Is Reading Fiction Educational?

C.S. Lewis, Tolkien and others like them would have addressed this question before, I'm sure. I haven't yet read Tolkien's On Fairy-Stories, which should cause everyone to shake their heads in disappointment. But someday I'll get to that and other things, we hope.

I'm wondering how much I learned from my mother reading us a lot of stories, versus how much I formally learnt. I remember thinking (subconsciously) a great deal about what was read to me, but I don't know how much of what I thought about was merely from the stories, or was from other things told to me in the actual homeschooling we did. Since talking to my mother about the way I thought as a child, she's told me she actually taught us the principles I was applying to the things I (for lack of a better term) experienced.

But it does seem that a lot of what was written in the earliest stories I can remember having read to me had a big impact on me. I sifted through what was truly unrealistic and what was realistic. I seem to have tried to see what I could use and apply. I obsessively wanted to make sure I didn't miss things... though I wasn't ever very methodical about thinking. It's just that I never wanted to be found to have not picked something up that I could have. I did not want to be out of the loop (because I sometimes was and hated how it felt).

I am convinced, though, even though I don't know how much I learned being told and how much I figured out myself, that the stories we read have provided the foundation of my thinking today. We did precious little actual formal study of critical thinking or logic. I wish we had, because it would have allowed me to articulate all that I'm thinking now. I have really only scratched the surface of being able to articulate what I'm thinking. But because I'm so much older now, and feel I have so little time to do all the things I want to, I would like to know just what books I ought to read to start getting to being able to articulate Logic more clearly. I know, though, without someone to recommend good books, I'll have to just read some and figure it out for myself, but obviously, that takes time.

So we'll see. If I'd had more of a rigorous classical education, I would probably be a lot farther along now. But it's wonderful the lessons I learned which instilled themselves in my subconscious and help me today. I wish I could clearly see how much was due to the fiction we read, and how much was due to other things. It seems useful knowledge.

(Knowing this may be a little confusing or just stream-of-consciousness.)

Gimli: The Reluctant Christian

This is taken from another blog of mine, date of September 3, 2016, and edited somewhat.


A raw thought from watching Lord of the Rings just now-

Gimli reminds me of a person who is reluctant, due to misconceptions, to come to God, but in the end, becomes enamoured with Him.

He dislikes the Elves, and is very distrusting of them, and he believes Galadriel is basically a witch. Then he meets Galadriel and is transformed: he respects her, and sees her as the most beautiful and good (not requiring romantic affection, O Modern People). It is very like how we close-minded humans are skeptical of God- superstitiously suspicious of God’s goodness, looking at the good things of God as unrealistic (unlikely); even treacherous.

But then you know Him, and you see that, though in some ways you may have been right, He is good; the things you suspected really were true and good are His things, and He is Beauty Incarnate.

It is amusing how stubbornly Gimli defends Galadriel’s honour against Eomer in the Two Towers. An unlikely outcome, yet more realistic, because things are not always as they seem.

Against Our Ancient Foe

I have gone through a strange thing this weekend... all tied up in a packaging of conversation, Hurricane Florence, delicious food, and letting myself fall asleep without finishing a routine.

So much strangeness. But it is all perfect, the perfectest strangeness.

I won't go into what exactly happened. Maybe I will later.

Because of what has happened, I've been brought back to something that I've thought on intermittently in the past: the spiritual fight, against Satan, that C.S. Lewis delves into a bit in The Screwtape Letters. I have a great deal of anger, and I realised more concretely that my anger should be directed at Satan... that it is fitting to direct it at him. He is the one who has done that which I am angry at.

So throughout these past two or three days, I thought of the last part of the first verse of A Mighty Fortress Is Our God. Then, now, I looked it up, and I want to post it here, because all of it is rather pertinent to what I'm going through recently. It seems that one does not always realise what a hymn is saying until somehow things in one's life relate to the hymn.

A mighty fortress is our God,
A bulwark never failing:
Our helper He, amid the flood
Of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe
Doth seek to work his woe;
His craft and power are great,
And armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide,
Our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side,
The Man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he;
Lord Sabbaoth is his name,
From age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
His truth to triumph through us.
The Prince of Darkness grim,—
We tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure,
For lo! His doom is sure,—
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers—
No thanks to them—abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours
Through him who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go,
This mortal life also:
The body they may kill:
God's truth abideth still,
His kingdom is for ever.

