Misc. Graham Greene Quotes

It is impossible to go through life without trust: that is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself. The Ministry of Fear

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane.

Sentimentality - that's what we call the sentiment we don't share.

Success is more dangerous than failure, the ripples break over a wider coastline.

We are all of us resigned to death: it's life we aren't resigned to.

The Strangeness of Mercy

You cannot conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God.
—Graham Greene, Brighton Rock

The Power and the Glory

Having just finished The Power and the Glory for the second time, I think I can safely say that it is one of the most profound books of the twentieth century—especially dealing with issues of faith, sin, vocation, truth, and suffering. Graham Greene does not always lend himself to easy quotes because so much of the writing is dependent on the situations of the narrative. However, here are a few attempts:

The wall of the burial-ground had fallen in: one or two crosses had been smashed by enthusiasts: an angel had lost one of its stone wings, and what gravestones were left undamaged leant at an acute angle in the long marshy grasses. One image of the Mother of God had lost ears and arms and stood like a pagan Venus over the grave of some rich forgotten timber merchant. It was odd—this fury to deface, because, of course, you could never deface enough. If God had been like a toad, you could have rid the globe of toads, but when God was like yourself, it was no good being content with stone figures—you had to kill yourself among the graves.

This is a keen observation on what has become a culture of death (infanticide, euthanasia, non-sanctity of life) and self mutilation through piercings, tattoos, and even visual art (think of the disfiguring of the image of God in cubist paintings and subsequent “art” movements).

The following quote reveals the main character’s growing realization of the need to move beyond surface piety and into the heart of the Gospel and true faith.

That was another mystery: it sometimes seemed to him that venial sins—impatience, an unimportant lie, pride, a neglected opportunity—cut you off from grace more completely than the worst sins of all. Then, in his innocence, he had felt no love for anyone; now in his corruption he had learnt…

My Current Bannockburn Reading

Scottish, Once Again

In typical bureaucratic fashion, the Library of Congress changed their catalog system and swept 700 years of Scottish literary tradition under the heading of "English." Thankfully, the ire of the Scots has made them reconsider and to restore Scottish literature as its own literary heritage. The Washington Post has an article here.

Current Reading

Current Reading

The Future of Philip K. Dick

Geoff Boucher wrote an interesting article about the future films based on stories by Philip K. Dick in this twenty-fifth anniversary year of Blade Runner. His writings continue to be fodder for much creative exploration from what was a difficult, yet fertile, mind.

Quote from Annals of a Quiet Neighboourhood

I know this is a long quote from George MacDonald, but it is a great reminder of how often we can get lost in theology and lose the image of Christ. It's all about Jesus.

During the suffering which accompanied the disappointment at which I have already hinted, I did not think it inconsistent with the manly spirit in which I was resolved to endure it, to seek consolation from such a source as the New Testament—if mayhap consolation for such a trouble was to be found there. Whereupon, a little to my surprise, I discovered that I could not read the Epistles at all. For I did not then care an atom for the theological discussions in which I had been interested before, and for the sake of which I had read those epistles. Now that I was in trouble, what to me was that philosophical theology staring me in the face from out the sacred page? Ah! reader, do not misunderstand me. All reading of the Book is not reading of the Word. And many that are first shall be last and the last first. I know NOW that it was Jesus Christ and not theology that filled the hearts of the men that wrote those epistles—Jesus Christ, the living, loving God-Man, whom I found—not in the Epistles, but in the Gospels. The Gospels contain what the apostles preached—the Epistles what they wrote after the preaching. And until we understand the Gospel, the good news of Jesus Christ our brother-king—until we understand Him, until we have His Spirit, promised so freely to them that ask it—all the Epistles, the words of men who were full of Him, and wrote out of that fulness, who loved Him so utterly that by that very love they were lifted into the air of pure reason and right, and would die for Him, and did die for Him, without two thoughts about it, in the very simplicity of NO CHOICE—the Letters, I say, of such men are to us a sealed book. Until we love the Lord so as to do what He tells us, we have no right to have an opinion about what one of those men meant; for all they wrote is about things beyond us. The simplest woman who tries not to judge her neighbour, or not to be anxious for the morrow, will better know what is best to know, than the best-read bishop without that one simple outgoing of his highest nature in the effort to do the will of Him who thus spoke.

