Proserpina has ascended from Hades, set free from her cruel husband, the lord of the underworld.  Ceres, her mother, is rejoicing and her singing makes the flowers bloom, the grass green, and the sun shine forth with all his mighty heat.  Mourning is over for her, the goddess of crops and fertility, and so the seasons of death are behind us for now.  The earth no longer lies hard and frigid, covered with dead tree litter.  The tears of the sky fall no longer frozen and white, but wet and hot, steaming back up from the earth they hit. 

So held the Romans – riveting but misguided.  Jehovah spins the earth and He colors it with seasons, white, brown, green, and golden.  He said it Himself – “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, winter and summer, and day and night shall not cease” (Genesis 8:22).

At this point in our journey around the sun, we are enveloped in warmth.  We acquaint ourselves once again with the sea, plopping down on her sandy shores – umbrellas, chairs, and coolers at hand.  We make castles on her doorstep and splash just within her threshold, knowing that her doors will never again be unhinged, upon her Maker’s promise.  And so, we play.

When the earth’s great candle burns too hot, we flee to the mountains, escaping the sun’s heat by huddling closer to him.  Leaving the many comforts of home, we live simply for a time in the woods, encamped on flat land between hills, finally enjoying firelight and the sight of the stars again.  On those few days we excitedly rejoice in flaming marshmallows sandwiched between chocolate and graham crackers.  Technology holds no sway at such altitude.

Summer is here – heat, sun, storms, waves, and mountains, all gifts given from the hand of the Father who alone spins and keeps the earth.

“When a thing ceases to be a subject of controversy, it ceases to be a subject of interest.”

- William Hazlitt, English writer and literary critic (1778-1830)

“All studies, philosophy, rhetoric are followed for this one object, that we may know Christ and honor him.  This is the end of all learning and eloquence.”

- Desiderius Erasmus

Oscar Wilde once said, “I can resist anything but temptation.” Many, if not all, temptations could be described as the desire for an appropriate thing in an inappropriate way.

Think of it, even the “worst sins” – murder, sexual deviation, etc. – are perversions of things that are good and right in and of themselves. Murder is usually a perversion of justice, adultery and illicit sex is a perversion of love and sexual desire. So, when we are tempted, we are being drawn to counterfeits and, when we succumb, it is generally because we preferred to counterfeit to the real, the knock-off to the original.

In other words, it would be accurate to say that giving in to temptation is rejecting goodness and beauty in favor of what only appears to be good and beautiful. Resisting temptation, then, is largely learning to know goodness and beauty.

But, is it this knowledge enough? Socrates, in his Apology, indicated that if he was guilty of the charges laid against him, he simply needed to know what to do. If he had the right knowledge, he would do rightly. Knowing the good/right would produce good/right action.

Certainly, knowledge of what is good and right, on some level, is necessary but is it enough? Could it rightly be reduced to this, one could make the argument that man’s real problem is that he is poorly educated.

If man is, by nature, sinful, then poor education is not his ultimate problem. And, if evil is more than bad information, then it cannot be cured simply by inserting right information. Both are the case – man is sinful and evil is more than an information problem. Education, as vital as it is, is no messiah.

What Socrates suggested, that knowing the good and right would make man good and right, is insufficient. Granted, this is a wildly simplistic summation of Socrates, but the observation still holds true. The Socratic approach to education, what we would call classical education, taken on its own, does not take into account the nature of man or evil, and is therefore insufficient.

Now, we would certainly agree that the pursuit of goodness, truth, and beauty are marvelous goals. But, we believe it is a marvelous pursuit because we know, ironically, that those things are good, true, and beautiful. However, the pursuit of those things in a purely classical sense can only proceed so far.

If man is to begin to comprehend what is good, true, and beautiful, he must have an absolute standard guiding his way. He cannot be the standard, yet this seems to be the paradoxical position of non-Christian classical education. No matter how loudly one insists that there are objective standards of goodness, truth, and beauty, man becomes the standard if he is left alone to determine what they are.

Classical education, while stressing the importance of loving goodness, truth, and beauty, falls short because it does not provide definite definition to them. In the Euthryphro dialogue, Socrates shows the difficulty of even defining good and right.

