offering to Contemporary Monasticism, tr. Archimandrite Lazarus (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity, 1991). 

[5] Archpriest Zakaria Machitadze, Lives of the Georgian Saints, tr. David & Lauren Elizabeth Ninoshvili, ed. Lado Mirianashvili & the St Herman of Alaska Brotherhood (Platina, CA: St Herman of Alaska Brotherhood, 2006).

CiRCE Report, Part I

I’ve decided rather than posting my CiRCE report all at once, to instead make it a two-parter. So here is Part 1, dealing with the various speakers heard on Thursday, 19 July. 

As I mentioned before, the conference theme was ‘A Contemplation of Creation’. Nine of us set out from OKC, including my wife and me and my terrific boss, Nathan Carr. We arrived Wednesday evening in time to stop by and say hello to Joshua Sturgill and Erin Doom, who were setting up the Eighth Day Books table, before heading to the welcoming reception. There, after reconnecting with Matt Bianco, Buck Holler, and Andrew Kern himself, I finally met the delightful Darren and Kimberly Jahn. Kimberly had recently (?) begun reading Logismoi and had already ingratiated herself by sending me a free copy of David Hicks’s Norms & Nobility. My wife and I decided to crash their dinner plans and get to know them a bit for the rest of the evening. 

Thursday morning began with an opening talk by Andrew Kern called ‘A Contemplation of Creation, Part I’. After an oligatory but meditative look at Genesis 1, Andrew quoted from Dorothy Sayers’s Mind of the Maker: ‘As soon as the mind of the maker has been made manifest in a work, a way of communication is established between other minds and his. That is to say, it is possible for a reader, by reading a book, to discover something about the mind of the writer.’ [1] This established the prevailing theme of the talk—the role of analogy in our understanding of God and creation. I don’t recall whether Andrew quoted it or not, but Wisdom 13:5 is a good statement of the thesis that makes use of the very term he emphasises—‘For by the greatness and beauty of the creatures analogously [ἀναλόγως] the Maker of them is seen.’ According to Andrew, our ‘habit of mind’ vis-a-vis creation should be primarily one of analogy rather than one of analysis.  

Next there was another plenary session, with John Mason Hodges talking about ‘Music & Metaphor: Towards a Sacramental View of Creation’. Hodges opened by emphasising that the Scriptural metaphors used for Christ—the vine, the bread, etc.—use things made by Him in order to describe Him. In other words, Christ is not ‘like’ a vine, the vine is ‘like’ Christ. He then segued into the topic of music by pointing out that metaphors function by bringing two things together in harmony—the sign and the signified. The bulk of the talk however consisted of an analysis of three movements from Holst’s The Planets—Jupiter, Mars, and Venus—and of the Louis Armstrong/Ella Fitzgerald duet, ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off’. Hodges highlighted the metaphorical meanings in the music of Holst’s suite, and of the lyrics (primarily) of the Gershwin composition (focusing in particular on the lines ‘But oh, if we call the whole thing off / Then we must part / and oh, if we ever part, then that might break my heart’). 

At the first breakout session, I chose to attend a talk by Edward Chandler on ‘Language & Creation: Man, the Image of God’. Chandler began by discussing the imago Dei, arguing that approaches to the subject could be grouped into three categories: the material (entailing an anthropomorphic theology); the psychic/noetic, i.e., the idea that the soul or mind is the image, and is merely housed in a container (Chandler thought that this seemed to be the tendency of St Augustine as well as what he called ‘my beloved Cappadocians’!); and finally, the composite, a psychosomatic emphasis, which he identified with Aquinas (but I associated primarily with St Gregory Palamas and the Philocalic tradition generally). Chandler’s point was that language as a God-given ability was bound up with the imago in part because it is itself a psychosomatic unity (immaterial thought or meaning + material sign), but also because human language is analogous to God, who uses language to create in Genesis. Chandler connected this with liberal studies by pointing out that the inevitable offspring of language is literature, and that we learn classical languages in order to read literatures. In this way, language enables us to know ourselves as human beings. For Chandler, this meant that Latin instruction, for instance, should move as quickly as possible into the reading of texts, and not focus on grammar per se. 

Lunch on Thursday was spent in the charming company of Dr John Patrick of Augustine College in Ottawa, an abridgement of whose essay, ‘The Myth of Moral Neutrality’, I had just read in Doxa, the newsletter of St Michael’s Skete. Unfortunately, Dr Patrick’s deep well of fascinating stories made me quite late to the next breakout—Earl Nelson’s earnest talk on ‘Contemplating Babel: The Spiritual Dimensions of Learning Latin & Languages’. Nelson discussed the story of Babel as an account of the splitting up, not only of languages, but of cultures and thought-worlds. He sees it as a locus of estrangement on two levels—between different cultures (usually a synchronic estrangement), and between a present culture and its own past (more like a diachronic estrangement). Nelson saw language learning as the process of a becoming part of another culture and overcoming the divisions of Babel. He was quite firm about the importance of gaining fluency in reading the classical languages, and not being content merely to produce translations, whether mental or written. 

Thursday came to an end with a 3-man panel consisting of Martin Cothran, David Hicks, and Gregory Wolfe (of Image Journal) discussing Christian views of creation while in the roles of St Athanasius the Great, St Basil the Great, and St Augustine, respectively. In the spirit of the KU Pearson Integrated Humanities Program, on which this feature of CiRCE conferences is based, I did not take notes. Instead I simply sat and listened, and when Andrew Kern refilled the participants’ wine glasses, managed to procure a swig for myself. It started very slowly and awkwardly (though not without humour), but ended up being an interesting discussion. I was thrilled to hear Hicks (St Basil) tell Cothran (St Athanasius) that his favourite book by him was the Vita Antonii (as I mentioned here). Wolfe repeatedly mentioned ‘hanging out’ with a bunch of no-goodniks who theologically denigrated creation (the Manichaeans), and emphasised that his Confessions highlighted the allegory of Genesis in part to overturn Manichaean ideas. Unfortunately, Hicks seemed to get a bit confused about St Basil’s dates, but I doubt any non-Patristics folks noticed. 

