On Beauty and the Twisting of the World

[In this post, I am wrestling with two specific phrases in the second account of creation in the book of Genesis. I don't know of anyone else who is postulating these things, although it seems to me that J.R.R. Tolkien might very well have come to some of the same conclusions as me. Anyhow, I welcome any feedback concerning this post, regardless of whether or not you agree or disagree with some of my conclusions.]


The beauty of God is an aspect of His character especially revealed in the Hebrew Scriptures, a phenomenon that has fascinated me for a long time. I find the following command particularly interesting, the injunction to "worship YHWH in the beauty of holiness" (See 1 Chronicles 16:29; 2 Chronicles 20:21; Psalm 29:2, 96:9). Not only is beauty paired with the concept of holiness, but also with the concept of glory (Exodus 28:2, 40). I don't often think of God as "beautiful" -- probably because He reveals Himself in male terms in Scripture, and I usually associate beauty with femininity -- yet, God affirms over and over that He is beautiful, utterly beautiful.

It is with these things in mind that a particular sentence in the Hebrew story of creation has captured my attention in recent years. Apparently, God had beauty in His heart when He created the world.

"And out of the ground the LORD God made every tree grow that is pleasant to the sight and good for food."

God has already made it quite clear to Adam that the plants He created are for Adam to eat. Vegetation on earth serves a utilitarian purpose for the sustenance of human kind. In this second telling of the creation narrative, however, Moses (the author) includes an important detail that offers us a window in the purposes and character of God. Moses says that God created trees which were pleasant to the eyes and good for food. The artistic beauty of vegetative life is mentioned along with its pragmatic function in the world. Yes, food is fuel for the machine of the human body. But to God, food not merely fuel. Food is art.

Simply by putting these two little phrases "pleasing to the eyes" and "good for food" together, the author communicates something important concerning the character and personality of God. God does not merely meet the physical needs of humanity, He does so in a way that demonstrates His flair for the aesthetic, the colorful, the beautiful. God is not merely a cosmic brick oven spitting out our daily bread. God is an artist -- an artist who paints His very own beauty into the ordinary, everyday things of our lives like fruit and herbs and mushrooms.

But there is still more here. These two innocuous phrases are placed in a deliberate order: "pleasing to the eyes" comes before "good for food." The trees' function has already been stated, but this function seems secondary to the primary purpose of pleasure. Even more odd is that the pleasure mentioned is not of taste but of sight. The text does not say that God created food that was tasty and delicious, but food that was beautiful to the eyes. We know the wording is deliberate because later on in the story the order of these phrases is intentionally reversed.

What does this show us about God? In my opinion, these two short phrases demonstrate God's extravagant goodness. He gives good gifts to His people. He could have made our food ugly and reprehensible, and it would have been enough. But God is extravagant in His goodness, because He blessed us twice by filling our eyes as well as our mouths. And this artistic duality is not only true of God's gift of food, but His other gifts as well: sexuality and vocation, to name two.

So the earth is good and green; but then, something happens -- the great twisting of the world.

In his grand mythology of the land called Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien hints at a certain philosophy of evil that I find compelling and that (I believe) is found here in the text of Genesis as well. Tolkien purports that evil is not in the same class as goodness. Evil is not a created thing, because evil is not creative. Only good is creative, for God is good, and He is never evil. When evil is introduced to the universe, nothing new is created or made. Rather, evil is the wraithing of good -- a twisting, a turning, a making of things upside-down that were once right-side up. This is how God can be the Creator of all things, and yet not be the author of evil.

In the Genesis story of the fall of humanity, the great twisting occurs in Gen. 3:6, "So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree desirable to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate. She also gave to her husband with her, and he ate."

The order has been reversed. Under the enchantment of the serpent's temptation, the woman (and also the man, by assumption) no longer sees the world as God created it. They see that the tree is good for food, then pleasing to the eyes. They have exchanged the priority of vision of the artistic for the practical, of the beautiful for the dutiful, of the lavish for the mundane. They don't see God's extravagantly good gift of food, but rather wisdom for themselves. Sin has crept in even before the actual eating of the fruit, although it is not until Adam eats that the world becomes changed for the duration of this age.

