Loving What is Beautiful

In The Way of Beauty,David Clayton asks an important question: “What does the famous and mysterious phrase of Dostoyevsky, ‘Beauty will save the world’…mean? Does this mean that the beauty that is in the world will save it? Or must we look for a beauty from beyond the world?” His answer is, “a bit of both. The beauty that is in the world comes from beyond it. It directs us to where it comes from. The Christian religion, especially, is all about this saving beauty.”

When we talk about classical education, truth tends to get a lot of airtime; we want our students to be logical, rational, reasonable, able to discern truth. And when we speak about Christian education, goodness also tends to get airtime because of our focus on moral and spiritual virtues. Beauty can sometimes be sidelined. I think part of the reason for this is that beauty is seen as subjective. Think of the common phrase, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” But that is a somewhat modern, secular idea. David Clayton points out that we think of truth and goodness as objective because they come from Christ. But beauty also comes from Christ. Beauty therefore can’t be any more subjective than goodness and truth. As Clayton puts it:

“Beauty, like truth and goodness, is an objective quality. It is a quality in a thing that directs us to God. It calls us first to itself and then beyond, with an invitation to go to Him. If we heed that call, we respond with love to that beauty and open ourselves up to it and to its ultimate source, the inspiration of the artist, God. When we do this, it elevates the spirit and provides consolation to the soul. Beauty is the quality in a painting through which the artist can ‘bear witness to the Light.’”

Beauty is intuitive, to some degree. Everyone recognizes and appreciates beautiful things at a fundamental level. But just as our ability to comprehend truth and to recognize goodness beyond the obvious needs to be trained, so does our ability to see beauty need to be trained. As Socrates famously says in Plato’s Republic, “The object of education is to teach us to love what is beautiful.” This is part of what the liberal arts help us to do. They help us to rightly perceive and appreciate the beautiful and, ultimately, help us to look beyond earthly beauty so that we might perceive and admire its source, Christ.

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Aubry Dyakon is the Director of Classical Education at Granite Classical Tutorials.

Transcendent Beauty

At Granite’s Columbia campus this year, we are focusing on seeing beauty. “Beauty” is a term that gets thrown about quite liberally in a classical Christian education, typically in conjunction with “truth” and “goodness.” This year, we want to focus on the beautiful, and that means, first, defining the term.

Beauty is one of the “transcendentals.” According to Stratford Caldecott, the transcendentals are those qualities which are “found in absolutely everything that exists” to some degree or another.[1] Traditionally, these qualities are considered to be truth, goodness, and beauty. “Everything,” says Caldecott, “is true, good, and beautiful in some degree or in some respect. All that exists – because it gives itself, because it means something – is a kind of ‘light.’ It reveals its own nature and at the same time an aspect of that which gives rise to it.”

It’s important to note here that Caldecott and the philosophic tradition he is working within are not denying that some things are false, evil, or ugly. But what he is saying about beauty is similar to what St. Augustine argues in Confessions about goodness. Augustine says that good and evil are not dichotomies or opposites so much as the names for the presence and the lack of something. “Goodness” is our term for the presence of the good, while “evil” is our term for a lack of the good (not the presence of evil). Evil is not its own thing, in other words. It’s not a separate force from good that acts in opposition to it. “Evil” is rather the label we give something that has an extreme lack of goodness. “Ugliness,” similarly, is what we call a lack of beauty. The idea is that everything in existence possesses truth, goodness, and beauty, but some things possess more of these transcendental properties than others.

As one of the transcendentals, beauty is closely knit to truth and goodness. Indeed, Caldecott defines beauty as “the radiance of the true and the good,” and the thing that “attracts us to both.” A. G. Sertillanges describes the interconnectedness of the transcendentals as a Great Pyramid in which each side represents a transcendental: “If you go up by the northern edge,” he asks, “can you reach the summit without getting nearer and nearer to the southern edge?”[2] Joseph Pearce rightly notes that truth, goodness, and beauty are “inextricably entwined” because they come from the same source:

“For the Christian, they are not only entwined but ultimately are one and the same thing: they are the Thing that is Christ…

Since, properly understood, they are synonymous with Christ, it can be seen that the good, the true and the beautiful are the ends for which we strive. They are, however, also the means by which we attain the end. Christ is not merely the truth and the life, he is the way. He is not only the end, he is the means. All that is good, all that is true and all that is beautiful have their source in Christ and lead us to Him.”[3]

Christ is the logos, the incarnation of the Word of God, the God who spoke creation into a beautiful, ordered existence that was “good.” This means that the beauty that proceeds from Christ is, fundamentally, the good order of a thing. David Clayton puts it this way:

“When we apprehend the beauty of something, we apprehend at an intuitive level that it is ordered; and we recognize that it is good. We may not be able to describe in any detail in the way that modern science does what that order is, but we know that it is ordered and good, and we delight in it. And that delight is a personal reaction – we take delight in it because it is good for us.”[4]

This year, our goal is to take delight in the good order of God’s creation. The opportunities to apprehend and admire the beautiful are countless. We see beauty through nature studies, excellent poetry, math equations, good stories, science experiments, heady philosophy, and on and on. In everything we study this year, may we seek the beautiful and allow it to penetrate and nourish our souls.

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[1] Stratford Caldecott, Beauty for Truth’s Sake: On the Re-enchantment of Education

[2] A. G. Sertillanges, The Intellectual Life: Its Spirit, Conditions, Methods

[3] Joseph Pearce, Beauteous Truth: Faith, Reason, Literature, and Culture

[4] David Clayton, The Way of Beauty: Liturgy, Education, and Inspiration for Family, School, and College

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Aubry Dyakon is the Director of Classical Education at Granite Classical Tutorials.

Don’t Follow Your Heart

The following address was delivered by logic and rhetoric tutor Mr. Alan Link at the commencement ceremony for the Class of 2023.

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How wonderful it is to see each of you here, graduating and moving on to the next challenge in your life. This community will miss you; I will miss you.

