he Present Condition
he Present Condition
Do you like Handel's Messiah? Yes? Do you like Post-Punk Grunge Metal Thrash Rock? No? What's the difference? Do you like paintings of cathedrals? You do? Do you like paintings of open sewers? You don't? What's the difference? Do you like Shakespeare's Henry V? It's great, you say? Do you like Joyce's Finnegan's Wake? Do you, in fact, like beautiful things? Yes? Do you like ugly things? No? What's the difference? And besides, so what?
The province of the arts, whether the category is music, poetry, architecture, or coffee mug cartoons, causes immense difficulties for Christians. When we attempt to determine what is beautiful and what is ugly, what is good and what is bad, what is sophisticated and what is naive, what is pleasing and what is "tacky," and what glorifies God and what dishonors Him, we invariably run into the Problem of the Relative. No, not the uncle who hangs velvet Elvises in his bathroom, but the objection that aesthetics are entirely a matter of taste and therefore not subject to analysis in the light of absolute standards. The Problem of the Relative rears its ugly head and someone roars, "By whose standards?" When we say, "That poem is terrible!" Someone replies, "You mean you don't prefer it." Then you assert, "No, I mean it's really ugly!" They respond with, "How can you say that? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder!"
This conversation is the archetype. Everyone is familiar with it. And the fact that it is so difficult to deal with is one more in a long list of symptoms of the sin of compromise in the modern church. "As a ring of gold in a swine's snout," says the king, "so is a lovely woman who lacks discretion" And yet, we can't explain what "lovely" means, and besides, maybe some people like gold rings in pigs' snouts!
Background
The conversation above has not always been a familiar one. At many points in history, the idea that beauty is relative would have been laughed out of town. But the church of a century or so ago began to abandon the teaching of the Scripture on the sovereignty of Jesus Christ over all human thought and endeavors and bought wholesale the world's notion that there are realms of autonomy, areas not subject to the Word of God. Science was one of them. The arts were another. In both kingdoms, law began to break down since their subjects refused to acknowledge the High King, and every man did what was was right in his own eyes. And the church made never a peep. Science had frightened Christians, and art followed science.
The arts were once seen as a means of glorifying God, whether by reflecting faithfully His creations or by creating windows in walls through which we had never seen before; whether by uplifting and edifying through glorious music or supporting the unity of a work gang, army, or entire culture; whether by giving pleasure and thus re-creation of the spirit or by teaching through delight. All was to be done, ultimately, for God's glory.
But now the arts are "self-expression," though this is idolatry; furthermore, they are the expression of selves that are not worth being expressed. The arts are abandoned to a world that steals from God and His people what little beauty it cares for, denying the source, the existence of beauty, and any artistic goal beyond self-expression, advocating goals that are utterly without foundation.
Non-Biblical Solutions
The only people among unbelievers who even recognize a problem tend to be cultural conservatives who are bothered by state-supported museum exhibits, but have no foundation for resisting the cultural attacks that those exhibits constitute.
The church, to its shame, tends to adopt the stance of this crowd. And when Christians aren't buying into the world's assertion of the absolute relativity of taste in the arts, they flounder in their attempts, if they make any, to articulate a biblical philosophy of art.
Biblical Solutions
First, and most importantly, we cannot make, defend, or self-consciously ground sound aesthetic judgments in biblical teaching apart from a genuinely obedient, diligently studious, and mature, Christian life. Sound judgment in anything, including aesthetic judgments and the underlying discussion about the objectivity of such judgments, cannot be separated from sanctification of individuals and of the church. The Scriptures are as clear on this subject as on any other: solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil (Heb. 5:14). Sound understanding may be found only in those who begin with the fear of God and continue to practice their faculties of judgment in submission to God. This applies to judgments about the arts as much as to anything else. To believe that aesthetic judgments are a neutral area is to believe a lie.
Second, sound aesthetic judgments cannot be made apart from a sound Christian worldview. Thus, to the extent that unbelievers must accept reality, they may make good judgments about the arts. But their unsubmissive hearts and their muddled picture of reality make good judgment occasional, inconsistent, and accidental on their part. The same is true even of believers who are carnal or have a superficial, disorganized doctrinal understanding. In other words, art is inseparable from doctrine.
Third, here as in many other areas, the church must confess that she has neglected history. Once we repent of the arrogant assumption that our age is the only one worth paying attention to because it's the one that contains us, we will discover how much we have to learn from the church's past about the relation between aesthetic beauty on one hand, and personal and corporate, experiential, and doctrinal holiness on the other.
