The Words of Edwards

                Today, to sort of begin and end Jonathan Edwards, I want to go over several key terms Edwards uses when talking about beauty; what those terms mean to Edwards; and then my take on them, and on the concept Edwards is driving at.

                First, much as I did in Starting on Beauty, Edwards defines two types of beauty: primary beauty and secondary beauty. For Edwards, secondary beauty is form and harmony – it is superficial beauty. It is this beauty which the world got hung up on, and that Kant argued against in his endorsement of the sublime. The problem with secondary beauty is that it is subjective; some people see beauty in certain forms that other people do not. It is because of this subjectivity of beauty that Kant argues it is not the most important thing. What Kant and many others missed – and is especially prevalent in the postmodern movement, in areas outside of beauty as well – is the fact that the idea of beauty still exists, no matter what different people’s interpretation of it is. Roland Delattre, in his essay concerning Jonathan Edwards titled Aesthetics and Ethics, says: “Everywhere in the universe, and not only among human beings, there is evidence of a deep hunger for beauty.” What this should have pointed out to Kant and many others is, despite differing viewpoints of what exactly beauty was, the concept and the desire still exists; therefore, it should stand to reason, that beauty is something which exists, something which people can react to. But in staring at the trees, they have missed the forest.

                Second, Edwards speaks of primary beauty: beauty which is consent of being to being. For Edwards, as for the Bible and for anyone who claims to believe the Bible, everyone and everything springs from God. I spoke of this at length in my last post. So this primary beauty stems from God; when we see beauty in another or in creation, it is agreeing with God in the consent of His being to the other being. I should say, true beauty is this; when we cut God from the picture, it is a selfish and subjective perception of beauty, and likely is superficial. This is why so much of what we perceive as beauty today is so damaging to individuals; when we say a man or woman is beautiful, and we are using subjective, fleshly measurements to say so – we lay on pride and haughtiness to the individual being admired, and lust upon ourselves because the beauty is for our benefit only. Then, those who are not subjectively beautiful are discarded as of no use for our enjoyment, unless there is some cheap carnal enjoyment to steal from them. A person does not have to be beautiful if they are useful, after all; and, inversely, if they are beautiful they do not need to be of any other use. So humanity is enslaved by this subjective, selfish beauty. But when beauty comes from God, both in the observer and the subject, then God is given glory and the sinfulness and selfishness of man does not creep in. The purpose, then, of secondary beauty is to point us to primary beauty, which points us to God.

                So what about this cordial consent? I spoke of it much in my last post, but let me include it here for comprehensiveness’ sake. Consent of God is His saying “yes” to our existence, and of us responding “yes” to His “yes.” This consent is moment by moment; God does not say “yes” at our birth and leave it be. Why does the Law command: “You shall not murder?” Because we are claiming lordship over God’s consent to another being; we are saying “no” when God is still saying “yes.” Any time we say “no” to God – whether in our own lives or in the life of another – we are in sin, and I spoke of that at length in my last post as well.

                Edwards also speaks of the ethics of beauty. I do not have the space here to re-posit all of Edwards evidence toward what he calls true virtue and the ethics of beauty. He argues that God, in creating the universe, did not create from nothing but rather from Himself. The creation is not some separate entity which exists outside of God, but that creation is the natural outflow of a perfect God who is in complete consent to Himself within the Trinity. And this creative process continues; with each new life God creates and says “it is good.” God, by His very existence, beautifies life, if we read more of Delattre. So too are we, if we want to say “yes” to God, to engage in a beautifying life. There is a very good section in Roland Delattre’s essay which defines this beautifying life: it begins with appreciating the beauty that exists; from that should come a natural tendency to want to turn things that are not beautiful into things that are; and along with that is the resistance of anything which tries to destroy beauty. Remove any one of these three supports, and the paradigm begins to collapse. Appreciation without beautifying or resistance springs from selfishness; beautifying and/or resistance without appreciation is legalism; appreciation and beautifying without resistance is hypocrisy.

                Though volumes more can be written – and indeed have – this should be a good base from which to begin to define beauty. Which, I know, I was supposed to be doing from the beginning. And I am; but here I am, halfway (roughly) through the semester. Let’s see where things are after another two months or so.

On Beauty As Consent

     Today, I want to look at a few things that Jonathan Edwards teaches, and also return to two of my previous discussions. I will have to divert from the specific subject of beauty for a little bit, but because beauty and ethics and the Christian life are so bound up together, you cannot talk about one without acknowledging the other.

