Two weeks ago, one of my classes spent a five-day span of classes disucssing the matter of the metaphysical free will of man and theological determinism. While we did not begin within an explicitly Christian context, our discussion drifted toward the matter of predestination as the week progressed, culminating in an essay assignment in which we were required to decide which view of man’s free will and God’s sovereignty we felt explained the matter most comprehensively.

Now, this is a matter that I have been avoiding for quite some time. I’ve seen far too many would-be theologians debate the matter until their faces are red and their heads are inflated for me to feel safe taking up any position on the issue. However, I have been coming to realize that at some point I would need to take a position, and this essay afforded me the opportunity to do so. It was not with little difficulty that I finally produced the essay below. Half-way through my first draft I started from scratch, a day before the paper was due, because I wasn’t satisfied with where my position led. The conclusion I came to is about as certain in my mind as a Cleveland sports team winning a championship anytime soon, and so I share my thoughts with you here not as having conclusively resolved the issue in my own mind, let alone on a grand scale, but rather as one who is still searching and still attempting to delve the apparent bottomlessness of the otherliness of God. I’ll try to hyperlink a few terms within the paper to terminology that I left out for sake of length in my original submission.

As a foundation for this discussion, I will begin with two biblical non-negotiables: God is in control, and He holds His creatures responsible for their actions[1]. The fact that God is in control over His creation is clearly stated throughout Scripture, in narrative and proposition, and is therefore rarely contested as being a matter of interpretation. The extent to which God’s control interacts with or overrides humanity’s freedom is not as clear and results in a variety of opinions on the topic. Two views of God’s control result in different perspectives on the issue. Meticulous sovereignty sees God as a God who works out His plan in infinite detail and scope, working every aspect of the universe to bring about His plan. This view of sovereignty is accepted by Calvinism and Molinism. General sovereignty sees God as an overseer, one who sees the overarching picture of the universe and works on a large scale rather than in the details, a view held by Open Theism.

In thinking through these views, I have come to a tentative conclusion that a variation of the Molinistic view is the best explanation for how God deals with His creation.  I believe that the God presented in Scripture is one who works out His will by both direct and indirect means. He works His will out through direct involvement with individuals[2], but also on a general level through directing the general course of history. I believe that Scripture presents a God who is concerned with His ultimate will, that of bringing all things to Himself and that He does this through a variety of means.

In light of this understanding of the desires of God, I will adopt the Molinistic perspective on His sovereignty to explain how I have come to understand the issue. Within Molinism, God possesses three types of knowledge: natural knowledge, middle knowledge, and free knowledge.[3] With His middle knowledge God is able to understand what free individuals could possibly choose in any given situation, as well as under what circumstances they will choose a specific option.  Traditional Molinism contends that God has used this knowledge to construct a universe in which the circumstances will be right for every possible choice such that His creatures will freely choose how He desires. In this way, God is meticulously sovereign while allowing individuals to express metaphysical freedom.

However, I would diverge from the traditional Molinism by contending that God knows all possible situations and choices in which His creatures will be placed, as well as the cause and effect nature of each choice. Rather than using this knowledge to create a universe in which the situations demand a specific choice from the individual, I believe that God has used His full middle knowledge to understand the full variety of life paths any individual could take. In this way, God does not need to act meticulously, for He already understands the dynamics of every situation possible. Thus, God’s sovereignty is expressed generally throughout the life of the individual. Individuals have an infinite number of free choices in every day, all of which begin them along a given life path as God has already seen played out. While every choice may not directly impact the overall direction of a person’s life, the development of will and character as a result of the aggregate events have a determining factor on the course of the individual’s life. Additionally, these choices are judged by God based upon His standard of holiness and justice, allowing for individuals to be fairly judged for the choices that they have freely made. Individuals are able to make free choices, but these free choices have implications for the life of the individual, all of which God understands and oversees.

Despite God’s general sovereignty, I believe that there are situations in which He has to act in order to bring about His overall will for individuals. In these cases, God can override the free will of the individual to cause the individual to choose a certain way in order to bring about God’s purposes. For example, in the case of Judas Iscariot, God acted in His sovereignty to cause Judas to choose to betray Christ so that Christ could die for God’s purposes of redemption. Thus, it is the case that God only acts to override an individual’s metaphysical free will when His plan and will are at stake. In another sense, God can work out specific events within a person’s life so that they are drawn toward Him. When left to our own devices, humans would never choose to seek Him; this is a basic understanding of the concept of depravity and sin nature. Thus, it is an act of the grace of God that individuals can move toward Him and only as a result of His direct intervention and superseding of the individual’s ability to freely choose.

