Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Nature of Reality

I had the rare occasion to drive somewhere alone last week, and I took advantage of the time by listening to a lecture from the Circe Institute. It was a talk given by Dr. James Taylor from their 2003 Conference entitled "Good to Great: Teaching Literature from Grammar to Rhetoric."

Dr. Taylor was discussing the fact that many of today's brightest students come to university literature classes unable to fully delve into the classic Good and Great Books because their experiences are so divorced from the reality of the natural world.  They somehow work out a way to give the right answers, but they lack the depth of true understanding. He gave the example that even in his Children's Literature class, the opening line from the nursery rhyme "Ding, Dong, Dell," had to be explained because the students did not know what a dell was.

Dr. Taylor also mentioned a saying popular among the early church fathers, and I may be paraphrasing here, but it was something along the lines of, "God wrote two books, and you have to understand the first before you can understand the second." The first being the Creation, and the second, the actual written Word.  Dr. Taylor had many other meaty things to say, but this is what I've been thinking about most. I've always believed in the importance of  enjoying the outdoors and learning about the natural world through literature and observation, but I had never made the connection of its significance in deepening my understanding of classic literature and the Scriptures.

Most of the classics were written in a time when people were living a lot of their lives outside; food came from their own land or a farmer they knew personally, and the wonders of creation were a source of delight and entertainment (and sometimes great worry). Vocabulary exercises are not the answer to this problem, as there is a vast difference between Googling what a dell is and standing in one,  giving it its proper name and coming into relationship with it.
 
It is true that a large part of my reality is a world of modern technologies insulated from the elements, literally a constructed reality. True reality is outside those walls. And what do I know of it, what relationship have I with it? It has only been in the last several years that I started gardening and so learned the names of plants other than dandelion, rose, and maple tree. I was so proud when I finally made the effort to learn the names of all the trees in our yard, yet learning their names, while a start, is certainly not anywhere near "knowing" them. I know next to nothing about the stars. So many of the ancient philosophers and mathematicians and scientists made their discoveries by looking up with a sense of awe and wonder. We have given ourselves so much else to look at--to the point that I often check the weather online instead of stepping outside and using my senses. There is head knowledge, and then there is knowledge through relationship.

Why, in the end, is all this important these days anyway? I think nature study and just "living outside" not only train us in careful observation, but give us a sense of place--hard to achieve in a time when identical shopping centers exist in all parts of the country. It helps us to not only know, but care. Most importantly, when we take the time to truly know the things that are made, we come to know more about their Maker.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalm 19:1







1 comment:

  1. I found a lot of truth in this piece. I've found it harder to find a 'sense of place' since I've moved out West. It was easier somehow in MO and GA to connect with what was around me, to understand it. Everything here is constructed; everything at times feels false.

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