Peace in the Land: Searching for the Anabaptist Aesthetic, Part III
Jeremy Begbie views both creativity and creation from a Christological standpoint. Creation’s end is to be united in Christ. It is out of love that God creates, and this love is seen most fully in true physical form in the person of Christ. Through his sacrificial love, all things are made, and all things are made new. Since God creates, not out of any reason other than his overflowing love, creation is a true gift. I say ‘true’ in order to distinguish between the gift of creation and the gifts that we as humans give to each other. Human given gifts often come with a certain expectation that the gift will be reciprocated in some shape or form, and therefore the language of ‘gift’ may unintentionally denote an expectation of reciprocity in order to fulfill the desires of the giver. The gift of creation is not like this; it is utterly peaceful in that it demands, nor can accept, anything in return as reciprocity. It is given, and though we may or may not turn to our creator in worship, God does not need creation in order to complete something in himself; the gift is completely selfless and completely unnecessary.
The language of “gift” can recall Wolterstorff’s critique of the Kantian concept of art as essentially unnecessary or non-functional (and therefore ‘gift’), citing that art is always created for some kind of purpose. Works of art exist within history and culture and therefore do have a function within a specific context. We can become confused at the meaning of art when we take a work that is created for a specific purpose and treat it as if it were an object of “detached contemplation”, which is closely tied to the assumption that art as essentially useless. From what Jeremy Begbie writes, one could conclude that the concept of uselessness or non-necessity is best understood in the gift of creation, not in art itself. For God did not created out of necessity or in order to somehow complete himself, but he created out of the overflowing of his own joy and abundance coming from within his triune being. The idea that creation is not necessary to God does not take away from its significance but rather adds to it. Creation becomes a true gift – a gift given with no selfish expectation of return because it is a gift that is given in love.
But the gift of creation is not the end of the story. The fallenness of creation, and the consequent “disorder” that arises from humanity’s freedom has made creation a place that exhibits both beauty and terror in its alienation from God. Annie Dillard describes this in her contemplative book, Teaching a Stone to Talk. She writes about a neighbor who has taken up the task of teaching a small pebble to talk. Dillard remarks that this is “noble work, and beats from any angle, selling shoes”. The reason why it is noble work is not fully explained, but what Dillard does explain is that nature is as silent as the rock. She emphasizes that this is our doing; that God at one time may have spoken in or through nature, but it terrified us so he stopped. Because of our fallenness nature is silent. It can only speak the cycle of life and death in all its beauty and dread.
The created world is no longer a place of shalom but a place of where death propels it forward; which is as Begbie describes “anti-creation”. How are we to take up our vocation of gardener when we are the ones at fault for the silence and disorder in the created world? How can both creation and our role in creation be restored? The gift of God in the self-giving of Christ unites both God’s victory over the powers of disorder and violence, and humanity’s victory as found in the incarnation of Christ. Through Christ’s ascension as “the God-Man, he embodies and constitutes the telos of created reality”. Christ fulfills the human vocation as founded in the creation narrative to its fullest and takes on his role as ruler and gardener of the earth. “In Christ our broken and distorted humanity has been re-established in its proper orientation toward the creator.”
So what does this vocation of “gardening” look like? What is the tangible outworking of our restored vocation? Annie Dillard describes the dilemma of creation’s silence, she also touches on the solution, though not in the actual content of her essay but in the way she interacts with the created realm in her writings. Dillard finds meaning and inspiration in considering trees, an eclipse, or the evolutionary process; through her prose she ‘decodes’ nature. This is not to be merely understood as a ‘platonic pointing’ to something greater, but it is an exercise in peacemaking. Through Dillard’s crafting of words and careful observation, she is essentially becoming a voice for the created world. Once it was silent and alienated but through Dillard’s words creation become engendered with meaning and it is at peace with us again.
God’s redemption of our vocation through the person of Christ allows us to participate in creation’s development and continuous unfolding. We share in the work of the Spirit as we continue to walk in love in congruence with God’s created order as he draws all things to himself. We enact Christ’s judgment when we “unmask” that which is disorder or disfigurative. We affirm the goodness and grace of the gift of creation when we take joy in its beauty, or marvel at its unfathomable diversity. But this is not a passive activity; we are indeed workers in the garden and our vocation is to bring about “new forms of order”. This conjugates all facets of human creativity: science, medicine, technology, music, the visual arts, craft, and architecture. And certainly it becomes obvious that all such activities can be destructive and can transform us into vessels of anti-creation rather than agents of God’s unfolding. We can only be agents of transformation and re-creation in relationship: first, to the triune God, second in the community of the church, and third in communion with creation. Human creativity is foundationally communal; it affirms the intrinsic “relatedness” of human existence. Christ has given us back true vocation, and we are now set about the task of bringing shalom to all things. In the work of restoring creation’s peaceful relationship to the Triune God, perhaps teaching a stone to talk is not as outrageous as it at first seems.
The reality of my background is that though peace was central to my understanding of the church’s role in the world, this peace was too often seen through a telescopic lens. Though I value the ideals of the peace community, the reality is that many communities are not at peace but fraught with division and animosity. The supreme irony of the Mennonite heritage is though we may claim to value community, humility, and simplicity; we are plagued with detachment from our friends and family, false humility, and covert trust in material wealth under the guise of “stewardship”. Joy can be frivolous and generosity can be foolish. But despite these shortcomings, the aesthetic of my heritage is one that can demonstrate aesthetic and creative obedience. Mennonite simplicity, ingenuity, and creativity are examples of the peacemaking vocation of humanity taken up in faithfulness. Anabaptist communities should therefore be cautious not to thoughtlessly give up these creative traditions in order to gain ‘cultural relevance’. The Mennonite aesthetic tradition of my heritage is one worth saving because it is a tradition in which peace finds form. In order to grasp a rich and active peace, shalom must be couched in Christology because it is in Christ that we are given back our true task; to bring glory to God in the peace of restored relationship. In this we find our true human vocation while at peace with the land.
Labels: aesthetics, art, Begbie, christology, creation, creativity, faith, gift, land, peace
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