But notice where this strange wraithing occurs. It is not in the world, but in the people; Adam and Eve have become twisted in their minds, and then succumb to their evil desires. They were created in God's image, to establish His rule on earth, to make manifest the wonders of His glorious artistry in the world. They were not created to be like God, knowing good and evil; they were meant to know only untwisted good. God created the world good, as a majestic iron beam on which to build His edifice of humanity; but we have twisted ourselves for our own purposes, and we are left with a mangled, tetanus mass.

How does this twisted bar become straight again? Through Christ, of course, as the rest of the biblical story will go on to tell us. However, I believe there is a practical lesson from the text that we can apply. Tolkien might say it this way; through God's gift of art, we can once again recover the sight of God's extravagant goodness in the world around us. Rather than seeing the created world as resources for our consumption, we can view the earth as God's canvas on which He has painted the glory of His divine goodness. Food need not be fuel only, but art. Sex need not be for procreation only, but for pleasure as well. Vocation need not be simple craftsmanship in order to fill our bellies, but rather a labor of love, in which we can show our twisted fellowmen the beauty and wonder of God.

On Monasticism

My first rule of blogging is not to say something unless I have something to say.  However, I've been sick for two straight days, my sleep schedule is all out of wack so I'm wide awake at 4 am, and I'm worn out on old re-runs of The West Wing.  So I'm going to break my rule and blog anyway, even though I have no earthly idea what I'm going to write about right now. ...  Well, I received a newsletter today from a group of monks.  I guess I'll write about them.

Shortly after getting married, Allison and I drove for almost a solid week in a 15 foot Budget truck with all my stuff from Fort Worth, TX to Boston.  We stopped in Washington, DC along the way and spent a day at the National Cathedral.  If you haven't been there, you need to go.  That church is magnificent. Apparently (as I learned in an episode of the aforementioned TV show), you can lay the Washington Monument on its side and it would fit inside that cathedral.  Anyway, while I was there I signed up to be put on the National Cathedral's mailing list.

Shortly thereafter I received a mailing from a group of Catholic monks in Wyoming who are building a monastery after the old order of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.  Having always been somewhat fascinated by monastic life, I read through the newsletter which contained the following summary concerning Carmelite monks:

"They live a life of prayer, solitude, penance, and strict separation from the world.  Their lives are completely dedicated to interceding for the Church and the world.  St. Therese proclaimed the Carmelite vocation as being 'love in the heart of the Church.'  As the heart circulates blood throughout the whole body, so the Carmelite is called to circulate grace throughout the Church.  This is the essential meaning of the vocation of these cloistered monks."

Let me diverge for just a moment.  Truthfully, I find no biblical support for such a vocation.  Nowhere in either Testament of Scripture do I see God calling His people into any kind of cloistered existence.  In fact, if any of my friends came to me asking for advice about whether to join a monastery, I would (probably vehemently) argue to them a biblical case against the cloistered existence, waxing long about the imperatives of the Great Commission and the immensity of the Christian task yet to be completed in the world.

And yet, as I read this short synopsis of what it means to be a Carmelite monk, I was entranced.  In fact, the description precisely fits Paul's primary metaphor the Church ... the Body of Christ.  If we (collectively) are Christ's body, doesn't it make sense that there would be a heart?  And that this heart would serve a specific function in the Church, just as it does in the physical body?  I mean, mouths are made to speak; hands are made to work; feet are made to walk; eyes are made to see; ears are made to hear -- and you get my point.  

These monks dedicate their entire lives to prayer; specifically, intercessory prayer for the Church and the world.  Who can argue with that?  Come to think of it, the monastic tradition has been a pillar of the Church throughout its entire history.  I cannot deny the importance of monks in some vital aspects of the Church's mission: safeguarding biblical manuscripts; translating the Scriptures into unknown languages; teaching sound doctrine and calling the Church back to Scripture, as in the case of Aquinas and Luther.  