Christian classical education, however, does have definition for these things and the definitions are based on an absolute standard, not one that leaves man to define goodness, truth, and beauty autonomously. While, education is no messiah, it greatly aids moral development if students are pursuing something beyond themselves and their fallen nature.

Left to define or “discover” goodness, truth, and beauty by their own standards, they will always reach it and yet always fall short of the true standards found in the Triune God.  Christian classical education can help students develop a love for what is lovely and avoid the temptation to pursue it by false means.

Myriad arguments against the Resurrection have been offered, most of which have been sufficiently addressed elsewhere.  I would like to, if possible, get to the heart of the matter.  The reason unbelievers must reject the Resurrection of Christ is that it puts them in a genuine dilemma – an answer they can’t accept for a question they can’t answer.  The question – what about death?

Albert Camus said that death is philosophy’s only problem.  William James said, “Our civilization is founded on the shambles, and every individual existence goes out in a lonely spasm of helpless agony.”  H.G. Wells, an ardent evolutionist and humanist, in the end of his life (as observed by Malcom Muggeridge) “understood that what he had followed as a life-force was, in point of fact, a death wish, into which he was glad to sink the little that remained of his own life in the confident expectation of total and final obliteration.”  Bertrand Russell said, unapologetically, that men in all their glory and genius “are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system…”  He went on to say that, in the end, death is all that actually remains. 

Why does the world reject the Resurrection? – Because the question of death haunts them and they are, therefore, without hope.  In Proverbs 8, personified wisdom is speaking and, at the end of the chapter, she says that “he who sins against me wrongs his own soul; all those who hate me love death” (8:36).  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Job 28:28; Proverbs 1:7), and those who reject wisdom don’t just reject the Lord, they must embrace death. 

Death is all the unbeliever is left with and that is an option that no person can live with because the soul of man is created for eternity.  Those who reject the Resurrection are left with few options:

1.  Attack the one answer – which they do, vehemently and

continually.

2.  Ignore the problem – which can work, until they or their loved ones encounter death.

3.  Make themselves as comfortable with death as they can –

exposure to violent images (the process of desensitizing the mind to

what is actually happening), redefining death (“choice”), making death

seem less threatening by portraying it humorously or making it a matter

of plotline, not serious consideration.

             Our world is, as Pope John Paul II said, a “culture of death.”  It is not a culture of resurrection or hope.  When the wisdom of God is rejected, man’s wisdom is all that can be inserted, and man cannot provide an answer for death.  He cannot answer it and he must therefore embrace death alone. 

            Death is an enemy – a foreign invader, sent to attack us for our rebellion against God in the fall.  And, without the Resurrection of Christ, we are defenseless against that enemy; we fall by his sword.  But, it is through the Resurrection that Death, the great enemy, is vanquished.  “Death is swallowed up in victory.  O Death, where is your sting?  O Hades, where is your victory?”  “But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1^st Corinthians 15:54-55, 57)

            The world may reject Christ and His Resurrection, but they can never get over it, never dismiss it.  Death, the great enemy, cannot even be explained by man, yet he was slain by Christ.   

The Cold War was “fought” to stave off the influence of economic and political systems perceived as threats to the American way of life – primarily communism and socialism.  This is a simple summary, but I think it works for the purpose here. 

Victory was declared when the Berlin Wall (November 9, 1989) fell and when Mikhail Gorbachev announced his resignation (December 25, 1991), leading to the dismantling of the USSR.  However, the influence of communism and socialism (which I would describe as a “gateway” to communism) was growing in America, primarily through the educational system. 

Karl Marx argued, in The Communist Manifesto, for “Free education for all children in public schools” and the “combination of education with industrial production.”

Public K-12 education and higher academia were slowly inundated with professors, theorists, and textbook writers, who were either sympathetic to or firm believers in the same philosophical systems being attacked in the Cold War.  The results are quite clear when one considers the rapid growth of socialistic/communistic ideas in American culture (take the broad examples of government entitlements, bailouts, etc.). 