Because the CiRCE prize-giving banquet was scheduled for Friday eve, the PH staff elected to have our traditional dinner out together on Thursday evening. I ate a sickening number of ribs at Ramsi’s Cafe in Louisville, browsed a bookshop, and had a brief conversation with Joshua Sturgill (of Eighth Day), Stacy Shipman (itinerant Orthodox student/teacher), and Nyleen Lacy (of the brand-new Orthodox classical school, Christ the Savior Academy in Wichita) before returning to the hotel to find part of its roof had been ripped off by a tornado. Thanks to God, no one seems to have been injured. 

[1] Dorothy Sayers, The Mind of the Maker (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1979), p. 49.

Imitating the Bees—Logismoi & Comparisons

No, I have not forgotten my promise to write a report on the CiRCE Conference we went to in Louisville two weeks ago. In fact, I have already made a beginning, but have yet to complete it. In the meantime, besides all of the summertime activities that have conspired against me, our air conditioner went out during church on Saturday, and this with a week before us of temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit and rising. [1] We spent a hot and sleepless night at home, and then after lunch on Sunday, I came home to get some things before we headed over to my parents’ house to spend the night. There was a funeral this morning, and we only just returned home this afternoon. All that is to say, that I certainly plan on finishing up that post sometime this week! 

In the meantime, I have a couple of things to share on a theme that is important to the raison d’être of this blog. In a 1999 critique of Met. Kallistos’s popular book, The Orthodox Way, a critique which by now should be familiar to most Orthodox on the more traditionalist side of things, Hieromonk Patapios of the Old Calendarist monastery of St Gregory Palamas in Etna, CA, writes: 

Furthermore, when Bishop Kallistos cites the Talmud to the effect that the glory of God is man, and then goes on to quote the famous statement of St Irenaeus of Lyons that ‘the glory of God is a living man’, can he be sure that, despite their external similarity, the same intention lies behind both of these remarks (one clearly Christocentric and the other obviously not), or that they really mean the same thing? If he cannot be sure, then what is the relevance of the quotation from the Talmud? [2] 

Now, the reason I took note of this statement when rereading Hieromonk Patapios’s article the other day is that much of what I do at Logismoi might well fall under the same critique. It’s true that I don’t typically compare the Fathers with non-Christian writings, but my recent posts drawing on Roman Catholic authors like James Taylor (here and here for instance) might be seen by some Orthodox as a species of the same thing. Indeed, I do not wholly deny the charge. It may well be that the statements I have taken from Roman Catholic or Protestant authors in order to compare them with comments by the Fathers or other Orthodox authors do not ‘mean the same thing’ as the latter. Actually, I am rather certain that the distinctive Orthodox doctrine of the uncreated energies of God could be found to pose a fundamental obstacle to attempts to reconcile many theological statements across the East-West divide. My aim in making such comparisons is not to insist that these authors are saying exactly the same thing or that ‘the same intention lies behind’ their remarks’, but, first of all, simply to point out connections that naturally occur to me (as I frequently say, ‘This reminded me of something else...’), and second, to pose the question of whether there mightn’t be something in common between them. I typically avoid making any real claim that there is, if only because I sometimes fear that it might just look that way because I want it to. 

By an interesting coincidence, I was reminded of this recently not only by Hieromonk Patapios’s shrewd rhetorical questions, but also by some statements of one of these Roman Catholic authors themselves. In The Death of Christian Culture, John Senior writes: 

The best of us are prone to sophistry when an obvious truth contradicts a strong desire. Recent ecumenical commissions from various churches have tried to create approaches to unity by reconstructing their articles of faith so as to make room for contradictory articles of faith held by others. [3] 

Having quoted a troubling example (which I hope to share on Logismoi soon), Senior concludes, ‘The only rational way for Protestants and Catholics [and Orthodox, of course] to get along together is to practice the difficult virtue of tolerance—not to falsify their claims by ambiguities.’ [4] 

I must admit that for various reasons I do in fact have ‘a strong desire’ to find points in whatever I read that can be reconciled with or that at least bear a modicum of similarity to Orthodox belief. But I do not want my irenicism in this respect to be mistaken for a facile kind of ecumenism. I believe, with Fr Georges Florovsky, that the Orthodox Church ‘is in very truth the Church, i.e. the true Church and the only true Church.’ 

I believe this for many reasons: by personal conviction and by the inner testimony of the Spirit which breathes in the sacraments of the Church and by all that I could learn from Scripture and from the universal tradition of the Church. I am therefore compelled to regard all other Christian churches as deficient, and in many cases I can identify these deficiencies accurately enough. Therefore, for me, Christian reunion is simply universal conversion to Orthodoxy. I have no confessional loyalty; my loyalty belongs solely to the Una Sancta. 

I know well that my claim will be disavowed by many Christians. It will seem an arrogant and futile claim. I know well that many things I belive with full and uttermost conviction are disbelieved by others. Now, I do not see any reason whatsoever to doubt them or disbelieve them myself....This does not mean that everything in the past or present state of the Orthodox Church is to be equated with the truth of God. Many things are obviously changeable; indeed, many things need improvement. The true Church is not yet the perfect Church. 

The Church of Christ has to grow and be built up in history. Yet the whole and the full truth has been already given and entrusted to the Church. Revision and re-statement are always possible, and sometimes imperative. The whole past history of the Ecumenical Councils is evidence of this fact. The holy Fathers of the Church were engaged in this task. Yet on the whole, the ‘deposit’ was faithfully kept and the testimony of faith was gained in accuracy and precision. Above all, the sacramental structure of the Body has been kept integral and intact. Here again, I know that this conviction of mine may be rejected as an illusion. For me, it is a matter of evidence. If this is obstinacy, it is the obstinacy of evidence. I can only see what I actually do see. I cannot help it. But in no way am I going to ‘un-church’ anyone. The judgment has been given to the Son. No one is entitled to anticipate his judgment. Yet the Church has her own authority in history. It is first the authority to teach and to faithfully keep the word of truth. There is a certain rule of faith and order that is to be regarded as normal. What is beyond is just abnormal. But the abnormal should be cured, and not simply condemned.... [5] 

I have quoted Fr Georges at length because I want my position to be as clear as possible, and it is identical with his. I want all that I write here to be read in light of these convictions. I shall continue to make comparisons, to find the best that I can in non-Orthodox and even non-Christian culture. But I want this project to be as it was always intended to be—a carrying out of St Basil’s injunction to imitate the bee in carrying away pollen from various flowers, not an attempt to iron out differences across creeds and cultures.  