So now I give money to this monastery from time to time; not a great amount, but with great love.  Because I want to believe that their vocation actually does what they believe it does -- circulate grace throughout the Church and the world.  Grace that I need as I interact with people who are lost in sin and helpless apart from Christ.  Grace that I need to love my wife as Christ loves me.  Grace that I need in order to carry out my own part in the Great Commission, whether in Africa, America, or perhaps both.

On Human Rights

So I know this is a radical idea, but please hear me out until I've finished. But pretty much all the concepts that run through my head are unconventional...and they're all still in process.

I don't think there is such a thing as human rights.

OK, let me explain. To be more specific, I think what are commonly called "human rights" are, from a Christian perspective, not human "rights" at all. This is simply a term used to describe some of the practical aspects of the character of God. I'll unpack this a little bit more, then explain why I think this distinction is important.

A simple definition of the English word right is "a just claim or title." To defend my view, I ask the simple question, "As a Christian, to what do I have a 'just claim?'" At the basest level, sociologists would argue that I have a right, a just claim, to my own body and mind. I understand the argument. No other person on earth can occupy the same space that my body occupies. And I certainly have a "claim" to my own thought processes, considering that it is impossible for anyone else to actually think for me. With all of these things I heartily agree when considered in the context of human-human relationships.

However, as a child of God, my primary relationship is with God through Christ, and this relationship necessitates a total change in every aspect of life. In making his theological case for maintaining sexual purity as a Christian, the apostle Paul argues on the basis of the ownership of one's own body. Listen to it, from 1 Corinthians 6:13-20:

"Food is for the stomach, and the stomach is for food, but God will do away with both of them. Yet the body is not for immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord is for the body. Now God has not only raised the Lord, but will also raise us up through His power. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Shall I then take away the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? May it never be! Or do you not know that the one who joins himself to a prostitute is one body with her? For He says, 'the two shall become one flesh.' But the one who joins himself to the Lord is one spirit with Him. Flee immorality. Every other sin that a man commits is outside the body, but the immoral man sins against his own body. Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body." (NASB)

What a strange twist! Paul couldn't state it any clearer. As a Christian, my body does NOT belong to me; but it belongs to God. I have no ownership of it, God does! And if I am not the owner of it, how can I have any "just claim" to it? Furthermore, this is the foundation of Paul's entire argument in Romans 9 (which is probably the most difficult passage of Scripture for me to accept). God is the potter; we are the clay. Therefore, God chooses what He will do with us, and it is His right to do what He wills with us. Here is the capstone of his argument, found in Rom. 9:19-21...

"You will say to me then, 'Why does He still find fault? For who resists His will?' On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, 'Why did you make me like this,' will it? Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use?"

These are difficult truths. So it seems on the basis of these passages that we often call human rights are not really human at all, but rather divine rights. Let us take one example, the "right to life." I think most people are agreed that murdering another person is one of the most, if not the most, heinous crime one cannot commit against another human being. Why? Because of the other person's right to exist, to live, and to do so as long as their body is able to sustain their life. I understand this argument and it is a sound one, except that I still have trouble calling life a "right." It seems that humans do NOT have a just claim to their own life; the life of a person is not really in their own hands, is it? If it were, wouldn't people live forever? I mean, we all finally succumb to death; so how can life be a human "right?" Again, I'm not against the concept in and of itself; it's just that I think we have settled on an improper term for it. Life is not a human right; it's a divine right. God decides when we are born and when we die. Life is His right to give and take away.

So then I'm left with this question: if human rights are somewhat of a misnomer, then what term should we use instead? Again, I'm not arguing against the concept of humans rights, per se; only that the term we use to describe such things is flawed, at best - at worst, downright inaccurate. Human rights issues essentially touch on morality. But, in my opinion, morality is finally based on a view of good and evil that transcends the human condition. Without this metaphysical realm, it seems to me that morality finally devolves into mere self-interest and total relativism (I can still make a case that doing what is "right" is in my best self-interest, but without a compass to anchor it, self-interest is, in itself, left to each individual to decide for oneself -- it's a vicious cycle). But morality still does not fill the void left by the removal of the term, "human rights," since the term is meant (I believe) to describe the motivating factor for the idea represented by the term. So I move to the next step...