I first got to know these students back in their 9th grade year, where we studied formal logic together, and then in 11th grade, where the subject was rhetoric. I remember these classes as fun, though I do recall a particularly difficult march through Aristotle’s Rhetoric. Nonetheless, we met that challenge and overcame it, and having seen your speaking and reasoning skills become so strong, I know much has been accomplished while you were here.

You know, a few weeks ago when Luke Morton challenged me to give this address, I agreed trying to look relatively confident that I could face that challenge – a rhetoric teacher shouldn’t appear worried about giving a speech? Yet inside I was anxious, I mean, what can I actually share with these students that will bless them, or at least, not bore everyone to tears? So, I consulted the internet to find out what are the best topics for a graduation address. I looked at a lot of sites, watched a lot of YouTube videos to compile a list. And looking at the list, well, they’re not bad, but…OK, here are just a few:

• “Find your passion,” well of course, if you can do what you want that’s great, but lots of times you have to just do things that are necessary, like take out the garbage, change the diaper, support a family.
• “Never give up,” generally I agree with that one, unless you realize there’s something else that would really be a better use of your time, then maybe you should change course.
• “Take risks,” again, you have to take some risk, but when you’re learning to walk a tightrope, it might be good to at least start with a net below you.

My favorite of the bunch is this: “Follow your heart.” You know, I found a dozen or more quotes from our cultural wisemen and wisewomen saying some version of “follow your heart.” It’s like a modern mantra. I think my favorite quote ending with “follow your heart” was from the philosopher, Paula Abdul, who summed it up by saying, “break the rules, stand apart, ignore your head, and…follow your heart.” It even rhymes!

Of course, there is a significant measure of truth in these themes. But they’re like much of the wisdom of our world, in that they apply only in some context, or just to some extent. Or they have the veneer of truth, but inside, well, they leave you wanting.

I think the expression, “follow your heart,” is like that. It seems to mean a couple things to people: first, you should go with your intuitions and passions, as opposed to listening to logic or tradition or whatever thoughts that induce doubt in your mind. Second, when it comes to important things, you shouldn’t let others unduly influence you or lead you, but be the unchallenged captain of your soul. In some circumstances, I suppose this advice could be right. But as an organizing principle for your whole life, I think it’s really the opposite of what is right.

And that’s ironic, because unless you are “following your heart,” our world generally denigrates being a follower, and praises being a leader. It considers followers second class, at best. And if they mean by “follower” that you never get off the sidelines or you shirk your responsibilities, then I would agree. But if they mean that only leaders matter, or that there’s nothing more worthy to follow in this life than your own heart, well, then I must disagree.

There is a time and a way to lead, but also to follow. In chapter 10 of John’s gospel, he recalls a time when Jesus is walking in the temple, in the place known as Solomon’s Colonnade, a porch supported by a series of columns and named after Israel’s wisest king. The unbelieving Jews are demanding that Jesus tell them plainly who He is. But Jesus speaks with His divine wisdom and instead responds by saying, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”

Here’s a secret that everyone from business executives to media darlings to political officials to internet influencers may not know or recognize: everyone is a follower. The question is not whether they follow, it’s who they follow.

Consider with me Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. In chapter two he describes our lives before God intervenes and gives us life in Christ this way, “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of the world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience – among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind.”

According to Paul, like the followers of Jesus, all of unredeemed humanity are followers as well, but followers of their own passions and ultimately, followers of the evil one. They may lead people, businesses, even nations; but what’s important in the spiritual realm is not who they lead, but who they follow. And so also it is true of us.

Your families, your churches, your friends, and your school – Granite, have all worked to support your embrace of the Lord, and your lifelong following of Him in spirit and in truth.

But as you move on from this place, you will encounter new challenges. Sometimes those challenges come head on, directly attacking your faith or confidence in the Lord, like a senseless loss. Sometimes the challenges are more subtle, encouraging you to love something more than the Lord – your success, security, comfort, respect from others, etc. And in either case, you can get lost.

Part of my motivation in serving at Granite is to help students be strengthened in mind and spirit so that they don’t get lost. Instead, we all want you to remain strong in your faith in Christ; not just surviving the challenges that come your way, but flourishing as God has called you, and in whatever place you find yourself, to stand for truth.

That brings to mind an expression that you may have heard (though I doubt it unless you’re as nerdy as I am), which has come to be known as Miles Law. It’s named after an American, Rufus Edward Miles who led several large government agencies in the mid-20th century. He gave a speech in 1948 where he observed that you could explain the position or stand a person would take on an issue based on which organization they worked in.

So if you worked for the Navy, you would say, “we need more ships!” But if you got transferred to work for the Air Force, you would say, “ships are great, but what we really need are more airplanes!” He summed it up by saying, “where you stand depends on where you sit.” It’s a phrase that political analysts might use, but people use it more generally to say that your view of a situation is shaped by your personal relationship to it.

I’d like to add a corollary to Miles Law; I suppose I’ll call it Link’s Corollary (since no one else will). I’d say that, “where you stand depends on where you think you sit.” Imagine that the seat you’re sitting in now is in fact an electric chair. When you realize it, you’re going to hurry to get up and away from it before something bad happens. But if you think you’re sitting in a comfy vibrating chair at the mall waiting for someone to turn it on, you might stay seated a little longer than is good for your health.

So it’s not just where you are actually seated that’s important, but where you think you’re seated, as well. Now why do I bring this up in this context? Well, after Jesus was resurrected and ascended to heaven, he took His seat with God the Father. That “seating” of Jesus showed His true position, not just able to sit because he was victorious over his enemies, but seated in heaven because He was the ruler over everything that is, the ultimate sovereign.

This point was very important to the early church: for proof, Christ’s seating in heaven is referenced or mentioned in all three synoptic gospels and the book of Acts, Peter puts it in his letters, St. John envisions it in Revelations, the writer of Hebrews cites it multiple times, and Paul includes it in several of his epistles.