[1] Of course, some of my most consistent reading material of the last year—John Senior and his student James Taylor—has argued persuasively that climate control is inimical to the ‘poetic mode of knowledge’. Indeed, it is a position I had come to, though without the aid of that expression, on my own some time ago. The trouble, however, is twofold. First, our modern buildings are built to be climate-controlled, so if the AC breaks, there is no way to naturally cool it and it becomes unfit for human habitation. (My own house would seem to be exempt from this, having been built before AC. But it was long ago sealed up and insulated by the landlords. Even the windows are painted shut.) Second, I do in fact currently have a pregnant wife to consider. I make up for these things myself by leaving the AC off in the car when I’m driving without her and simply rolling down the windows—which has to be done by hand in our car! 

[2] Hieromonk Patapios, ‘Critical Comments on Bishop Kallistos’ The Orthodox Way’, Orthodox Tradition, Vol. XVI, 3 & 4 (1999), p. 35. 

[3] John Senior, The Death of Christian Culture (Norfolk, VA: IHS, 2008), p. 16. 

[4] Ibid., p. 17. 

[5] Protopresbyter Georges Florovsky, ‘The True Church’, tr. Linda Morris, Ecumenism I: A Doctrinal Approach, Vol. 13 in The Collected Works of Georges Florovsky, ed. Richard S. Haugh (Vaduz: Büchervertriebsanstalt, 1989), pp. 134-5.

Habent sua fata libelli: Preliminary Post-CiRCE Post

In my last post, I promised a full report on the CiRCE Institute conference in Louisville last week. I fully intend to keep that promise, but as it’s going to take some work, and as I’m still recovering from the experience (including a physical injury!), I intend to fulfill a simpler task with this post and postpone the report for a couple of days.

The title of the post is a Latin phrase meaning—for those barbarians unlearned in the mother tongue of the West—‘Books have their fates’. It is taken from the 2nd-c. grammarian, Terentianus Maurus (see a brief account on this great but short-lived blog of Latin quotes). I use it to indicate the theme of this post—the fate of three books borne all the way to Louisville from Wichita, KS, by intrepid Eighth Day Books employee, Joshua Sturgill. After the gruelling trip from the gentle Midwest to the geographically vanguard state of the Confederacy, these three books were fated to return to the rolling plains, only this time a bit farther South, to the Red Earth of Oklahoma and the Taylor home, with its sprawling library. 

One book set out from Wichita already in full knowledge of its fate. I texted Joshua at least a week before the conference to request that he bring along a copy of the recently published English translation of St Nicodemos the Hagiorite’s Χρηστήθεια των Χριστιανών. I have dabbled in the original Greek of it, having brought home from Thessaloniki a fine copy of Rigopoulos’s edition, but I was eager to acquire the first English version, translated by Hieromonk Patapios with Monk Chrysostomos and Archbishop Chrysostomos of Etna, and featuring an introduction by the Archbishop, and published by the late Constantine Cavarnos’s Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies. [1] 

Part of my interest in the English edition was due precisely to its inclusion of an introduction by this hierarch, an Old Calendarist and loyal son of the Fathers but nevertheless a perspicacious scholar whose writing is consistently marked by a balanced and moderate application of the traditions of the Church to modern life. This was much needed in the present case. The Greek moral theologian and philosopher, Chrestos Yannaras, has written, ‘Nikodemos’s legalistic pastoral theology tends inevitably to moralism, transforming the Church’s Gospel into a codified deontology governing conduct. His Chrestoetheia of Christians (Venice, 1803), in particular, is typical of European eighteenth-century pietism.’ [2] 

As I have argued previously (here for instance), such judgements are grossly overstated, and indeed, sad caricatures of a golden volume that Cavarnos has more justly and reverently called ‘one of Nicodemos’ most original and most edifying books’. [3] My interest in Archbishop Chrysostomos’s introduction was due in part to a desire to see St Nicodemus defended once again, but in part to a desire to see what are admittedly some pretty strict moral guidelines made a bit more palatable to modern Anglophone readers. These things I believe His Eminence accomplishes rather laudably if far too briefly. The subject deserves a full post in its own right some day, but for now, a brief quote must suffice: 

Once more, the focus of St Nicodemos’ teaching on personal morality and comportment must be seen within the the Hesychastic tradition. If many of the constraints on human behavior undertaken by the Hesychasts are similar to those that one may find in pietistic morality, our attention should not be drawn to these similarities in a superficial or simplistic sense. The goals and context of pietism are not those of the Hesychast....And finally, we must understand that the Saint’s emphasis on setting a high standard of behavior towards which every Christian must ideally strive is not just a matter of pietistic posturing. It is an important element in the Hesychastic life, wherein a mark set very high serves, from a motivational perspective, to direct an aspirant’s efforts and actions to the apogee and summum bonum of spiritual development, the achievement of which is not always as important as the intention and assiduity put forth in pursuing it. [4] 

I have begun with this discussion of the eruthrochomaic fate of this new translation of St Nicodemus largely to establish my Eastern street cred, for the other two volumes whose destiny yesterday led them to casa Taylor are decidedly more occidental. The first was a tiny but expensive little hardcover edition of John Henry Newman’s Rise & Progress of Universities and Benedictine Essays. As interested as I certainly am in Newman’s pedagogical theories, I actually bought this volume more for the two short ‘Benedictine essays’ than for the study of universities. Despite their being available online, having seen multiple references to them in James Taylor’s Poetic Knowledge I felt that I ultimately needed my own hard copy of these fascinating pieces (from which I have already quoted here). Here is a sample: 

