The Value of the Unapplied

My home church, Redemption Tempe, does a very good job of applying faith to all areas of life. Over the past few months, they've gone so far as to interview a different individual every week during the service about their vocation and how they seek to behave in that vocation in light of their faith. We've had people representing occupations from fields such as athletics, medicine, education, and construction, and it's been very interesting and thought-provoking! One thing I have noticed, however, is that most of the people interviewed work directly with or for the good of other people: even the researcher interviewed a few weeks ago was an MD studying pediatric cancer, and there have been no artists of any type interviewed. While I know (from other events and from speaking with the pastors) that Redemption believes any vocation can be used for the glory of God and has intrinsic value, I have seen in other Christian circles a definite desire to justify any vocation or endeavor by directly linking it to some application for the good of humanity or the spread of the gospel.
For example, in this paradigm, the study of literature or history might be perceived as having value only insofar as the lessons derived from that study enabled one to better serve others or impact society. Music and the arts might be considered worthwhile only if centered on explicitly Christian themes, intended for use in church, or used for healing or comforting. In my own vocational sphere, science is often seen as "good" only when it is clearly bound to some clinical application or environmental good. The broader Christian community smiles upon things like diagnostic lab sciences; research into different diseases and their detection, treatment, and prevention; evaluation of food and water pollution; research into cleaner technologies; and projects to make clinically and environmentally relevant discoveries and tools available to underprivileged areas. The so-called "pure sciences," on the other hand - research simply for the sake of knowledge and discovery - are ignored or seen as less valuable, along with what I'll call pure art - art for the sake of beauty, truth, and creation.
It is not incredibly difficult to understand this way of thinking. People in the church believe (correctly) that our primary call in life, regardless of our vocation and talents, is to love God and to love others. It can be hard for them to see how reading a classic novel, painting a portrait, or studying the social habits of bees manages to accomplish either of those things, and so they consider them to be of lesser value. With some impressive mental gymnastics and a good imagination they might be able to find some connection between those occupations and practical relevant service to others or to God, but the link will always seem slightly tenuous and unreliable, casting a shadow of doubt on those activities and the people who pursue them vocationally.
Is this an appropriate way to view different callings and careers? When choosing a vocational path, should we be careful to select something with at least the potential for that sort of practical application in service to others? I have at least one friend who consciously made that a part of his career choice planning, and I went through a lot of soul-searching along these lines myself, trying to force myself to fit into a medical profession simply because of its potential to benefit others and open avenues for sharing Christ. Since then, though, I've come to believe that this is an incomplete way to evaluate vocation, and that what it ultimately amounts to is Christian utilitarianism.
What do I mean by that? Well, in secular philosophical utilitarianism, things or activities gain worth or moral standing in direct proportion to the quantifiable good or happiness they produce. This can be construed in terms of either personal happiness or social good (which is essentially the greatest amount of happiness for the greatest amount of people). Christian utilitarianism in its popular and loosely defined manifestations eschews personal happiness and satisfaction as a justifying end, but embraces the social good as a justifying end, adding to the definition of the social good things like freedom of religion, access to the Bible, and faith in God. Sometimes this social good is elevated to the primary end, even eclipsing what the catechism says is the chief end of man: to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. Maybe this happens because the social good is a much more visible and quantifiable pursuit - I don't know. In any case, it can be very frustrating for someone who works in a more abstract field, whose vocation does not tangibly or directly impact issues of physical/emotional well being, poverty, social justice, education, missions, and so on, to try to justify their vocation and find lasting meaning in it, because of the strength and prevalence of this paradigm within the church.
What utilitarianism excludes is the concept that things are or can be "good-in-themselves" - that is, things do not necessarily require a justifying end to be valuable and worthwhile. Or, to put it another way, the joy of exploring and discovering more of God's creation is a good thing whether or not any clinically or agriculturally relevant application is ever made because of it. A piece of music or work of art is worth creating and delighting in because of its innate beauty or the truth it represents, whether or not it is explicitly Christian, or whether or not a lesson or parable can be drawn from it, and even whether or not it is ever shared. These things are not "less than" because they do not have a justifying end planned as part of their purpose and execution. They are simply good because of what they are: good because in pursuing them we reflect God's joy in creating beauty and order and glorify Him by probing the depths of that beauty and rejoicing in Him in it. That may be all. But it is more than enough.
I want to encourage the church to remember what the chief end of man truly is, to reflect on the woman in the Gospels whose sacrifice of worship was praised by Jesus as a beautiful act even though she could have used those resources to provide for the poor, to dwell on the countless unnecessary but wonderful things God Himself created. It is a good thing to devote our lives to the service of others, and I believe it should be our posture towards others in general even if it is not specifically related to our vocation. But it is not the only worthwhile thing, or even the greatest thing. The greatest thing is to glorify God, and one way we can do that is through immersing ourselves in the beauties of His creation, learning more about it, meditating on its complexities, imaging His creativity in our own art and invention. Our vocations may not be acts of service, but they can still be acts of worship, beautiful, valuable, and worthy of the time and diligence we invest in them.