     The first thing I want to discuss is the concept of beauty as relational; that beauty does not exist separately from other things but is inextricably bound up in the living of this life. I’ve spoken before about Christ telling the Pharisees that, should the disciples keep silent, the stones would cry out (Luke 19:40). And I think it is very telling that Creation did not stop until Man and Woman were created. See, I think sometimes we take it for granted that “God created the Heavens and the Earth in six days, and on the seventh He rested,” as if the concept of a seven-day week were already established and God managed to fit everything in on schedule, as it were. But this is not the case; He created until Creation was complete, and it was not complete until Man and Woman were created. Because Jesus’ statement in Luke does not preclude our existence; if mankind did not exist, then Creation would praise God in and of themselves. But Creation was made to praise God, and we are the voices and the spirits and souls through which Creation can praise God. If we fail that, if we refuse as a species to praise God, then the rest of Creation will cry out.

     So, as Edwards even discusses, relationship existed from the beginning, between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and I’ll get into a little more detail when I bring up my second point. But my first point is this: while beauty exists outside of our perception, as I argued against Kant, it does not give praise to God until we praise Him for it. A sparrow does not fall without God’s noticing, Jesus tells us that: but He didn’t stop Creation with the sparrow – and I think that’s telling. Again, sometimes we take it for granted because we’re here, we exist, that if we didn’t it wouldn’t matter. If that were the case, God would not have spared Noah, he would not have made a covenant with Abraham, or with Moses, or with David, or with mankind through His Son Christ Jesus. If we were that disposable, He would have disposed of us. The question I feel we must ask, is why. My pastor in church the other week said, if you’re here [on earth] it’s because God has a purpose for you. And that is very good on a personal level; but what about a global level? If mankind is here, it is for a reason; and if we believe Jonathan Edwards, and beauty is relational, then what is beauty apart from us?

     But before we get too big a head on our shoulders, let us realize God is complete within Himself; He is perfect, after all. We seem, sometimes, to have a mixed up view of “perfection” because in everyday language we nuance perfect to mean “as perfect as can be done by humans.” But when we say God is perfect, we need to realize He is Perfect. So if God can exist on His own, how much of a say do we have in beauty? And this, I believe, is critical.

     I spoke in my first blog about the idea that “If God created it, it is beautiful.” But I want to focus that a little differently to say “if it points to God, it is beautiful.” Because another concept Edwards discusses is the idea that Creation is the outpouring of God. It was not created ex nihilo in the way we think about it, but it was an extension, of sorts, of God. He existed, and it came from Him.

     (Now one point I’m wrestling with, and I’m not sure how far Edwards takes this, is if he is saying the Creation is God, who is perfect, how has sin damaged the Creation. I’m not sure how that fits in just yet, but I continue to pursue.)

     But we must realize that, according to the Gospel of John, everything that was made was made for Christ. Nothing was made apart from Him. There is not anything in existence that He did not oversee. So everything needs to point back to Him.

     Here is where I want to digress for an instant, and discuss sin, among other things. Some people ask “If God created everything, where did sin come from?” And it may seem a very logical question. But the fact is this: sin is acting opposite to what God wants. There has to be a choice, or we would be automatons, with no real relationship with God. One of Edwards’ concepts is that beauty is consent of one being to another. The beauty of God is the consent of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit to one another. Beauty in our lives is us saying “yes” to God. Beauty in creation is Creation pointing to God and saying “yes.” Recalling my pastor; continued life on this earth is God saying “yes” to us as individuals, and as humankind. When we say “no,” that is sin. Since God is perfect, He will not say “no” to Himself. Since we are imperfect, it is very easy to say “no” to God.

     I want to address one issue separate from beauty for a moment. There is no middle ground, here; we either say “yes” or we say “no.” Even if we do not decide, we are deciding not to decide, and that is a “no” decision. When Paul likens this life to a race in Hebrews 12:1, we must consider what a race is. Yes, we race toward the finish and prize of oneness with Christ Jesus. But the race is not the road on which we run. The race is the movement of people. If you are in a marathon, and stop in the middle of the road, the race continues whether you are moving or not. So by your stasis, the race, don’t you see, moves you backward. So it is in our relationship with God: when we aren’t moving forward toward the finish, we are moving backward. So either you are saying “yes” to God, and living in His beauty; or you are saying “no” and living in the deformity.

     You are always saying yes to somebody; to say “yes” to God is to say “yes” to beauty, because true beauty lies within God. But to say “no” to God is to say “yes” to deformity and corruption.

