Without Excuse

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles. (Romans 1:18-23, ESV)

In my Omnibus class this month, we are studying portions of Genesis, Exodus, the Epic of Gilgamesh, and the Code of Hammurabi, as well as some Egyptian history. My students, I am happy to report, are horrified at the wickedness of the ancient nations and are constantly pointing out how different the pagans are from the Jews. However, my reaction has been a little different. It is amazing how close the Egyptians and Mesopotamians were to the truth, and yet how far they strayed from it.

During our study of Genesis, we read the flood narratives from the book of Genesis and from The Epic of Gilgamesh. In The Epic of Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh meets Utnapishtim, who is the Noah figure of Sumerian mythology. The story of Utnapishtim and the flood is obviously mythical: Utnapishtim is warned about the flood by a god whispering through the reeds of his house, it takes Utnapishtim only one week to build his ark with the help of all his neighbors, and the earth was flooded for seven days. On the other hand, the story is a close parallel to the story of Noah, and many details are similar.

The part of the story that struck me the most came at the end of the flood, when Utnapishtim sends out three birds to look for dry land: first a dove, then a swallow, and finally a raven, who finds land and never comes back. Noah sends out a raven first, who does not return, and then he sends out a dove twice. The similarity of the detail is too striking: there are three birds, one of which is a dove and one of which is a raven. The Sumerians knew so much and were so far from God. Truly, they understood the significance of the flood, but they still refused to turn to the true God for salvation. They were without excuse and followed the foolish desires of their hearts.

Between Genesis and Exodus, we learned about the beliefs of the Egyptians in the Old Kingdom, who built the pyramids. The ancient Egyptians believed so strongly in life after death that their earthly life became a great preparation for the world to come. According to these people, each person had a ba (a soul) and a ka (a spiritual copy of the body). In order for a person to have a happy life in the afterworld, the body was mummified so that the ba and ka could recognize the person after death. Today, people think very little about life after death, and cremations are a popular option at funeral homes. However, as Christians we know that our bodies will be resurrected and perfected at Christ’s second coming. We have more authority than the Egyptians on life in the world to come, and yet we care less about our heavenly future and resurrection bodies.

Next week, my class will be comparing the law of Moses from Exodus with The Code of Hammurabi. The Code of Hammurabi, given by the king of Babylon around 1800 B.C., is famous for being the first written law code. Many of Hammurabi’s laws are similar to the laws in Exodus, reminding us of the passage in Romans 2:14-16:

“For when Gentiles, who do not have the law, by nature do what the law requires, they are a law to themselves, even though they do not have the law. They show that the work of God is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them on that day when, according to my gospel, God judges the secrets of men by Christ Jesus.”

Even though Hammurabi did not receive a special revelation of the law from God like Moses did, he still saw much of the same truth, leaving him and his people without excuse.

Through all these instances, God has left knowledge of himself in the hearts of men. The Epic of Gilgamesh shows how oral histories passed down the story of the flood in Sumerian culture. The Egyptians realized the importance of the physical body in the world to come, and Hammurabi showed that God’s law is written on the hearts of men. Although the ancient peoples chose to ignore this knowledge of God, the signs are still there.

This summer, I was lamenting that I did not get to read medieval literature with my students. I enjoy medieval literature, because it is a Christian response to pagan literature and philosophy. However, I have realized in the last month that ancient literature still has a connection to Christianity: it shows the world that Christ came to save, and it shows clearly that men are without excuse. Once again, I am excited to be teaching about the ancient world.

The Seven Mechanical Arts

Hugh of St. Victor explains the Seven Mechanical Arts in his book, Didascalion: Concerning the Art of Reading. Basically, the Didascalion is the How to Read a Book of the twelfth century. In it, Hugh provides instruction for the students entering the school of the monastery of St. Victor in Paris. The first half of the work covers the twenty-one arts, how to study them, and what to read concerning them. The second half of the work deals with Scripture and other sacred writings. Among the twenty-one arts, Hugh includes the Seven Mechanical Arts: fabric making, armament, commerce, agriculture, hunting, medicine, and theatrics.

Fabric making is all kinds of weaving, braiding, sewing, twisting, etc. with materials of wool, flax, hemp, jute, hide, etc. to make clothes, sails, coverings, sacks, etc. (This is the short summary; Hugh’s list is quite extensive.)

Armament originally meant weapons, but through a lengthy etymology, Hugh shows that this science applies to the making of all tools or instruments. Thus, armament has two divisions: constructional and craftly. Constructional armament includes building houses and walls. Craftly armament includes everything that is made in the forge or foundry.

Next up is commerce. It’s just what you think it is: all buying and selling of goods both foreign and domestic.