So right now, I have been thinking particularly about Satan's 'craft and power', how he keeps me from doing things, by keeping me from caring about anything. And when I was steeling myself to do what I intended to do this weekend, all the doubts and half-truths came creeping in, telling me why I should not do the thing, why it won't work, and revealing that (indeed) I had no idea how I was going to do it, and I couldn't even focus well enough to figure out how: my brain is a fog.

And so, I fought. Satan will not have me... I will try to fight the influence, to let God fill me with the intention to do what is right. I have not let God do that. I have not followed my conscience, and done what I knew I ought to do. May God's glory flow in, in richness.

'In your hearts enthrone him, there let him subdue 

all that is not holy, all that is not true'

(from the hymn At the Name of Jesus Every Knee Shall Bow)

From Niceness to Humility

(This may somewhat reiterate what has been said in a previous post. Bear with me if it does.)


It seems a bit of an obsession these days to equate being nice with moral goodness. What is seen as a good way to treat someone is whatever least encumbers or inconveniences someone, with the constant refrain of 'if it doesn't hurt anyone, it's fine.' What it ends up being, I think, is serving our wants and pleasures in the present with no true consideration of the bigger picture. The bigger picture to people is a matter of how someone feels. The premise for this, I think, might be the recent idea that it is most important to build up and maintain a healthy self-esteem. It could potentially destroy a student's self-esteem to tell them that they can't have an A for a paper they wrote very poorly. Especially when it is not a matter of an achievement not achieved, people still seem to find it more difficult to tell someone plainly that they need to put in more work; they did poorly.

We've been gradually losing the ability to tell the difference between what is right and what is wrong in the murky waters of being 'nice'. The constant refrain is to be tolerant to others, and true tolerance has been lost in the notion that if you disagree publicly with what someone else thinks or is doing, you are intolerant. You cannot disagree politely; you cannot disagree at all. Conflict of any sort, even healthy conflict with the possibility of problem-solving, is seen as wrong.

Firm parenting is also falling by the wayside. Even those of us who do believe in moral absolutes fall prey to this philosophy; it is creeping into many conservative circles, even. There is no defense against it, because most of us who still have a sense of truth have not learned why we should believe in truth.

A lot of people in the West have been turned into at least minor versions of codependents. Maybe it's going too far, and I certainly may focus a bit too much on the negative, but I think that our society is being transformed into a codependent society, out of the ashes of a society that believed in personal responsibility and true virtue and charity.

To some extent I think that the gravitation towards this 'being nice' is because it is much easier than standing against the flow for some conviction. There is social pressure to be 'tolerant', and most people have no energy nor time to consciously avoid that pressure (or at least one would not do it unless one thought it was worth it).

It's also a really convenient way to see things, as it allows one to validate one's selfish idea that one is the centre of the universe: that one deserves validation and boosting of self esteem.

It seems to me it's a vicious cycle of various ways in which our society and we ourselves reinforce this idea that viewing oneself positively is the way to go; it'll be psychologically better for us in the long run, because thinking positively about yourself is obviously what alleviates worry... or so we tell ourselves.

Wait a moment. Do we really need to boost ourselves up to be healthy? Does boosting ourselves really result in happiness?

Having to concern oneself with oneself is, I think, a result of our worry and need for control. Keeping up the façade of a perfect self by trying to have positive things to think about oneself is exhausting. It is keeping up the façade to ourselves that is most exhausting, and perhaps it is impossible not to do that if you are trying to keep a perfect exterior. Besides that secretly, we want to think well of ourselves, even those of us who self-deprecate as if our lives depended on it. But the solution is not for people to think any differently about themselves, for in ourselves we do not know ourselves better. We know ourselves by looking upward (to God), and thus also outward, engaging the world. If we stop concerning ourselves with ourselves, we will learn to see ourselves through our plain eyes, not through rose-coloured or mud-spattered glasses.

Here is C.S. Lewis, from Mere Christianity, painting a picture of humility-

'Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call "humble" nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.
      If anyone would like to acquire humility, I can, I think, tell him the first step. The first step is to realise that one is proud. And a biggish step, too. At least, nothing whatever can be done before it. If you think you are not conceited, it means you are very conceited indeed.'

We should not boost each other up into any lies and vices of our human hearts (like the notion that we're sparkly, rainbow-maned unicorns). We must not feed each other the lie that what matters about a person is how normal or special they are. It is completely unnecessary. It's futile to mind your value in relation to others. Truth is much more important, and in the long term, more fruitful.

Man or Rabbit?

The essay Man or Rabbit? by C. S. Lewis struck me when I read it, though the ideas in it were already familiar. I met it reading through God in the Dock, a book full of essays by Lewis which I am still ploughing through gradually.