It’s especially important to Paul because it conveys not just Jesus’ position, but our position, as well. How can that be? You see, in Paul’s theology we are best understood spiritually as being “in Christ.” And because we are so identified with Him, we die with Him, we are raised with Him, and spiritually in a way that’s hard to grasp, we are in Him even now.

So back in Ephesians 2 after he describes how we formerly were following the evil of the world, Paul says, “But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, He made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.”

As we learned from the study of classical philosophy and scripture, what is unseen is even more important and true, even more real than what is seen. You, by all appearances are just sitting here, but in an important spiritual reality that the Lord has already accomplished, you also are seated with Him in heaven, for remember, He is above time and knows the end from the beginning.

You can draw several meanings from this passage, but today I’m interested in just one. If – in Christ – you are seated in heaven, then that is your true home. That is certainly where you are going, but while you remain here, the ruler of that heavenly realm is who you are to follow, and no one or nothing else. And the way you live here, your confidence, your fidelity to truth, how you stand, is a result of where you think you ultimately sit, of where your true home is. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia.”

If I were to speak my own word of advice to you in the midst of the whirlwind of our culture, I think I would say this: don’t just seek to “follow your heart,” but seek to have the heart of a follower; and not just a follower of anyone, but a true follower of Jesus, for from Him and through Him and to Him we are bound. I can think of no better way for you to live and flourish.

May God bless you all.

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Alan Link teaches logic and rhetoric at Granite Classical Tutorials.

Dear Graduates

The following is an excerpt of a letter I wrote to the Class of 2023, accompanying a collection of G. K. Chesterton’s Father Brown mysteries.

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We tend to think of detective novels as popular fiction – as “beach reads” more so than works of great literature. But G. K. Chesterton wrote that the detective story “is the earliest and only form of popular literature in which is expressed some sense of the poetry of modern life.”[1] The detective novel is “poetical” in Chesterton’s estimation because it lends a sense of excitement, adventure, and value to life in a modern, bustling city. Chesterton maintained an optimistic, cheerful appreciation for modern life. He deeply appreciated the city as part of mankind successfully living out the dominion mandate. As he put it, “a city is, properly speaking, more poetic even than a countryside, for while Nature is a chaos of unconscious forces, a city is a chaos of conscious ones.”

But there is another layer to the value of detective stories according to Chesterton: they affirm for us, at a fundamental level, that there is an order and harmony to the world we live in. If there were not, mysteries would be impossible to solve. Truth could not be found, regardless of the cleverness of our efforts. But they can be solved. Truth is attainable. While much of 20^th century modern literature was, as you know, presenting a fragmented worldview haunted by an overwhelming sense of brokenness and hopelessness, the detective novel was affirming, again and again, the importance and beauty of regular people fighting chaos and seeking truth. Chesterton wrote,

While it is the constant tendency of the Old Adam to rebel against so universal and automatic a thing as civilization, to preach departure and rebellion, the romance of police activity keeps in some sense before the mind the fact that civilization itself is the most sensational of departures and the most romantic of rebellions. By dealing with the unsleeping sentinels who guard the outposts of society, it tends to remind us that we live in an armed camp, making war with a chaotic world, and that the criminals, the children of chaos, are nothing but the traitors within our gates.

The culture you are launching into is indeed one that preaches departure and rebellion against civilization. The institutions and ideas that have upheld western civilization for millennia are being trampled upon in the chaotic stampede towards each new ideological trend that captures our society’s interest. The idea of a transcendent, universal truth is not only laughed at but derided. Reality is increasingly seen as something we can only perceive in individual narratives, rather than something about which there can be any collective consensus.

It can be disheartening to move from an education that has nurtured you on transcendent truth, goodness, and beauty into a world that rejects these things in deference to chaotic individualism. In many ways, our culture is a mess of broken pieces. When you feel discouraged by the chaos, read a detective story. Chesterton’s Father Brown mysteries are a great place to start.

Everyone loves a good detective story because, innately, we love to see mysteries solved. The simple gratification we get at the end of a good detective story when the answer has been revealed and justice served is no small thing! It is an affirmation that our world has been harmoniously and intentionally crafted by a Creator who has made us in his image, capable of perceiving clues and piecing together the truths of this reality.

As much as our culture seems to revel in chaos, human beings actually do ache for harmony, order, and sense. Our culture is longing for the answers to life’s big questions. And answers born out of individualism and relativism simply don’t cut it when chaos compounds and starts really causing suffering. I truly believe that your generation is the one that will begin to pick up the pieces from previous generations that our contemporary culture has smashed and buried and start to winsomely and graciously offer some solid foundations upon which to build towards truth again.

That is hard work, but you are equipped and capable. As you move forward into adulthood and pursue careers, start families, and discern your vocations, remember that truth is universal, attainable, and articulable. Piece together the clues and articulate and live out the truth.

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[1] Chesterton, G. K. “A Defense of Detective Stories”

The Benefits of Fiction

By Ava Kitchen

This speech was given as a keynote address, a culminating exercise for 11th grade students at Granite Classical Tutorials.

Ah, December, that delightful month of thankful celebration, happy reunion, and crippling self-doubt as you try to find a gift for your loved one. How do I not know what the person I live with wants for Christmas? My family avoids that problem by having each of us write a wish list. Such a helpful practice — especially since each of my siblings’ taste in gifts has changed over the years. All three of them have explored different hobbies, from building with LEGOS, to rollerblading, to painting. And their wish lists have varied as they pursue these interests. My own list has seen variety as well, but I am constant in one thing: I always ask for books. Sometimes, the only thing I ask for is books. And not just any books — fiction books. There is always room on my shelves for another work of fiction. 

Good morning. My name is Ava Kitchen, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve been an avid reader. I love stories. I love reading about unique characters, strange creatures, and the epic battle between good and evil. Fiction was — and is still — a strong influence in my life. 