The Seat of the Scornful

In Psalm 1, the blessed man is described as one who does not walk in the counsel of the ungodly, stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of the scornful; that last phrase is one that has often confused me and given me cause to think and ponder. What I'm coming to think is that the scornful, or the mockers, are those who practice the soul-destroying art of flippancy in the Screwtapian sense. They are those who look upon good, noble, and virtuous things with a cynical and contemptuous gaze, or with open disregard for what they would call the foolishness and futility of those things. And to sit in their seat is to look at life from their vantage point and through their eyes. In some way I feel that this attitude of scorn toward life is one of the most dangerous and destructive things in the world, both for the individual who holds it and for the society around that individual, but it is incredibly difficult for me to express this importance with words of enough meaning and strength.

There are things in this world that are of primary and utmost importance, things that characterize our humanity and serve as the rich soil for our roots or the sky which healthy growth strives to reach. Some of these things are the innocent and fundamental aspects of physical and temporal life in the midst of all God's creation - things like hard work, marriage, babies, beauty in a flower or a mountain or the face of a woman, strength in the arms of a man, and the fellowship of believers worshiping God together. Others are the good and glorious principles and virtues that stretch through eternity and underlie all that is worthwhile in temporality - things like the love and grace of God, justice, righteousness, honesty, compassion, holiness, and judgment; the high praises of God in the mouths of His saints as they wield the two-edged sword of His word; all that is lovely, pure, noble, praiseworthy, and of good report.

But the destroyers of civilization - no, let us call them the destroyers of humanity - attempt to cut away at the reverence and value we ascribe to these things, and they do so with mockery, scorn, contempt, and the overriding derision of elite and enlightened opinion, first, and then of public opinion more broadly. If we cast away those things, however - if we trade in laziness and entitlement for diligence and hard work, for instance, or falsehoods and manipulation for honesty and faithfulness - what will we have left? There will be nothing left worth living for; there will be nothing left that is characteristically human in the majestic and beautiful sense of humanity for which we were all created, which we may one day hope to see, and which we as of yet can still see occasional glimpses here and now. By making those good and virtuous things objects of mocker and scorn, we lose both the rich soil of a godly and honorable temporal life and the high and glorious heavens that soar in the eternal visions and aspirations of one who seeks to know and follow God. Stunted and weakened, we wither inwards in petty sins and quiet despair, having barred the door of our hearts to both life and joy.

Unbelonging

Psalm 107 is one of the most beautiful of all the psalms, and also one that illustrates God's love for and involvement in the lives of His people. Every time I read it, a different aspect or picture stands out to me. Today, what caught my attention was the first descriptive stanza, verses 4-9:

"They wandered in the wilderness in a desolate way;
They found no city to dwell in.
Hungry and thirsty,
Their soul fainted in them.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
And He delivered them out of their distresses.
And He led them forth by the right way,
That they might go to a city for a dwelling place.
Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!
For He satisfies the longing soul,
And fills the hungry soul with goodness."

It is a picture of loneliness and unbelonging, of souls who wander alone and unfruitful through barren desert places, trudging through the wilderness with empty hearts. To them, life must seem both meaningless and hopeless, as they long from the depths of their being for the joy and abundance they can neither find nor create. Yet though their sorrows lead them to the point of breaking, they do not stumble into the pit of Despair, for they remember in their desolation, despite the seeming futility of life, to cry to God who does not scorn the tears of a lost and broken soul.

When they so cry, out of the pain and the bitter empty ache of their hearts, He hears them not with condemnation or contempt, but with kindness and compassion. He hears them, and hearing them, He responds with action, entering their lives and changing its course. He leads them to a place where they can dwell: He gives them a home and a place to belong, and a community in which they can find both fellowship and purpose - where they can have their own needs met and also come to know joy and find meaning through serving and loving the people around them. In essence, He saves them from the barrenness of a life alone and loveless by restoring them to the human fellowship for which we were designed.

All too often, even here in an actual city, there is no community. Souls wander by in the wilderness of their isolation and loneliness, longing for love but unable to find it, looking for a place to belong, but turned away by the indifference of those who fail to even notice them. The deep, throbbing ache for a place and a people to belong to becomes the steady undercurrent of our existence, however we try to silence or ignore it. Oh, that God would bring the goodness of community and loving fellowship to our lives, here and now! Deliver us from the distress of our aloneness and unbelonging, Lord, and lead us by the right way, and satisfy this longing of our souls!