But I have, as is too common with me, been led away by my feelings from the path to the object before me. What I wanted to say was this: that, although I could make nothing of the epistles, could see no possibility of consolation for my distress springing from them, I found it altogether different when I tried the Gospel once more. Indeed, it then took such a hold of me as it had never taken before. Only that is simply saying nothing. I found out that I had known nothing at all about it; that I had only a certain surface-knowledge, which tended rather to ignorance, because it fostered the delusion that I did know. Know that man, Christ Jesus! Ah! Lord, I would go through fire and water to sit the last at Thy table in Thy kingdom; but dare I say now I KNOW Thee!—But Thou art the Gospel, for Thou art the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and I have found Thee the Gospel. For I found, as I read, that Thy very presence in my thoughts, not as the theologians show Thee, but as Thou showedst Thyself to them who report Thee to us, smoothed the troubled waters of my spirit, so that, even while the storm lasted, I was able to walk upon them to go to Thee. And when those waters became clear, I most rejoiced in their clearness because they mirrored Thy form—because Thou wert there to my vision—the one Ideal, the perfect man, the God perfected as king of men by working out His Godhood in the work of man…So much I saw.

And therefore, when I was once more in a position to help my fellows, what could I want to give them but that which was the very bread and water of life to me—the Saviour himself?

Horton Foote

One of my favorite authors, playwrights, and screen writers is Horton Foote. Alex Witchel has a great article about Foote, his history, and his upcoming productions. At the age of 91, Horton Foote is still very active--for which I am grateful. I have had the wonderful opportunity to produce several of his plays with high school students, and films such as Tender Mercies, Trip to Bountiful, To Kill a Mockingbird, and 1918 are among some of the best screenplays written.

The Legend of the Poe Visitor

Every January 19, a shrouded visitor lays three roses and a bottle of cognac on the grave of Edgar Allan Poe. After worldwide publicity, someone has finally come forward to explain the mystery, or have they?

Discussion on Harry Potter VII

This past week we had our third and final discussion of the Harry Potter series and it various elements of medieval symbolism, alchemy, and Christian content.

It's a fascinating series by a remarkably gifted and highly intelligent author. Kudos to J.K. Rowling for keeping us enthralled, engaged, and thinking for the past ten years.

Even Jane Austen is No Jane Austen

In a recent article in The Guardian, Steven Morris tells about his experiment with eighteen publishers and literary agents in Great Britain to see if they would consider Jane Austen’s work publishable. He slightly modified the opening chapters of three different novels and sent them to various publishers as unsolicited manuscripts.

Not only were none of the publishers or agents interested, but only one of the eighteen actually recognized the work as Austen’s! One publisher (Penguin) went so far as to say, “Thank you for your recent letter and chapters from your book First Impressions. It seems like a really original and interesting read.” Morris had even used Austen’s original title for Pride and Prejudice in his experiment.

It does make one wonder what the criteria is for publishable works and if the transient, gimmicky, disposable aesthetic of modernity has supplanted the place of timeless classics. Of course, it could just be that serious readers are harder to come by.

More Harry Potter Discussion

As a follow-up to last month's literature discussion, here are the next two installments discussing Books 4-6. These are non-edited files that contain extraneous comments and details (such as what books we will read next and when we'll discuss them).

These are a continuation of the exploration of the spiritual and medieval symbolism inherent in these books and how J.K. Rowling uses the elements of alchemy as a structure for the stories.

Part One
Part Two

Flannery O'Connor "Speaks"

In the June 30/July7 issue of World magazine, there is an “interview” with Flannery O’Connor. Taking excerpts from Mystery and Manners—a masterful collection of essays and talks about her craft as a writer—Marvin Olasky has created an interview of sorts in which he asks questions about fiction writing and Flannery O’Connor “responds” via quotes from her book.

While I am supportive of most anything that gives O’Connor a wider audience, unfortunately the method used in this article makes her seem humorless, didactic, and terse. While the “questions” are good, one cannot help but wonder what else she would have said in addition to the canned response. Another tricky element is that since the answers came before the questions there is a distinct lack of personality.