This perspective is not perfect and contains within it some issues that are not easily resolved. The matter of counterfactuals is still an issue in this variation of Molinism; opponents critique counterfactuals by claiming that the validity of these statements cannot be known. However, if the interpretation of God’s middle knowledge includes His complete understanding of the cause and effect relationships of all possible choices, it would seem that God would be able to determine the validity of such statements. This is a weak explanation of the matter, but I am more willing to live with a God who has a complete omniscience as Molinism seems to support than a God who does not.

Another weakness to this perspective is God’s overriding of humans’ metaphysical freedom in situations where He sees it necessary to bring about His plan for the individual. This carries the risk of appearing arbitrary on God’s part, portraying Him as a God who does not care about the individual until it matters to His own plans. This also seems to weaken this perspective’s provision for metaphysical freedom. However, I would contend that God dealing with humanity directly at all is a matter of God’s grace, as Calvinism so well emphasizes. Thus, while it may seem arbitrary for God to act as such, it is really His allowing humans to have freedom while also drawing them to Himself.

As with any of the positions on this issue, this varition of Molinism contains its weaknesses; however, I feel that this perspective provides the fullest understanding of the omniscience of God and His working out His will with humanity. The weaknesses within my argument are ones which I can live with, and with an understanding of the weaknesses I also allow myself room to continue to question and seek understanding on this issue, for my thoughts are far from finished.

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[1] These non-negotiables are those laid out in our class discussion.

 

[2] Moses (Exodus 3), Paul (Acts 9), and the Incarnation are some examples of this direct involvement.

[3] Natural knowledge is God’s comprehension of all truths and possibilities within His creation. Free knowledge is God understanding His own will and how it is working out in the world (“Middle Knowledge” Class Handout).

I am currently neck deep in free will/determinism for yet another essay, but while in the midst of the current one I recalled how I posted my first essay here, and so I will do the same for the most recent essay turned in. As of yet I have not heard any evaluation from my professor, so this is how it stands, good or bad. I touched on this topic a few weeks ago, and it seems to keep coming up in conversations, lectures, and general life, and the more it does the more I see how pervasive such an approach like Constantinian thought can be. So here it is. Share your thoughts as well. My mind is still processing it.

Constantine and Christ:

With the conversion and imperial ascent of Constantine, Christians finally had a chance to come out of hiding after nearly two centuries of persecution. After experiencing a vision of a cross and taking it as his battle standard, Constantine conquered the Empire in the name of the Christian God and, as a result, was seen by many as the first Christian emperor and the fulfillment of God’s promises to His followers. He enacted policies allowing for religious freedom and helped the Church build places of worship. However, history has not looked upon the “Constantinian settlement” as kindly as Christians in that time did; many see the marriage of church and throne as the beginnings of later problems in the Church. As author Bryan Stone says, “Constantinianism made it easy for the world to be Christian – and the church has been paying the price ever since” (Stone 119). While the Church benefited from the settlement, the damage done to the theology and practice of the Church outweighs those benefits, and as theology became wrapped up in politics, the Church found itself at the whims of the emperor and the victim of its own growing power.

Until the rise of Constantine, the theological thought of the Church was spread via correspondence and writing from local bishops, such as Tertullian and Origen. The faith was spread by way of conversation and the travel of Christians, often seen as “despicable rabble” by many, for in the early centuries the Christian faith was represented most within the lower classes of society (Gonzalez 92). These believers saw their faith and the Empire at odds, for the Empire stood for paganism and the persecution of their brothers and sisters in the faith. They took Christ’s teachings on the kingdom of God to mean they were citizens of a kingdom that was in opposition to the earthly kingdom of the Empire, standing in the face of persecution declaring Christ as “the emperor over all kings” (92).

