I’m going to be honest with you — this post originally began as a rant on the material I’d been forced to read for school. But then I got a book for Christmas, called The Christian Imagination, a collection of essays on literature. The one by Leland Ryken — mind you, not the Christian Science one that popped up when I googled it. Try telling your parents you want that for Christmas.
But anyway, there’s going to be a lot of meat in here. The way I think about classics has expanded. The things my poor literature teacher has been trying to drill into my head are beginning to make sense. I’m learning to pull the hair of truth out of the soup. Yes, it’s a disgusting analogy, but I’m glad he came up with it because it stuck with me and frankly it’s true.
How I Used to View Classics
From the beginning, I was staunchly opposed to some of the classics I was supposed to read for high school. And I had — and still have — good reason to be. There was some iffy content to be sure, and things that might have been stumbling blocks. I’d also had to deal with Shakespeare my ninth grade year — and of all the things we could have studied, our school picked The Taming of the Shrew.
It follows, in typical Shakespearean fashion, the attempts of lovers trying to unite, but of course, first the beautiful Bianca’s older sister Katerina must be married, and apparently, she’s quite hot-tempered and unmatchable. (Or maybe the unfortunate lass needs someone to love her instead of trying to palm her off so someone will take pretty Bianca) If I recall correctly, she’d even prefer to be single – and given the quality of Shakespearean male characters, I can’t blame the poor girl. Well, enter some scheming and a rowdy good-for-nothing named Petruchio. After that, in the event that you’re forcing your students to perform this like happened to me, well, let the room start getting hot. It’s uncomfortable enough to have to profess flowery love to a classmate. Worse, some, unaccustomed to old English slang, won’t realize that the lines they’re reading aloud are blasphemous or vile – I was later informed by a more knowledgeable friend. Even so, anyone with a Christian worldview can clearly see that the story has completely strayed from the lines of what marriage and love ought to be. It’s all some sort of game, to break a woman to your will and have your way with her, and by the end of it, when she’s cowed and frightened to the point that she’ll tell you whatever you want to hear, you’ve succeeded in making the ideal wife.
So I obviously hated that class. But what was I most upset about? The fact that this was a Christian school. By now I’m sure you can tell that I’m opinionated dogmatic. When I have a problem with something on moral grounds, someone usually hears about it, whether that’s a good thing or not.
Well, two years rolled past and we were at a new school. It was summer, and the new term would start soon. In typical fashion, I raided our bookshelves, because the new literature curriculum was in and I wasn’t waiting. I picked up 1984. I’d never read it before, but the concept interested me. I dove in. Interesting. Kept going, going, going, — GAG. What the heck had I just read? (For those of you who don’t know, 1984 contains multiple graphic sex scenes and I’m a highly sheltered homeschooler.) My face was on fire, my stomach sick. I scrambled ahead, hoping it was just one-and-done. Nope.
Well, the blood began to boil. I sticky-tabbed the page and forged on. Later I presented my findings to my mother. We both instantly knew we had a problem. That sort of stuff is repulsive to a girl, but we were worried about the guys in our class. Then we had trouble with another classic. Gilgamesh was originally on the list for the seventh/eighth grade class, before we learned what all was in it. I later looked at the thing myself, stupidly, got a few pages in, and then hacked and threw the thing into the ‘sell’ pile. I warn you right now to stay away. Especially from the illustrated version. It’s practically porn. And it disgusts me what professors and critics think of it — how they sing the praises of its deeply relatable themes (like adultery, pride, and the search for eternal life?). The foreword to the copy I got was full of the translator’s ravings and his notes on where he replaced what should rightfully be ‘harlot’ with ‘holy girl.’ JUST BECAUSE THE FRICKIN’ ASSYRIANS HAD PROSTITUTES FOR THEIR PRIESTESSES DOESN’T MAKE THEM ANY LESS… *dissolves into angry muttering and searching for words that are fitting to describe my disgust*
Seriously, people out there take classics way too seriously. They act as if they’re the greatest thing since sliced bread, as if they’re the most momentous contributions to culture that the world has ever seen… as if Shakespeare had more to do with the development of the Western world than the Bible. Intellectuals, translators, and professionals practically drool over the classics they dedicate themselves to — and I mean, it makes sense. If that’s what you’re going to focus on, you should have a passion for it. But all good things can be taken to an extreme. Did Tolkien let his love of myth become an unhealthy obsession? We know it didn’t. In fact, his study of myth steered him toward the Truth, to the deepest, most genuine archetypes.