While manual labour, applied to these artistic purposes, ministered to devotion, on the other hand, when applied to the transcription and multiplication of books, it was a method of instruction, and that peculiarly Benedictine, as being of a literary, not a scientific nature. Systematic theology had but a limited place in ecclesiastical study prior to the eleventh and twelfth centuries; Scripture and the Fathers were the received means of education, and these constituted the very text on which the pens of the monks were employed. And thus they would be becoming familiar with that kind of knowledge which was proper to their vocation, at the same time that they were engaged in what was unequivocally a manual labour; and, in providing for the religious necessities of posterity, they were directly serving their own edification. And this again had been the prace of the monks from the first, and is included in the unity of their profession. [5] 

Finally, trying quickly to choose a small and inexpensive book that wouldn’t be too ‘historical’, I settled on Josef Pieper’s Tradition: Concept & Claim. [6] Pieper’s much lauded Leisure: The Basis of Culture, which I discovered much too late in life, was one of the highlights of last summer, and I could not resist a book by the same author on the subject of tradition. The purchase seemed especially fitting, since the translator is CiRCE conference fixture and eccentric geocentrist E. Christian Kopff, author of The Devil Knows Latin. I have already read Kopff’s ‘Translator’s Preface’, which promises to give, in ‘most cases’, ‘idiomatic and clear English explanations of Pieper’s meaning’. [7] I have just begun Kopff’s alluring ‘Translator’s Introduction: Reflections on Tradition & the Philosophical Act in Josef Pieper’, where he discusses, among others, Hans-Georg Gadamer and the latter’s vindication of tradition in Truth & Method. [8] I will surely finish reading the translation itself sometime before school starts. But for now, here is the epigraph: ‘“The only reason we are still alive is our inconsistency in not having actually silenced all tradition”—Gerhard Krüger, Geschichte und Tradition.’ [9] 

[1] It is interesting to note, however, that despite the IBMGS publishing credit and unmistakeable title page, the jacket seems much more reminiscent of the English translation of the Evergetinos—completed by some of the same cast of characters, but published by the Center for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies—than anything else in the IBMGS catalogue. One wonders if perhaps the CTOS has somewhat coopted the IBMGS in the wake of Cavarnos’s repose! 

[2] Chrestos Yannaras, Orthodoxy & the West: Hellenic Self-identity in the Modern Age, tr. Peter Chamberas & Norman Russell (Brookline, MA: Holy Cross Orthodox, 2006), p. 136. 

[3] Constantine Cavarnos, St Nicodemos the Hagiorite, Vol. 3 of Modern Orthodox Saints (Belmont, MA: IBMGS, 1994), p. 45. 

[4] Archbishop Chrysostomos of Etna, ‘Introduction: The Person & Writings of St Nicodemos the Hagiorite & a Critical Assessment of His Essay on Christian Morality’, Christian Morality, by St Nicodemos the Hagiorite, tr. & ed. Hieromonk Patapios with Monk Chrysostomos & Archbishop Chrysostomos of Etna (Belmont, MA: IBMGS, 2012), pp. l-li. 

[5] John Henry Newman, Rise & Progress of Universities and Benedictine Essays, ed. Mary Katherine Tillman, Vol. 3 of The Works of Cardinal John Henry Newman, Birmingham Oratory Millennium Edition, ed. James Tolhurst, DD (Notre Dame, IN: U of Notre Dame, 2001), pp. 416-7. 

[6] Josef Pieper, Tradition: Concept & Claim, tr. E. Christian Kopff (South Bend, IN: St Augustine’s, 2010). 

[7] E. Christian Kopff, ‘Translator’s Preface’, Pieper, p. xiv. 

[8] Kopff also discusses John Rawls, ‘who suggested a way to escape from the traditions and historical forms of actual societies’ (‘Translator’s Introduction’, Pieper, p. xxi). Ironically, I met Rawls’s niece, a confirmed traditionalist who is aghast at her uncle’s ideas, at the CiRCE conference! 

[9] Pieper, p. ix.

'Gaze Serenely upon the Things of this Earth'—CiRCE Conference & Eco

We’ll be leaving at five in the morning tomorrow for Louisville, KY, and the CiRCE Institute’s annual conference on classical education, on the theme ‘A Contemplation of Creation’. Last year’s conference, on the theme ‘What Is Man?’, was a real treat, my wife and I having been sent by a generous Providence Hall parent, Chris Dickerson, as a sort of scouting expedition for our school. Not only did I get to chat a bit more with CiRCE founder Andrew Kern, whom I had met previously when we both spoke at the Climacus Conference in Louisville, but I also had lunch with the charming Armenian Orthodox moral theologian, Vigen Guroian. 

This year Providence Hall will be returning in force. I hope to reconnect with prior acquaintances, meet a few new ones (not the least of whom will be the generous Logismoi reader, Kimberly Jahn), and, of course, buy a few books from good old Joshua Sturgill at the Eighth Day table. We may also stalk speaker Wendell Berry a bit. I hope to make a full report sometime next week. In the meantime, I shall leave you with an interesting quote to ponder from Umberto Eco’s excellent Art & Beauty in the Middle Ages, tr. Hugh Bredin (New Haven, CT: Yale, 1986): 

The view that the Middle Ages were puritanical, in the sense of rejecting the sensuous world, ignores the documentation of the period and shows a basic misunderstanding of the medieval mentality. This mentality is well illustrated in the attitude which the mystics and ascetics adopted towards beauty. Ascetics, in all ages, are not unaware of the seductiveness of worldly pleasures; if anything, they feel it more keenly than most. The drama of the ascetic discipline lies precisely in a tension between the call of earthbound pleasure and a striving after the supernatural. But when the discipline proves victorious, and brings the peace which accompanies control of the senses, then it becomes possible to gaze serenely upon the things of this earth, and to see their value, something that the hectic struggle of asceticism had hitherto prevented. Medieval asceticism and mysticism provide us with many examples of these two psychological states, and also with some extremely interesting documentation concerning the aesthetic sensibility of the time. (pp. 5-6)

Blogging into Graceland

Good news, Logismoi readers! One of the two blogs most directly influential on my own decision to start blogging way back in 2008 is back after a one-year hiatus. Five years ago or so, I thought blogging was for whiny narcissists with nothing to say. Then I discovered Ora et Labora, by the inimitable anonymous blogger, Felix Culpa, and Voice of Stefan, by the equally inimitable New Testament expert and Puerto Rican immigrant, Esteban (pronounced es-TAY-bonn) Vázquez. Ora et Labora, sadly, is now defunct and is not likely ever to be revived, but Esteban has vowed to return to the fray and swell our ranks. 