When Constantine claimed the faith and repealed persecution, some claimed the kingdom of God had arrived, while others approached the friendliness of the Empire with caution. Indeed, the Church did benefit from the rise of Constantine insofar as they no longer had to fear death for their witness. However, some saw Constantine as God’s chosen leader, and began to cast him as the culmination of the kingdom of God. This led to the development of an “official theology” presented by such leaders as Eusebius, casting the culmination of Christian history as the adoption of Christianity by the Roman Empire (134). “Official theology” and the resulting theological confusion following Constantine’s rule were a distraction that drew the Church away from its initial purpose.

The Church found itself the center of Constantine’s new empire and a central part of his plan to rebuild Rome. With this new power came the development of a church built around citizenship rather than conversion, with new “converts” flocking to the new, grand basilicas (built with the money of the Empire) at such a rate that the catechumenate had to be abandoned. New means of worship were developed to fill these new buildings, and Christian worship became less about involvement and more about spectating (Viola 25). Additionally, the leadership of the Church found itself with new power and wealth, creating an ecclesiological hierarchy. According to Stone, “In the Constantinian synthesis of church and world, princes became bishops, church discipline was applied by civil courts . . . and the empire guaranteed the meaning of people’s lives” (Stone 118). As one of the few stable forms of leadership in the Empire during this time, the Church leadership found itself wielding political influence, but also found itself being influenced by political divisions.

The new power and wealth of the Church can be seen in the artistic developments that occurred during this time. Prior to Constantine, churches met in believers’ homes; thus, artistic expression was limited to small frescoes and religious symbolism. The few artistic depictions consisted of Old Testament stories and Christ as shepherd, reflecting Greek imagery. With new basilicas and government money, the Church had the means to express itself artistically, and new mosaics, commissioned by wealthy members, depicted state leaders filling religious roles. Elaborate gold furnishings and mosaics within the Church emphasized wealth and power over poverty. Additionally, depictions of Christ Pantokrator, reminiscent of a Roman emperor, towered over the believers in lofty basilica halls. Compared to the humble beginnings of Christian art, Constantinian depictions reflect a Church confident and wealthy.

The Church suffered from its union with the Empire under Constantine. Overwhelmed with new prestige and wealth, the Church lost sight of its humble beginnings and its call to the poor; the faith became a matter of social standing rather than spiritual commitment (Gonzalez 134). Theological issues became entangled with political maneuvering, and as many believers were deemed heretical due to political reasons as religious. Not all believers fell to the allure of the Empire, maintaining their theological integrity while accepting the new friendliness of the Empire with caution. Had more Christians followed this model, especially among leaders such as Eusebius, the damage of the Constantinian settlement may not have been as extensive.

In light of what we know about the results of the Constantinian settlement and its impact on the Church, Christians should be wary of any extensive union between the Church and the overall culture. Whatever role the Church takes in a given society, it must never be forgotten that the followers of Christ are citizens of a different kingdom (Phil. 3:20) and as such our primary role on earth is not to create a separate earthly “Christian” kingdom. This was a central flaw in the philosophy of the Constantinian Empire. As we approach the role of the Church in an American context, we must be as wary of casting the Christian message in a strictly political sense as of casting it as unrelated to earthly politics at all. As followers of Christ, we are called to create disciples, not to create Christian nations to legislate Judeo-Christian values. According to Stone, “the church is not called to be chaplain . . . but rather a prophetic conscience and witness in the world” (128). Attempting to create a “Christian society” within the American context misconstrues Christ’s message and misunderstands the culture in which we live. Moral convictions must flow out of a deeper heart change in the individual or community, not out of legislative force. The Church is the “Christian society” on earth; we must not confuse that with earthly societies and kingdoms. The Christian message is that of another kingdom, and it is to that kingdom we hold our allegiance. The Church must “incarnate” that kingdom, to use Eckman’s model, by embodying the Gospel within society, taking up its prophetic role as proclaimer of another kingdom and seeking to bring people into that kingdom rather than bringing that kingdom upon earthly institutions (Eckman 25). The lesson of the Constantinian settlement is that legislated Christianity is ultimately a destruction of the message of Christ and results in a politicized and divided Church. The American Church would do well to learn from the mistakes of the Constantinian Church and seek the transformation of society through the transformation of people rather than through institutions.