I know I’m rabbit-trailing, but just for a moment, let’s look at what one literature curriculum developer had to say on the works of our dear friend William.
“To read Shakespeare is to be exposed to the fullness of humanity, to all that has been thought and said in the world, with realism and honesty — not the mere shadows of our existence, but the very substance of human life. For Shakespeare was surely reflecting on the purpose and nature of his poetry, to which 400 years has borne testimony: to suit appropriate words to the manifold richness of human life.” — David M. Wright, Memoria Press, King Lear Study Guide
I don’t know about the rest of you, but if there’s something out there I think ‘exposes the fullness of humanity,’ it’s Shakespeare. You see it all — healthy marriages, clean motives, respect for life, Godly behavior… Satire aside, how ridiculous is that statement? Books can’t tell you everything about humanity! Books are a snapshot, a picture, an ‘experiment in living,’ as Josiah DeGraaf would say. Also, given Shakespeare’s personal life and worldview, I highly doubt he had some lofty goal like ‘reflecting on the nature of his poetry’ or ‘suiting appropriate words to the manifold richness of human life.’ I rather suspect he was trying to make money and produce laughter from depraved humanity.
Now, I’ll give you that this is a rather flowery, eye-roll-inducing example of over-praising classics. But it’s out there, and it’s more common than we think. When literature teachers actually tell us why we study the books we do, more often than not, the reasoning will be something along those lines.
So — to get back on track — in both of those instances, I opened up something that was ‘classic,’ and ended up appalled and digusted in the end. Those books were soup — thick, slimy chunkage, bubbling fit to beat a tar pit and reeking like roadkill. I was ready to condemn them and throw them under the same umbrella as the recent Newberries.
But wait a moment. These books have survived for centuries. My dad pointed it out to me at the time while I was ranting, but I was still too fired-up to slow down and think about what he said.
The topic came up again while listening to Ben Shapiro’s Book Club. Things like this survive. Why?
Why Are Even the Bad Classics Valuable?
Some people say it’s because we can relate to the sheer humanity of them — those people being secular, of course. They can relate to the erotic drive and pride, to the questioning of existence, meaning, and morality.
Sure, maybe that’s their reason. But what’s ours? Why shouldn’t we be banning these things, burning them to ashes?
Well… there’s some things out there that I think certainly deserve that fate. I have a deep and abiding hatred for the works of Shakespeare. And I have a reason. Here is some of what was originally going to be this article.
In Shakespeare’s world, all is frivolity and madness and crude humor, if not abject despair at life. Is there, in Shakespeare, an escape not into another world but into a world beyond it, as Lewis would postulate? Do we see reflection of kingdom values, eternal hope, in Shakespearean works? I think not.
And even if the caring literature teacher wished to provide her pupils with an informative education in popular and classic culture, would she not be remiss to not address these issues, or to force her unfortunate students into reciting unpleasant and vulgar lines?
Perhaps I digress into emotional realms based on my own personal experience, but let us consider the theme of Taming of the Shrew. Is love won by treachery and deceit noble? Is abandoning a daughter to the hands of a violent, lustful man the proper behavior of a father? Is a man to domineer over his wife, to abuse her, to play mind games with her? I have problems with the themes and the characters. There’s nothing there for a Christian to hold up. Maybe Shakespeare was a good speech writer or ahead of his time, but at the same time, Hitler was clearly good at what he did… still doesn’t mean it was moral.