It seems he is not unchanged, however. Continuing his pursuit of an esoteric obsession with folk singer, Paul Simon—whom he believes, along with his erstwhile harmoniser, Art Garfunkel, to be one of the two witnesses mentioned in Revelation 11:3-12—Esteban has altered the name of the blog to Bouncing into Graceland, a reference not so much to the famous Memphis home of Elvis Presley, as to some Simon lyrics considered by Esteban to be the very epitome of greatness. 

It is likely that we will hear more of the ‘infallible’ Moisés Silva and (theologically) liberal-killing J. Gresham Machen, that we will be treated to snide dismissals of ‘militant Americanist Orthodox’ and triumphant postings of music videos in Serbian. I urge everyone to follow Bouncing into Graceland eagerly. Ad blogges!

A Return to Books

Well, despite being desperately hard-up for money, I found that I could not resist the urge to purchase a couple of books during my travels last week. I plan to make some references to some of these in future posts, but for now, I’ll just mention the titles. 

First, at the wonderful Books at Cummins Station in downtown Nashville, I found many things that I would love to have had, but managed to limit myself to a $5 copy of A Maritain Reader, one of the neat little paperbacks published by Image Books in the 1950s and 60s. I had just come across a reference to one of the pieces in this volume in James Taylor’s Poetic Knowledge, and the very next day, there it was at the bookshop. So far, I’ve read the Introduction and part of the essay Taylor cites—‘Creative Intuition & Poetic Knowledge’. [1] I look forward to placing this one next to my copy of A Gilson Reader. Sadly left behind were, among others, Frye’s The Great Code and Wayne Booth’s The Company We Keep. One day, my friends! 

Then, on the way out of Nashville Saturday afternoon, we couldn’t resist stopping by McKay, just off of I-40, which had come recommended by the great Maximus Daniel Greeson himself. Older, regular readers of this blog may recall my interest in British Poet Laureate, John Masefield, and that I have been assiduously collecting any Masefield I come across for roughly the last ten years. So you can imagine how I felt when I found an enormous collected edition of Masefield’s lyrics (1941) with a little preface from the poet himself for only $3. 

Also at McKay, for $1.50 each, I found Lattimore’s Iliad, strongly recommended by Benjamin in the comments on this post, and the Twentieth Century Views [2] volume on Homer, edited by George Steiner and Robert Fagles. Interestingly, the latter includes not just the ‘critical essays’ mentioned in its subtitle, but a number of modern lyric poems related to Homer, including ‘Telemachos Remembers’ by Edwin Muir, ‘The Shield of Achilles’ by W.H. Auden, ‘Nearing Again the Legendary Isle’ by C. Day Lewis, ‘Hellas’ by Robert Fitzgerald, ‘Ulysses’ by Robert Graves, ‘μητις.....οὐτις’ by W.D. Snodgrass, and ‘Ithaka’ by C.P. Cavafy (which I have previously posted here). 

Finally, I had the immensely gratifying treat of coming home to find a copy of David V. Hicks’s Norms & Nobility: A Treatise on Education waiting on the porch. My friend, Andrew Kern of the CiRCE Institute, had insisted at last year’s CiRCE conference that Hicks’s was an absolutely indispensable book on education, but I had to walk away in sadness when I discovered it cost $42. Well, a newcomer to this blog, Kimberly Jahn, when she learned of this tragedy, graciously volunteered to send gratis an extra copy that she had lying around the house. I have promised to do some blogging on it when I get a chance to start reading it, which I hope to do before the next CiRCE conference, coming up in just a few weeks. Thank you, Kimberly, and I also look forward to hearing the cd!  

[1] Donald & Idella Gallagher, eds., A Maritain Reader (Garden City, NY: Image-Doubleday, 1966), pp. 328-55; cited in James Taylor, Poetic Knowledge: The Recovery of Education (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998), p. 8. 

[2] George Steiner & Robert Fagles, eds., Homer: A Collection of Critical Essays (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1962). I also have the Twentieth Century Views volume on Donne, edited by the great Helen Gardner.

Brief Hiatus & Monastery Books

I just returned from Holy Archangels Monastery in Texas yesterday evening, and will already be leaving again tomorrow for Nashville, TN, for a close friend's ordination in the Catholic Church. Along the way, of course, I will visit the usual folks in Memphis, TN, and hope to hook up with good old Maximus Daniel Greeson in Nashville itself.

While the return from our pilgrimage gave me a chance to post my big piece on St Cyril's definition of philosophy, today promises to be quite busy, and I won't be returning from the Nashville trip until Sunday. That means that there likely will not be another substantial post until next week. But assuming that our Internet connection holds good, I should be able to do something after the trip. 

In the meantime, I acquired two new books at Holy Archangels that I thought I'd mention. The first, a gift of the abbot, was my very own copy at long last of Elder Sophrony's St Silouan the Athonite, tr. Rosemary Edmonds (Crestwood, NY: SVS, 1991). The book's a bit expensive (the bookstore price was $29), and I had put off buying it in part because I already had an old copy of The Monk of Mount Athos: Staretz Silouan 1866-1938, tr. Rosemary Edmonds (London: Mowbrays, 1973), and a newer one of Wisdom from Mount Athos: The Writings of Staretz Silouan 1866-1938, tr. Rosemary Edmonds (Crestwood, NY: SVS, 1995). But someone informed me (I think it might have been Christopher Veniamin) some years ago that St Silouan was not merely a combination of the two smaller volumes but had been expanded and edited by the Elder himself and had substantially superseded the other two. It had been on my wishlist for some time, and only the price and the pressing needs for other volumes had delayed my purchasing it. 

