Muera la Modernism! Viva las Amigas!

My old roommate and dear friend Allison and I are sitting at my kitchen table, a mostly-eaten box of See's candy in between us, doing homework. Well, we just resumed doing our homework after the question, "What is the point of abstract art?" turned into a 30-minute conversation about art and theology. We made some exciting new connections that I want to record before I go back to my homework and forget about them.

I was explaining some of the different kinds of abstraction and what they're about, and somehow we got into the term "modernism" and its different definitions in the theology and art worlds. The modern art movement marked a huge change in the way people thought about "art." It became more individualized and self-focused. The ideas of art as self-expression and art-for-art's-sake were introduced. Art became less connected other disciplines (history, mythology, the Bible, etc.) and became all about the next new thing. I went off on a rampage about how the modern art scene is so elitist and commercialized, that only rich, educated people can make it or understand it, and the definition of a true artist is someone who devotes their entire life to making whatever the heck they want (otherwise they're a "sell-out") yet happens to obtain fame and fortune along the way. I revisited my pet theory that all art should be like a good children's book--appreciable by almost anyone on the surface, but with lots of depth available for those with the knowledge and desire to look.

Then Allison talked about modernist theology, which she explained as the idea that it is possible to discover what the Bible "really means" by using tools of objective, literary exegesis to discover the author's intent, the context of the time, etc. etc. The core concept is that there is one "true" interpretation that can be reached if you know all the facts and are completely unbiased. Now, here comes the juicy stuff. She thought for a moment, and then said that really, that's a very elitist way of looking at the Bible, that only those with the right education really know the truth about God. (In fact, that's pretty contrary to Jesus' teaching--he usually wasn't too happy with the educated.) Meaning no blasphemy, but maybe we should look at it more like a good children's book....

But the fun doesn't stop! She read me this quote by this modernist scholar, Charles Hodge, who said: "The Bible is to the theologian as nature is to the man of science. It is his storehouse of facts; and his method of ascertaining what the Bible teaches is the same as that which the natural philosopher adopts to ascertain what nature teaches." And I thought, hey now! No one who has watched a sunrise, or seen the ocean, or hiked along the Grand Canyon could say that scientific facts are all that nature has to teach us. As true and necessary and valid as most of science is, it is not the only way of looking at things! A scientist, a poet, and a child would describe a rose very differently; does that make one or the other wrong? Can all their view points be true at the same time?

It seemed to me to be an example worth exploring about how God can be so many different things at once, or rather, seen in so many different ways at once. It's a slippery slope, and in the "post-modern" age, which is characterized, in both theology and art, by an abundance of different points of view, it's easy to fall into pluralism. But at the same time, God is so much bigger that the vision of any one person. How do we, in a culture of elitism and specialization, be open to seeing God in new ways while still separating the truth from the lies?

See's Candy is very inspiring.