What motivation is left? And this is where I turn back to God. Why shouldn't I take the life of another person? Because God doesn't, for starters. God does NOT treat us as our sins deserve, and allows us to continue to live because of His mercy and grace, despite our sinful condition and need for judgment. It's God's GRACE that provides the proper motivations for the issues surrounding "human rights." We ought to provide food for starving people because doing so illustrates the character of Yahweh -- His grace and mercy and love. We ought NOT to indulge in slavery because it fundamentally offends the idea of God's image in us (Gen. 1:26-28); the imago Dei, to use the theological term. The same argument applies to women, too; women are people and not property.

So what difference does it make? Why did I go through all of this? Here's why: it seems to me that human rights has become a hot topic in modern society, and rightly so. People have been treated terribly in recent history (e.g. - the proliferation of slavery of a few centuries ago, the Congo rubber terror, the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, etc.), and the industrial revolution has highlighted the differences between the rich and the poor around the globe. If humanity has any compassion at all, I would expect that "human rights" would be a natural result of these events. And I think that this issue offers us as Christians a good opportunity to engage the world in dialogue about it. If human rights are genuinely based on the character of God, then we have a window to point others toward Him. People want, even need, a reason to believe what they believe. We as Christians can ask questions about why people believe what they believe; if we do so enough, it seems that we will eventually reach a point with another person where they will be faced with a choice to either acknowledge God as the source of these "rights" or disavow Him. And that, to me, is a good goal for which to strive in conversing with individuals, especially unbelievers.

On Poverty

I have often wondered, especially recently, why Jesus lived the life of a pauper, and what that means for Christian spirituality today. I am awed by Him and inspired by another man who truly lived a life like Jesus. That man is Francis of Assisi. Francis followed Christ in that he actually left his life of wealth in pursuit (not mere happenstance, mind you, but genuine, bonafide pursuit) of his "woman" of choice, Lady Poverty. He claimed her as his bride, ever-faithful to her and always cherishing a blessed and joyous existence of destitution. I suppose to some, Francis was a nut-case; but to me, he is a hero.

Jesus said, "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Matt. 6:21). These words do not simply cut me to the quick; they haunt me in stealth like a predator stalking his prey. Where is my treasure? Where is my heart? And if I have treasure, what does that say about my heart? I am inclined to think that Francis was more controlled by the Spirit of God than most (certainly more than I), or at least knew more about genuine Christian living. Francis was simply not content with riches. I don't use content in the sense of being free from emotional attachment; indeed, such a definition is far too small. No, Francis' discontentment was an active outpouring of the soul through his actions. He did not simply abide by his circumstances, but rather adjusted his circumstances and behaviors to produce the result that he believed would bring the greatest honor and glory to God the Father and to Jesus Christ.

Amazingly, yet not surprisingly, Jesus did the same. Jesus had no home, although he did have a moneybag. Even then, however, he let the scoundrel of his lot keep it. Besides that, it seems most of the money was spent on the poor, anyway. The picture of Jesus in the Gospels and the picture of Francis in the hagiographies and more alike than they are disparate. This is disturbing to me, but perhaps not yet convicting.

For the most part, twenty-first century American evangelicalism would have me believe that money is morally neutral. After much debate and careful thought, I reject this belief, at least as it pertains to the heart of man and to my heart. Jesus taught that one "cannot serve both God and money." (Matt. 6:24) You either love one or the other, and whichever you love you will serve. So I suppose that if I had to chosse between the two, I would say poverty is better than wealth. I might even say that being poor is more godly than being rich and be justified by Scirpture in saying so. Such a view is extreme, to be sure, but I wonder...

I suppose self is really at the base of it all, which is true of all sin. How I love myself and lavish praise and glory and comfort and riches on me! How I must grieve the heart of God. Is it possible to be rich without being selfish, or should I say, idolatrous? I'm both. I suppose it is possible in the metaphysical world of ideological speculation, but only in that world, I think. The astounding witness of the lives of Jesus, Paul, Francis, and countless other generous saints show us that in this world - the world of real, fallen people - the teachings of Christ hold fast. It really is either God or money.