At any rate, Elder Sophrony's biography of his own Elder, St Silouan, is perhaps one of my favourite works of hagiography. As much as I enjoy ancient hagiography, like St Anthony's Life or St Benedict's, there is something very appealing about Elder Sophrony's ability to address the mindset, concerns, and interests of that sort of modern reader who may perhaps be more intellectual than pious. For those who have not read it, I highly recommend that they do so. Here is a little sample passage: 

Beholding beauty, the Staretz would look at the clouds, the sea, the mountains and forests, meadows and a lone tree. He used to remark that the glory of the Creator shone with splendour even in this visible world but to behold the glory of the Lord Himself in the Holy Spirit was a vision infinitely transcending any human conception. Once, watching the movement of the clouds across the emerald Attic sky, he remarked, 

'How sublime our Lord is! What beauty He has created to His glory, for the good of His people, that men might joyously glorify their Creator...O Sovereign Lady, make all peoples to behold the glory of the Lord!' 

Thus having briefly contemplated the visible beauty before him and the Divine glory in it, he would return anew to pray for the people. [1] 

The other book with which I returned was Monk Basil's Reflections of a Humble Heart: A 15th-c. text on the spiritual life, tr. Mary Mansur (Richfield Springs, NY: Nikodemos Orthodox Publication Society, 2007). I believe I came across this one a few years ago in the blogosphere or something, and had made a mental note to get hold of a copy. It's a slim little volume and was only $10, so I grabbed it. A little prefatory note explains: 

Among the Byzantine manuscripts in the Vatican library there is this portion of the notes of a certain monk Basil concerning his discussions with an elder whose name did not reach us. Either the monk Basil, who recorded the words of the elder of blessed memory, assumed that everyone knew about whom he was speaking, or the elder's name was mentioned in earlier notes that have been lost. It is supposed that the blessed elder was a renowned ascetic of one of the monasteries near Constantinople, and that he lived in the early fifteenth century. [2] 

Mansur has translated the text from the Russian translation by Archimandrite Ambrose (Pogodin) published at Jordanville in Pravoslavnaya Put' in 1999. 

Well, I look forward to a triumphant return to blogging sometime next week! 

[1] Archimandrite Sophrony (Sakharov), St Silouan the Athonite, tr. Rosemary Edmonds (Crestwood, NY: SVS, 1991), p. 97. 

[2] Monk Basil, Reflections of a Humble Heart: A 15th-c. text on the spiritual life, tr. Mary Mansur (Richfield Springs, NY: Nikodemos Orthodox Publication Society, 2007), p. 6.

Coleridge Materials Glut

Well, things have changed since my last post on Coleridge, wherein I was confined to consulting the critical edition of Tolkien’s essay on fairy-stories and Bowra’s study of the ‘Romantic imagination’. If anyone has paid attention to the comments there, they will have seen that not only did I receive a kind gift of Owen Barfield’s What Coleridge Thought (San Rafael, CA: The Barfield P, 1971) from the generous Dale James Nelson, but a goodly sized box of supplies from my lecturer friend, followed by a lone volume that he was earlier in the process of reading but which can now be lent as well. Listing these, and wondering aloud how I am ever to sort through all of this, is the raison d’etre of this post.

To begin with the most recent arrival, a week or two ago I received on loan a work entitled Coleridge, the Bible, & Religion (NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), by Jeffrey W. Barbeau, who at the time of publication was Associate Professor of Theological and Historical Studies at Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, OK. Interestingly, the one reference to the imagination/fancy distinction in the index to this book is from an endnote where Barbeau quotes Thomas McFarland arguing that—

the dilettante will invariably think that the distinction between imagination and fancy is the most important of all the binary distinctions that Coleridge proposed. The true Coleridgian, however, will know that the polarity of imagination and fancy...is incomparably less decisive for an understanding of Coleridge’s mind than is the distinction between reason and understanding. [1]

Duly noted! I do of course aspire to be a true Coleridgian, so I will at the very least recall henceforth that the imagination/fancy distinction is by no means decisive for an understanding of Coleridge’s mind.

The box I received back in the early Spring included the following:

1) James S. Cutsinger, The Form of Transformed Vision: Coleridge & the Knowledge of God (Macon, GA: Mercer, 1987). This volume features a foreword by Owen Barfield. James Cutsinger, for those who do not recall, is the perennialist religion scholar who edited Reclaiming the Great Tradition from IVP (I wonder if the Inter-Varsity folks know about his perennialism) and who was academic dean of Rose Hill College, the short-lived Orthodox liberal arts college in South Carolina. I know Cutsinger is fairly crucial to my friend’s understanding of Coleridge on the imagination, so this seems a likely source. He is also more likely than the others to perhaps make some reference to the Fathers.

2) J. Robert Barth, SJ, Coleridge & Christian Doctrine (Cambridge, MA: Harvard, 1969). I realize a Jesuit in 1969 may be a very different thing from a Jesuit now, but according to the index there are only three pages that deal with the imagination in this one. We’ll see...

3) Mary Anne Perkins, Coleridge’s Philosophy: The Logos as Unifying Principle (Oxford: Oxford, 1994). A photocopy bound in a three-ring binder, I think this one may be more useful than the last as I understand that the Logos as ‘unifying principle’ is pretty central to what my lecturer friend believes may be Coleridge’s position on the imagination. The latter subject also shows up more in Perkins’s index than in Barth’s. I also see one reference to Fr Andrew Louth. Well done!

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, before I had thoroughly explored the contents of the box, I came across a print-out of an e-mail correspondence between my friend and some other gentlemen wherein reference was made to an article entitled ‘Coleridge’s Definition of Imagination & Tolkien’s Definition(s) of Faery’. [2] The article is authored by, of all people, a friend of mine from the Oklahoma City-held C.S. Lewis & Inklings conference (2010) [3] as well as MythCon of the same year [4]—Michael Milburn. Michael is a very gracious young Roman Catholic gentleman and a student of the great Ralph Wood at Baylor. Furthermore, I believe his article may be the piece that relates to my claim about Coleridge and Tolkien (here) most directly and, if I am not mistaken, unwittingly proves me much mistaken. At any rate, I e-mailed Michael to ask him for a pdf of the article, which I soon received, and only then discovered a copy of the article already stuck inside one of other items in the box—the three-ring binder, I believe. [5]

So the question now is, when if ever will I get a chance to go through all of this stuff, in between finally getting to do some reading for pure pleasure and beginning to formulate ideas for a paper on Dickens which I hope to present at school this Fall? [6] Perhaps more importantly, when I do get a chance to go through all of this, how much sense will I be able to make of the question? I don’t know. But soon I hope to at least read carefully through Michael’s article (since it seems the most pertinent, aside from being the shortest work of the lot), and then perhaps I can begin poking around in Barfield’s book, since I did promise Dale I’d make an effort to do so.