“To accept the call to Christian discipleship is to accept responsibility for a situation in which many in the world have no bread on the table and to be empowered through a Spirit-created community to be that bread. To be an evangelizing church is to be more than “willing” to invite to our table the poor and the hungry who might stray by our door. It is to go out into the streets and seek those for whom the table of the Lord has been prepared. It is to alter the way we spend and store our money such that resources will be freed up for the relief of the poor. It is to make sure that our buildings, sanctuaries, and meeting houses are places that cry out welcome to the poor. Any evangelistic strategy designed to make the rich and powerful comfortable can find no home in the story of the people of God and in a world where wealth and poverty do not exist in a vacuum but are related to one another as cause and effect.”

Bryan Stone, Evangelism after Christendom

My evangelism prof showed this video to us this morning. We’ve been talking about rival gospel narratives and how they can creep into our presentation and communication of the Gospel and distort it. Worth a look and some thoughts after viewing.

We mustn’t forget that the One who is present in confession is omniscient. God knows everything, remembers everything, all that we have ever confided to him, or what we have ever kept from his confidence. He is the One “who sees in secret,” with whom we speak even in silence. No one can venture to deceive him either by talk or by silence. When we confess to God, therefore, we are not like a servant that gives account to his master for the administration entrusted to him because his master could not manage everything or be everywhere at once. Nor when we confess are we like one who confides in a friend to whom sooner or later he reveals things that his friend did not previously know. No, much of what you are able to keep hidden in darkness you only first get to know by revealing it to the all-knowing One. The all-knowing One does not get to know something about those who confess, rather those who confess find out something about themselves.

Soren Kierkegaard

I was thinking about feet today.

It has been a particularly nice day outside here at Cedarville University, so I decided to spend some time sitting by the lake to do some reading, praying, journaling, etc. My feet were tired of being in shoes all day, so I took my shoes and socks off and enjoyed the feeling of the grass between and around my toes.

All my feet ever feel is cotton.

Not ready to return to their cotton-obsessed dwellling, my feet opted to walk back to my dorm naked and unafraid.

There’s a subculture here at Cedarville. Those that insist on walking barefoot anytime they are outside walking anywhere. Initially I labeled them as the hippies or the environmentalists or the “somehow-I-think-I-am-better-than-you-shoed-snobs” group. Now I think they are onto something. I noticed things that I never noticed before. The feeling of grass and leaves under my feet. How cold concrete is. How uncomfortable those little rocks are that sneak under your feet and cause you to hop for a few seconds while you try to get it out from being embedded in your skin.

I read an op-ed article at the New York Times earlier this week. It quoted a doctor who has been researching long-distance running and its impact on the human body. He found that the body was built for running long distances. Its only since we added fancy cushioned shoes and artificial surfaces to run on that people have associated running with extensive injury and pain.

I can’t help but wonder if our shoe-wearing is somehow causing us to miss something.

I read somewhere once that in certain religious and cultural groups, the feet are always associated with being human and finite, so any depiction of a deity or supernatural being shows the being without feet. Feet are our connection with the ground, with earth and life and death. Feet are what make us human.

In our insistence on wearing shoes and protecting our feet with cotton and laces and leather and rubber and canvas, I can’t help but wonder if we are also masking something about our humanity. In our quest for divinity and perfection (or at least the appearance of so), we distance ourselves from dirt and mess and pain, elevating ourselves on soles of rubber while our souls of humanity and pain and confusion and uncertainty try to match that similar elevation, failing in the process.

Its kind of like we are trying to hide the very thing that makes us who we are as humans. As if colored canvas could make us somehow more like God.

It seems to me that we have this habit of forgetting that we are human, of forgetting our place in this world and thinking that somehow, we’re all there is. We prop ourselves up on soles of rubber (or power or theology or money or looking good) and in the process forget what it is and what it feels like to be human and to be part of this world in all its dirt and confusion and beauty.

Maybe Jesus came to remind us that we have feet.

As part of my progression through church history, I read through the Crusades of the Medieval era tonight, and I couldn’t help but see the connections between that mistake of the Church and the earlier and (perhaps bigger) mistake of aligning itself with Constantine in the 300s. I’ve been reading through history and analysis of the Constantinian era and its implications for the Church, and my conclusions are somewhat contained within a paper I submitted for a class and which I hope to post here in a few days. But it is hard to not read through the Constantinian era of the Church and not see how so much of what has been seen as wrong or misguided with the Church stems from that period of the Church, and how, as some (for example an author I’ve been reading, Bryan Stone) would assert, the Church has been living within a Constantinian paradigm ever since.