I say these things because I am a huge fan of Mystery and Manners and O’Connor and I would hate for people to miss the real author amid the quotes. Anybody who raised dozens of peacocks has to have some sense of humor.

O’Connor has much to say about art, writing, reading, and the intersection of faith and aesthetics. Hopefully articles such as this and last year’s Credenda Agenda devoted to her life and writings will create a desire for her work. O’Connor’s stories can sometimes be difficult to handle, but she is always working through grace and faith in the midst of this world.

As she says in her own words: The novelist with Christian concerns will find in modern life distortions which are repugnant to him, and his problem will be to make them appear as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing them as natural; and he may be forced to take ever more violent means to get his vision across to this hostile audience. When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax a little and use more normal ways of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock—to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the blind you draw large and startling figures.

Literature Discussions on Harry Potter

Several weeks ago I led a literature discussion group through the use of fantasy, symbols, and alchemy in the Harry Potter books. These talks outlined why fiction can sometimes convey more truth than non-fiction, how symbols work and how modernity has consciously sought to undermine the Christian basis of symbols, and how alchemy was an attempt to purify the soul through the process of sanctification.

The premise of these talks is that J.K. Rowling uses medieval symbolism consistent with Biblical understanding and that the overall theme of the stories may in fact be the process of sanctification utilizing the imagery of alchemy.

The actual book discussion focused primarily on Books 1-3 since we are having another discussion next week on Books 4-6. Refer to John Granger's book, Looking for God in Harry Potter, for more information on the use of alchemy.

Part One (about 40 minutes): Introduction and primary Alchemy Discussion
Part Two (about 37 minutes): Discussion on types of magic, symbols, and the thematic material in Book 1-3
Part Three (about 15 minutes): The Questions and Answers after the Discussion

(Thanks to Cy and Elliott Fenton for editing these)

Literary Alchemy

As a Christian, what are we supposed to do when reading about characters who manipulate and control water, air, earth, and fire or who speak commands to direct the sea and air to obey them? What about potions that control elements of nature? Is this witchcraft and therefore to be avoided by Christians? What if the author claims to be a Christian?

These are just some of the issues one must face when reading the Venerable Bede, the 8th century British monk and Biblical scholar. O wait—you thought I was talking about Harry Potter.

The miracles related in the works of Bede (as is true of other writings from this period) have a distinct moral character to them. Bede, and the people of his time, possessed a much greater sensitivity to the spiritual nature of the world around them. They saw events in spiritual terms—comets, storms, fires, harvests, birth and death. We who think through the mind of Greeks are much too quick to look for rational and reasonable explanations as opposed to the wonder of God’s creation. Yes, there are natural laws that govern the universe, but it was Yahweh who created those laws, not the other way around. And as such, those laws reflect the nature and character of Him.

As such, medieval authors often present a person’s virtue in terms of their ability to regain the Edenic ability to take actual dominion over the earth. The process of sanctification is one of moving towards that state of our first parents and the new paradise. Interestingly, that is the goal and process of alchemy—the purification and sanctification of the internal soul. They believed that man was a spirit who had a body, not the other way around (a concept that George MacDonald writes about in Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood).

As Bede shows, Bishop Aidan and St. Cuthbert displayed their virtuous life through their ability to make the waves and wind obey them and by aligning with the harmony of the created order in the way Adam did.

Incidentally, J.K. Rowling uses this medieval concept of the miraculous. The Harry Potter novels have the same approach to spiritual growth, alchemy, and incantational magic that the Medievals understood, wrote about, and assumed as a spiritual metaphor of the Christian life. Interesting…

Why I Like Catholic Authors

The following is one of a series of re-posts of lost blogs. However, this very topic has once again raised its head in discussion around our house. If we're doing our jobs well in instructing the next generation, I hope to see serious reformed artists developing soon.

I’ve discovered that I am enamored with twentieth century Catholic authors. The common thread I see in their works is a palpable sense of sin, guilt, grace, and redemption. One does not often find such themes in “Protestant” authors because of several factors.