[1] Barbeau, p. 202, n. 9.

[2] Michael Milburn, ‘Coleridge’s Definition of Imagination & Tolkien’s Definition(s) of Faery’, Tolkien Studies: Vol. 7, ed. Douglas A. Anderson, Michael D.C. Drout, & Verlyn Flieger (Morgantown, WV: West Virginia UP, 2010), pp. 55-66.

[3] Where I presented the paper posted here, just now greatly expanded and extensively revised in hopes of publication in the conference anthology. The editors told me the original was incoherent and too informal. I guess that’s what happens when your primary outlet for writing is a blog.

[4] Where I presented the paper mentioned here.

[5] I should perhaps mention that the box also included Barfield’s Coleridge book as well as Verlyn Flieger’s Splintered Light: Logos & Language in Tolkien’s World. I have my own copies of these books, however.

[6] A post setting out some ideas for this, to be presented as part of our school’s symposium in honour of the Dickens Bicentennial, may be coming soon.

Emulating the Seraphim According to Pico della Mirandola

I am pleased to announce that, incredibly, I have a legitimate reason for not having posted in the last two weeks. My old computer began to experience difficulties, and I only just got a replacement (a gift from a Catholic priest friend) which is not yet internet-ready. I did, however, very much hope to get in one more post before the end of April, but I'm afraid it will be rather disappointing.

I would like to post a passage from Giovanni Pico della Mirandola's famous Oration on the Dignity of Man, which I read some years ago but am currently re-reading with my students. I have two different translations: one by A. Robert Caponigri, with an introduction by, surprisingly, Russell Kirk, [1] and one by Elizabeth Livermore Forbes and published in the fascinating anthology, The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, edited by Ernst Cassirer, Paul Oskar Kristeller, and John Herman Randall, Jr. [2] I neglected to really compare the translations, and as I had to photocopy the oration for my students, I chose Forbes's because the type was smaller and I would save paper. It also features helpfully numbered paragraphs.

Anyway, I offer a passage which clearly reflects the influence upon Pico of St Dionysius the Areopagite, as well as leaves aside much of the--to many Christian eyes--syncretism that marks Pico's thinking throughout. It is a startling reminder that while the 18th century may have fostered a largely secular view of the 'Renaissance philosophy of man', perhaps the most characteristic statement of that view is quite obviously anything but.

8. ...The Seraph burns with the fire of love. The Cherub glows with the splendor of intelligence. The Throne stands by the steadfastness of jdgment. Therefore if, in giving ourselves over to the active life, we have after due consideration undertaken the care of the lower beings, we shall be strengthened with the firm stability of Thrones. If, unoccupied by deeds, we pass our time in the leisure of contemplation, considering the Creator in the creature and the creature in the Creator, we shall be all ablaze with Cherubic light. If we long with love for the Creator himself alone, we shall speedily flame up with His consuming fire into a Seraphic likeness. Above the Throne, that is, above the just judge, God sits as Judge of the ages. Above the Cherub, that is, above him who contemplates, God flies, and cherishes him, as it were, in watching over him. For the spirit of the Lord moves upon the waters, the waters, I say which are above the firmament (Gen. 1:2) and which in Job praise the Lord with hymns before dawn. Whoso is a Seraph, that is, a lover, is in God and God in him, nay, rather, God and himself are one. Great is the power of Thrones, which we attain in using judgment, and most high the exaltation of Seraphs, which we attain in loving. [3]

[1] Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Oration on the Dignity of Man, tr. A. Robert Caponigri (Chicago: Regnery Gateway, 1956).

[2] Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, 'Oration on the Dignity of Man', tr. Elizabeth Livermore Forbes, The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, ed. Ernst Cassirer, Paul Oskar Kristeller, & John Herman Randall, Jr. (Chicago: U of Chicago, 1956).

[3] Ibid., pp. 227-8.

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A number of factors have combined recently to convince me that I should return to the practice of crafting the occasional post for this blog. Not the least of these was this stirring post at Reading the Maps, discovered via the very medium the author denigrates and in which so many of us guiltily indulge: Facebook. How can I continue to neglect Logismoi after reading the following?

Blogging may have been superseded by new and inferior innovations, but the medium need not die. Indeed, bloggers should treat the rise of alternative forms of online communication as a liberation, rather than a disaster. Freed from the curse of coolness, blogging can now develop as a literary and artistic genre, or set of genres. Blogging may have lost some of its old practitioners, but it should be able to attract writers, artists, and political thinkers dissatisfied with the short attention span of twitter and the ritualised onanism of facebook. Blogging may become an act of resistance against the dumbing down of culture and political discourse in the twenty-first century.

I am not so certain, however, that this first new post since last summer can aspire to the lofty heights called for here. Instead, I intend to ease back into the practice beginning with a simple and, for me at least, enjoyable genre: the newly acquired books overview. In my household, we exchanged gifts for the Nativity according to the Church's calendar four nights ago, and I had already previously come by a few other titles, either received as gifts or purchased with gift cards and/or money. Having forgotten the order in which I acquired them, I'll settle for the alphabetical order of the authors' last names.

1) Ibrahim S. Amin, The Monster Hunter's Handbook: The Ultimate Guide to Saving Mankind from Vampires, Zombies, Hellhounds, & Other Mythical Beasts (NY: Bloomsbury, 2007). An unexpected gift from a friend, this one is a sheer delight. For a small taste, consider the author's response to the question, 'Why would anyone want to hunt monsters?'

...A hunter kills to test himself against what nature has to offer, to see if his humble human mind and body can overcome the power, quickness, and savage cunning of the beasts. Thus a true hunter will wish to pit himself against the most challenging prey--creatures that will push him to the limit. Any fool with a gun can shoot a deer, but only the greatest of sportsmen will be able to overcome a Hydra.