Finding love

From Sherry Turkle, the author of the book Alone Together, about the effects of the rise of personal technology on human society and relationships (I found the quote at the Futurisms blog at New Atlantis, but the whole interview with Turkle at IASC is also worth reading):

"People are so vulnerable and so willing to accept substitutes for human companionship in very intimate ways. I hadn't seen that coming, and it really concerns me that we're willing to give up something that I think defines our humanness: our ability to empathize and be with each other and talk to each other and understand each other. And I report to you with great sadness that the more I continued to interview people about this, the more I realized the extent to which people are willing to put machines in this role. People feel that they are not being heard, that no one is listening. They have a fantasy that finally, in a machine, they will have a nonjudgmental companion."

Isn't that truly what people want? We want someone who will love us unconditionally, regardless of what we say or do - someone who will be there when we need a friend, listen when we need to talk, and make us feel as though we have some value and worth. In the hidden depths of our hearts, we're terrified of reaching the end of our lives only to realize that we have accomplished nothing meaningful and are going to die alone and unloved. If we can have some kind of affirmation and companionship as we go through life, it helps to assuage those fears, and if we look to some non-human source for that affirmation and companionship, whether it be animals or robots, we can satisfy our emotional needs (or at least dull their ache) without having to endure the risks, pains, and fears of human relationships and meaningful work.

Ultimately, of course, pursuing intimacy and meaning in that way is bankrupt; it may give us comfort for a time, but it stifles our emotional growth and prevents the deepening and maturing of our hearts, and in the end we are left unfulfilled and despairing. But as my brother wrote (in an unpublished document; you can read more of his writing here):

"We are a world devoid of love, a shadow land, hiding itself from the true light, and so we must cast open the windows - no, tear down the very roof. Love is the great irony, the caustic force that banishes the dark and drives out the meaningless. [...] The answer must be to love and love only. The answer must be to live from love, for all action to emanate from love."

What I see in the desperate terrified longing of so many people in our society, in the deep desire for intimacy coupled with the intense fear of pain and worthlessness, is an open invitation to live out the love of Christ in our world - to be the human being who listens to the sorrows and worries of our neighbors, who stands with them through their joys and their troubles, and who loves them unconditionally and without condemnation. In a world where everyone is withdrawing to the comfort and convenience of computer-mediated relationships and robotic companions, we can change lives and bring the gospel into our communities simply by loving, always loving, in all that we do, with genuine, face-to-face love.

A Farewell (or A Eulogy)

Our culture is in the process of banishing two of the great handmaidens of civilization. I'm not thinking of truth and beauty, although the same could be truly said of them (and indeed they are the greatest, second only to the great triad of faith, hope, and love), but rather of another pair: nobility and wonder. In their place, we have chosen cynicism and flippancy - cheap and shriveled substitutes for the living glory we might have known.

When I use the word "nobility," I am not referring to aristocratic hierarchies or rich and landed persons, but to an "elevation of mind and exaltation of character," to high ideals and upright conduct. Nobility is what enables a person (and collectively, a society) to see innate worth rather than mere hedonistic or utilitarian value in every individual human being, to pursue true honor and seek after deeper meaning without forsaking dignity and courtesy, and to labor wholeheartedly for a cause because it is right and true and glorious and beautiful even if it has no earthly hope of success. It is a focus on deeper and higher things - an eternal perspective - that enables production rather than consumption and allows one to be content and at peace in any material circumstance. It is a quietness of the heart that leads to efficacious action rather than to indolence, because it is coupled with a great purpose: to know and will the good. In this quietness, filled and made great by the desire for the good, there is no room for petty complaints, for selfish worries, or for the trivial thoughts and actions that waste a life; there is no capacity for scoffing at or ridiculing anything that aspires to the good.

Wonder has no capacity for scoffing at all. Wonder looks at the world around her and delights in the beauty of it all, dances to its secret songs, falls back in awe at the marvels she beholds. She is like a child in her open curiosity and excitement, but with the maturity and wisdom to endure through great trials and see the glory behind this pain, the light beyond these dreary shadows. You might accuse of her of looking at the world through rose-colored glasses; she would retort that you must be looking at it through blackened ones. She asks why "the way things really are" must always be the way that holds the most hurt, that allows for the most sin, that conceals corruption and falsehood, when God is good and has made a good world. It is not that she ignores all that is bad and decaying and cruel - it is simply that these things fade away in the light of all the wondrous things she sees as well. Her eyes look into the eternal, and her heart is filled with a joy greater than all temporal ills, which no evil can destroy. While she may appear foolishly innocent and hopelessly naive, she has in reality found a solid rock beneath the shifting sands on which those around her have staked their souls, and she has seen the truth to which they have blinded their eyes. She sees the permanent unfading goodness against which the winds of trouble and sin beat in vain, and rejoices in that goodness rather than despairing at the winds.