Moving on to agriculture, we find four types of land: arable, used for sowing; plantation, used for trees and vineyards; pastoral, used for sheep and cattle; and floral, used for gardens and roses.

All hunting is divided into three parts: gaming, fowling, and fishing. Hugh also includes all preparation of food by cooking. He notes that there are two kinds of food: bread and side dishes (everything else).

The two studies of medicine are occasions and operations. Occasions are the six reasons for good or bad health: air, motion and quiet, emptiness and satiety, food and drink, sleep and wakefulness, and reactions of the soul. All operations are interior (medicine) or exterior (surgery).

Finally, Hugh comes to theatrics. Theatrics contains all types of public entertainment, including sports.

The Seven Mechanical Arts are so-called because they contain all things produced by human artifice. Hugh sees these arts as lesser than the Seven Liberal Arts because the Liberal Arts require the use of the mind, whereas the Mechanical Arts require the use of the body. For Hugh, the body is inherently inferior to the mind, and the great goal in life is to move beyond the body (he does lean towards Gnosticism). Hugh recommends the study of the Mechanical Arts, but prefers the Liberal Arts, since he believes that they renew the image of God in man.

Work Cited

Hugh of St. Victor. The Didascalion of Hugh of St. Victor: A Medieval Guide to the Arts. Translated by Jerome Taylor. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991.

Some Thoughts on Reading

First thought, I know next to nothing about anything I say on this blog. I am a perpetual student, and one of my recurring lessons is that there is way more to learn about everything. I still waffle on the issue of whether anyone under the age of 50 has any right to speak in public.

Anyhow, on Reading. Specifically, reading great books, or classics.

First, reading classics does not start fun--even for the whiz kid that has been reading at the college level since age 6. Philosophy is dense and boring, epic poetry takes 16 lines to say "Patrocles died," and history comes in 18 volumes to every particular bias of the writer. Reading great books in the beginning is straight, unvarnished, hard work. The joy of the thing though, is that is does not remain hard work. It is hard to see the progress, but be faithful in tackling the hard books and change will occur. I read The Republic in my Junior year of college, and it was one of the most dreadful dull books I had ever read. I learned nothing but facts and I decided I hated Plato. A year and a half later, I read Plato's Phaedrus, and I laughed at the jokes and got quite a bit out of his arguments. It was in fact, a pleasure to read. Trick to reading: persistence.

Second thing about reading. Books are not written in a vacuum. Every great or influential book in history was, well, influential. In other words, it actively interacted with the cultural and historical atmosphere. It was born of history and in turn, was the midwife of history. It is not necessary to have a profound understanding of the English Revolution to read Milton, but even a cursory knowledge of the times will make him much more clear. If you are confused, read a bit of the history of the time and it will help you appreciate the great book, and may even help your confusion. In a similar vein, Cliff Notes are your friend. Cliff Notes are not the equal of the great literature, but there are an excellent way to give the reader a general outline of what is going to happen and why it matters, thus freeing him to concentrate on the truly great and irreplacable parts of the work.

Third thing, if you are trying to read a great book for fun, read a great book you honestly want to read. Granted, it makes you look brilliant to be seen reading Les Miserables in public, but if it is putting you to sleep, there really isn't much point in reading it at this phase. Unless of course you are one of those people that can admit they don't find something interesting yet still give it its due. But, when browsing the shelves, looking for something impressive to read, pick something that actually sounds interesting. Having read numerous books just because I ought to read them, and getting absolutely nothing out of them, it really is a waste of time.

Fourth, some books just need and certain kinds of experience to understand. If you hate all things pertaining to the sea, you will hate Moby Dick, it has, roughly, 100 pages of marine biology, and 75 more on how to maintain a ship. Great Expectation needs an understanding of pain, lost hope, and ambition. Dostoevsky needs an understanding of suffering and the ability to grasp the brilliant agony of insanity. If you read a classic, and everything but the characters make sense, give it ten years and try again. It just may not make sense because you haven't lived enough yet to be able to hear it.

Fifth, some great books are not worth it. If the book is driving you insane, to gut-wrenching tears, or any other excessively damaging reaction, it is alright to put it away and never read it again. There are some great classics that exact an unbearable amount of confusion and pain for the sake of the story, and that story, objectively, may not be worth it for you. I will never read Tess of the D'Urberville's again, and Finnegan's Wake is never going to happen.

Reading is an art. It is an art for everyone, but it is not an art for everyone to approach in entirely the same way. When attempting the canon, give yourself space, acknowledge the masters, and bear in mind that there is a delicate balance between letting the work expand your horizons and forcefeeding yourself bricks the hard way. Give it time, and reading the greats will become a great pleasure.