I am not a feminist, nor am I about to delve into the topics of misogyny, ‘how things were in Shakespeare’s day,’ etc. Things were different, yes, but we are talking about the here and now. On the other hand, I am not here to announce a book-burning and renunciation of anything older than the 19th amendment. Culture aside, the way Shakespearean characters deal with women — and plenty of other topics — isn’t ok for Christians. I am only here to point out a striking contrast in what graces the shelves of our ‘classics’ sections in the bookstores these days. The Faerie Queene and The Taming of the Shrew were both written during the reign of Queen Elizabeth the First – but their subject matter could not be more different. One details pride, trickery, rape, crude humor, nonsense, and tragedy. The other allegorizes the struggles of young Christian men and women, spinning anew the tales of Arthur to conform to a Godly worldview. In one, women are hardly more than objects, thought of as wild creatures to be tamed. In the other, chastity and chivalry are praised and upheld – and female characters are just as human as their male counterparts. Are all men to be lustful, self-seeking, mischief-making, and foolhardy? Are all women to be loose, empty-headed, deceitful, and petty? Ask yourself that, Christian reader. Of course, we live in a culture that is apathetic to, or even opposed to, Christian beliefs. So it’s not surprising what ends up in those ‘classics’ sections.
‘Classic,’ as I will emphasize over and over, does not mean ‘moral.’ We are not to be citizens of this world, and we are not to live by the world’s standards. Parents commonly ask the ‘if all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do it too?’ question. I’d like you to start asking yourself this: ‘If all the scholars/highbrows/well-read intellectuals praise this book, should I do it too?’
This is all true enough — as pertains to Shakespeare. But I will grant you — and remind my younger self — that we live in a secular world and not everything can be completely condemned. There’s a lot of ‘gray’ books out there, with good themes and characters, and bad themes and characters, all mixed together. Nor does Christian culture permeate our country as it did in the days of our founders. If we have a problem, that doesn’t mean anyone will listen. So what exactly are we supposed to do about it? Turn into a theocracy? Riot in the streets?
Nope. It’s time to be a thermostat. It’s time to go digging. Not everything out there is Shakespeare.
How to Handle Classics
Augustine said: “Let everyone who is a good and true Christian understand that truth belongs to his Master, wherever it is found.”
Milton added, “What wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truely better, he is the true warfaring Christian.”
In my case, we didn’t end up reading 1984 and Gilgamesh. But that won’t always happen. Sometimes you can’t escape the stuff out there. Sometimes you may have no choice but to read it. In that case, it’s time to don your armor, pick up your sword, and dive in headfirst looking for that hair of truth. If you find it, you must then wrest and wrangle it out into the light where it can be examined.
Let’s take Moby Dick. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Moby Dick. But I don’t get out of it what other people do. To others, they may relate with Ahab’s sense of vengeance, or Ishmael’s indifference to the question of whether or not there is a God. To me, I see the consequences of Ahab’s revenge, of Starbuck’s hesitation to kill one wicked man in order to save the rest. I see what it would be like to live in a certain era, in a certain place, with a certain profession. I can pull some good themes out. I can learn.
As Ryken says: “Additionally, to know the classics is to know the past, and with that knowledge comes a type of power and mastery. If we know the past, we are in some measure protected from the limitations that come when all we know is the contemporary.”
I still hate Shakespeare. I have yet to find anything in it beyond a bad example and as a result I think it has no place on a Christian curriculum list. But if someone could ever show me where to look for that hair, I am open to it.