How sharply nobility contrasts with the flippant and mocking attitude of our culture today! We would rather stand by and laugh (and what a deadened, joyless laughter it is, in the bitterness of our hearts) at the demise of our communities and families than hope and labor for their healing; we laugh too at those who do labor, and take pleasure in their failures, because then we can proudly proclaim how right we were about the fall of civilization. It is damning to say that we saw things fall apart and chose to do nothing, even if the fall were inevitable; but we see only how we might come out on the top of the pile at the end of that fall and then laugh in our self-assured complacency all the way to the bottom. Then, to make our consciences rest easy at the deceit, exploitation, filth, and pain that we rely upon to maintain our material comfort and fill our empty hearts, we make innocence a joke and ridicule those deluded enough to believe in beauty and to cling to truth. There is no quietness except the stillness of the morgue; no peace except the final rest of death.

And how complete is the separation between open-eyed, childlike wonder and our harsh, defensive cynicism! More than anything else, cynicism is the last defense of the terrified heart against despair: by assuming the worst in advance, with an attitude of knowing negativity, one can escape the pain of thwarted dreams and even take pride in one's ability to avoid the delusions of joy. After all, it is undeniable that things will go wrong in this life, and that people will disappoint us. Why should we trust anyone, when we have been hurt and seen other be hurt by betrayal of such trust? Why should we look for beauty in anything, when the startling filthy ugliness of sin has jumped out at us from so many seemingly beautiful people and places? How can we open our hearts again to beauty and light and truth when we have begun to doubt that they exist at all, when we have been crushed in the darkness and cruelty of this life? In our cynicism, we can feel that at least all this pain has made us wise enough to understand the darkness of the world. And we look down upon wonder and joy with cool and sneering disdain, because in the depths of our hearts we hate and despise them as cheats - even as we desperately crave what they pretend to give - but know how foolish it would be to reveal those true feelings. In wonder, every emotion is genuine and life, imbued with the light of truth, overflows with joy; in cynicism, no sincere feeling is revealed, and the heart, being covered with deceit, moulders in the dust of fear and the black rot of hate.

Nobility offers to take the pain and fight the evil, regardless of the consequences; its deepest desire is to do what is right, and not merely to do what is right but to pour itself out in the doing, and not solely to pour itself out in the doing, but to suffer all the pain of the doing in themselves. Nobility seeks to not to draw in, but to give out; not to obtain personal pleasure, but to do what is right that others might thus be uplifted:

"'If I were to be made a knight,' said the Wart, staring dreamily into the fire, 'I should insist on doing the vigil by myself, as Hob does with his hawks, and I should pray to God to let me encounter all the evil in the world in my own person, so that if I conquered there would be none left, and, if I were defeated, I would be the one to suffer for it.'
'That would be extremely presumptuous of you,' said Merlyn, 'and you would be conquered, and you would suffer for it.'
'I shouldn't mind.'
[...]
Merlyn wrung his hands. 'Well, anyway,' he said, 'suppose they did not let you stand against all the evil in the world?'
'I could ask,' said the Wart.
'You could ask,' repeated Merlyn.
He thrust the end of his beard into his mouth, stared tragically at the fire, and began to munch it fiercely." - T.H. White, The Once and Future King

Wonder sees the world and rejoices that it is. If we can mourn a loss or complain at the downward path some things are taking, we can with wonder celebrate those things that are not lost, and praise those things that rise upward. While we know that all is not well now, that there is pain and darkness and sin, we do not have to be absorbed by those negative things: we can wonder and delight in the things that are good in opposition to the evil and in the things that are good simply in being themselves:

"This elementary wonder, however, is not a mere fancy derived from the fairy tales; on the contrary, all the fire of the fairy tales is derived from this. [...] These tales say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water. [...] 
The wonder has a positive element of praise. [...] Here I am only trying to describe the enormous emotions which cannot be described. And the strongest emotion was that life was as precious as it was puzzling. It was an ecstasy because it was an adventure; it was an adventure because it was an opportunity. The goodness of the fairy tale was not affected by the fact that there might be more dragons than princesses; it was good to be in a fairy tale." - G.K. Chesteron, Orthodoxy

We have dismissed King Arthur as a myth, turning him into a comic buffoon or an ignorant medieval warrior, so his nobility will not affront our flippancy. Chesterton we never knew - and what did he know about life, anyways, that deluded Christian author from a wealthy family in a privileged nation? God we have forgotten. And with Him we have forgotten how to conduct ourselves with the honor of a noble spirit and the joy of a wondering heart; we have forgotten how to be truly civilized, and so all things come apart.