In fact, fictional books can have a powerful influence on anyone here today. On the teens and the adults, the parents and the kids, the students and the teachers. Because fiction isn’t something you outgrow — it’s something that grows you. It shapes you. Fiction is powerful, and the effect it has on us is what makes it so valuable as a genre of books.

Of course, I’m speaking to a group of individuals who are either receiving or teaching a classical education. Chances are, many of you have heard that fiction has value. Whether you actually believe it is a different matter.

Let’s start with a working definition for the term ‘fiction’. In short, I will be using this word to refer to the literary genre — the general category of books that tell invented stories. By ‘invented’, I mean that the story was creatively fashioned in the mind of a human being. Some stories are completely made-up, while others have a basis in reality. But all fiction is a work of creativity. An author sculpts characters and drops them into a world. The author puts words into the mouths of these characters and tells readers a story full of twists and visions, highs and lows. And as a reader, I choose to watch, to listen, to experience the journey that can be stored between two covers. Because I value fiction and the effects it has on my life and others. 

I wonder how many of you would agree with me. Fiction has great value, and it affects the lives of its readers. Okay, sure. Whatever you say. 

Well, I don’t buy your passive agreement. So I’ll give you three main areas where fiction has a positive influence: it benefits your personal wellbeing, your social capabilities, and your grasp on what is true. 

Now that I’ve set you up with a definition of fiction, I want to talk about how this category of books influences its reader’s personal wellbeing. How does fiction affect me personally? The first thing a lot of people think of is probably escapism. Merriam-Webster defines escapism as, “habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.” Escapism is an enjoyable distraction. Some might ask: what good can come from ignoring the real world and focusing on something fake? Let me respond to that with another question: don’t we all need a distraction sometimes? J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote, “I have claimed that Escape is one of the main functions of fairy-stories. . . .Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls? The world outside has not become less real because the prisoner cannot see it.” Life can be painful and exhausting, and we humans have a breaking point when it comes to stress. I’ve certainly read a book in order to keep my mind off of something I was dreading. Escapism allows us to take a break and wind down. The National Endowment of Arts pointed to a study that linked reading and stress-levels, saying, “. . . testing found that reading reduced stress levels by 68 percent, making it a more effective means of relaxation than taking a walk, drinking a cup of tea, or playing video games.” This study speaks of reading in general, but fiction can be especially effective. If you want something that will untangle you from the day’s stress before bed, fictional stories are better than non-fiction. Tim Ferriss, the author of various lifestyle books, wrote, “Do not read non-fiction prior to bed, which encourages projection into the future and preoccupation/planning. Read fiction that engages the imagination and demands present-state attention.” Makes sense to me. If I’m reading non-fiction, my mind gets busier and busier as I apply the book’s message to my life. That’s not what I want right before bed, because then I stay up late plotting and planning. I want something that will relax me. 

It’s not like I only read fiction for the distraction, though. Fiction also offers good things to take the place of stress. I’m reminded of Philippians 4:8, which says, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Fiction has a knack of showing us good things. In a world full of triggers, bad news, and disappointment, the number of things that can preoccupy us is limitless. And Paul knew that. That’s why he told the Philippians to fill their minds with good things. We need to remember what is admirable and worth emulating. Can you think of a story you read that showed you something worthy of praise? Maybe it was a description of something like a sunset, or a friendship. Or maybe the writing itself was lovely, and you could admire the artistic talent of the writer.

I was recently listening to the Harry Potter series on audiobook. I had read them before, but it was a while ago, and I didn’t remember why exactly I had loved them so much as a middle-schooler. But as I listened, I remembered. I laughed out loud at some parts; other times I just shook my head, awed by the author’s masterfully tailored words. My heart was touched by the characters’ relationships, the small, relatable moments in Harry’s head, and the overarching themes of love, courage, and sacrifice. 

I love books like that. I love books like that.

And one of the reasons fiction moves us to fill our minds with praise-worthy things like that is because it engages the imagination. Many authors want you to see the sunset they’re describing. They want you to feel the protagonist’s emotions and analyze the current situation. And the cultivation of imagination affects the times when you aren’t reading as well. Surely you’ve seen kids playing pretend. Has anyone here pretended to live in the wild, inspired by the books My Side of the Mountain or Hatchet or even The Boxcar Children? Did anyone pretend to go to Hogwarts or have stuffed animals that were alive? I’ve known kids who did these things, including my younger self. Creative works inspire more creativity. They fuel imagination and offer new material. ‘I never thought there could be different breeds of dragons. How would they differ from one another? I never wondered what it would be like to live in the wild. What would I have to do to survive?’ 

This boost in creativity isn’t only for kids. Granted, I don’t see many adults playing pretend, but there are other ways creativity manifests itself. As a writer, sometimes I read a story and am inspired to emulate a certain aspect of the story in my own writing. Others might express their inspiration through music, or painting, or some other outlet. Creativity can also manifest itself in decreased dependence on closure. Closure is defined as “an often comforting or satisfying sense of finality”. Fiction often leaves readers to conclude things for themselves by stating what one might sense without saying why. We are left to draw our own conclusions about why a character acted a certain way, to practice interpreting and being mentally flexible. There was this one series I read when I was younger, and I was quite unsatisfied with the ending. It took me a long time to accept the fact that there were no more books in the series to relieve me of this cliffhanger, but now I can appreciate the ending. It was enough to leave you with hope, and that’s all it needed to do. 

An experiment was done to find the connection between reading fiction and the need for closure. There were two groups of test subjects — those who read fictional short stories, and those who read nonfiction essays. The experimenters stated, “As hypothesized, when compared to participants in the essay condition, participants in the short story condition experienced a significant decrease in self-reported need for cognitive closure.” When you read non-fiction, the conclusions and applications are often clear; there is less need for creativity. But fiction causes creativity and imagination to flourish, leading to increased ability to work without closure. 