For Christians, these books and themes should be discussed and considered critically. If we smear across all things titled ‘classic’ the virtue of quality literature, we would be remiss. But to burn them all would also be folly. We must understand why these things have lasted so long, why they appeal to man’s sinful, broken state, and then consider whether or not they are worthy of being praised by God’s redeemed people. There is nothing wrong with understanding the culture, understanding the art and themes at the basis of western civilization — just as there is nothing wrong with understanding Mormonism so you can more effectively witness to your next-door neighbor. There is nothing wrong with studying — as long as we are not praising things which ought not be praised. Indeed, these books can be a window into understanding the hearts of those we are called to evangelize to, or a jumping-off point for a meaningful discussion with an unbeliever. The point of this is to know thine enemy.
Dear friends, we cannot judge as this world judges. We must compare everything to the Holy Word of God and consider what is uplifting.
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Philippians 4:8
Where to Draw the Line
There is a point at which things cannot be acceptable to the Christian. Classic or not, certain things should be unacceptable in a Christian environment, and I’d like to encourage others to view things that way too. I’d toss such ‘classic’ writings as Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, and The Picture of Dorian Gray (which changes a lot when you realize the author was gay.) These sorts of things — provoctive descriptions of sinful acts, glorifying evil — they are never, ever appropriate. Francis Schaeffer said, “Ordinarily, many seem to feel that the greater the art, the less we ought to be critical of its world view. This we must reverse.”
As well, we all have our own levels of tolerance. Establish healthy borders. I’ve broken those borders for myself a few times, but only because I wanted to make sure no one else had to. I vet books before my siblings read them. Our family filters movies, and I do my best to research something before I commit to reading it. I can put up with some heavy Ted Dekker and Lawhead stuff and my sweet friend couldn’t stomach Redwall. That’s ok.
Be careful, however, that the exercise of your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak. For if anyone with a weak conscience sees you who have this knowledge eating in an idol’s temple, won’t he be emboldened to eat what has been sacrificed to idols? So this weak brother, for whom Christ died, is destroyed by your knowledge. When you sin against your brothers in this way and wound their weak conscience, you sin against Christ. Therefore, if what I eat causes my brother to fall into sin, I will never eat meat again, so that I will not cause him to fall.
1 Corinthians 8: 9-13
We have different levels of what we can and can’t take. I can’t take the Canterbury Tales — the raunchier ones. ‘Classic,’ you say, and ‘some good morals.’ But at what cost will you satisfy your desire to be ‘in’ and ‘intellectual?’ At what price does ‘a few good morals’ come? I’m not willing to pay it if it oversteps the lines of what I’m comfortable with having in my head.
So please, my friends. Let us shine our lights. The darkness may not like it. The darkness may call us uncultured or sheltered or demanding, accusing us of imposing our religion on them. Well, newsflash, everyone imposes their idea of morality on others. We have a court system and laws, after all. Besides — we’re not imposing ‘our morality.’ Truth is not how the postmodernists would describe it. It is objective. Do not back down on condemning evil. At the same time, don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater. Go illuminate truth. The world needs more Christians filtering, discussing, and explaining classics.
These things can’t — and shouldn’t be — be generalized. They’re not all good — and they’re not all bad either. Like most books, there’s a lot of stuff to dig through and organize. A novel that contains curses, gore, and sex scenes could also hide meaningful archetypes and pose deep questions that the Christian could wrestle with. The Stormlight Archives, for example, have violence, some romance scenes, and even a mention of homosexuality — but at the same time, there’s a great argument for capital punishment, thought-provoking illustrations of the faults of honorless society, grappling with objective truth, and pictures of true perseverance and self-responsibility. Any book could be analyzed this way.
Don’t be afraid, and don’t hide your light. Let it shine in whatever areas God has placed you. Be a force for His kingdom. Remember Philippians 4:8 and chase away the darkness.
That was a rather long rant/essay/appeal/dump. Thank you for reading to the end. I’d love to hear your thoughts. You’re free now. Ciao.
For Further Reading: The Christian Imagination (seriously, this is really good and food for thought, go read it.) Eight Easy Ways to Misread the Classics — Leland Ryken (see, he says the same things, I’m not crazy! And no, I did not steal from him either.)