However, even among the most dedicated sportsmen in the field there is also a second, and perhaps far more noble concern--no less lofty a goal than the protection and preservation of the human race.

The entry on each creature even includes a citation of early, often classical, sources. My only complaint is that, despite the appropriately arcane, antique-looking cover design, the illustrations are brightly coloured, modern-looking things. They just don't do justice to the subject matter.

2) G.K. Chesterton, Collected Works, Vol. 1: Heretics, Orthodoxy, The Blatchford Controversies, ed. David Dooley (SF: Ignatius, 1986). I was excited finally to come across an inexpensive used copy of a volume of GKC's Collected Works, a set of handsomely designed, but rather pricey volumes from Ignatius Press. I hope to see more some day.

3) Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol: The Original 1843 Manuscript (Delray Beach, FL: Levenger, 2011). A gift from my always thoughtful mother-in-law, this is the first-ever full-cover facsimile of Dickens's original manuscript of A Christmas Carol. It features a facing-page transcription, a beautiful red cloth Smythe-sewn binding gold-stamped with a design from the 1st edition, a silk ribbon marker, and, it seems, 'Archival paper selected to match the color of Dickens’s manuscript paper'. It also has an introduction by the curator of Literary & Historical Manuscripts at the Dickens MS owner: The Morgan Library & Museum. See the photo above. Now I can, just barely, read my favourite lines in Dickens's own handwriting:

'Business!' cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. 'Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive Ocean of my business!' (p. 14)

4) David L. Edwards, OBE, Poets & God: Chaucer, Shakespeare, Herbert, Milton, WOrdsworth, Coleridge, Blake (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 2005). I was off to Half Price Books to kill some time, hoping to find a copy of Gerald Basil Edwards's Book of Ebenezer Le Page. But while I saw no sign of the latter, I did discover this book by another Edwards, apparently a former Dean of King's College, Cambridge. The blurb on the back says this:

These great English poets are at the centre of a cultural heritage which goes along with the world-wide appeal of the English language, yet they have often become the object of study rather than of pleasure.

Scholarly, entertaining and often provocative, David Edwards's new book reveals their relevance to the current quest for an authentic spirituality in a mostly church-less society. Poets & God will excite the reader to rediscover and enjoy their work.

5) Thomas C. Oden, Early Libyan Christianity: Uncovering a North African Tradition (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2011). Although Tom Oden's niece, Amy Oden, was my Church history professor in college, and I myself briefly met the old fellow at a lecture about the Green Collection of Biblical artifacts here in OKC a few months ago, I've managed never to read any of his work. My father gave me this one with the explanation that he never knows what I have, and it was new enough that he could be pretty certain I didn't have it. I fully intend to read it through. I already glanced at the conclusion and found it profoundly moving. Oden is explaining how and why he is passionate about the subject, and apologising in advance for the tentative nature of his conclusions:

Why, then, have I continued to pursue this difficult task to the very end, when I had other urgent projects sitting on the shelf awaiting my attention at a late date in my life? Because so few know about this obscure area; because its role in early Christianity was so significant; because it has been so neglected as a subject of historical inquiry by Western academic colleages. These motives have been the engines of desire.

Now that I am at last ready to offer its results for scholarly and public examination, I am all the more aware that many of its conclusions may seem at first hard to defend and easy targets for academics who are working out of very different premises about reliable knowledge. I hope that someday someone will do more justice to this subject than I. But my time to do anything in this world is limited and growing more so. Hence I offer it for the reader's consideration, hoping for clemency.

6) Rob Pope, How to Study Chaucer, 2nd ed. (London: Macmillan, 2001). I do of course enjoy reading Chaucer, but my primary motive in buying this one was that I am going to be teaching Chaucer to my 8th-grade students this Spring. As I do not know him nearly as well as most of the other books we have been reading, I need all the help I can get.

7) David Simay, Swordfishtrombones: 33 1/3 (NY: Continuum, 2008). Some of you may recall that I posted briefly about Tom Waits a few years ago (here), but if you're not aware, I am an enormous fan. My sister gave me this little book (apparently the 33 1/3 series of books about albums is all the same size), a 'study' of sorts of Waits's groundbreaking album, 1983's Swordfishtrombones. Again, the back blurb says it best:

At the end of the seventies, Tom Waits felt trapped in a stalled career: his musical persona an artistic straightjacket. At a dark, desperate time in his life he got the phone call that offered a way out and met the woman who would change his life. What followed was Swordfishtrombones, one of the most daring transformations in pop music history.

Tom Waits is an elusive subject, sly and evasive. Through extensive research and a close, playful reading of his work, David Smay unwraps the vinegar pleasures of Swordfishtrombones and creates a freewheeling portrait of an American genius. This is the album where Tom Waits beats the blues with a hammer, drags his piano into the rain and burrows deep underground. This is the story of a man who reinvented himself and changed the musical landscape forever, a love story built on exotic percussion and phantom landscapes. This is a story about crows and mules.

8) J.R.R. Tolkien, Smith of Wootton Major & Farmer Giles of Ham (NY: Del Rey, 1986). I bought this with a HP Books gift card after I had the disconcerting realisation that I didn't own a single copy of 'Smith of Wootton Major' (I had 'Farmer Giles' in the Tolkien Reader). It's such a beautiful story, and the descriptions of Smith's journeys oddly reminded me a little bit of Lovecraft's dream stories (another Tolkien/Lovecraft connection).

9) Leo Tolstoy, The Bear Hunt & Other Stories (NY: Little Leather Library Co., n.d.). I received this curious little volume only just tonight from an old family friend. I'd never seen or heard anything of this series, but according to this description the 'Little Leather Libary' books were a series of small classics bound in what was once brownish green imitation leather (mine is decidedly brown) in the early 1920's, apparently inspired by the Arts & Crafts-related Roycroft Press. The Tolstoy volume (Box 2 Volume 91 of the series) contains the stories 'The Bear Hunt', 'What Men Live By', and 'A Fairy Tale'.