Who are the serious Protestant authors? Surely not the pulp fiction of contemporary evangelical mass media—enter stock characters, state conflict, convert main character after almost succumbing to tragedy, life is good. This falls more into the category of propaganda instead of literature. Are there serious writers who reflect their Protestant beliefs through their literary art? Frederick Buechner comes to mind, but then he always seems more Catholic in his sensibilities than Presbyterian.

Catholic authors tend to weave symbols and ideas through the narrative. Blue skies in Flannery O’Connor usually mean that the grace of heaven is about to be revealed and someone is going to die. Outward deformities reflect stunted or distorted souls in her works, and when she says the sun sinks like a giant host, one cannot look at a red sunset or the Eucharist the same way again. Like the little girl who has the crucifix imprinted on her cheek by an enthusiastic hug from a nun, one cannot leave these works without being marked, challenged, and changed.

I think one difference between Catholic and Protestant authors is that these Catholics don’t wear their faith on their sleeve. It’s not a polite tale to be told, but rather a grid through which to understand all of the world. A sacramental view of the world is highly apparent in the works of G.K. Chesterton in which characters are captivated by the elements of God’s creation that surround them. They look for the sacredness of things and discover remarkable designs, motifs, and patterns.

Where are the reformed novelists in our age—wordsmiths who can craft a compelling tale that doesn’t preach but that assumes the elements of the faith as part of the warp and woof of the narrative? If we are concerned about all of life and the application of worldview in the arts, why are we so stunted in the area of quality literature? The ironic thing is that these elements that make Catholic writing unique are the very areas where a vibrant reformed faith should excel. A total world and life view should include the understanding of symbols, signs, and ideas, of artistic and literary concepts, the works of the past (even the pagan ones) that can color and shade, and the application of the faith in all the areas of artistic production. Perhaps J.K. Rowling is closer to the mark than is usually given credit.

Maybe we’re just too disconnected from the Catholic literary tradition of the past or maybe we fail to see the biblical and theological connection, as well as value, in works such as Chaucer and Austen, Scott and Buchan, Donne and Shakespeare.

Obviously I do have theologically differences with Catholic authors, but I’m fascinated by their themes of sin and redemption and in the hope of recovering and appropriating this literary richness. Art and beauty is never a replacement for the Word, but I do believe that all beauty is God's beauty and reveals the character of God.

John Ruskin’s “The Nature of Gothic”

I am always challenged by Ruskin’s moral analysis of art, architecture, and craftsmanship. It is no wonder that he exerted such a profound influence on all the arts.

Ruskin likens the redundant task of factory workers to a slavery of the soul in which they are forced to execute the same job over and over, and “in which the execution or power of the inferior workman is entirely subjected to the intellect of the higher.” The practical side effect of this is that men are reduced to cogs and unable to develop as true human beings. In contrast, Ruskin writes:

But in the medieval, or especially Christian, system of ornament, this slavery is done away with altogether; Christianity having recognized, in small things as well as great, the individual value of every soul. But it not only recognizes its value; it confesses its imperfection, in only bestowing dignity upon the acknowledgment of unworthiness. That admission of lost power and fallen nature, which the Greek or Ninevite felt to be intensely painful, and, as far as might be, altogether refused, the Christian makes daily and hourly, contemplating the fact of it without fear, as tending, in the end, to God’s greater glory. Therefore, to every spirit which Christianity summons to her service, her exhortation is: Do what you can, and confess frankly what you are unable to do; neither let your effort be shortened for fear of failure, nor your confession silenced for fear of shame…

And therefore, while in all things we see or do, we are to desire perfection, and strive for it, we are nevertheless not to set the meaner thing, in its narrow accomplishment, above the nobler thing, in its mighty progress; not to esteem smooth minuteness above shattered majesty; not to prefer mean victory to honourable defeat; not to lower the level of our aim, that we may the more surely enjoy the complacency of success. But above all, in our dealings with the souls of other men, we are to take care how we check, by severe requirement or narrow caution, efforts which might otherwise lead to noble issue; and, still more, how we withhold our admiration from great excellencies, because they are mingled with rough faults.