Can you testify to the points I’ve made so far? Has reading fiction allowed you to distract yourself, or reminded you of what is lovely, or fueled your creativity?

Let me move on to my second point though. Because fictional stories do more than impact the individual; they can affect others through the reader, by tuning a reader’s social capabilities. The stereotypical bookworm appears to be — basically — an awkward nerd. Now, in some ways, I’d say my life supports that stereotype, but not all readers are that way. And it isn’t reading that makes us that way. My social skills have only improved from reading fiction, and it all starts in the mind. Fiction has given me perspective. 

For example: over the past year or two, I’ve read several novels with autistic main characters. I have done a lot of research on autism, but the stories I read took what I’d learned from my research and made it both coherent and realistic. Not only that; the nature of fiction allowed me to relate to the character as if I was also living their experience. It’s the difference between hearing someone describe soccer to you and actually playing soccer; I knew of autism in theory, but I needed to see it in practice to gain a fuller understanding. Keith Oatley, a professor of cognitive psychology, wrote about the effects stories have on understanding others. He said, “Fiction can be thought of as a form of consciousness of selves and others that can be passed from an author to a reader or spectator, and can be internalized to augment everyday cognition.” Let me define the words ‘augment’ and ‘cognition’ real quick so that the full meaning of this quote is clear. ‘To augment’ is to “make (something) greater by adding to it; increase.” ‘Cognition’ is “the mental action or process of acquiring knowledge and understanding through thought, experience, and the senses.”

Let me now repeat what Oatley was saying: Fiction can be thought of as a form of consciousness of selves and others that can be internalized to increase knowledge and understanding.

Through novels, I have gained a more robust understanding of other people, and my ability to empathize has improved. I think you all can guess how this affects a reader’s social capabilities. If I can empathize with my friend, I am both more motivated and better equipped to relate to them. If you’ve ever broken a bone, you know how painful it is. So when your friend breaks his arm, you are motivated to help, and equipped to help, being able to draw on past experience. Similarly, I can be better motivated and equipped to care for a friend if I have experience to draw from. If that experience is from reading, it obviously isn’t the same as going through the circumstance in real life, but stories can serve as simulators where a reader can ‘try on’ different experiences and gain some familiarity. 

I recently learned that astronauts can train in an enclosed space that simulates the low gravity on the moon. Now, walking around in that low-gravity simulator is not the same thing as walking on the moon, but it does give astronauts experience.

Fiction also increases a reader’s ability to interpret behavior. When we read good fiction, we are given clues to the situation without being told outright what is going on. A good author tries to avoid sentences like ‘he was angry’. Instead, they might tell the reader that he went rigid, his jaw clenched, he felt heat rising inside him. Authors do this to keep readers engaged and make them identify with the character. But this strategy has another helpful consequence: it atunes readers to the significance of body language. As I hear descriptions of an angry character, I make connections between the description and the emotion. So the next time I’m in a conversation, I can use those descriptions — he’s clenching his jaw, he’s standing rigidly — to recognize what my friend is feeling. This is helpful not only for my understanding, but once I’ve realized what my friend is feeling, I can then act appropriately. The ability to recognize cues like body language is a skill, and fiction allows readers to practice interpreting other people.

To be clear, I’m not saying that if you read fiction, you will be able to perfectly interact with others. That goal is out of reach. But stories give you practice and familiarity, two things that are required to refine any skill. Fiction cultivates empathy and interpretation. Some authors take advantage of this more than others. Harriet Beecher Stowe knew that stories could be more convincing that arguments, so she wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin to show readers the horrors of slavery. She wrote the book to convince readers of truth by stirring up empathy within them. She didn’t hide her intentions either — she wanted people to know why she wrote the book.

Most of you guys are students here; you’ve talked about literature in Omnibus, and I’m sure at some point the topic of purpose has come up. Why did the author write this story? 

Many authors write because they want to convey truth. And fiction as a category is a powerful vessel of truth.

George Orwell, author of 1984, once said, “When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention.” Orwell writes because he has a theme in mind. Most — if not all — good stories have a theme. And just to make sure we’re all on the same page, here’s a helpful definition of ‘theme’: “A literary theme is the main idea or underlying meaning a writer explores in a novel, short story, or other literary work. The theme of a story can be conveyed using characters, setting, dialogue, plot, or a combination of all of these elements.” Authors use themes to communicate some belief. The message can be something as simple as ‘lying is bad’ or something as complicated as ‘Communism is not progress’. Themes are excellent ways of communicating in stories because they are often more tangible to the reader. Let’s take the theme I mentioned just now: ‘lying is bad’. Yes, I know lying is bad. But as I read the story, the author is working to show me that lying is immoral and harmful and only makes things worse. I’m not just being told, “You should not lie,” but I’m also seeing the ugliness and the pain of deception. I am not only convinced by the author, but I’m prompted to personally decide that lying is bad. 

 I’d like to point out that not all fiction will convey messages that are good or true. Fiction is certainly abused to promote sinful messages. However, I am not arguing that every single work of fiction promotes truth, but am speaking of fictional narrative as a category. The style itself can convey truth through features like themes. 

So what makes a theme good? As a Christian, I argue that a theme is good if its standard agrees with the Bible. And non-Christians can communicate Biblical truths in their stories just like Christians can. Themes of respecting one another, defending the weak, or even seeing the fallenness of our world are all themes that I can agree with. Think of books like To Kill a Mockingbird, which shows the equal value of all people. Or Wonder, which encourages readers to look past appearances. 

But what I most enjoy seeing in books is a picture of the gospel. It can be the whole story, or it can only be a small part — a scene, a side-plot, a character. I’ve found reflections of the gospel in books like The Chronicles of Narnia, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, Beowulf, The Hunger Games, and The Wingfeather Saga. 

Fictional books are artistic ways of communicating, and dedicated writers seek to not only tell a good story, but also speak truth.