     God is always reaching out; in the relation of beauty, His half is always extended; in His creation, in the way of life, in your life. But until there is mutual consent, beauty is incomplete. If we call beautiful that which is not from God and that which does not point to God, it is not beauty. It is a superficiality, a cloak of the Evil One to lure those away from God whom he can. If it does not come from God, if it does not point back to Him, it is not true beauty, no matter how pleasing to the eye.

Vigen. John. Annie. Jesus.

      Vigen Guroian. John of the Cross. Annie Dillard. Jesus. What thing links the four of these, aside from God? Well, let’s see.

      Vigen Guroian wrote a book called “The Fragrance of God.” To begin the first chapter, Vigen tells the story of a rose that was planted off the end of the porch of his childhood home; a rose with a scent so fragrant, it made his mind reel. Then, one day many years later while browsing through a plant nursery, that fragrance hit him again; and, behind a sign, he rediscovered the rose of his youth. He bought it, took it home, and planted it at the end of a garden path at his home. Later in the chapter, he describes the presence of God much as the fragrance of that rose that, though hidden, is still present and offers itself to our senses. This did not mean much to me when I first read it.

      John of the Cross was a man who lived in the 1500s, who experienced God in an amazing way and, fortunately for us, left us many writings that we, too, may be open to what he experienced. In one collection, called “Living Flame of Love,” he writes: “The longing in your soul is actually His doing. You may feel only the smallest desire for Him. There may be no emotion at all. But the reason your desire rises at all is because He is passing very near to you. His holy beauty comes near you, like a spiritual scent, and it stirs your drowsing soul.”

      Immediately, a light-bulb went off over my head. Suddenly, Vigen’s words meant so much more. Maybe it is what Vigen was getting at, maybe not; I never got the sense from him. But I think of another story I was set to tell my class, and decided not to.

      I love popcorn. The microwave kind, actually; well, we all have sin in our lives. But I can always smell when someone is making popcorn. I might be engrossed in a video game, in my room upstairs – or  listening to music and writing, or working on school – when suddenly, my nose twitches. My head snaps up a little, and my mind says: “Popcorn!” Immediately, I fold up the book, or pause the game, or the music, and run downstairs. There are many foods, even, that evoke similar responses. I like food. A lot. But you see, the fragrance is not my doing. It is not because of me – in those instances, anyway – that the fragrance exists; it simply does. And that fragrance, in turn, awakens a desire for food. Vigen, upon smelling the rose, searched for it to buy it and take it home; it awakened a desire and a memory in him. Much the same way, as John of the Cross says, a desire for God is not born in us; God exists, and in passing near you, like a spiritual scent, awakens a desire.

      To take things back to the beginning of class, one of the first authors we looked at, was Annie Dillard – and I discussed this somewhat when we covered it. But Annie does not create what she sees; she even said – and I’ve quoted it – that beauty exists whether we will or sense it. Beauty, then, in the visual realm, can be a “scent for the eyes,” awakening our desire for God. Similarly, throughout Vigen’s book, he postulates that beauty in creation, and in the garden, stems from the beauty of The Garden, that of Eden, which we lost when our first parents sinned. Because microwave popcorn does not necessarily smell good in and of itself; but it awakens in me the memory, too, of eating popcorn. Just as, for Vigen, the scent of the rose awakened in him the memories of his youth; and scent is linked more powerfully to memory than any other sense.

      Which brings me to Jesus: how often in the gospel does Jesus link the kingdom of God (or Heaven) to something desirable? In a word: often. It is like a priceless treasure which a man finds in a field. He covers it back up, goes home and sells everything he has and buys the field. The treasure was not put there by the man; but upon discovering it, he acts in such ways as necessary to be able to obtain and enjoy it. The same thing happens with the pearl of great value. And when God reaches out and touches us, and we sense it – through fragrances literal and figurative – we reach back, searching for the source because we recognize its value and are willing to give everything to obtain it.

      But when we seek the thing itself, and not what is behind the thing, we fall into depravity. When beauty, and pleasure, and enjoyment are sought for their sole purpose alone, then we fall into the world of Kant, and of all post-modernists: it is your interpretation; it is what you make it; so where can there be true definition? So we have art made of toilets, or sex, or the grotesque – anything and everything. When all beauty does not point to one thing, it will point to anything; and when it can point to anything, it will point to everything; and when it points to everything, then it will point to nothing, because everything will be “beautiful” and the term is meaningless. And then beauty is gone – no longer to be sensed, no longer to be sought, no longer to point us to God. All that is left is outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.