Socialistic/communistic philosophy has reached the “mainstream” and, if Francis Schaeffer was right, this means that those ideas have been brewing here for a while (Schaeffer said that ideological changes slowly move through different levels before hitting the lives of average individuals).

The question that started all this for me was “How did the ideas being attacked by Americans in the Cold War end up being swallowed, perhaps in slightly variant form, by Americans only twenty years later?” 

The public education system has been used against us (not in a “conspiracy theory” sort of way) by those who know how to use it to propagate a political agenda.  Granted, education insists upon propagating something, but I believe we are witnessing one of the most harmful results of losing classical education in America.  What we now see, in other words, is the result of the hijacking of American education.

Classical education is educating for freedom – teaching students how to think and learn, to love that which is good, true, and beautiful – and, when those things are not propagated, something else will be propagated.  The void is filled with another less desirable ideology. 

But this goes both ways – the continued growth of classical schooling and homeschooling is an encouraging sign of what may hit the mainstream in coming years.   

Over the last several years, I have encountered an increasing number of articles and discussions about the “secularization” or “commercialization” of Christmas.  Recently, a local newscast conducted a street poll in which nearly every interviewee agreed that Christmas was “coming earlier and earlier every year.” 

Christmas music starts too soon.  Stores bring out decorations too soon.  People are expected to give too much. 

Far and away, the largest numbers of criticisms (at least the ones I’ve heard) come from within the Christian community.  After all, “Christmas is about the Word becoming flesh (John 1:14), the birth of Jesus our Savior, not about presents and shopping.” 

Well, okay.  There’s truth in that.  Christmas is the celebration of Christ’s birth, not a celebration of shopping, but I think the criticism may have missed the mark in a significant way. 

The problem with the criticism is that, if carried too far, it actually denies the nature of the Incarnation.  At Christmas, we celebrate God being made man, the Word becoming flesh, the invisible God appearing in the Person of Christ, providing us with the image of the Father.  The love of God, great enough to make us children of God (1^st John 3:1), was made known to us in visible form.  He was seen, heard, and touched (1^st John 1:1-4).  God lived among us (Matthew 1:23).

Sure, the season is commercialized and watered down by some.  Yes, people seem to ignore Christ while celebrating (unawares) His birth.  But I don’t think that’s the problem.  The truly sad event is when Christians forget that Christmas is a time when love becomes “incarnational,” visible, observable.  Shouldn’t that happen all year?  Yes, but the motivating factor behind it the rest of the year is the Incarnation of Love at Christmas. 

Avoid the over-commercialization (Example – Your nativity scene probably shouldn’t include Santa bringing a toy bike to the baby Jesus) but don’t swerve into the ditch on the other side of the road either. 

Remember that Christmas is a time to give gifts, make fudge, eat great foods, enjoy great wine, celebrate with family, party with co-workers, eat more great food, watch the same old movies, and enjoy more great wine.  Christmas is a time to enjoy the good gifts of God and to give good gifts in His name. 

We do these things as acts of incarnational love and nothing could be more fitting for the season.  

Some research has revealed that man’s two greatest fears are public speaking and death, in that order.  This means, of course, that most people at a funeral would rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy. 

Man does his best to overcome these fears.  Schools have rhetoric and public speaking courses and teachers require oral reports.  Even in progressive education, the need for public speaking is generally acknowledged.  After all, some of the best paying jobs require it (like teaching, for example) and it’s all about the job, right?

Mankind labors to develop new surgeries and medications, diet regimens, and elaborate fitness centers, all to produce longer life.  All are aware that, at best, the inevitable is only being delayed, but the constant laboring continues.  In the end, at least man can seek for a death of dignity, filled with hope and memories.  Even those who fear death can hope to die well.

A third fear ranks quite close to the first two – fear of failure.  As with the previous two fears, man puts his hand to destroying failure.  Schools change or remove grading scales, no one is singled out for praise, scoreless basketball leagues are created, and people are encouraged to regularly blame someone else when they come up short (which cannot be pointed out).  Problem solved, right? 