If someone told you that there was a way to ease stress, increase creativity, build valuable communication skills, and remind yourself of the gospel — and if in addition to that, that you could enjoy yourself while reaping those benefits — wouldn’t you want to know how? [pause]

I will be asking for books again this Christmas. Fiction books, because I value fiction and believe it has made me more mindful, softened my stress, and regaled me with recitals of truth. 

What about you? Will you leave here today and forget everything I’ve said? Or will you go home, pick up a fictional book, and read, knowing that fiction has the power to change you? All you have to do is read.

Stories Nourish the Soul

“Christian classical education is the transmission of the culture of the Church through a faculty of friends who love the truth by cultivating virtue in the students in body, heart, and mind, and nurturing their love for wisdom and faithful service of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The Liberal Arts Tradition: A Philosophy of Christian Classical Education

This definition for classical Christian education from authors Kevin Clark, Ravi Jain naturally prompts some questions:

a. How do we transmit the culture of the Church?
b. How do we cultivate virtue in our students in body, heart, and mind?
c. How do we nurture their love for wisdom and faithful service of the Lord?

These are big questions, but, unsurprisingly, scripture gives us a good foundation for answering them. Look at the model of teaching found in Psalm 78:1-8:

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will utter dark sayings from of old,
things that we have heard and known,
that our fathers have told us.
We will not hide them from their children,
but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might,
and the wonders that he has done.
He established a testimony in Jacob
and appointed a law in Israel,
which he commanded our fathers
to teach to their children,
that the next generation might know them,
the children yet unborn,
and arise and tell them to their children,
so that they should set their hope in God
and not forget the works of God,
but keep his commandments;
and that they should not be like their fathers,
a stubborn and rebellious generation,
a generation whose heart was not steadfast,
whose spirit was not faithful to God.

The model the Psalmist gives us for transmitting the culture of God’s people is to tell the stories important to God’s people: “I will open my mouth in a parable, I will utter dark sayings from of old, things that we have heard and know that our fathers have told us.” “Dark sayings” sounds ominous, but other translations use “riddles,” “secrets,” “mysteries,” and “hidden things.” The Psalmist is talking about the transmission of things that are not entirely clear or straightforward, but that are important and full of depth in a mysterious way. Those things are stories! “The glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might, and the wonders that he has done.”

And telling those stories cultivates virtue. The Psalmist says that God “commanded our fathers to teach their children, that the next generation might know [these stories], the children yet unborn, and arise and tell them to their children, so that they should set their hope in God and not forget the works of God but keep his commandments

Our theme this year is “Stories Nourish the Soul.” Since our training sessions over the summer, Granite faculty and staff have been thinking about, exploring, and talking about the way Story helps us teach, specifically with the goals of transmitting the culture of the Church, cultivating virtue in our students in body, mind, and soul, and nourishing our students’ love for wisdom and faithful service of the Lord.

To add substance to this idea, True Ends contributors are going to be blogging about how a number of Christian scholars have articulated a Christian theory of Story as well as how we are seeing Story nourish our students’ souls this year. Stay tuned for more in the weeks and months ahead!

All is Full of Labor

Every man, of every time
feels he is at the cusp.
He is not wrong.
Man was made to build, create, rejoice.

 

All the work of now-gone times
seems to have led to this.
It’s everywhere,
If you read the old things.

 

But.

If you read the oldest things,
those from the heart of it all,
They draw you back.
The center turns, and you must always fall.

 

The center isn’t what you thought,
viewed from your two firm feet.
It’s beautiful.
For here, gazing up,
things are real, and good, and true.

 

All is full of labor; there’s
no new thing under the sun.
He was not wrong.
Man was made to build, create, rejoice.

The Seven Laws of Building Cathedrals

As an expansion on our cathedral-vision of education, I offer this interpretation of Milton Gregory’s “Seven Laws of Teaching,” an excellent set of principles for classical Christian educators to follow, whether at home or in the classroom.

1. “A teacher must be one who knows the lesson or truth to be taught.”

   The builders of cathedrals, the ones who do the work, can be sorted into two categories – unskilled laborers, and master craftsmen. The master craftsmen are the ones who know their craft inside and out – carpentry, sculpting, blacksmithing, roofing, glass making, stone cutting, masonry, etc. Each master craftsman is responsible for making sure that his portion of the cathedral is constructed correctly and with excellence. In order to do that, he has to know what he’s doing! He is someone who has already been through an apprenticeship in the craft and who has a great store of experience and knowledge to bring to bear. But he also keeps his skills sharp by exercising his craft himself, not just directing others how to do it. He has to be organized, and he has to show up to each day of work prepared for the tasks that need to be completed.

   Educators likewise have to come to our lessons prepared, having studied and reviewed the material ourselves so that we can accurately and thoroughly teach the material. As Gregory puts it: “Know thoroughly and familiarly the lesson you wish to teach; or, in other words, teach from a full mind and a clear understanding.”

2. “A learner is one who attends with interest to the lesson given.”

   If you’ve ever been inside a cathedral, you know how captivating it is. Many cathedrals are tourist destinations because of the beauty the offer and the interest they hold. That’s what we want our lessons to be like for our students! To some extent this one is on the students – they have to be one ones attending. We can’t attend for them. But we can facilitate attention. We do this firstly by making our lessons worthy of attention. As a cathedral demands our interest because of its beauty, its sheer size, its symbolism, and the awe which it inspires, so our lessons should garner students’ attention by making truth beautiful and by engendering wonder. We do it secondly by attending ourselves to the inattention of our students. We must insist on students’ attention when distraction inevitably strikes. In Gregory’s words: “Gain and keep the attention and interest of the pupils upon the lesson. Refuse to teach without attention.”

3. The language used as a medium between teacher and learner must be common to both.

   This law seems like it should be obvious, and to some extent it is, but it’s one that we need to be mindful of. We know that a common language is needed for construction from the Tower of Babel story. When God disrupted the people’s ability to speak the same language to each other, their ability to continue construction together came to a screeching halt. If we’re going to build an education with our students, we have to use their language.