The essay responds to the question, 'Can't you lead a good life without believing in Christianity?' Though I am not of the mind of those to whom he is responding, I still naturally struggle with giving myself wholly to God (and I always will, till death, doubtless), and this brings some truths relating to that right down to earth for me.

Without further ado, if you wish to read it, here Man or Rabbit? is.

(If the link stops working, and you drop a comment, I will fix it.)

When in Doubt, Praise

In around the last fifty years, give or take, a fad relating to the idea of 'self-esteem' has been growing. This seems to be in some way (whether loosely or closely) related to notions of tolerance, kindness (which to me is more 'niceness'), and in general the middle class's working theory of how mental health works. However, I don't know how much of this has come from psychology and how much of it is the invention of the wishful thinking of common man.

So our newish idea of how to be kind and good to any other person is to do that which builds up self-esteem. You should not do that which would make a person lose their confidence or zest for accomplishment. What you do matters directly in relation to the other person's quantity of self-esteem. You are responsible for how much you damage the other person's sense of self.

It seems to have resulted in very wishy-washy parenting in which we try to show love enough that the child could not possibly have low self-esteem. Tell them they did a good job, even if the A they drew looks like unstable architecture. Shower them with praise when they do basic everyday stuff. (I understand there is an argument for the first time someone accomplishes something that for the rest of us is normal, but I don't think that children want or need to be showered with praise for that; only told, 'Yes, that's how you do it!')

I understand that to some extent hearing this may rebel against people's moral compasses, thinking how could it hurt to tell someone they're doing a good job, whatever the circumstance? Nowadays, I think we err towards the do-not-criticise side of things, instead of having a sense of pride in how well we can accomplish things; a sense of excellence. Critique needn't be unkind. Good, constructive critique seems far more loving than holding back for the sake of someone's feelings.

I suspect children can sniff that a lot of praise is not genuine nowadays, and I think it may be damaging them. I was very sensitive to whether or not people were serious. I hated to be complimented for something that I knew was mediocre (which may be my pride). Children really like it when adults notice their true accomplishments, and they want to show that they can compete with the best of 'em (even when they can't). 

Somewhere deep down, I think we all really care about this. I could be wrong; maybe it's just me and a few others, but I don't think we actually like to let ourselves slip and do something badly, and to know that we are really no good at anything. Generally speaking, humans seem to like to really accomplish something, not just to be told they accomplished something when that thing is actually meaningless.

From where I stand, the propensity to compliment people for meaningless actions damages our drive to achieve and try new things. It's better to occasionally genuinely compliment something you (the complimenter) actually care about than it is to try to manufacture praise-feelings in yourself and compliment from there.

(First time writing about this, and may have missed some elements. To the future!)

The Good Law

I wanted to go on about the goodness of God's law in the last post, but I knew that that was likely going to be a bit off-topic in talking about law and reason specifically (though goodness comes into reason, in my opinion). So here is a shiny new post to talk about that (queue Firefly theme, for little reason).

It's worth saying that at the same time I realised that the definition of a (good) law includes reason, it was clear that for God to be good, He must be logical, rational, and perfectly right. His law would be the perfectest of laws, the one that fits real reality (velveteen rabbit reality... ahem, sort of a joke). It would be the most beautiful law, because it really does fit, like a perfect glove, and like a joke that is so spot-on. It would be the thing that ties together all the myriad elements of existence into a perfect whole (only because it is the law by which they were created). I could nearly write poetry on this, so I must stop before I run off the end of the page.

One is reminded of Psalm 19, which I have come to love, even though I likely don't fully comprehend it. All of the praise and joy in the law of the Lord was not clear to me until these ideas above really sank in. Then it all opens up; it's not tedious, it's not boring. Instead it's vibrant and rich and deep and intense. Yes: these passages basically were boring and tedious to me at one point. I was very self-conscious of that as I knew it wasn't right to find them so.

(It might be wrong to do so, but I'm going to dissect out the pieces that particularly pertain. I've included in parentheses some phrase alternatives from the notes of my KJV Bible.)

PSALM 19
1. The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handiwork.
2. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.
3. There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard.
4.a Their line (rule or direction) is gone out through all the earth, their words to the end of the world.
...
7. The law (doctrine) of the LORD is perfect, converting (restoring) the soul: the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple.
8. The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes.
9. The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of the LORD are true (truth) and righteous altogether.
10. More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.
11. Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward.
...


And then there's the connection between the Law of God and the idea of the Logos, of Jesus Christ... on and on into the rabbit trails we go, but I'll leave that to percolate for awhile.