He later writes:

You are put to a stern choice in this matter. You must either make a tool of the creature, or a man of him. You cannot make both. Men were not intended to work with the accuracy of tools, to be precise in perfect in all their actions. If you will have that precision out of them, and make their fingers measure degrees like cog-wheels, and their arms strike curves like compasses, you must unhumanize them. All the energies of their spirit must be given to make cogs and compasses of themselves. All their attention and strength must go to the accomplishment of the mean act. The eye of the soul must be bent upon the finger-point, and the soul’s force must fill all the invisible nerves that guide it, ten hours a day, that it may not err from its steely precision, and so soul and sight be worn away, and the whole human being be lost at last—a heap of sawdust, so far as its intellectual work in this world is concerned: save only by its Heart, which cannot go into the form of cogs and compasses, but expands, after the ten hours are over, into fireside humanity.

Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood

I have read multiple books by George MacDonald—Lilith, Phantastes, Princess and the Goblin, The Princess and Curdie, On the Back of the North Wind, and many of the shorter works for children. However, when I picked up Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood, I quickly realized that all of my reading of MacDonald had either been fantasy or children’s fiction. Here I was confronted with a profound story concerning the depths of life that run beneath the surface of quiet neighborhoods.

The protagonist and narrator of the story is a parish minister who has just assumed the pastorate in his first church. He wastes no time in throwing himself into the life of his parishioners—both poor and rich. The conversations that he has, the lessons he teaches and subsequently learns, and the compassion he displays convey the gospel time and again. One of my favorite passages occurs as he has suffered a personal setback and struggles with feelings of depression and doubt. He writes that he seeks consolation from the New Testament but discovers that he did not want to read the Epistles—he desires to read the gospels to see Jesus and to know then one of whom the epistles were written. He writes:

Know that man, Christ Jesus! Ah! Lord, I would go through fire and water to sit the last at Thy table in Thy Kingdom; but dare I say now I know Thee!—But Thou art the Gospel, for Thou art the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and I have found Thee in the Gospel. For I found, as I read, that Thy very presence in my thoughts, not as the theologians show Thee, but as Thou showedst Thyself to them who report Thee to us, smoothed the troubled waters of my spirit, so that even while the storm lasted, I was able to walk upon them to go to Thee.

At another point he visits a dying parishioner and in the course of conversation says to her:

“You won’t die. Your body will die, and be laid away out of sight; but you will be awake, alive, more alive than you are now, a great deal.”

And here let me interrupt the conversation to remark upon the great mistake of teaching children that they have souls. The consequence is, that they think of their souls as of something which is not themselves. For what a man has cannot be himself. Hence, when they are told that their souls go to heaven, they think of their selves as lying in the grave. They ought to be taught that they have bodies; and that their bodies die; while they themselves live on. Then they will not think, as old Mrs. Tomkins did, that they will be laid in the grave…we talk as if we possessed souls, instead of being souls.

What a wonderful and profound book that makes me appreciate the many matters of life and death and living in my own quiet neighborhood.

Johannesen Printing and Publishing has a very nice hand-bound edition available of this and all other titles by George MacDonald (www.johannesen.com).

The Future of Literature?

The last post reminded me of this post from November 2005. In my effort to re-post relevant blogs, here it is again:

A British mobile phone company is rolling out their plan to make classic works of literature accessible and accessible by turning them into text messages. The complete works of Shakespeare will be available by April. However, the works lose a little something in their adjustment to modern technology.

Shakespeare thus becomes:
“Romeo, Romeo – wher4 Rt thou Romeo?”
and
“2b? Nt2? ???” (that’s from Hamlet in case you missed it)

Milton’s Paradise Lost becomes:
"devl kikd outa hevn coz jelus of jesus&strts war."
("The devil is kicked out of heaven because he is jealous of Jesus and starts a war.")

Austen does not fare much better with Mr. Darcy described as “fit&loadd” for “handsome and wealthy.”

A University College London English professor consulted on the project and said that “The educational opportunities it offers are immense,” and that the compressed format of text messages allowed them to “fillet out the important elements of plot.” “Take for example the ending to Jane Eyre—‘MadwyfSetsFyr2Haus.’ (Mad wife sets fire to house.) Was ever a climax better compressed?”