   But just because we’re all speaking English (or Latin or Spanish) does not necessarily mean we’re speaking a common language. We have to be sensitive to the fact that our students don’t necessarily share our depth of vocabulary, or have a grasp on the vocabulary used in a particular field, so we have to use what they know. Gregory expands upon Law 3 in this way: “Use words understood by both teacher and pupil in the same sense – language clear and vivid alike to both.” That doesn’t mean we can’t teach new vocabulary, but we do have to use words which our students do know to teach that new vocabulary. That, incidentally, is Law 4.

4. The lesson to be learned must be explicable in the terms of truth already known by the learner – the unknown must be explained by the known.

   It would be ridiculous to try and build a cathedral, or any building for that matter, from the top down. Everyone knows you first have to build a foundation, and then gradually build up from that foundation. We can think of the foundation of learning as the truths already known by the learner. We have to first consider what kind of foundation the student has, and then use that foundation to support and uphold the next piece. On this law Gregory writes, “Begin with what is already well known to the pupil in the lesson or upon the subject, and proceed to the unknown by single, easy, and natural steps, letting the known explain the unknown.”

5. Teaching is arousing and using the pupil’s mind to form in it a desired conception or thought.

   If you walked into a cathedral as a modern-day tourist and your tour-guide mechanically explained all its parts to you, you would probably gain a basic understanding of the cathedral, but you probably would not be inspired to truly marvel at the cathedral or to love it enough to explore more of it. If, on the other hand, the tour guide were to point out areas where you should direct your attention and ask you to consider why they might be designed the way they are, if he directed your powers of attention and logic so that the significance of the structures dawned on you in your own mind, the experience would be much more formative and would probably last much longer in your memory. As curators of the Great Tradition, classical educators must “Use the pupil’s own mind, exciting his self-activities. Keep his thoughts as much as possible ahead of your expression, making him a discoverer of truth.” Socratic and mimetic teaching especially help us do this.

6. Learning is thinking into one’s own understanding a new idea or truth.

   In order to build the flying buttresses that support the walls of a cathedral, workers have to create temporary wooden frames that hold the structures in place until the real stone arches of the buttresses are completed and hoisted up into position. Those structures, called centerings, are required for the building process, but the goal is always that the structure would be able to stand on its own eventually.

   Likewise, in education, Gregory says we must “Require the pupil to reproduce in thought the lesson he is learning – thinking it out in its parts, proofs, connections, and applications till he can express it in his own language.” When we ask our students to do this, it’s like removing the wooden centering and asking the student to hoist up the permanent, stone arch and fix it into place. If a student can express the idea or truth in her own language, then she can stand on her own with that idea or truth.

7. The test and proof of teaching done – the finishing and fastening process – must be a reviewing, rethinking, re-knowing, and reproducing of the knowledge taught.

   Nowadays if we visit a cathedral, it’s usually just for a one-time tourist visit. But that’s not what cathedrals are really designed for! All of what one learns through progressing through a cathedral and the parts of a service held in it are supposed to be repeated again and again. That repetition solidifies the knowledge gained until it becomes deeply ingrained in an individual.

   The same holds true in education. We must review and repeat the knowledge and skills that we want our students to hold on to until they are so deeply embedded in our students that they can reproduce it without our guidance. As Gregory puts it, “Review, review, review, reproducing correctly the old, deepening its impression with new thought, correcting false views, and completing the true.”

A Cathedral Vision of Education

As we think about building and education, the Christian cathedral provides an especially rich metaphor for those of us teaching in a classical Christian setting. Think about what is needed to build a cathedral:

First, cathedral builders need a plan. Cathedrals have a very specific shape. The floorplan is in the shape of a cross, and the inside typically features high vaulted ceilings (at least in Gothic cathedrals). Both of those elements are extremely deliberate.

A cathedral’s floorplan causes one to enter the building at the foot of the cross and to be seated for most of the service in the nave. Then, worshippers progress towards the center of the building and encounter Christ in communion at the crossing. Communion is brought down from the alter, which is at the head of the cross. The shape of the space is highly symbolic and is meant to provoke contemplation of Christ.

The high vaulted ceilings, often decorated with celestial images are designed to draw the gaze upwards, away from oneself and towards God. An individual feels very small in a cathedral, but he also feels God’s magnificence.

All the structures are unified in their purpose: the goal is to get the focus off humans and to put the focus on God. Similarly, all the structures of our classes have to be unified towards our ultimate purpose. In any educational endeavor, we have proximate goals and ultimate goals. Our proximate goals are the learning objectives – the content our students should know by the end of the course and the skills they should be able to demonstrate. But our ultimate goal is far more important, and it’s the same as that of the cathedral: We want to point our students towards Christ! Every proximate goal and every structure we build to achieve it must be unified towards the purpose of directing the student’s gaze towards Christ. This requires careful planning on the part of classical Christian educators. Just as a cathedral cannot be built haphazardly, neither can a classical Christian education.

Along with a plan, cathedral builders also need the right materials. A cathedral built of flimsy materials could not achieve the soaring heights of Gothic cathedrals; nor would such structures stand the test of time. Likewise, the materials we use in a classical Christian education – the content we explore – must be of the right kind to sustain the weight and height of such an educational project. Paul tells us very clearly what kinds of materials to work with in Philippians 4:8: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” To build a classical Christian education, we need to work with truth, goodness, beauty, wisdom, and virtue. Not surprisingly, the materials we use are those which have been time-tested – the best of what has been thought and written as part of the ongoing Great Conversation in western civilization.