In reading through the narrative of the Crusades, its easy to draw the line of thought stemming from Constantine into the thinking that motivated the Crusades. Prior to Constantine, the Church saw itself as separated from the world, at odds with the Empire, and living a radically different life than the average Roman citizen. Constantine rose to power through violence, claiming the Christian banner in battle and eventually taking the throne of the Roman Empire in 306. He courted the Church’s favor, supporting their cause, ending persecution, providing funds for building grand basilicas as houses of worship, and calling together councils to resolve issues within the Church. In response, Christians saw Constantine as chosen of God, the kingdom of God finally come to earth. The Church married itself to the Empire’s cause, and Constantine became, as one church historian put it, the “bishop of bishops.”

The Church never lost its ties with the imperial power from that point on and even (I would contend) still clings to that conception of Christian Empire. The Crusades were the natural result of such a marriage of the Church with the whims of the state. When the Moors threatened the Holy Land, the Church responded militantly and nationally, acting as an Empire rather than the Church. In this perspective, the humanity of the Moors and those who stood in their way was null, for the fight was not amongst people but amongst nations in the name of God. Rather than taking an individual life, you were taking the enemy, defeating the “infidel.” I find it ironic that during the Crusades “infidel” became the way the Church addressed the Moors. In today’s context we hear “infidel” and picture radical Muslim extremists, when a thousand years ago it was the Church crying “infidel” as we stormed into battle “in the name of Christ and His Church”.

Any uniting of the Church with national, socio-economic, racial, or political causes will inevitably lead to a distortion of the message of the Gospel and idolatry among those united in such a cause. In the Middle Ages, this idolatry took the form of land and power. In the 19th and 20th century this took the form of “manifest destiny” and “the white man’s burden.” Today, this idolatry occurs whenever we as the Church divide because of race or who we voted for in an election; it happens whenever we refuse to associate with the poor or when we see the Western Church as holding a majority-share of God’s kingdom. It happens when we marry the Church with the pro-life movement, and when we marry the Church with social gospel. Whenever such a marriage and such an idolatry occurs, it can only lead to an objectification of those on the other side as the enemy, as the “infidel.”

Something I am coming to learn through reading and reflection is that Christ came to earth to usher in God’s kingdom upon earth. The whole Judaic narrative speaks to the coming of God’s kingdom, when shalom would be the rule of law and man would be united in peace with his maker, the Jewish community united with YHWH in perfection. Christ coming was the ushering in of that time, of that kingdom for the Jewish people. Not only that, but Christ opened wide the kingdom, welcoming all who would enter, breaking with the lines that we so often draw between each other to categorize each other and label each other and judge each other. Christ turned that all on its head.

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise.         [Galatians 3:28]

In Christ we are heirs to Abraham’s promise, that promise of a nation blessed by God, welcomed in and living within shalom, that completeness and holistic living within the kingdom of God upon earth. The problem with Constantinianism, or any marriage of the Church with the powers that be, is that we mistake the kingdom of man for the kingdom of God, and fight for that kingdom through words, political maneuvering, or sword, when the kingdom of God is already present and already declared victorious. We are in trouble as a Church when we seek earthly ends, as the Medieval church did in seeking land, however holy it may be, and as the American church does today in seeking political and cultural influence, for we are called not to bring political or cultural powers into submission to Christ’s authority, but rather to bring individuals into the story and the ushering in of God’s kingdom into the lives and stories of people coming together as God’s chosen, the Church. Only when we approach Gospel and kingdom-living in light of this will we be able to break from our culture wars, our political maneuvering within and without the Church, and to reclaim the original narrative we have been called to live in: one of a community of ragamuffins (to use Manning’s word) being brought into a story of God’s working of shalom into the world through Gospel and kingdom living.

May the God of peace be with you all   [Romans 15:33]

My first allegiance is not to a flag, a country, or a man
My first allegiance is not to democracy or blood
It’s to a King and a Kingdom    [Derek Webb]

In light of the massive amount of reading and writing I have on tap for the current semester’s worth of classes, my consistent contribution to this blog has suffered. Currently I am working on a paper that will be due tomorrow on the rise of Constantine and the resulting impact on the Church, so I am waist deep in culture and theology. But I had a thought in the midst of writing the paper that I could start posting some of my more academic writing here to share with whomever should come across the site. After all, while it isn’t as personally driven as some of the other stuff I write here, it is nonetheless interesting and applicable to life.