What is sadly missed, of course, is that great literature is much more than a compressed set of plot points. The purpose of literature is to read it, not to summarize the narrative. As Flannery O’Connor explains, the way a story is told with its unique choice of syntax, imagery, and use of language IS part of the theme and the purpose for the story. One could also sadly lament the loss of grammar and spelling skills. Art and beauty are not meant to be pragmatic.

The stated idea for this text messaging project is that this will be a valuable tool for studying for exams and a useful memory aid. I never realized that we would actually find ourselves in a situation in which students looking for a short-cut would find Cliff Notes or Spark Notes too much to read.

The Future of Writing

CNN.com has reported the rise in usage of “IM” language in formal writing. Predictably, there are some educators who support the student’s creation of new language. I’m just reminded that subduing the earth and taking dominion often has nothing to do with being efficient or pragmatic.

You can read the full article here.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and January 1

One of the elements of modern academia is either the wanton disregard or attempt to discredit Christian influence on literature, or the lack of ability to notice it when it is indeed there. Critiques of medieval literature should always keep in mind the context of Christendom in which the authors wrote. This is why the following remark is puzzling concerning the manuscript of Gawain, Patience, Pearl, and Purity: All the poems except Sir Gawain and the Green Knight deal with overtly Christian subject matter, and it remains unclear why Sir Gawain, an Arthurian romance, was included in an otherwise religious manuscript.

The answer, of course, is that Gawain is indeed an overtly religious poem. One of the most obvious religious features of the poem is that significant events occur on liturgical feast days: Christmas, All Saints, and most importantly, the Feast of the Circumcision—January 1. The first antiphon sung during Lauds on January 1 is:

O wonderful exchange, wonderful trade:
The Creator of human kind, assuming an inspirited body,
Deigned to be born of a Virgin;
And coming forth as a man without admixture of seed,
He bestowed upon us his godhead.

This highlights the sin of Gawain. All of the virtues represented by the pentangle are subsequently discarded in Gawain’s sojourn in the Castle of Bertilak. He fails in his five fingers, in courtesy and chastity, and he fails to pray. His response to the seduction of the Lady is to value his own life above the morals and virtues he so proudly claims. The antiphon is a reminder that Christ fully accepted his humanity, but that Gawain refuses to submit to mortality at the potential cost of his own soul.

Ironically, Gawain glories in his outward virtues (through false humility), but inwardly he is corrupt. His sin which drives him to a full assessing of his character is outwardly minor, but inwardly significant because it reveals his motivations and desires above his public personae. In a sermon, Gregory the Great preached the following about chastity and lust that could hardly fit the circumstances of Gawain any better:

There is one kind of lust, namely of the flesh, by which we corrupt chastity, another, however, namely of the heart, by which we glory in our chastity. Hence God says to Job: “Gird up your loins like a man” [Job 38. 3], so that whoever first conquers the lust of corruption may now restrain the lust of glorying, lest becoming proud of his patience and chastity, he live so much the worse lustful within, before the eyes of God, as he appears the more both patient and chaste, before the eyes of man. Hence well is it said by Moses: ‘Circumcise the foreskin of your hearts’ (Deut. 10.16), that is, after you douse the lust arising from the flesh, cut off also the excesses of thought and imagination.

The climax of the story occurs on the Feast of the Circumcision, and the word used to describe the nick of the blade on Gawain’s neck, the nirt, is also a term used in discussing circumcision. Significantly, the Green Knight bestows Gawain’s name back on him after the acknowledgment of sin and guilt. The nick of the blade becomes a sacramental action that symbolizes the cleansing of baptism and a new name.

Much more could be said of the parallel between the hunting scenes and the seduction scenes with the animals involved, the separating of Gawain from Arthur’s court for testing just like the doe was separated from the herd during the hunt, the fact that Gawain wears blue, the color of fidelity, when withholding the gift of the girdle from his Host, and the maturity and connection to the earth of the Host’s castle versus the youth and artificiality of Arthur’s court. All of these things make a rich and wonderful tapestry in a substantive story of redemption and chivalry.

Questionable Creatures

Pauline Baynes’s newest book is a fascinating exploration of a bestiary—both visually and in her descriptions. My review of the book for Reformation21 is posted here.