Something else cathedral builders must have is the set of techniques and strategies most capable of achieving the goal. The biggest difference between the earlier Romanesque style cathedrals and the later Gothic style cathedrals is the use of flying buttresses, which are supports on the outside of the structure that allow the weight of the walls to be driven into the ground all the way around a building. This allows for much higher walls and for more windows, because the walls don’t have to be as thick and solid as in an unsupported Romanesque cathedral. The result is that Gothic cathedrals are generally very tall and light-filled, and thus much more effectively achieve that symbolic purpose of taking one’s gaze away from oneself and pointing it heavenwards.

The classical tradition is replete with time-tested techniques for provoking a student’s gaze towards truth, goodness, beauty, wisdom, and virtue and, ultimately, to the source of these. Group recitation and catechisms cause students to regularly proclaim truths. Close-reading and commonplacing promote contemplation of the good and the beautiful. Mimetic teaching builds students’ store of known truths or equips them with the skills to imitate the good. Socratic discussion converses about the good, true, and beautiful. We use these classical techniques – and specifically avoid others in the post-modern education arsenal – because these are the strategies that have been shown to best achieve the goal of helping students know Christ.

Lastly, cathedral builders need time – more time, in fact, than an entire lifetime! A cathedral built by medieval methods took an average of 250-300 years to build. Cologne Cathedral in Germany was started in 1238 and was not completed until 1880! A craftsman could spend his entire life working on a project that he never saw completed. In Teaching and Christian Imagination, David Smith and Susan Felch write, “Imagine having the audacity to think one could build such a thing, especially without modern machinery. What role does time play here? What would you have to believe about the world…how would you have to see your life to be able to labor at a building project that makes the notion of completion in your lifetime not just unrealistic but amusing?”

A cathedral-vision of education means acknowledging that we educators are participating in a project that we very likely won’t get to see completed. Even when students graduate from their homeschools and from Granite’s program after 12th grade, they are still unfinished cathedrals in many ways! We have to trust that God will constantly be building them up in their skills and abilities and in their walk with him.

While that means letting go of a desire for the gratification of seeing the fruit of our labors, it also relieves the pressure from us to finish the work, and frees us up to do our small piece with excellence. The project of education is far beyond the scope of one tutor, or one homeschool mom. Thankfully, we can trust the Master Architect to bring His work to completion! Do your work well, but trust that God will finish the building in his timing.

Parents, tutors, and administrative staff are all part of the cathedral-building process at Granite. And a cathedral vision of education can help us work together to set our sights on Christ as we build on Him as cornerstone and towards the purpose of making Him known to our students.

Christ the Cornerstone

Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.
Psalm 127:1

The language of building and construction permeates our language when we talk about education: young students need a foundation of knowledge which teachers then build upon; in classical education, we frequently talk about Dorothy Sayers’ famous “lost tools of learning”; teachers scaffold assignments, construct courses, and so on.

Building imagery is also returned to again and again in Scripture. We see it, for example, in Ephesians 2, where the body of believers is likened to a building formed on the “foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief cornerstone.” The image of God as an architect is used vividly in scripture. One passage that pictures God as architect also makes a connection to wisdom, by layering in a second image, that of wisdom personified. Proverbs 8 personifies Wisdom as a woman and is written as though in her words:

Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth, before he had made the earth with its fields, or the first of the dust of the world. When he established the heavens, I was there; when he drew a circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him, like a master workman, and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the children of man.

And, of course, the image is prominent in Psalm 127:1, our theme verse for the year which warns that “unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” Notice that there are two different builders in this verse: God, and human builders. Both have a role. But when we think of ourselves as builders in our teaching endeavor, we have to be careful that we don’t get so wrapped up in the planning and executing that we think we’re the ones responsible for the ultimate outcome. All our carefully planned lesson blueprints, our evenly laid foundations, and all our meticulously scaffolded assignments are in vain – to no avail – if we’re relying on ourselves for success. An education – even a classical one – without Christ as its cornerstone and God as its master architect will be like the Tower of Babel: a vehicle for students to uphold themselves in pride over all they can accomplish. And as we know from that story, God does not allow such vanities to stand for long.

Instead, we need the Master Architect to guide our plans, purposes, and processes as we build. Not even a perfectly executed classical Christian education, in and of itself, will turn students into spiritually-minded, God honoring Christians. God’s hand in our students’ lives and his work in their hearts is what is going to achieve that. So we need to be praying for God to be the master builder, to orchestrate all our efforts, and to orient our hearts away from ourselves and towards him as we work.

We still labor, because God has called us to teach. And so we do plan and scaffold and build, but we do so in obedience to God and in reliance on him to make our labor result in something solid, sturdy, and glorifying to Him.

Of course, this image of building and construction might seem a bit of an ironic choice when our ability to meet together in a physical building is being impacted by a global pandemic. Our physical spaces and our use of them will look very different in the Fall than they have in the past. And as we are all well-aware after the 2019-20 academic year, there may come a time at which we are once again restrained from meeting in a building at all.

But the image of Christ as our cornerstone should be even more of a comfort to us during this time, rather than less. David Smith and Susan Felch, authors of Teaching and Christian Imagination from which our theme this year is inspired, write that “many central and iconic buildings in the Bible, designed or commanded by God himself, are insubstantial and temporary. Noah’s ark, Abraham and Sarah’s tent, the ‘ark’ carrying baby Moses down the Nile, the tabernacle, and the plant that shades Jonah, are all fragile, flimsy, contingent structures. They are not made to last; we should not look to them for our security.” Neither should we look to a physical meeting place for our security in our educational endeavour this academic year. Instead, our hope is in the living Stone rejected by men, the chief Cornerstone, chosen and precious (1 Peter 2:4-6).

There is more work to be done by both parents and tutors this year than ever before. Parents will need to plan carefully, build upon what tutors are able to do during our in-person classes, and construct schedules and routines that enable learning to happen more heavily at home. Tutors will need to build creatively so as to use the limited resources of in-person classes constructively, and will be crafting much more detailed blue-prints for parents to follow at home. At Granite, our prayer is that God, the Master Architect, will bless and orchestrate all our efforts and that he, truly, will build the house.