So I am going to post my first essay that I completed about a month ago here for you to read should you choose. We focused on the definition of art and subsequent art criticism, building on a model presented in an article by Richard Hughes entitled “How Christian Faith Can Sustain the Life of the Mind.” Hughes’ thesis is that in order to approach academic study as believers, we need to be willing to set aside our own presuppositions (“breaking through our particularities” as he puts it) and approach study without suspicion initially. Once we have done so, we can then make judgment calls on the issue, thus rebuilding our particularities in light of our new knowledge. Here is my essay in response and my application of Hughes’ model to art criticism, specifically to Massacio’s Trinity.

Breaking Through the Particularities

As we approach academic study, we must be aware of the “particularities” of our faith in order to approach study objectively. Christianity presents humanity as fallen and limited compared to the infinite God after whose truth we search. In this light, we must approach study conscious of our limited understanding and its implications on our understanding of truth. Any truth we find, Hughes contends, must never be “absolutized,” becoming an end itself; rather, truth and our quest after it must direct us to the source of truth, that being God. As we accept our limitations, we find that a humble faith results, whose “particularities” are fluid rather than rigid; a faith that knows that while we understand and accept the truth of God, we also have not grasped all truth. In this understanding, we approach our study with an openness allowing for other voices to be viable in searching after the same Truth. In order to fully study and understand philosophy, art, and history, we must “break through our particularities” by accepting our limitations as finite beings and acknowledging that all truth, wherever it is found, is God’s truth.

In this light, we approach the studies of philosophy, art, and history attempting to understand the perspectives of others on the same world. To “break through the particularities” in philosophy requires that, even though we disagree with the ultimate end of a philosophy, we are open enough to acknowledge that the given philosophy does speak truth about the human condition. This necessitates that we do not resort to labeling philosophies as “humanistic” or “postmodern” and moving on; rather we engage the philosophy with an openness that accepts our limitations in understanding the world as well as the limitations of others who have attempted to understand the world. No philosophy has reached the absolute truth, not even our own, so we must approach every philosophy looking for the validity in each claim presented.

As we approach the study of history, breaking through our particularities means being open to different interpretations of history that might conflict with our own. This could involve studying history from a perspective other than our American Christian approach and seeing the implications of such an interpretation on the overall study. In addition, this involves studying the development of Christianity, understanding the progression of theological thought and the outside influencing forces. Without such understanding, we blind ourselves to these aspects of the development of our faith and may find ourselves practicing a faith in ways we do not fully understand. In accepting our limitedness, we approach the study of history with open eyes, realizing that we do not understood everything and must search history to find the reasons for our current state.

In the study of art, there are many “particularities” which we may not even be aware of. One such particularity may be the neglect of art as a valid and important means of expression of life. Christianity in the past century has neglected the artistic expressions, leaving them for the secularists, rather than continuing with the historic tradition Christianity has with the arts. In approaching art, we must overcome the presuppositions we have toward artistic expression, acknowledging the abstract expression of our faith in art. We must also acknowledge our limited perspective on the world, being open enough to consider the perspectives of different artists who see the world differently. We need to break the particularity of accepting art that we are comfortable with, instead accepting challenges to our particularities with an open mind. This means we do not write off a painting that on the surface appears blasphemous to our faith, or rather than avoiding the artistic nude as pornography we take the time to consider what the artist was trying to express in such subject matter. As we approach art with this open perspective, acknowledging our limited perspective and the artistic nature of our God, we allow art to speak without our censorship.

Initial Reaction to Masaccio’s Trinity

My first reaction to Trinity was to look for the paintings characteristic that would merit its title. As it was a depiction of the crucifixion of Christ, I attempted to find each member of the trinity within the painting. However, on my initial observation, I was only able to pick out two members, God the Father and Jesus Christ. The absence of the Holy Spirit in this painting led me to look elsewhere for the missing Spirit. I considered the possibility that the other member of the trinity could be the bones beneath the cross, and that Masaccio was breaking with Christian orthodoxy somehow. Along these same lines, I considered the possibility that Masaccio was in fact presenting a negative view of Christianity. I considered that the crucifixion took place in a cathedral as an accusation against the Church, as if they somehow were responsible for the event. The smug expression on one of the people beneath the cross also lent itself to my thinking. The bones beneath the cross continued to confuse me, as I did not know how they tied into the painting as a whole. I did consider this good art, as it evoked thought and emotion of its own merit and seemed to have a specific meaning and purpose, I just was not aware of the purpose.