The idea of removing the possibility for failure is rooted in a kind of compassion.  No one wants to see someone struggle, particularly not their own children.  If it can be eliminated, why not do it? 

The problem is that, in these particular attempts to eliminate failure, there is another significant casualty – victory.  If no one is allowed to fail, who actually wins?  Who is successful?  Who gets to experience the joy of victory?  Well, no one.

Failure is valuable because it causes us to long for success, victory, mastery.  To take away failure is to take away striving and, to take away striving, is to doom everyone to mediocrity and even greater failure.  On the other hand, to allow for struggle and the possibility of failure is to allow for the greatest joy and celebration in victory. 

When the Roman troops of Caecina battled the German troops of Arminius, they were in some of the worst possible conditions.  The land was marshy and unfamiliar.  Their supplies were stuck in the mud and the soldiers could not even care for their most basic of needs.  Surrounded by the Germans, morale could not be lower.  Caecina held the men together and roused their spirits with reminders of duty and home.  Tacitus records him as further saying, “Running away would only mean more forests, worse swamps, savage attacks; but success would be glorious.”

After a series of brilliant maneuvers, the Romans swept through the German line and gained firm ground once again.    Tacitus records, “At the end of the day, the Romans re-entered their camp.  They were hungry as ever, and their wounds were worse.  But they had their cure, nourishment, restorative, everything in one – victory.”

When man rids himself of the fear of failure, he may inadvertently rob himself of the potential for victory.

As many of you know, the annual CiRCE conference was last week and was quite a success.  All in attendance enjoyed informative and challenging speakers, delicious food, and gracious hosting by all of the sponsors.  All in attendance also experienced a taste of what I would call “book glut.”

You know exactly what I mean.  At any good conference there are book tables from publishers and vendors, all offering an enormous selection of resources and literature that we, being conscientious educators, immediately want to read. 

The event takes place in essentially the same way each time.  A table is set up and hundreds or thousands of books are displayed upon its surface.  We are drawn to it, as Jupiter to any woman who is not his wife, unable to divert our feet away from the path to the table.  It reminds me of a cartoon character being picked up and carried to a pie cooling on a windowsill by its mere aroma.

We look.  We peruse.  We flip through page after page of book after book and we enjoy it.  Then a strange thing happens.  We step back and look at the sheer number of books that we have not read and the feeling of wonder subsides a bit and gives way to anxiety. 

“How can I read all of this?”  The most direct answer is that we can’t.  There are too many things worth reading and too many things that we want our students/children to read.  We simply can’t squeeze it all in without doing more harm than good.  

So…now what?  We could simply walk away from the table and go watch TV.  We could spend more time reading articles about how much there is to read.  Or we could ask the right questions that will hopefully help us narrow it down a bit.

1. In selecting works to read personally, some helpful questions might be:
   • What have I read lately?  Perhaps its time for variety.
   • Do I have a reading plan?  Do I need one?  C.S. Lewis recommended shifting between classics and modern works with far more emphasis on the classics (I believe it was three classics to one modern). 
   • Do I have any shameful areas of weakness or gaps in knowledge?  It’s not that we can or will ever know about everything, but it may help to a bit of self-examination here.  
2. In selecting works for our students/children to read, some of these may help: 
   • What do I want them to learn?  Books can work as tools to teach greater virtues and truths (pardon the sterile analogy).  Not every tool is needed for every job.  If you want to teach them the beauty of chivalry and romance, you know they need to read The Story of King Arthur and His Knights and Pride and Prejudice.  If you think in terms of themes, it can help you narrow down your choices.  Don’t simply open a catalog and start searching in time periods (that’s asking for another bad case of book glut).   
   • Why do I want them to read this?  When you have your students read a book, is it because you (as a ______-year-old teacher) enjoy the work or because the students really need to read it?  Did you assign it because everyone else teaches it or because you clearly see it place in nurturing the souls of your students?
3. Here are some other painfully helpful hints:
   • Ask other teachers that you respect.  What would they do if they were in your shoes, with your schedule and classes?
   • Realize that the bottom line is this: you cannot read it all.  It is better to select a few great works than skim dozens, doing none of them justice.