Individual Judgment of Masaccio’s Trinity

After researching the painting, my initial judgment of the painting changed. In coming to understand the context of the painting, I realized that the painting is not a critique of Christian orthodoxy, as I considered. A more detailed photograph of the painting helped me to locate the Holy Spirit, aiding my understanding of the title. With this understanding, my perception of the painting changed as I saw Masaccio’s presentation as orthodox. The painting itself was painted above the altar where the Eucharist was served, and thus the painting was intended to reflect the nature of the sacrament being observed. In this light, I saw the painting as an instrument of worship, drawing worshipers to reverence at the Eucharist. Just as God the Father presented Christ, so the priest presented the Eucharist to the people. The bones depicted are symbolic of Adam, and his position beneath the cross merits him the first to be redeemed by the blood of Christ. With this knowledge, I began to see Masaccio’s view of man in light of the cross. The painting was no longer a criticism of the Church but rather an instrument of worship and theological expression of the artist.

Reflection

In light of Hughes’ concept, I considered Trinity for its own merit, but I found that difficult. My Christian perspective drew me to first analyze it in light of its orthodoxy, yet even when I considered it unorthodox I was open to what Masaccio be saying. In researching and developing my understanding of the painting, I found that it was difficult to let go of the particularities and to approach my research free of judgments and preconceptions. I assume that I have studied art, history, or philosophy in the past, which leads me to read and analyze through the particularity of my past thinking and study, rather than approaching art criticism, or any study, with an open perspective in light of my limited understanding.

Well as of an hour ago my 21st birthday has come and gone.

Of course, 21 is a big deal for those in or around my age. For the obvious reasons – being legally allowed to purchase and consume alcohol – and thus by extension somehow attaining manhood? Something about drunkenness doesn’t quite add up to manhood in my mind.

I found an interesting article/infographic courtesy of the New York Times showing the various conceptions or progressions of man as he ages and the stages he goes through.

According to these various stages, at age 21 the following should characterize me:

• The stage of youthhood or adolesence, governed by emotion (Hall)
• I arrive at full strength (questionable) and proves his manly valor (Solon)
• I should be killing pleasure (Bell)
• I am still a boy (Hippocrates)
• I am led by a mistress (not so sure about that one) (Feltham)
• I am in the age of triumphs, desires, self-love, independence, and vanity (Youth’s Miscellaneous Sketch Book)
• I am “French” – “pretentiously philosophical (possible), embarrassingly vain, ridiculously romantic, and insincere” (Gill)

Interesting the differences in opinion. I’m still trying to figure it out. And will be for a while.

Happy Birthday.

NYT – Writers Define the Stages of of Life

The Senate Finance Committee just gave the go-ahead to move forward with the health care reform bill everyone has been yelling about for the past year. According to the reports, the estimated cost of the whole thing would be $829 billion, or $829,000,000,000. Lots of zeros.

Over the past few years, with all the recession talk and bailouts and what not, it seems that money is talked about, not in terms of tens or twenties, but in billions or trillions. The talking heads spout off numbers and figures about the latest billion or trillion-dollar bill. We are numb to numbers anymore.

I’ve found a new appreciation for infographics – visual depictions of facts, numbers, stats that we would otherwise look at and shrug off. In light of the $829 billion from today’s bill, I thought I would post this one here for you to enjoy. Consider where the $829 billion fits in it, and then think about the other areas in this infographic that could be dealt with if we took that $829 billion and used it for something bigger than our nation.

With $829,000,000,000 we could:

• Feed and educate every kid on the planet for 5 years AND pay off all debts owed by African nations.
• Shift all the worlds power sources to renewable energies AND double the amount of charity given by Americans each year
• Complete a manned mission to Mars, save  the Amazon, feed every child in the world for a year, AND still have money left over.

Where are our priorities?